At first, nobody understood what they were seeing.

  The sound came before the image.

  A sharp, unnatural rupture—like glass splitting over the entire world.

  Every conversation inside the bus stopped at once.

  Students turned toward the windows.

  Outside, the sky had opened.

  A jagged wound spread across the clouds, pulsing with purple light.

  Yuji dropped the packet of chips in his hand.

  “What the hell is that?”

  The bus shook.

  The driver yelled.

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  Then the road beneath them split open.

  Screams tore through the bus as the tires lost grip and the vehicle lurched violently to one side. Children slammed against seats. Bags, phones, and water bottles flew through the air.

  Raiden grabbed Tsukito’s arm with one hand and the seat frame with the other.

  “Tenma!”

  “I’m here—!”

  The second impact silenced half the bus.

  The guardrail shattered.

  For one impossible instant, they were weightless.

  Then the world rolled.

  Metal screamed. Glass burst inward. Someone cried out in prayer. Someone else was screaming a name over and over again.

  Tsukito’s head struck something hard.

  His vision flashed white.

  Then darkness.

  When he woke, the bus was lying on its side.

  Everything hurt.

  Smoke hung in the air. A child was sobbing somewhere nearby. Several windows were gone, and cold wind dragged broken papers down the aisle.

  “Raiden,” Tsukito coughed.

  A groan answered him from nearby.

  “Still alive.”

  Tenma was farther ahead, already trying to pull someone free from a bent row of seats. Blood ran down the side of his face, but his movements were calm and precise.

  “We need to get everyone out,” he said.

  Outside, the sky was worse.

  Multiple rifts had opened now.

  The world looked broken.

  The ground trembled beneath them.

  Tsukito froze.

  Purple light was spilling upward through cracks in the earth.

  Raiden climbed through the shattered window, glanced down at the glowing fissures, and muttered, “Please tell me that’s not more bad news.”

  Tenma followed, helping Mika and Daria outside.

  “That depends on your definition.”

  The ground split wider.

  Something moved beneath the light.

  At first it looked like liquid shadow.

  Then the mass rose, taking on a rough silhouette—hooded, human-shaped, wrong.

  Then it changed again.

  A creature clawed its way free, its glossy black body unfolding like an insect dragged from a nightmare.

  Its eyes opened.

  Red.

  It screamed.

  And then the others began to emerge.