Chapter 18: Delivery

I groaned as I landed face-first onto the soft carpet of my room, the book thudding beside me a moment later. I stayed there for a beat, staring at the ceiling. The sound of the ticking clock filled the room, accompanied by the low hum of the heater.

The rush of exhaustion hit me like a truck. My muscles screamed in protest, and my mind felt like sludge. I could barely think straight, but one thing was clear—I reeked. Even though the horns had disappeared and my normal clothes had replaced the padded gear, the stench of goborn piss and rot clung to me like a particularly vindictive ghost.

I dragged myself upright, wobbling slightly before glancing at the window. Still pitch-black outside. Turning to the clock, I noted the time—3:00 AM. Only an hour and a half had passed since I'd been pulled into the book, but it had felt much longer. There's definitely some sort of time dilation there.

Suppressing a shudder, I trudged to the cupboard and grabbed some clean clothes. A shower was non-negotiable. If I was going to collapse into bed, I was damn sure not smelling like a goborn massacre when I did it.

—

I woke up embarrassingly late, the clock reading noon as I groggily blinked at the sunlight filtering through the blinds. No surprise there—I hadn't crashed until almost 4 AM after spending an eternity trying to scrub the stench of goborn off me. It wasn't easy.

Dragging myself downstairs to the dorm lounge, I found it, as always, devoid of life. Emptiness seemed to be the default vibe of this place during the day. I slumped onto the sofa and let my eyes drift shut, content to let the stillness lull me back into a half-conscious state.

The peace was short-lived.

The sound of the front door opening snapped me out of my half-nap. Cold air from the street crept into the lounge briefly before the door closed again. I turned my head to see Mitsuru stepping inside, looking every bit like a model stepping off a winter fashion shoot. A sleek black leather jacket, a pristine white turtleneck, matching white jeans, and polished black boots. She always knew how to make an entrance.

But what really caught my eye was the long, slim briefcase she carried, its design too slick to be inconspicuous.

"Ah, you're here. Excellent timing," she said, walking over to the table in front of me and setting the case down.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Your weapon," she replied matter-of-factly.

I raised an eyebrow. "I thought it wasn't supposed to arrive for a couple more days."

"That was the plan," she admitted, crossing her arms, "but your case is… unusual. These weapons are designed exclusively for Persona-users. For an ordinary person, they're no more dangerous than a toy. But you," she paused, giving me a pointed look, "you're something else entirely. The lack of data on you complicates things and we need more tests. Regardless, open it."

I stretched lazily, a groan slipping out as my sore muscles protested. Still, I leaned forward and unlatched the case. Inside was a rifle, sleek and modern, bearing the unmistakable SEES logo. Rows of what looked like pellet rounds lined one side, along with a knife featuring a bayonet attachment.

"It's been a long time since we've needed to produce a weapon capable of harming Shadows," Mitsuru said. "The question now is whether it will function in your hands."

I shrugged, running my fingers along the barrel of the rifle. "Guess there's only one way to find out."

She nodded. "Then we'll schedule an expedition tonight. Don't worry—it'll just be a brief introduction to the area. Nothing taxing."

"Tonight?" I grimaced. My body was still begging for rest, but whatever. "Fine."

Mitsuru tilted her head, catching my hesitation. "Is there a problem?"

"No, it's nothing." I waved her concern away. "I'll be ready."

"Meet us here just before midnight," she instructed, before turning and heading toward the staircase leading to her room.

I sighed, my gaze drifting back to the weapon before me. Sleek, powerful, and foreign.

Another dungeon crawl tonight, huh? Great. Just what I need.

—

The clock ticked ominously close to midnight, and I took that as my cue to prepare. I grabbed the gun case and threw on the comfiest clothes I could find. Heading downstairs, the lounge was as empty as expected, though faint voices filtered in from outside the dorm.

Stepping into the cold night, I saw Mitsuru and Akihiko by the curb. Mitsuru was perched on her motorcycle, helmet off, her usual air of composure intact. Akihiko stood nearby, rolling his shoulders, spiked brass knuckles already strapped on. They both turned as I approached, their expressions sharpening.

"You ready?" Akihiko greeted me with an easy smile. "I'm kind of excited. It's been a while since we've done this."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," Mitsuru cut in. "We're not there for long. This is strictly to test his weapon. No unnecessary engagements."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Akihiko said with a soft chuckle. "Still, it reminds me of the good old days."

I rolled my eyes. "You're not exactly ancient, Sanada-san."

Akihiko grinned, unfazed, while Mitsuru just shook her head, a trace of amusement slipping past her stern demeanor.

She donned her motorcycle helmet and turned to me. "You'll go with Akihiko on the monorail. I'm heading out first to scout the area. Be ready when you arrive."

I nodded. "Got it. Be careful out there."

Her gaze lingered on me for a second longer than usual before she revved her motorcycle to life. Without another word, she sped off into the night, the hum of the engine fading quickly into silence.

Akihiko cracked his knuckles and shot me an encouraging look. "Well, shall we?"

I hefted the gun case over my shoulder and sighed. "Let's get this over with."