After equipping myself with full body armour and adding a kinergy rifle to my inventory, I drag myself into Silverback 08’s main seating area where there’s rows upon rows of leather chairs with many players having safety belts fastened across their chests. The ship’s overhead lights are dimmed as we take off, sinking its interior into a state I can only describe as melancholic. Outside, other similar ships fly next to us on either side, forming what I imagine to be a triangular pattern when seen from the ground—Silverback 07 is on the left with 09 on the right. I’m guessing the C.R.D and the other higher-ups want to stick close in case we run into any trouble.

“Seat belt’s pretty tight,” A voice across me says.

“I mean, it’s better tight than loose, right? Wouldn’t wanna go flying.” Another voice replies.

“Screw it. I’ll deal with it when we land.”

Yoona’s already strapped into one of the seats. I know it’s her because her dark curls are peeking over her headrest, but barely. The seats have been designed to accommodate soldiers decked out in equipment, not thrillseekers looking to have a good time. Two rows down from her is Brianna Welsh who’s scratching the spiky bracelet around her wrist like a cat with ADHD.  She must have a lot going on in her mind. 

“Hi, Brianna.”

She looks up, revealing dark circles under eyes that once shone for her boyfriend’s affection. “Hey.”

“Do you mind if I sit?”

Brianna shakes her head. “Sure. It’s a free country.”

I lug myself onto the seat next to hers trying to not bump into her legs. Despite being roughly ten times the size of your standard airline cruiser, the multitude of seats have made for an experience more cramped than what I’m used to. Regardless, I appreciate the lack of stewardesses snooping around the private lounge to hear my family’s conversations, all under the guise of serving us.

“Are you okay?” I ask. Trivial question, but what else do you say to a girl who nearly killed herself the other day? When it’s such a touchy subject, there’s no way around it without pushing any of her buttons.

“Yeah,” Brianna says, clearly lying through her teeth. Her response sounds reflexive, like a knee jerking from a doctor’s hammer instead of reflecting her true thoughts. I know it can’t be further from the truth. I’ve never been in a relationship before, but it can’t ever be a pleasant thing to bury your boyfriend’s corpse. “It’s all my fault. I knew we were in trouble the second  those Apostle freaks teleported in. They’re ruthless, Michael. I’d know that more than anyone. Daniel knew that too. And he still blocked the blasts for me, because he knew what they were capable of.”

The Town Square was so packed on Resonance Day it only took a couple of machine guns to throw the crowd into chaos. The kinergy bolts had definitely added to the toll, but it wouldn’t have been the main reason for death. Dad encountered dozens of stampedes on his missions. He said you have to keep your arms out and stay firm on your feet so you don’t go under and get crushed. Unfortunately, many of the players around me were unaware of this, so they had resorted to going prone to hide from the Apostles.

If the bolts didn’t finish Daniel off, the crowd would have.

A nervous sweat forms on my brow. “I think I know their leader. He’s our senior.” Brianna glances up, our eyes finally meeting after all this time. “Enoch Blevins.” She says it with the same woe Mr Sayles did you might think they had been through the same things.

“So you do remember him.”

“Of course. A guy like him? His spirit stays with you forever even if you want to forget.”

“What’d he do? Did it happen in Dunflur?”

“Sort of,” Brianna says. “From what I heard, he was a pretty decent student. Good grades with the right attitude. But something changed him.”

I feel the overhead lights dimming in the way children would use flashlights to tell spooky stories about Dunflur. I don’t live there although that’s where my high school is—I have to travel from Oklahoma. But some say that’s where dark energy comes from, from one of the Animaen Gods.

According to the rumours, anyway.

I gulp. “The War.”

“That’s what I heard,” Brianna nods. “I don’t think anyone would have stayed the same, if they’d been through what he did. He could have gotten help, but he took it out on the wrong things.” 

