The city skyline burned in the distance — a jagged crown of smoke and fire under the bruised violet sky.
Deep underground, in the forgotten maintenance room, Reo's team gathered around a flickering, half-broken terminal Doraemon had hacked into life.
On the cracked screen:
Blueprints. Maps. Patrol patterns.
Data ripped straight from the heart of the Coil's private network.
It wasn't much.
But it was enough to start.
---
A New Plan
"We can't outrun them forever," Arisa said, tightening the makeshift bandage on Takashi's side. "We need real shelter. Supplies. A base."
Reo nodded grimly.
He had already been thinking the same thing.
"We're going to take Old Town," he said.
The others stared at him in shock.
Old Town — the abandoned core of the city — was a wasteland of collapsed buildings, toxic ruins, and feral gangs.
No one ruled there.
Which was exactly why they had to.
"We carve out territory," Reo continued. "Fortify it. Build something the Coil can't easily crush. And we gather people. There are more like us — broken, hunted. They'll join if we offer them hope."
Arisa's eyes lit up with fierce determination.
Takashi, though pale and sweating, grinned weakly.
Yuna looked nervous — but she nodded, too.
Reo turned back to the terminal.
"Doraemon," he said. "Mark critical points. Abandoned substations. Medical caches. Anything we can use."
"Already scanning," Doraemon replied. "But you're gonna love this. Found something… interesting."
The screen flickered, then zoomed in on a sector of Old Town.
At its center: a massive underground facility.
"An old tech vault," Doraemon said. "From before the war. Untouched. Sealed. If we can crack it…"
"We get weapons," Reo finished, a slow, dangerous smile curving his lips.
Weapons.
Real ones.
Enough to light the match that would burn this rotten world down.
---
Meanwhile, in the Coil's Headquarters…
Far above the chaos, in a tower of black glass and steel, a figure watched the city burn from behind a wall of screens.
His suit was immaculate. His hair, silvered at the temples, was slicked back neatly.
A single word glowed on the screen in front of him:
"REO."
The man — Director Kurogane — tapped his fingers against the desk, eyes cold.
Behind him, the door slid open silently.
A new figure stepped in — tall, cloaked in sleek armor, a blank visor covering their face.
"You summoned me," the figure said, voice distorted.
Kurogane smiled thinly.
"You're our best tracker. Our best killer," he said. "And now, I have a target for you."
He turned the screen.
Reo's face stared back, battered and defiant.
The cloaked figure tilted their head slightly, analyzing.
"Authorization?" the figure asked.
Kurogane's smile widened.
"Omega clearance," he said. "Bring him back alive… or in pieces."
The hunter nodded once.
And without another word, they turned and vanished into the night.
---
Old Town: The First Strike
Back underground, Reo's team emerged into the edge of Old Town.
It was worse than he remembered.
Collapsed towers loomed like the skeletons of giants.
Firelight flickered from broken windows.
The stink of rot and ash filled the air.
Everywhere, desperate survivors moved in gangs — fighting over scraps, killing for a bottle of clean water.
"Welcome home," Reo muttered dryly.
They moved carefully, avoiding patrols and scavengers.
Step by step, they mapped the ground.
Cleared ambush points.
Found defensible locations.
The tech vault was their goal.
But first?
They had to survive the night.
---
First Blood
They found them on the third block — a gang of raiders harassing a family of refugees.
A boy, no older than ten, was crying as a thug held a knife to his mother's throat.
Reo didn't hesitate.
Three shots.
Three bodies dropped, clean and silent.
The gang didn't even know what hit them.
Reo stepped out of the shadows, pistol steady, eyes cold.
"Next one who moves dies," he said.
The surviving thugs froze, terror in their eyes.
Reo's team moved in, weapons ready.
"Drop your gear," Arisa snapped. "NOW!"
The thugs complied, tossing down stolen guns and knives.
Reo looked at the trembling family — their eyes wide, hollow with fear.
"You're safe," he said quietly. "Go."
They ran, not looking back.
Reo turned back to the gang.
"You work for us now," he said simply. "Or you don't work at all."
The message was clear.
Serve… or be crushed.
Slowly, grudgingly, the thugs nodded.
A start.
Small.
But a start.
---
The Spark
That night, under the broken stars, Reo stood atop a crumbling rooftop, staring out over the ruins.
Around him, small fires flickered — survivors gathering, whispers spreading.
A name was already rising among them.
The Phoenix.
The one who would rise from the ashes and lead them.
Reo clenched his fists.
Not a phoenix.
A storm.
One that would sweep away the old world and build something better from the wreckage.
And for the first time in years, he smiled.
Not with bitterness.
But with hope.
---