"We need to get out of here."
Three days after Jonas's battle with the Behemoth-class khaerix, he finally voiced the conclusion he had been circling since he woke up. His tone was grave, leaving no room for doubt or debate as he sat the twins down across from him.
"When do we go?" Sylvia asked immediately.
Jonas blinked, caught off guard by her response.
Most people, when faced with something like this, would question it. Why? Is it really necessary? Can't we stay longer? But Sylvia skipped all of that entirely and went straight to action.
Ethan snorted lightly, as if amused by Jonas's surprise. "We aren't idiots," he said. "Just because we managed to survive once doesn't mean we'll keep surviving."
Jonas stared at him for a moment, then gave a small nod. "I see."
There was no need to explain further. They already understood.
Letting out a quiet breath, he glanced around at their surroundings—the broken remains of what used to be a safe zone, now nothing more than a temporary refuge in a world that had already fallen apart.
Since the moment he woke up, he had been thinking of ways to escape this place.
And after days of consideration, he had finally settled on one.
There was just one problem.
"…Have any of you ever built a plane before?" he asked.
Both Sylvia and Ethan shook their heads without hesitation.
Jonas sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Haa… I guess we'll have to learn on the job."
…
The island they were stranded on was massive—one of the largest in the world.
According to the evacuation plans distributed to the military before everything collapsed, humanity had retreated to the Central Continent—a relatively small landmass situated at the very center of the world. It was the last stronghold, the final bastion where survivors gathered in hopes of resisting extinction.
The issue wasn't knowing where to go.
It was getting there.
The distance between their current location and the Central Continent was vast, far beyond what could be traversed casually. Worse still, the khaerix invasion hadn't been limited to land.
The seas had fallen too.
What was once a dangerous journey had now become nearly impossible.
There were no safe routes. No ships that could guarantee survival. No checkpoints in between.
Only one option remained.
"We have to fly there."
Jonas rolled up his sleeves as he brought the hammer down on a metal plate, the sharp clang echoing through the abandoned factory they had claimed as a workshop.
During his time in the military, he had picked up some basic engineering skills—nothing extraordinary, but enough to understand structure, balance, and assembly at a fundamental level.
Unfortunately, that wasn't nearly enough to build something like an aircraft from scratch.
Still, they had no choice.
Trial and error would have to carry them the rest of the way.
'Since there isn't any landing point between here and our destination…' Jonas thought as he worked, 'then whatever we build needs to be able to land on water.'
That added another layer of complexity.
But again—there was no alternative.
They had scavenged what they could from nearby ruins and managed to locate an abandoned factory stocked with usable materials. Metal sheets, wiring, broken machinery—anything that could be repurposed was dragged back and thrown into their growing pile of resources.
From there, they began.
Piece by piece.
Guess by guess.
Jonas paused briefly as he looked at the part he had been shaping.
Without realizing it, he had achieved the form he was aiming for.
"Ethan!" he called, tossing the metal plate upward.
Ethan caught it effortlessly. "Got it! Thanks!"
If Jonas handled shaping the parts, then Ethan handled assembly.
Despite having barely recovered from his injuries, he was still the strongest among them. His physical capabilities and recovery rate far surpassed both Jonas and Sylvia, making him the natural choice for the more physically demanding tasks.
Jonas, on the other hand, still carried lingering damage. He had survived, yes—but without proper medical care, some of the effects remained.
He couldn't afford to overexert himself.
That left Sylvia.
She sat slightly off to the side, surrounded by books they had scavenged—manuals, guides, and technical documents related to aircraft engineering.
At first, she had struggled.
The terminology, the explanations, the sheer volume of information—it wasn't easy.
But after a few clarifications from Jonas, something clicked.
And once it did, she took off.
Now, she flipped through pages at an almost unnatural pace, absorbing information that would normally take years to fully grasp.
Jonas watched her for a moment and exhaled quietly.
'She's… incredible.'
If he wasn't careful, he would be left behind.
'I need to keep up.'
"I'm done!" Ethan called out, jumping down from the partially constructed frame.
The three of them gathered around their creation.
It was… rough.
Uneven in places, poorly refined in others, and overall lacking the kind of polish that inspired confidence. In their attempt to conserve materials, they had made it as small and compact as possible.
Which only made it look even less reliable.
Jonas folded his arms, staring at it.
'Can this even fly?'
At this point, there was only one way to find out.
"Sylvia, take the readings," he said.
Because even if it failed, they could still learn from it.
Five minutes later, the three of them stood at a safe distance, controlling the aircraft remotely.
"Ready for takeoff in three… two… one…"
Jonas pressed the button.
A loud bang echoed through the air.
The plane didn't move.
Not even a centimeter.
It simply exploded on the spot.
…
"…That was disappointing."
Jonas sighed as he walked toward the wreckage, already analyzing possible points of failure. Structural weakness? Fuel imbalance? Faulty ignition?
Whatever it was, they would fix it.
And try again.
…
Two months later.
"It took thirty-six exploding planes, a lot of injuries, and a ridiculous amount of effort…" Jonas said, his voice trembling slightly as tears of relief slipped down his face. He wiped them away with a bandaged hand. "But we finally did it."
Beside him, Ethan and Sylvia clapped, their own bodies wrapped in layers of bandages from countless failed attempts.
Above them, the plane flew.
Smoothly.
Steadily.
For four straight hours, it circled the sky under their control, enduring stress tests and adjustments without falling apart.
Jonas looked up at it, his chest tightening.
'With something like this… we can make it.'
The thought of seeing his daughter again rose so suddenly it nearly broke him.
For a moment, he almost let himself cry.
But he held it back.
Maintaining his composure, he crossed his arms, trying to preserve some semblance of dignity—
—and then the plane started smoking.
All three of them froze.
A thin trail of smoke turned into a thick plume as the aircraft wobbled midair.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
Moments later, just like all the ones before it, the plane lost stability and dropped from the sky.
It crashed.
"…At least it didn't explode this time," Jonas muttered.
That was progress.
Technically.
If things went according to plan, it only needed to hold together long enough to reach their destination.
"Now all that's left is to patch it up."
For the first time in a long while, the three of them allowed themselves to relax.
They had done it.
They had a way out.
'We're… finally safe,' Ethan thought, glancing at Sylvia.
She looked back at him.
They both smiled.
But—
The world wasn't kind enough to let hope last.
It never was.
The greatest despair often followed the greatest hope.
The ground beneath their feet began to tremble.
A deep, violent rumble spread outward, snuffing out their fragile sense of relief with crushing inevitability.
Jonas's expression hardened.
"…They're here."