Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee-Chapter 28: Lullaby

​I freeze, my back pressed against the cold stone of the Leviathan statue.

​My eyes—amplified by [Trace]—scan the perimeter frantically, dissecting every shadow, every swaying vine. If there is a dead body, I will get it.

​Nothing.

​The forest is a wall of static. There are no movements, heat signatures, or even souls.

​But I don’t doubt her. Lola might be socially broken, but her sensory stats are probably higher than my entire attribute sheet combined. If she says we aren’t alone, we aren’t alone.

​Time to earn my keep.

​I grip Eventide. The hilt is cold in my hand, thirsty for OXI.

​So this is where the real battle starts?

​I shift my weight, preparing to slide out of cover and flank whatever is out there.

​Lola sees me move, but she doesn’t panic. She just slowly shakes her head, side-to-side.

​A clear "No." "Don’t."

​I pause, hesitant, my foot hovering over the gravel.

​Why not? If they are here, we need to strike first.

​Before I can signal a question, Lola stands up.

​She doesn’t crouch like a rogue or coil like a warrior. She stands up slowly, lazily, like a toddler waking up from a nap, stretching her arms as if the lethal jungle around us were just a boring playground.

​I just keep watching her, baffled. Her innocence feels almost offensive to the danger surrounding us.

​She steps out from the cover of the stone serpent.

​WHOOSH.

​The sound tears through the air—a high-pitched shriek of displaced atmosphere.

​"Lola!"

​I lunge forward, but I’m too slow.

​A projectile slams into the ground six feet to her left.

​BOOM.

​The impact is deafening. A shockwave of condensed air and shrapnel rips through the clearing, kicking up a wall of dirt, rocks, and smoke. The force knocks the wind out of me, and for a split second, the world is just ringing ears and flying debris.

​I scramble to my feet, my heart hammering against my ribs.

​I can’t see her. The smoke is too thick.

​"LOLA!" I scream, the sound tearing at my throat. "LOLA!"

​If she’s dead... if I let the kid die five minutes after finding her...

​The smoke begins to settle, swirling lazily in the breeze.

​And there she is.

​Standing in the exact same spot.

​Her hood has been blown back, her hair is a mess of static and dust, and her clothes are flapping in the aftershock wind.

​I’m glad she isn’t bleeding, but she isn’t even crying.

​She just looks... annoyed.

​Lola slaps the dust off her sleeve with a pout, looking at the crater next to her like someone who just stepped in gum.

​"Annoying," she mumbles, her voice carrying over the ringing in my ears. "I hate noise. So bothersome..." She sighs.

​I sag against the stone, the relief making my knees weak.

​She’s alive. For God’s sake...

​I look up, following the trajectory of the smoke trail. High up in the canopy, two figures are perched on thick branches. Two Divers. A scout team that found each other. They are reloading.

​I tap my comms rune instantly.

​"Lola, listen to me," I hiss, my mind racing through tactical options. "Get back to cover. I’ll draw their fire to the right, you flank left and—"

​"Irritating," she interrupts, her voice flat. "So loud."

​She ignores me completely.

​Instead, she reaches down to the heavy, military-grade case at her feet.

​She taps the lock.

​CLICK-HISS.

​The sound is futuristic, heavy. Steam vents from the seams of the case as internal gears spin and unlock. The lid pops open with a hydraulic whine.

​I stare.

​Inside the velvet-lined interior rests a weapon that has no business being in the hands of a child.

​It’s a portable cannon. A mag-tech bazooka, sleek, matte black, with glowing blue lines running along the barrel. And dangling from the trigger guard, clashing with the death-machine aesthetic, is a fluffy, dirty panda keyring.

​Lola grabs the handle. She lifts the massive weapon as if it weighs nothing, swinging it onto her small shoulder with practiced ease.

​Her bored expression doesn’t change.

​"Let’s go, Lullaby," she whispers to the gun. "Let’s put the noisy ones to sleep."

​She doesn’t aim. She just points the barrel at the general direction of the trees.

​I stand there, frozen, my mouth slightly open.

​What the f—

​The bazooka hums.

​It’s a terrifying sound. The air around Lola starts to distort, sucked into the barrel as the weapon charges. I can feel the OXI in the clearing dropping, consumed by the chamber. The threat aura radiating from that thing is rank-A at minimum.

​ZOOOOOM.

​The shot breaks the sound barrier instantly.

​It’s not a bullet. It’s a lance of pure explosive energy.

​It crosses the distance in a thousandth of a second, colliding with the top of the giant mahogany tree where the Drowned were hiding.

​KRA-KOOM!

​The sky turns orange.

​The explosion is massive, consuming the entire canopy in a ball of violent fire. Wood, leaves, and shadows are vaporized instantly. The shockwave rattles my teeth.

​But she missed.

​I see the two Divers drop from the burning branches a split second before the impact, free-falling into the dense brush below to find hard cover.

​I stand there, stunned, blinking at the burning sky.

​Lola lowers the smoking barrel. She tilts her head.

​"Oops..." she says, sounding mildly inconvenienced. "Missed. Let’s go again!"

​The weapon starts to hum for a second charge.

​She’s going to burn the whole forest down.

​"NO!"

​I sprint toward her, tackling the distance before she can pull the trigger again.

​I grab her shoulder, shaking her gently.

​"Wait! Lola, wait!"

​She looks up at me, her eyes half-lidded, completely bored.

​"Okay..." she sighs.

​"Come with me," I say, breathless, dragging her and her terrifying panda-cannon toward the monoliths. "We need to talk. Now."

​I pull her into hard cover just as enemy suppression fire starts to chew up the ground where we were standing.

​I look at the burning tree, then at the small girl hugging a bazooka her size.

​We need a plan before she accidentally kills us all.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the ringing in my ears—low, urgent, almost a ghost of a whisper. Probably from one of the Drowned, terrified by Lola’s firepower.

"The enemy is strong. Bring your ass inside, or their artillery will wipe us out. The ruins... get deeper into the ruins!"

It clicks. The explosion wasn’t just a tactical error; it was a global invite. In minutes, this sector will be infested with every kill-hungry cadet looking to third-party the chaos.

I turn to Lola. She is still pouting at the burning canopy, looking like a disappointed toddler.

I reach out, brushing charred leaves from her messy hair and pulling her hood back up, hiding her face from the world. It’s a grounding gesture.

"You good?" I ask, checking her eyes.

She huffs, adjusting her grip on the massive cannon. "Yes. But I hate missing."

"Then let’s not miss the next one," I say, my voice dropping to a cold, predatory rhythm. "We need to move. Together."

I turn toward the encroaching shadows of the jungle. I can feel them coming.

I draw Eventide.

"Come on," I whisper. "Let’s hunt."