D-Animal
The building was breathing wrong.
That was the only way Elara could describe the sensation—as if the structure were alive, but sick, groaning at irregular intervals, releasing dry cracks from hidden beams, long moans from fractured walls that stubbornly refused to fall. The air was heavy, thick, laden with fine dust that clung to the throat and made every breath feel incomplete.
They remained inside the abandoned building, moving forward with care.
Lucas walked closer to Elara than he wanted to admit, eyes wide, alert to every shadow that shifted when outside light flickered through the broken window gaps. Seung-Woo followed just behind, posture rigid, senses stretched to the limit, like a predator forcibly restrained inside a space far too small.
The silence was deceptive.
It wasn't the absence of sound—it was expectation.
Elara felt it in her skin.
The D-Armilla on her wrist pulsed in a strange rhythm, almost nervous, as if anticipating something that hadn't happened yet. Sweat slid cold along her temple despite the stifling heat. Her mismatched eyes analyzed everything: the shard-strewn floor, partially collapsed corridors, wires hanging from the ceiling like torn nerves.
Then came the sound.
A metallic snap, too short to identify at once.
Not an explosion.
Not a gunshot.
Worse.
Elara didn't think.
Her body reacted before her mind.
"Lucas!" she shouted—and threw herself forward.
The impact was brutal.
She lunged, covering Lucas and Seung-Woo with her own body at the exact instant the ceiling above them partially gave way. Old glass, weakened by time and external vibrations, burst inward like a rain of blades.
The noise was deafening.
Shards cut through the air, embedding themselves in walls, the floor—and Elara's back.
The shock tore a low grunt from her throat as pain exploded in multiple points at once. Small fragments pierced the fabric of her clothes and sank into skin, some lodging there, others slicing as they scraped past.
She felt warm blood begin to run, spreading slowly down her back.
But she didn't scream.
She kept her body rigid, arched over the two of them, arms spread like an improvised wall.
Lucas let out a strangled sound.
"E-Elara—"
"Quiet," she snarled softly, her voice firm despite the burning pain. "Don't move."
For a few seconds, the world seemed to slow.
Dust fell like dirty snow.
The smell of shattered concrete mixed with old rust and fresh blood.
When silence returned—heavy, oppressive—Elara moved.
Slowly.
Controlled.
She pushed herself up with effort, back muscles protesting, every motion setting the cuts ablaze. Her whole body screamed to stop, to give in, to acknowledge the damage.
She ignored it.
She turned to face Lucas and Seung-Woo before either could see her back.
Her expression was serious, controlled.
"It's not safe here," she said, as if nothing had happened. "The structure's unstable. We keep moving."
Seung-Woo frowned.
"You—"
"I'm fine," she cut in too quickly. "Move."
Lucas watched her with excessive attention, childish instinct mixed with something deeper. He knew his sister. He knew that tone.
But he also knew fear.
And he obeyed.
They moved on.
Every step Elara took was a test of endurance. The glass fragments lodged in her back shifted beneath the skin, sending sharp jabs with every deeper breath. Blood kept flowing, warm, sticking to her clothes.
She didn't let out a single sound.
The corridor they entered was worse.
Darker.
Outside light barely reached inside, casting irregular patches of shadow that stretched along the walls like grasping fingers. Old graffiti covered the concrete—messages left by people who likely hadn't survived: pleas for help, names, dates, disconnected symbols.
The building felt frozen in time.
A capsule of despair.
The floor creaked beneath their feet.
In the distance, a muffled boom made the place vibrate slightly. Not here—but a reminder that the city was still dying, street by street, block by block.
Elara drew a deep breath, ignoring the sting in her back.
She raised her wrist.
The D-Armilla responded at once, projecting a discreet glow into the darkness.
"Come watch the skies for your mistress," she murmured, voice low, almost reverent. "Owl… Visio."
The projection formed on the floor, a flickering grid that steadied before solidifying. Visio took shape, metallic wings opening with a soft, controlled sound. Violet eyes blazed in the dim space, casting ghostly reflections along the broken walls.
The owl took flight, slipping through a hole in the ruined ceiling.
And the world opened to Elara again.
Aerial vision flooded her mind like a living map: shattered streets, pockets of fire, irregular movement of Ferus D-Animals wandering in smaller groups after the initial dispersal. Signs of Indômita Deletio farther north. Military forces still actively engaged.
The danger hadn't passed.
It had only changed shape.
She clenched her fist for a second, feeling the pulse of the bond.
Stay away, she thought, not knowing exactly who she was addressing. Please.
Seung-Woo walked beside her now, too attentive.
He noticed the rigid way Elara held her shoulders.
Noticed how she avoided turning her back.
"You threw yourself on top of us," he said quietly, so Lucas wouldn't hear. "I heard the impact."
Elara kept her eyes forward.
"It was that or let the ceiling fall on you."
"You're hurt."
It wasn't a question.
She took a second before answering.
"We'll talk later," she said. "Now, move."
He tightened his jaw, but didn't press.
The air grew heavier as they advanced into a deeper section of the building, where moisture pooled and the smell of mold was nearly suffocating. Water dripped from somewhere unseen, each drop echoing too loudly in the oppressive quiet.
Lucas hugged his arms to himself.
"This place… it's awful," he murmured.
Elara looked at him.
Something tightened in her chest.
"I know," she said, softening her tone. "But you're doing really well."
She reached out, squeezing his shoulder lightly—a small but steady gesture.
As long as I'm here, she thought, nothing touches you.
Another tremor rippled through the building, farther away, but enough to shake dust loose from the ceiling. A metal panel fell at the end of the corridor with a dry crash, making Lucas jump.
Elara instinctively stepped in front of him again.
Always in front.
Always the shield.
Visio circled above, vigilant.
No immediate threat.
Still, Elara didn't relax.
She had learned too early that danger never announced its arrival.
And in that broken world, survival meant one simple, cruel truth:
Sometimes, you had to bleed in silence so others could keep walking.
And Elara Pack was willing to do exactly that.
As many times as necessary.