“Report, Chief! Unidentified craft ahead!” His shout cut the wind like a blade.

A broad-shouldered man snapped a salute to a white-haired elder, respect shining like polished steel in his eyes.

The elder took the binoculars. He lifted them toward the man’s pointing hand. A colossal ship slid into view like a dark whale breaching the clouds. He sighed, then pressed the binoculars back into the man’s palms.

“Go. Tell the village to brace for battle.” His voice was a drumbeat under storm clouds. “No running. Everyone fights. Don’t fear death. We’ve stood here for this day.”

Shock flared in the man’s chest; then a memory struck like thunder. He stared at the chief, fear blooming cold as frost.

“Chief… is it them again? Those damned ones?”

The chieftain nodded, heavy as a stone dropping into a deep well.

“This time, we’re ready. We can drag them down with us. Your deaths won’t be wasted; what you do will mean something. Your next lives will be bright as dawn.”

Though it sounded like marching into the storm to die, iron resolve and feverish joy sparked in the man’s eyes, as if a great task had finally arrived.

He turned and sprinted for the village broadcast post. The elder, a candle in the wind, watched the distant ship against the gray sky.

——————————

Inside the ship.

Delta stared at the village ahead, excitement flickering like fireflies in his eyes.

“Hey, Delta, look. This should be the real Ska Village, right? Let’s just beam that petite sister aboard. No need to involve her with the rest. If we nick her by accident, our lives could get messy.”

“Mm. Release the teleport spell. Bring her in.”

On the ground, Remi watched Ska Village draw closer. Dread pooled first, heavy as night; then her steps turned sluggish, as if iron weights were tied to her ankles. Every stride felt like pushing through mud.

Suddenly, weight vanished. A floating pull lifted her. When she blinked, she was in a sealed room. A huge rectangle filled one wall, showing her village—Ska—like a lantern painting lit in the dark.

————————

On Ska Village’s stage, a white-haired elder gripped a semi-auto rifle. A long blade hung at his waist. He held a soldier’s stance, straight as a pine in winter, and faced his people—men, women, children, elders. Bodies differed, but their eyes burned with the same war-fire.

“Everyone!” His rough voice rolled like thunder across the square. “We’ve tangled with those bastard gods for five hundred years—five, six generations, a river of time. Last time, we used that device and cut them deep. They feared us once. Now they send new gods to bait us, to make us use that Thing, then throw their old warhorses in to snatch it. Those gods are cannon fodder, nothing more.”

“Newcomers may not know all this, and I won’t waste breath. Hear one truth: that Thing isn’t what they think. It broke after we used it. But those so-called gods won’t believe us.”

“So this time, do just one thing: take your weapons. Push back with me. Don’t fear death. Sometimes surrender buys you less than a clean end. I wish you fortune in battle!”

The square answered with a roar, a wave crashing against stone.

“OHHHHHH!”

A burly man thrust his hand up, voice cutting through the fervor.

“Chief! Remi and Flan haven’t come back yet!”

The elder’s face tightened, storm-shadow creeping in.

“Then Remi’s been threatened. She led them here under the knife. That gives us one more reason to fight. Those who dared threaten Remi—what do we do with them?”

“Wipe them out!”

——————————

On the airship.

“Delta, I’ve brought her in. Next, we start recovering the device.”

Delta frowned at Alpha, unease crawling like ants under his skin.

“Alpha… why is the unrest in me getting stronger? Something’s coming. Not small.”

“I told you to rest. Nerves strung this tight grind the body down.”

“We need to be careful.”

“What are you afraid of, Delta? This isn’t like you. Human weapons only scare us at Imperial-class. Those villagers clearly don’t have that.”

“Hope so… Go check on the two sisters?”

Alpha sighed, a long wind through reeds. “Fine.”

Remi scanned the sealed room, worry flaring first—hot as a brand—for Flan. Instinct clawed at her: they were doing something bad to Flan.

Something inside her surged. Since returning to the ship, a fire had sparked in her core, flooding her limbs with strength.

She eyed the wall screen. She reached out, fingers closing, and tore it free like pulling up a weed. Power roared, but she didn’t care; her mind held only Flan’s name.

She hurled the screen at the wall. It hit with a crack; the panel shattered like thin ice.

Remi peered through the hole. No guards. She slipped out and ran, breath like bellows, feet like arrows. She could feel it—a strange thread tugging her onward, drawing her straight to Flan.