TS Beam
The sky was a dull gray. It wasn’t a particularly unfamiliar sight. He had grown sick of skies choked with fine dust long ago. What bothered him more, however, was how the sunlight piercing through the hazy atmosphere stung his skin. He should have been used to UV exposure, so why did it feel so strange? Surely this wasn’t some absurd premise where the ozone layer had been destroyed and the particulate matter was now acting as a substitute filter.
“───.”
Pushing the stray thoughts aside, he raised one hand to shade his eyes and turned his gaze toward the land spreading out beneath the sky. A dark crimson wasteland. Massive, withered trees lay scattered across it like the carcasses of dead animals. He tried to take in the full scope, but the gentle hills encircling the area blocked any view of the horizon. The only features that stood out were the puddles dotting the ground. They were unnaturally circular, carrying a distinctly artificial feel—like craters left by falling shells.
Still, it was water. The mysterious substance forged by the universe itself, and the single most vital resource for survival.
After a brief hesitation, he started walking. Tilting his head, he peered into one of the puddles. The perfectly still water showed no signs of life. Not even the mosquito larvae one might expect. Could tardigrades survive in there? The thought made him let out an involuntary chuckle.
“Guess I’m supposed to drink it and die.”
At that moment, an unfamiliar voice slipped into his ears. It was thin yet beautiful. He flinched, then realized it was his own—this body’s—voice. His shoulders began to tremble. And, naturally, the figure reflected on the water’s surface copied the exact same motion.
It was a delayed reaction, but this was ridiculous.
“...Did I really get hit?”
He lowered the hand he had been using to block the stinging sunlight. It was small. And pretty. A delicate, adorable hand that looked almost translucent with fine downy hairs. Anyone would recognize it as a child’s hand—a young girl’s, at that, with perfectly manicured nails.
What partially covered that body was black fabric adorned with lace. Yes, lace. That light, soft silk material used to decorate dresses. The kind that inevitably came with those niche gothic lolita outfits women rarely wore outside of special photoshoots or cosplay.
“And on top of that, red hair.”
That wasn’t the only eccentric detail. The small stature paired with surprisingly large breasts wasn’t too shocking. There were plenty of precocious kids out there. The real issue was the long hair cascading all the way to her thighs. It was impeccably maintained, flowing abundantly down her back without a single strand out of place. The texture felt utterly alien. Especially since the color was such a vivid, primary red. The sense of disconnection multiplied several times over.
Even the small face reflected in the puddle was doll-like. It possessed a sculptural beauty that a genius artist might only achieve once in a lifetime. Flawless white skin, large eyes, slightly upturned corners that might have been his imagination, and firmly pressed pink lips. It was an undeniably cute face, the kind that sparked no debate or controversy…
What kind of self-assessment was he making while staring at his own face?
“Just when did this happen?”
His memories were hazy at best. He had been commuting when he was suddenly pulled into a white space. A girl appeared out of nowhere, proposing they swap bodies. He remembered arguing with her—the one whose body he now inhabited—in front of a black door. The last thing that came to mind was someone shouting boldly, “Farewell, you fucking world. I’m out, bitch! This is liberation!”
That had probably been his voice. Or rather, the voice of what used to be his body.
The problem started after that. He couldn’t recall at what point the body swap occurred, who opened the suspicious black door the girl had pointed to, or when he had arrived in this desolate land before him. Nothing.
It wasn’t exactly amnesia—everything else was perfectly clear. His name, age, job, the tasks he was supposed to handle today. He felt no discomfort regarding events before the girl’s appearance. That difficult yet peaceful daily routine had become an irretrievable past in the blink of an eye. He still couldn’t fully accept this reality.
What was he supposed to do now? What was this place? Did people live here? Were there even any living creatures?
He was racking his brain with these questions when—
“Huh?”
The girl’s reflection in the puddle began to distort. Realizing ripples were spreading across the surface, he paused.
“...Vibrations?”
The air was still. There was no wind. The faint circular waves were so subtle they would be easy to miss, but he soon recognized they were recurring at regular intervals.
Something was nearby. Something massive and heavy was moving.
When he cautiously reached the summit of a gentle hill roughly ten meters high, the first thing to catch his eye was a black structure resembling castle walls. His face instinctively relaxed at this undeniable trace of civilization. He had been on edge, half-expecting a completely ruined world devoid of anything. This was a welcome sight.
He couldn’t tell how far away it was, but it was clearly quite distant. Even with its silhouette blurred by the hazy air, its enormous presence was palpable.
That wasn’t the only thing that stood out. Floating above the clearly artificial structure was something equally immense—too vast to properly gauge its scale. It was so enormous that it distorted any sense of distance.
“──A magic circle?”
It was a colossal white formation covered in flashy, geometric patterns and incomprehensible symbols, the kind you’d see in anime. Hovering in the low sky and rotating slowly, it seemed to be protecting the entire building.
It was unfamiliar territory, but it was still evidence of civilization. Whether or not this was the Earth he had known was secondary. At least it wasn’t a completely dead, lifeless world. He was grateful for that.
But something held him back from rushing blindly toward that massive structure.
“What the hell is that?”
Thanks to its clever camouflage, it was the last thing he noticed. It was undoubtedly the source of the strange vibrations he had detected.
Unlike the hazy silhouette of the enormous structure or the giant magic circle, this thing moving across the dark red terrain was clearly visible. Its smooth, oval body was painted in a mottled earthy tone that blended seamlessly with the ground. Six articulated legs extended from it, taking slow, alternating steps. Long, antenna-like appendages dangled and wriggled from its underside, and it carried what looked like a gun mounted on its mechanical frame.
To put it simply, it resembled a giant centipede with a machine gun turret strapped to its back. Fortunately, it lacked the creepy organic feel of a real insect, presenting instead as a simple, non-repulsive design.
Perhaps it was some kind of unmanned drone guarding that huge building? Since it appeared man-made, it probably wouldn’t attack without reason. It didn’t seem particularly dangerous.
With that in mind, he debated whether to approach for a closer look. As he stood atop the hill contemplating his next move—
“────.”
An indescribable, blood-curdling alarm sounded. The creature, which had been advancing slowly in a straight line, came to a halt. It pivoted its body by moving its legs, and the round lens near its head glowed red.
The distance was approximately fifty meters. Not close by any means, but he could tell its solitary eye had locked onto him with perfect clarity.
I’m being observed?
Barely a second after that realization, he noticed the machine gun turret mounted on the robot centipede’s back was now precisely aimed in his direction.
The sensation crawling up from his toes screamed at him to move immediately. It was fear—the activation of his survival instincts. At the same time, he felt a surge of indignation. He hadn’t approached aggressively. He had simply noticed something moving, climbed the hill, and peeked his head over to get a look. And now it was trying to kill him without so much as a warning?
Even as terror and rage welled up inside him, time continued its relentless march. He couldn’t shake the certainty that this cold machine would aim its weapon at this fragile-looking little girl and pull the trigger without hesitation.
And then—
“Fuck!”
Whether his curse came first or the centipede bastard firing its gun, he couldn’t tell.