Deep night had settled over Sector 7. The chaotic panic of the morning market had been replaced by the weary snoring of citizens sleeping soundly, finally feeling safe.
Johnny lay in his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. His body felt heavy, a lingering side effect of the explosive energy used to slaughter the mutant rats earlier. Yet, sleep eluded him.
Silence reigned, save for the night wind whistling softly through the cracks in the window.
Suddenly, the silence shattered inside him.
THUMP.
His heart beat once, hard, as if responding to a rhythm far out in the distance.
Johnny clutched his chest, frowning. It wasn't a heart attack. It was that same pulling sensation from weeks ago—the one that had brought him to this world. But the intensity was different. Before, it was a faint whisper; tonight, it was a scream.
The air in his room turned cool, carrying a scent that shouldn't exist in this industrial city: wet earth, morning dew, and blooming flowers.
Fine particles of green light—the Lifestream—began to seep up from the floorboards, swirling gently around his bed. They weren't terrifying, unlike the evil spirits that used to haunt Guts at night. These lights felt... lonely.
"She is waiting for you..."
The voice didn't enter through his ears but echoed directly against his skull.
Johnny sat up on the edge of the bed. His breathing was steady, but his eyes pierced the darkness, fixing on the eastern wall—toward the direction of Sector 5.
The phantom pain in his neck—the scar of the Brand of Sacrifice—which usually stung, felt cold and calm now, as if dampened by the call. Johnny realized the whisper wanted him to go there. He had secured his home, provided for his parents, and cleared the vermin from his neighborhood. The whisper was strong yet gentle, offering a choice rather than a command:
"Are you ready to move?"
"You're noisy tonight," Johnny whispered to the empty air, addressing the wind summoning him. "Fine. I get it."
He lay back down, closed his eyes, and let the green particles companion him into sleep. The call had been accepted. Tomorrow, his fate would shift.
The morning sky beneath the Plate was still dark, but Johnny was already busy in his room. He wasn't just carrying his sword. He retrieved an old, slightly weathered canvas backpack belonging to his father.
Its contents were packed with military efficiency:
Rough wool blanket: Tightly rolled and strapped to the bottom of the bag.
Rations: Three chunks of hard bread, dried meat jerky (leftovers from dinner he had preserved), and a full water bottle.
First Aid: Clean cloth bandages and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol.
Johnny knew the trek to Sector 5 on foot was no short jaunt for a child. He might have to camp on the road if things went sideways.
He went downstairs. Garrick and Marilla were drinking their morning coffee.
"Dad, Mom," Johnny set his bag on a chair. "I'm going to Sector 5 today. I might... stay overnight if it gets too late on the road."
Marilla nearly choked on her coffee. "Overnight? Sector 5 is far, Johnny! And why bring a blanket?"
"I want to scavenge for machine parts in the Sector 6 Scrapyard and the outskirts of Sector 5. There's good stuff left in the old wreckage," Johnny reasoned calmly. "The blanket is just in case it rains or I have to sleep at the station."
Garrick stared at his son. He saw the massive iron sword wrapped in cloth on Johnny's back. He remembered how Johnny had slaughtered the rats yesterday with cold efficiency. His son was no longer an ordinary child.
"Marilla, let him go," Garrick said softly, taking his wife's hand. "He's proven he can take care of himself. Besides... he needs room to grow."
Garrick looked at Johnny seriously. "But promise me one thing. Don't die foolishly. And if there's a danger you can't fight... run."
Johnny nodded firmly. "I promise. I'll come home in one piece."
After kissing his mother's and father's hands, Johnny stepped out. The workshop door closed behind him.
The mission had begun.