The light flickering in the distance grew steadily larger. The Observers—the main unit.
Koyoi didn’t stop. He had to deliver the God of the Waterway to its destination. If he fled now, he would never reach it.
“...They’re coming closer.”
The God of the Waterway’s voice was trembling.
“...From the front.”
The light was coming from straight ahead. He knew that, but there was no other path.
◇
He pressed through the forest. It was dark; the dense canopy blotted out the sky, and hardly any moonlight reached the floor.
Only the Observers’ glow lit the way ahead—a white, clinical, cold light. It was drawing nearer with every second.
“...What do we do?”
Koyoi whispered to the pouch.
“...We should run,” the God of the Waterway replied.
“...But where?”
Where could they go? Observers were ahead, and if he turned back, he would never deliver the God.
“...We keep going,” Koyoi said. “...There’s no point in running.”
One step, then another. He walked directly toward the light.
◇
That was when it happened.
A flash to his left.
“!”
Koyoi froze.
There was light there, too. Between the trees, he saw flickering lights. One, two, three...
“...On the left,” the God of the Waterway rasped. “...They’re on the left, too.”
Observers to the left as well. When had they gotten there?
“...”
Koyoi glanced to his right.
Light. It was flickering, closing in from the right as well.
“...The right, too,” the God whispered.
In front. Behind. Left and right—the Observers were everywhere.
“...What about behind us?”
Koyoi spun around.
Light.
A light flickered behind him. Somehow, they had been circled.
“...Behind us, too,” the God’s voice shivered. “...We’re surrounded.”
◇
Surrounded.
His heart hammered against his ribs, and the roar of his own blood thundered in his ears. His fingertips went numb; the ground beneath his feet felt distant, as if his senses were slipping away.
Koyoi stood rooted to the spot, looking frantically around. Everywhere he looked, those white lights pulsed. There was no way out.
“...”
His voice failed him.
The Observers’ lights formed a perfect circle, walling him in. Ten of them? No, more.
“...We can’t escape,” the God of the Waterway whispered. “...There’s nowhere to go.”
The pouch grew ice-cold, as if it had frozen solid. Koyoi could feel the God’s sheer terror radiating through the fabric.
◇
“Target acquired.”
An Observer spoke. Its voice was a mechanical drone.
“Prepare for Fixation.”
Another voice, yet identical in its chilling lack of emotion. He couldn't tell them apart. It was as if a single consciousness was speaking through multiple mouths.
“Contract the perimeter.”
The lights moved. Slowly, the ring began to tighten. The Observers were closing in.
Koyoi clutched the pouch to his chest, his body shaking uncontrollably.
Shiori’s face flashed in his mind. That moment when she, too, had been surrounded by Observers. Koyoi remembered Shiori’s form as it was Fixed.
It was happening again. The exact same nightmare.
“...Waterway,” Koyoi croaked.
“...Koyoi,” the God replied, its voice a fragile tremor.
◇
The lights drew closer, the circle shrinking.
Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten.
“Prepare for Fixation,” multiple voices intoned in unison.
“Target confirmed.”
“Commence measurement.”
Koyoi was paralyzed. His feet felt fused to the earth. No matter where he ran, the Observers were there.
Truly, there was no escape.
“...What do I do?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “...What am I supposed to do?”
There was no answer. Even the God had no words left.
The Observers’ lights were almost upon them. Five meters. Four.
“...”
He remembered what Shiori had told him.
“Once they measure you, you’re Fixed. You won't be able to move. But you won't disappear, either.”
Fixation. Frozen like a stone statue. Forever.
“...No,” Koyoi whispered. “...I haven't delivered the God yet.”
But it was hopeless. This was the end.
◇
Suddenly, the pouch flared with heat.
“!”
Koyoi clutched it to his chest.
The pouch, ice-cold only a moment ago, was now burning. Something was stirring inside.
“...Waterway?”
“...”
The God was trying to do something. Something was happening within the depths of the pouch.
“Commence Fixation,” the Observers intoned.
The light surged closer. Three meters.
“...Koyoi.”
The God’s voice reached him. It was different now—no longer trembling, but filled with a sudden, fierce strength.
“...Hold on to me!”
In that suspended instant before the light burst, desperation consumed him. The Observers’ light was right before his eyes, the perimeter complete. There was no way out.
The air felt frozen, brittle. The chirping of forest insects, the sigh of the wind—everything had vanished. In this silent world, only the pulsing lights of the Observers remained. Time seemed to stretch, every second expanding into an eternity.
But within that stillness, the God of the Waterway was preparing to act. In that moment, the pouch erupted in a blinding radiance.