BREW

T-minus 15 minutes.

The wind changed first.

A sound—subtle, like children humming in harmony—began to drift over the rooftops. Sweet. Gentle. It bled through the ruins and wound its way through alleys and open doors.

Then came the cold.

Merry turned to Ran. "That sound... it's not real. That's projection."

Ran narrowed his eyes. "It's psychic and environmental. Not Lucid-born. We've got something new."

As if summoned by their words, corpses in the street began to stir—not with jerks, not like zombies. These dead civilians rose slowly, fluidly, as if remembering life. Their feet never touched the ground. They hovered, humming, their heads tilting in sync.

"Echoes," Ran muttered. "Not spirits. These aren't anomalies… they're emotional remnants."

Merry raised her machete. "Then what's puppeteering them?"

A scream burst out from behind them—one of the scouts had touched one of the floating figures. The thing shrieked—a jagged, multi-voice cry—and more of them began forming clusters. Choirs. Harmonies turned discordant.

Each cluster let out a resonance, and the effect was immediate:

Magical shields flickered and dropped.

Psychic barriers cracked.

Some agents collapsed, sobbing, seeing visions of family members pleading for help.

Ran stepped forward and slammed his palm into the blood-soaked ground. "Enough."

His voice echoed with ritual authority.

A shockwave burst from beneath his boots—a ring of light surged outward, slicing through a dozen choir clusters. The floating husks disintegrated in silence.

He raised both hands and drew intricate sigils in the air. They hovered, burning with white-blue fire.

"SEVER."

Another glyph detonated mid-air, breaking the resonance across half the city block.

Merry took the opening, lunged forward, and began slicing down the few remaining echoes still singing. With each kill, the air cleared.

"We need to end this quickly. The choir's destabilizing the barrier," Ran said, breathing heavily. "More will follow. Something's testing our defense."

T-minus 10 minutes.

Elsewhere, on the other side of town, a team of five Lucids led by Captain Silva had taken shelter behind a collapsed marketplace. They were isolated from the command squad. No word from Merry. No contact from Ran.

"Communications are down again," Silva muttered. "Everyone eyes open. Stay close."

They turned the corner and froze.

The road was no longer cracked pavement—it had transformed into a polished obsidian-like surface, gleaming despite the absence of light. Their reflections moved slightly out of sync.

"Watch the surfaces!" Silva barked.

Buildings shimmered. Shattered windows were whole again—but showed different scenes. One Lucid saw his childhood self, running from something invisible. Another saw her family crying in a home that no longer existed.

Private Lena's gun trembled in her hand. "I… I just saw myself die."

"Eyes forward. You look too long, it might become real," Silva snapped.

Then came the janitorial figures—tall, formless shadows scraping at the streets with invisible brooms and mops. They moved silently, wiping away not dirt, but presence itself.

Where they passed, footprints vanished. Blood disappeared. A scout's equipment bag blinked out of existence.

"Fall back!" Silva ordered. "Don't let them touch you!"

But one Lucid hesitated, locking eyes—accidentally—with the faceless head of a sweeping shadow.

His scream was cut short. Then his name. Then his voice. The squad looked around—there were only four of them now.

"Who's missing?" Lena asked.

No one answered.

Silva as a stronger lucid, she felt something was off. This is a large scale operation, why would their commander assign only 1 team here? Why would her team consist of only 4 if the minimum members should be 5? The other city already provided support and yet their group is so isolated. No matter how much she thinks of it something felt off.

She stared at the ground where the fifth had stood. Nothing. Not even dust.

Back with the command unit, Merry and Ran stood at the edge of the ritual seal.

Ran had completed a dome-like ritual barrier over the town's epicenter. Its translucent veil pulsed gently in sync with the corrupted environment. It not only shielded civilians from the anomaly's spread but prevented public exposure.

He traced a final rune into the air. "Barrier's complete. No broadcasts. No leaks. If we fall here, they'll still never know."

"It's also sturdy, even level 3 anomaly won't easily escape. Even I die the barrier would still work, this gives us enough time until the support comes"

Merry glanced toward the town's center. The light inside the dome had shifted.

"Let's not fall."

In the distance, more doors opened.

And somewhere beneath the streets, something scrubbed harder.