The morning before Kaodin left CSDS, the sky above the dome, he has a strange feeling yet unable to find an appropriate words to describe, as a shimmered, fractured sky that felt so Gloomy, with a wave of dark greyish clouds hovering toward the northeast.
The wind carried the faintest tang of oxidized iron and burnt polymer.
Every breath tasted faintly metallic.
And that reminds me of how Cee-Too used to warn me about how I like to breathe the morning air — a strange trait regular people wouldn't dare try, fearing permanent respiratory damage. And that's why I would jolt every time his words popped into my head.
Cee-Ar-Tee's footsteps echoed behind him as he walked through the cracked perimeter leading toward the outer, currently partially damaged wall.
"You'll take the eastern corridor," he said. "We've cleared most of the CCs in the 2 km proximity. Still, be extra cautious near the river — there might be CCs floating along the river downstream. The terrain outside… unpredictable, but survivable if you don't let your guard down."
Kaodin nodded, the strap of his pack creaking against his shoulder.
The pack was light — dried food, a folding tent, a small first-aid module, a canteen, and the new wristwatch Xiao Ying had given him. It gleamed faintly blue under the thin sunlight. She'd stayed up late adjusting its interface herself, solder burns still fresh on her fingers.
The watch pulsed once — soft and rhythmic — scanning his vitals, then pinged a tone he was still learning to interpret.
A button press — ping… then the screen lit with a small droplet icon, signaling nearby fresh water, indicating 2 km ahead.
Something like this was completely unimaginable back in my time — and yet, here it was: a centuries-old solar-powered rubber watch, rewired with thin copper lines and patched-on modules, each piece serving a different purpose. The cracked touchscreen still responded to a tap, letting the user cycle through readings. What an ingenious design. It would be good if I could find some souvenir to return to her as well.
Ping… another slight button tap on the screen switched to the earlier preset location programmed by Xiao Ying, indicating Siam Aerospace Institute as the designated location.
Mrs. Hong stood near the underground vault's blasted door with Xiao Ying beside her.
Xiao Ying's eyes — I guess it was about Cee-Too and her lack of sleep — and yet she still managed to wake up to see me off with a smile.
"Don't break the wristwatch," she said. "And the commlink. I added a ping alert in case anything bigger than a dog gets close. You'll hear it before you see it."
"I'll take care of it," Kaodin said while trying to smile, though in his heart he felt wrong, since this farewell would signal their hope for my successful return with all the necessary items requested to repair my friend / brother-in-crime and a girl who is a new friend.
Cee-Ar-Tee extended a hand, waving off with his emotionless face but with the glistening kind and hopeful eyes he always had.
"Director Zhang asked me to tell you something. He said — 'Keep your guard up when meeting King Kadavar.' He believes you'll understand what that means when you face the man yourself."
Kaodin didn't fully understand. But he bowed, grateful for the delivered message anyway.
"I'll remember. Thanks, Cee-Ar-Tee. Take care."
When the makeshift outer lock groaned open along with the photogenic veil flickering slightly before it hummed a straight sound as the veil opened steadily, Kaodin quickly moved out before the veil began acting up again — a new lesson for my combat training, a new challenge for my life, and a strong determination I have to achieve for everyone at the CSDS.
And it was as if the day was blessing him — shining a burning ray of light through the cloudy rain straight into Kaodin's eyes — and he had to raise a hand against it.
Wawa padded out first, his spectral fur flickering in the sunlight, half translucent, half smoke.
The heat made him shimmer like a mirage.
Mrs. Hong called after Kaodin, voice carried by the wind.
"The east leads to the old railway basin! There's shelter there — if you reach the river, follow the left bank until the ruins of a temple. You'll know it when you see it. And it's almost storm season — watch out too, Kaodin!"
Kaodin turned just long enough to raise his hand in farewell.
Storm season? Did I hear it wrong? I never heard there's a storm season in this region before, though… or maybe that's just what they usually call rainy season.
He wanted to say something — thank you, maybe, or I'll come back soon — but the words stayed behind with the others.
Kaodin could only smile and wave back at them.
But as he turned back toward his path, wiping his eyes from the dust with his hand as he walked toward the navigated direction from his watch, his heart was full of determination to find the cure for both Liara and the new heart for Cee-Too.
Arriving at the crossroad, I brought out a water bottle to have a sip and then turned once more toward the huge wall of the CSDS, which was now just the size of a small tree nut. From here, CSDS looked strangely unlike the grand metropolitan — just an abandoned junkyard, smoke drifting upward in even trails, like the city was finally breathing slower.
And the sight of those automated drones hovering above the rebuilt vault entrances, carrying bundles of metal beams, while children in dust-grey uniforms ran behind them laughing — all of that began to fade as the further I walked on.
Now it's a place I'm surely going to miss, and the people I met at the CSDS left such a strong sentiment in me that I almost forgot I still have to find a way back to my family.
By midday the air had turned dry and biting.
I'm walking along the old railway basin.
The world outside the dome felt wider than he remembered — a graveyard of concrete bones and brittle grass, the horizon warped by heat and dust.
The sound of his footsteps mixed with the faint ticking from the watch.
Every kilometer or so, a soft vibration signaled nearby water or movement.
Once, it warned of a creature; when he looked, a long shadow darted behind the shell of a derailed tram. Nothing followed.
He trained as he moved — slow punches into empty air, elbows cutting through the sunlight.
The Qi flow had become more natural now, like breathing through a second set of lungs.
Wawa watched, tail flicking, occasionally echoing his movement with playful grace — a mirror made of fire and memory.
When he stopped to rest, he crouched beside a cracked service tunnel and listened.
The hum beneath the ground wasn't power anymore; it was wind, whistling through hollow pipes.
For a moment, he imagined the sound carried voices — Cee-Too's laughter, Xiao Ying's constant chatter, Mrs. Hong scolding someone for burning soup.
It almost felt alive.
He ate one ration bar, dry and bland. The flavor made him think of the old training days — plain rice, cold air, the sound of his father's voice calling, "Again, Din. Again."
There are only his parents who would call him by that name, so that's definitely no one else.
The sun dipped low before he noticed how far he'd gone.
He stopped by a ridge of rusted cars and set camp.
The multi-function wristwatch pinged softly — no movement within two hundred meters.
He pressed a small button, and a low hum activated around the tent — a motion barrier field, courtesy of Xiao Ying's tinkering.
It glowed faintly, a translucent dome within the dead world's ruin.
Inside, the silence thickened.
Kaodin lay back, eyes half-open, staring at the flicker of Wawa's tail beyond the tent wall.
The world outside hissed like static.
His thoughts drifted — to Liara.
He could still feel her, faint as the tremor of a heartbeat underwater.
Sometimes, when he slept, she came to him in the quiet between dreams — playing with Wawa, laughing soundlessly.
She'd always vanish when he reached out.
But that light she left behind stayed inside his chest, small but steady.
He whispered into the darkness,
"Hold on a little longer."
The words weren't for her ears; they were for his own.
The night passed without alarm.
A faint breeze stirred the tent in the early dawn.
Kaodin stretched, bones cracking, body humming with restrained fire.
He looked east — the sky pale again, the color of faded glass.
He packed, slung the bag over his shoulder, and began walking.
Somewhere far behind, CSDS continued to rebuild itself — laughter, hammers, arguments about soup recipes.
He couldn't hear any of it now.
Only the wind.
Only Wawa's soft pads in the dust beside him.