Like the other kids in my cohort, I was born part of the Cyber Generation, one or two batches away from Enoch’s. That’s not to say I’m completely ignorant about the War. The world’s in a period of peace for the most part, but it turned my dad/mom into a PTSD-ridden workaholic. The War ended years ago, but whether its effects have truly died out or blossomed into something bad, if not worse is anyone’s guess.

Due to recent developments in CyberWorld, I’m leaning toward the latter.

“You’re probably feeling more at home than the rest of Class 3-B right now.”

“Oh?” I try not to sound too harsh, but a hint of accusation slips into my tone. “Why’s that?”

“Well, your dad’s probably prepped you for this sort of thing, right? I’m guessing you’re the only one who’s got it together.”

Prepared? More like over-prepared. You know how most kids learn the alphabet through words? A for Apple, for example. For me, A was for Armoured Personnel Casing, the material of some suits soldiers used in the War. Brianna’s right—Dad did teach me firearm handling and basic survival skills. I, however, don’t have it together like she’s assumed.

I scoff. “I bet the old geezer’s glad his work finally paid off.” Yoona’s hair bobs over the headrest in response. Is she laughing at me?

Brianna shakes her head. “No dad would be glad to see his child in war. Mine would’ve been devastated if he knew about this whole Apostle thing.” She slouches over her knees, her scalp meeting the rope netting of the seat in front. 

“The light around you, at the Town Square,” Brianna says. “Was that a glitch?”

I heave a sigh, my shoulders drooping to scrub against the seat’s mesh backing like grime being scraped from the dishes by some underpaid fast-food worker in Old Korea. Given the seat’s material is closer to a sponge than that the cells making up my body, it’s disturbing to see where that leave me.

“Unfortunately not, no,” I say. “I’m still not sure about the details. Tokoshima was really unhelpful. She called it Chronocease. Said it was fluid. Like…water?”

“Oh. How does it feel? Is it difficult to get the hang of?”

“Not necessarily. I’m just having a hard time controlling it.” I point at my arm where I landed on the Natsukashii during my fight with Suki, if it can even be called that. Even if I hadn’t had Chronocease to back me up, she would have absolutely wiped the floor with my face. “But I do know it’s really powerful. Tokoshima and Hachiyo think that much.”

“It came from AVAIL.” We look up. It’s Yoona, but she hasn’t bothered to look back. She has to yell over the roar of the ship’s engines. “That’s what they called CyberWorld before it became a video game.”

I chortle. “You could come sit with us, if you wanted.”

She doesn’t respond.

A gigantic blast of kinergy shoots across the ship’s exterior, 

A blaring alarm comes onto the ship’s loudspeakers, piercing my eardrums like lightning being shot into my offrices. The shoulders of players around us jerk from shock, and they cover their ears trying to make sense of the commotion.

“We’ve been spotted,” An urgent voice booms from the loudspeaker. “We’ll need to land earlier than expected, so get ready!”

“What? We just got on!” Brianna says.

I unbuckle my safety strap and scramble to the oval windows on my left, squeezing past two players unlucky enough to get in my way. When the pilot sends the ship onto its side at a 45-degree angle, the players’ bodies stiffen as my arm whirls next to their heads to stablilize myself. My mouth gapes open at the horrific sight before my eyes. There on the ground is a massive ground battle unfolding before my eyes. Soldiers rush at each other from opposing sides, kicking up dirt and scattering debris across the soldiers’ armor. 

There are a lot of players in white robes crawling from the thicket where the woods barely hide a sprawling crash of waves beyond the horizon. That’s the answer to the Resistance’s glaring problems. Either our numbers, there will be more than enough to drink for everyone. 

And all we have to do is kill all of them.

This is happening. This is happening. This is the beginning of the war, of the new age. Crap. I think. Crap! 

“Get away from me!” The player nearer to the window yells. My legs untangle itself from the bundle of knots that’s formed with theirs’ as I withdraw myself from the aisle. That voice—why is so familiar. I identify the two players by the same looks of disgust they gave me when I destroyed Issac‘s headset—Jax and Brody.

