Chapter 2: A Swift Action
Richmond's hands trembled slightly as he stared at the swirling sky. The roar still echoed faintly in his ears.
"Family," he muttered suddenly, fumbling for his phone. "Mom… Dad… Auntie Tess… someone anyone nonononono, wait."
He pressed the call button, heart hammering.
> No service.
He tried again. And again. Switched SIM cards. Restarted. Walked around for better signal.
"Come on… come on, don't do this now shit…" He jogged toward his apartment stairs, holding the phone up like an antenna. "Maybe if I get inside… the Wi-Fi might still be up and running."
Inside, the lights were still dead, but his router blinked faintly. He held his breath as he reconnected. Nothing.
"Okay let's calm down. Maybe everyone… maybe everyone evacuated," he said aloud, pacing the living room. "Yeah. Maybe I just overslept. The sirens didn't wake me, the TV died… they probably had some emergency evacuation notice... right."he said sarcastic.
He opened his contacts and started dialing.
"Dad, please pick up."
> Network error.
"Mom? Please answer."
> Network error.
He tried messaging. Every text failed to send.
"Okay this isn't funny," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Even if they evacuated, there should be some— some kind of emergency line working. Radio, police… something at least a message from someone."
He switched to speaker and let the ringtone loop endlessly, hoping.
"Someone has to pick up. It can't just be me. Maybe they're in a bunker… or out of range… yeah. Yeah, that's it. Out of range."
He opened his laptop. Battery at 64%. No internet. He checked offline files. Nothing useful.
"…What about the emergency broadcast frequency?" He turned the radio knob slowly, carefully scanning through static. Nothing new — just the same broken message repeating every few minutes:
> "—core readings unstable— magnetic anomalies spreading— if you can hear this, stay indoors—"
"Great advice," he said bitterly. "Real helpful."
He slumped onto the sofa, phone still in hand. For a moment, he stared at the signal bars like they might suddenly light up.
"Someone's going to call," he whispered. "Any minute now. I'm not the only one. There's no way… no way everyone's gone."
His thumb hovered over the emergency number again. He pressed it.
> Call failed.
"…Dammit."
Richmond sat there, staring at the silent phone. The repeating emergency broadcast faded into the background.
"…Alright. If no one's picking up, then I'll find someone," he said finally, pushing himself up. "They can't all be gone. There has to be someone nearby."
He walked to the window. The streets were buried under vines now, cars half-consumed by greenery. The sky still shimmered in that unnatural tricolor.
He exhaled slowly. "This isn't the same world anymore."
For the first time, he said it out loud.
"…The Earth changed."
He looked down at his clothes — simple T-shirt, jeans, sneakers. "Yeah, I'm not stepping out there like this. Every survival anime I've ever watched starts with the MC underestimating the world and almost dying in episode one."
He moved quickly around the apartment, half talking to himself:
"Backpack. Food. Water. Knife… no, wrench. Yeah, a wrench's better. Multi-tool, flashlight, batteries."
He checked drawers, cupboards, shelves. Every item he found, he spoke aloud like he was narrating his own prep montage.
"First aid kit — check. Rope — check. Jacket — check. Lucky hat? …Why not."
He stuffed everything into his old hiking bag, pulling the straps tight.
"This feels ridiculous," he said, staring at his reflection in the mirror. "But so does the sky."
Before leaving, he paused at the door. "…Family. Friends. Anyone. I'll find someone. Sitting here won't help."
He stepped outside. The air was heavy and warm, buzzing faintly with that strange energy. Distant roars echoed again, sending a chill down his spine.
Richmond tightened the straps on his bag. "Alright… if this were an anime… this would be the part where the journey starts."
He grinned faintly despite the fear. "Guess I'm the protagonist now."
With that, he set off down the overgrown street, heading toward the city center — toward any sign of life.
The air had grown thicker overnight. It wasn't just heat — it was like breathing through invisible threads humming with energy. Richmond adjusted his backpack straps and stepped carefully through the moss-covered street.
"Alright," he muttered, scanning the area like he was playing a strategy game. "Mid-sized town, close to the stadium. If there was an evacuation… they'd aim for open ground. Stadium's the most obvious point."
He glanced at the overgrown buildings around him. Vines had shattered glass windows, tree roots broke through the asphalt like slow explosions frozen mid-blast. Birds circled high above, moving in uneven patterns.
"This place aged a hundred years in a day…" he whispered.
He knelt near an intersection. The once-gray road was cracked and carpeted with moss — but faint tire marks ran across it, pushing through the growth like scars.
"Bingo." He crouched closer. "Multiple tracks… looks like vans or trucks. Fresh too — the plants haven't covered them yet."
He stood, following the line slowly. "Evacuation vehicles… if people left in a hurry, they'd head for somewhere big. Stadium. Or maybe the train station."
He walked, muttering to himself in that half-geek, half-focused tone.
"In every anime… there's always a central meeting point. Stadiums, schools, or government centers. And they always leave signs."
Sure enough, a few blocks later, he found a bent traffic sign with a faded paper taped over it. The edges were already being eaten by climbing ivy. He peeled it off carefully.
> "Evacuation Route → Stadium East Gate"
"Yes!" he grinned. "I knew it. Real life follows tropes sometimes."
He folded the paper and slipped it into his jacket. "Stadium east gate it is."
---
The further he walked, the stranger the town became. The streets warped — sidewalks lifted as if pushed from beneath, lampposts bent toward each other like vines were puppeteering them. Strange glowing veins of light traced along walls and into the ground, pulsing faintly like breathing roots.
"Okay… that's new," Richmond muttered, tapping one with his wrench. A spark of green light rippled through it, disappearing underground.
"…Maybe I shouldn't touch glowing plant veins. Yeah. Great idea, protagonist."
The tire marks eventually curved toward the stadium district. The silence was deep, only broken by occasional distant roars and the rustling of overgrown trees.
Then he heard it — a soft shuffle behind a row of parked, vine-covered cars.
He froze. "...Hello?"
No answer. Just another rustle.
He moved slowly, gripping his wrench like a bat. Peering around the car, he saw it.
At first, he thought it was just another twisted vine bundle. Then it stood up.
A mass of dark green vines, no taller than a child, twisted together into a humanoid shape. Two hollow spaces where eyes should be, a pulsing glow deep inside its chest. It tilted its head at him, vines creaking.
Richmond's breath hitched. "That's… not normal."
The creature stepped forward, vines dragging like roots searching for soil. Tiny leaves sprouted with every movement.
"Uh… hi?" he tried, half-joking, half-terrified.
It responded with a sudden jerk — vines shot out toward the car beside it, wrapping the bumper. With a screech, it yanked, twisting the metal as if testing its strength. Then it turned its head back toward him.
Richmond stumbled back. "Nope. Nope nope nope— anime rules or not, I'm not fighting Groot's evil cousin right now."
He slowly backed away, careful not to make sudden movements. The vine-thing didn't chase, just watched, head tilting again like a curious animal guarding its territory.
Only when he turned the corner did he finally exhale.
"…Okay. So the world grew monsters. Plant monsters. Of course it did."
He glanced at the stadium silhouette in the distance, partially obscured by massive vines crawling up its walls.
"Whatever's waiting there… it better be human."
He tightened his backpack straps again and kept moving — now more alert than ever.