Warfare Augmented Intelligent Frame Unit

Chapter 84 - Sick and Bedridden

Chapter 84 - Sick and Bedridden

I stand before an immense, otherworldly tree, its gnarled form stretching a hundred meters into the sky. Its writhing branches twist and coil like living tendrils, as if the tree itself were a slumbering beast caught in an eternal nightmare. The trunk is unlike any I've ever seen—deep spiral gaps carve through its bark, exposing a pulsating golden light that seeps from within, casting eerie shadows across the desolation below.

This monstrous tree looms over the ruins of a once-thriving city—Xyraxis Metropolis. I know this place. I have walked these streets before. But now, everything is dead. The vibrant neon signs that once lit up the skyline have long since faded. The hum of technology, the ever-present buzz of life—it's all gone. 

What remains is a skeletal husk of a city, an abandoned ruin where silence reigns supreme. Even the Archonlight Tower, the very bastion that once shielded not just this city, but the entire planet, has crumbled into dust.

A deep, resonant pulse emanates from the tree, hammering against my skull. My head throbs. A piercing, high-pitched ringing fills my left ear, grating against my senses. But in my right ear—soft, yet unmistakable—I hear a voice.

"Please kill me. Please kill me. Please kill me. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts."

The whisper slithers directly into my brain, threading through my thoughts like a parasite burrowing deep. The pain in my head intensifies, a relentless pounding that threatens to split me apart.

Then, the tree moves. Its massive form unfurls like a grotesque flower in bloom, its glowing crevices expanding. And there, at the very heart of it all—???.

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I jolted awake, gasping for breath. The darkness pressed in around me, heavy and suffocating, as if the remnants of my nightmare still clung to the air. My head throbbed viciously — each pulse a hammer strike against my skull — and a wave of dizziness washed over me the moment I tried to sit up.

Blinking through the haze, I reached for my phone, its dim screen the only source of light in the room. 6:00 AM. Too early, yet far too late for the rest I clearly needed. I groaned softly, remembering my plans. The shuttle terminal. I had to be there by eight.

I pushed against the mattress, trying to lift myself up. Pain shot through my arms — weak, trembling, and useless — as if all the strength had been siphoned from my body overnight. My muscles felt like dead weight, refusing to cooperate. The slightest movement made my head spin, and a deep, cold ache settled into my bones.

"Ah." The sound escaped my lips, barely more than a breath. My chest felt tight, each inhale shallow and unsatisfying. The dizziness swelled again, twisting my vision. I sank back into the bed, cursing under my breath.

"You've got to be kidding me. Just how unlucky am I?" My voice was a whisper, hoarse and bitter. The chill clung to my skin, wrapping around me like a damp blanket. I shivered and pulled the covers tighter, though it did little to ease the discomfort.

Resigned, I closed my eyes and tried to relax, hoping that rest would restore some semblance of strength. Time slipped away. When I opened my eyes again, sunlight crept through the cracks in the curtains, casting pale streaks across the room.

I checked my phone once more. Over an hour had passed. Yet, instead of feeling better, my body felt even heavier. My limbs ached, my head swam, and an overwhelming drowsiness pulled at me like an anchor.

"I'm definitely sick," I muttered, my voice barely audible. The weight of that realization settled heavily in my chest. So much for making it home for the holidays.