There’s no time to apologise, because everyone onboard is thrown to the side as another kinergy blast hits the ship, launching the vehicle to the right. This time, I’ve got nothing to hold onto, and I go down on the metal grailed floor, hard. I grab onto the nearest armrest for support and lean against the cushioned material, resting my head to stop the spinning. A hand reaches down to pull me up, and I grab with the arm that’s hurt on instinct. When I cry out in pain, the hand grabs my other arm, but the force isn’t enough to get me onto my two feet. As the ship’s interior comes into focus, I will my kneecaps to do my bidding for once. You served me well during tennis, now do your job, and I rise to full height to see Brianna clutching my hands and pulling back into the seats.

The ship makes its final descent as we bank to the right and swerve across the ground. This time, me and Brianna are knocked back into our seats, hands still clasped. We clutch our armrests like we’re being launched from a catapult at supersonic speed, only letting go when we drift to a stop. With everyone looking in a daze, most of the surrounding players are dying to catch their breath, but we know the ship is the least of our worries. 

While sirens above flash in dances of red, a man with a copper goatee and sullied hair peeking out from a pilot cap rushes down the ship’s aisle. In his arms is a kinerifle he’s clasping like it’s the royal family’s firstborn. 

“They hit the main fuel gasket,” He screeches so loud his words almost become unintelligible, like a walkie talkie tuned to the wrong frequency. “Get out, now!”

“Fuel port damaged. Combustion imminent, t-minus sixty seconds.” An automated voice comes onto the loudspeaker.

The pilot’s words are enough for everyone to scramble to their feet, tearing the safety straps off their bodies like it’s a thousand degrees. As the ship’s rear opens to unload the latest recruits fresh off the assembly line, players pull their weapons out of their Wristools to brace themselves for the ongoing storm. I’m amazed how intuitive they make it look—how they simply reach into that glowing void across their wrist and pull out rifles with kinergy-filled magazines. Among them are Yoona and Brady with firearms in their grasp as their boots stomp off the main access ramp towards hell in cyberspace.

“Onward!” The pilot raises his rifle in the air with one hand leading the pack.

“Combustion imminent, t-minus fifty seconds.”

“Hey, I’m stuck!” Jax pulls on his safety belt. He squirms around in his seat, tugging on the strap as if it’s a serpent coiling itself around its neck. “Brady, anyone? Help!” 

Brianna and I stare at him in shock as we rack our brains on what to do next. If his seatbelt isn’t willing to release him, his guts are going flying.

I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to yank a chair from its screws and toss it out of the main access ramp, hoping some Apostle cultist freak’s noggin’ on the way out. And yet the voices in my head are screaming for me to help.

But who’s to say Brianna doesn’t feel the same way, or worse?

“Combustion imminent, t-minus forty seconds.”

We scramble over Jax, weaving our way through the centre aisles as we step over seats that have gotten loose from their bearings. By the time we reach him, there are white marks where Jax has been clawing at the strap. If we didn’t come to help, we might die without fingernails.

Brianna and I tug on Jax’s seat belt to get it loose, but it stays firm against Jax’s chest. He’s practically hyperventilating as tears well up in his eyes. “I’m gonna die,” He moans, his chin now swollen where the strap has burnt his neck. “I’m gonna explode and die.”

“Jax,” Brianna whispers sounding like she’s come down with a cold.

Eventually I stop tugging on the strap and lean back on the seat in front of Jax’s. The three of us are lost for words, unable to process the severity of the situation we’ve landed in. I punch the armrest of the seat I’m leaning on, livid nothing good has come out of the years Dad spent training me. What’s the point of saving myself when there’s others more worthy of being saved?

“Combustion imminent, t-minus thirty seconds.”

Jax leans back and puts one hand down, placing the other on my shoulder. “Michael, it’s fine. Save yourself. At least I’ll die knowing you were better than my friends.” 

Brianna places a hand on his shoulder—the one wearing the bracelet with spikes from her late boyfriend. Daniel was part of Issac’s clique too, so Brianna and Jax are still friends, even if not the closest.

