Akira’s hands moved with a frantic precision, fingers flying across his phone’s screen as he plugged it into a power bank dangling precariously from his pocket. His other hand tapped commands into his watch, each swipe deliberate, his eyes darting from file to file. The energy around them churned with violent chaos—bullets ricocheting, tentacles writhing, and Kou’s voice cutting through the din like a lifeline he couldn’t afford to follow just yet.

Not now. Not while everything still hinged on finding a place—a place Maruki didn’t know.

The vibrations from Kou’s rifle reverberated through the space, each shot accompanied by the ear-splitting screech of tentacles bursting apart. The noise rang in Akira’s ears, but he focused harder, jaw clenched, sweat dripping into his eyes as he pushed through the maze of footage. Then the files blurred into static—one by one, until blackness enveloped the entire screen.

“Dammit,” he hissed, shifting on instinct as a tentacle lashed out, only narrowly missing his shoulder. He thought fast, ignoring the strain in his legs and the tremor in his free hand.

It has to be somewhere safe. Somewhere he’s never seen. But where?

It can't be his place in the hotel. What if Corvus turned on him in the future? Revealed everything to everyone else? His way of operation, his way of-

The phone buzzed weakly, threatening to die if not for the battery pack strapped to Akira’s side. He cursed under his breath. Another crash echoed from behind him as Kou fired again, each shot tearing through the onslaught, but the voices—the voices were worse.

They begged, screamed, whispered truths Akira couldn’t face. He swallowed hard.

You don’t care about him. You only destroy what you touch. You’re no different from me.

That voice wasn’t Kou’s. It wasn’t Maruki’s. It wasn’t Goro’s. It wasn’t anyone’s.

It was his.