Wait—the bracelet. The spikes could—

Of course!

“Brianna, your bracelet! I could cut the strap with it.” Her eyes light up as she peels it off her wrist. “Yes!” She begins work on the safety belt, but I stop her.

“Combustion imminent, t-minus twenty seconds.”

“No,” I say. “You have to get off the ship.”

“Why?”

“I got Chronocease to back me up—I can make it off the ship faster than you,” I explain. My palm reaches out for the bracelet, and it drops into my hand. “I promise to give this back. Go!”

Brianna freezes in place, but she nods after a brief pause and rushes off the ship.

As I cut Jax loose, I think about what Daniel would thought of saving lives beyond the grave. Then again, I don’t think anyone would have thought it.

“You should’ve gone with her,” Jax groans. “Give Brady a posthumous kick in the butt for me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up and let me work.”

The spikes pierce the strap’s fabric easily, and it snaps away from Jax’s chest as I pull him up.

“Okay, go, go, go!” He screams.

“Combustion imminent, t-minus five seconds.”

We dash for the main access ramp as the ship’s interior is clouded in a flurry of flames. Fire surges across the windows and seats. 

As we feel the heat across our backs eager to break us down into ash, I feel my sense of time begin to grind to a halt, as if someone’s forwarding a holovid to its climax. 

“Five.”

Azure lightning sizzles across my skin, cranking my heart to its maximum capabilities—Chronocease is here to help.

I’ve got a little more time to think, but not much. I’m forced to focus all my thoughts into a single word that’s yet to fail me. 

Forward.

“Four.”

That’s it. I’m going to feel a blast of wind in my face and grab Jax’s arm along the way, launching us out of harm’s way before we’re consumed by the fiery inferno.

Instead, the blue lightning around my body vanishes like a bear going into hibernation.

“Three.”

What? Why isn’t it working? Tokoshima said Chronocease was activated by emotion. Isn’t an explosion rushing towards our backs like a cheetah hunting deer in a savannah enough to illicit my fear of death?

“Two.”

“Boys!”

A figure in a navy uniform rushes to Jax and I and stops before getting onto the ramp with his arm already inside his Wristool watch. Robotic legs spring from  his belt and plough into the dirt to keep him in place. “Behind me!”

Jax and I glance at each other. His legs give way as he drops onto his knees and slides off the ramp next to our saviour. My getaway isn’t nearly as stylish. I gallop behind the man like a mare fleeing a race track for gambling, nearly injuring another limb as I spin around on my ankle, cowering with my hands over my ears as the inferno reaches its roaring climax.

“One.”

A glowing rectangular hologram spanning two metres and three feet forms onto the ramp, and out shoots a protective barrier spanning the man’s peripheral vision—the riot shield the C.R.D used in the Town Square. The shield covers Jax and I as the blaze finally catches us, and the man grunts in pain from the strength of keeping us in place amidst the flames surging across his shield. Jax and I both cry in pain from the residual heat emitting from the flames coming from above and our sides. We may not be getting burnt directly, but it sure feels like we are.

When all the flames finally morph into smoke, Jax and I poke out from behind the riot shield. Silverback 08’s casing has collapsed on itself, leaving only the basic framework of its interior. The leather on the seats drip from their chassis, producing a smell I can only describe as barbecued skin. 

Another hologram appears on top of his shield and swallows it whole. Our saviour picks himself up from the ground and swings his arm in a circle. With how toned his biceps are, anyone would be knocked out cold if they were standing near him. He turns and offers Jax his hand. Jax stands up and looks at the man in awe as he brushes himself off. When the man offers to help me up, I’m too starstruck to take his hand. I gaze up in wonder at our saviour, the memories of Dad’s recounted tales of one of his buddies during the War flooding my subconscious.

I couldn’t make out his face at the Town Square, but now that he’s standing in front of me, I can finally recognise him.

My lips part, but barely.

“Lee Han-woo.”