Under A Collapsing Sky

Young-Jae's lungs wheezed like rusty bellows, each breath a ragged rasp. His legs, leaden weights strapped to his thighs, screamed with every jarring impact against the cracked earth. Yet, he forced on. His eyes fixed on the distant plateau, the only refuge in a world turned upside down. He struggled to maintain his footing. So as not to fall while avoiding the scraps and building debris that blocked his path and threatened his life.

Such problems were not only experienced by Young-Jae but also by others as dozens of people ran for their lives on the line while stumbling. They obviously players like him, knowing the importance of the newly formed land was the safest place from the unprecedented earthquake and landscape shifts. They all ran without looking back, avoiding danger until they finally arrived at the new land, downright exhausted. But unfortunately, not everyone who aimed for the place reached it.

Some fell victim to falling debris, their screams drowned by the earth's groaning. Others slipped, ankles twisted, swallowed by the gaping fissures that opened before them.

Meanwhile, adrenaline surged through Young-Jae's veins as he threw himself into the air, diving desperately to anchor on safe ground. He was alive, miraculously unscathed, despite the two heavy duffel bags weighing him down. Though nausea and dizziness threatened to overwhelm him from the violent shaking, a wave of fear washed over him.

The close call caused Young-Jae to question whether he could outlast the ordeal until the end. It also made him wonder whether Zephyr could survive in the chaos of the crumbling ruins of the buildings.

On the other hand, Zephyr battled against the debris-strewn landscape amidst the chaos and obliteration, far from the safety of the shifted plains. His movements, despite their urgency, were far from graceful, betraying the onlooker's expectations due to his current untrained body.

But even in his weakened state, Zephyr pushed forward. Two kitchen knives, repurposed as makeshift anchors, became his allies. He drove them into the ground and crumbling walls, finding purchase in the unstable terrain. The blades, positioned upside down, offered a precarious foothold, stabilizing him against the tremors and falling rubble.

His mask, too, played a vital role. It filtered the thick air, a shield against the dust and smoke that choked the survivors trapped within the ruins.

Step by painstaking step, Zephyr fought his way through the wreckage, driven by a purpose that transcended his own limitations.

"Run! Don't just stay there!" he bellowed, his words barely audible over the bluster of destruction. But the four figures cowering before him, heads buried in their arms, remained oblivious to his desperate cries.

Frustration gnawed at Zephyr. He knew too well the treacherous nature of earthquakes, especially one of this magnitude. It was a grim omen.

Still, he had arrived despite the quakes, his body shaking as violently as the earth itself. And what he saw chilled his blood. Not just four but dozens of people huddled in this precarious shelter, a skeletal structure that remained upright by a stroke of sheer luck amidst the devastation. It was a ticking time bomb.

Suddenly, a pair of eyes pierced through the haze, spotting Zephyr among the shambles.

"Young man! Help us!" a voice choked with fear cried out.

Zephyr clicked his tongue, his haste growing. "Stop wasting time! Just run! Head towards the new land at the end of the port! That's your only chance!" 

The ear-splitting shout immediately awakened and jolted everyone in the half-collapsed building back to a terrifying reality.

They try to run, get away, and reach the described place. There were no doubts or questions since all they could think about was the fear of death, far outweighing any skepticism about Zephyr's words.

Because of that, a sliver of relief washed over Zephyr as he saw more than half the occupants heed his warning. They were mere seconds from the building's complete ruin, and their flight offered a glimmer of hope.

Yet, not all were able to move with such immediacy. Some, injured or disoriented, blundered to their feet. Others remained trapped under the debris of the collapsing ceiling and walls.

The weight of responsibility settled upon Zephyr's shoulders. He had to act quickly and decisively to save whoever was left behind.

Zephyr turned his attention to the old man who had earlier reached out for help. Dropping the two kitchen knives, he tackled the debris, pinning the man down. The sound of teeth grinding in his mouth was masked by the crackling flames licking at the building's edges.

The veins on both Zephyr's arms bulged, starkly visible under the flickering orange light. It was no easy feat for his weakened body. Yet, he persevered, muscles screaming in protest, skin peeling from his palms as he lifted the debris. With a surge of effort, he finally lifted the debris and freed the old man.

His work wasn't over, though. Others still needed help. He pushed through the pain, his breaths ragged and shallow. Each exhale was a battle against the nausea churning in his stomach.

Despite his suffering, Zephyr continued. He dragged, lifted, and carried, driven by the cries for help. His spirit refused to yield.

Exhausted but triumphant, he surveyed the scene. Everyone had been rescued.

A wave of dizziness washed over him, but he pushed through. After all, he was a regressor, blessed with resilience beyond any ordinary man.

The flames still licked at the building's edges, a reminder of the menace that still lurked. But for now, everyone was safe. And that was all that mattered.

Zephyr took a deep breath and started towards the shifted land, knowing that there was still much work to be done.

Out of nowhere, a violent tremor shook the half-collapsed building. The weakened structure began to crumble, cracks widening and debris cascading down.

The tremors spread, triggering the collapse of surrounding buildings like dominoes. Dust billowed into the air, obscuring the sky and turning the world a choking gray.

Panic erupted. Everyone, including Zephyr, fled the collapsing structures, desperately seeking safety.

Adrenaline surged through Zephyr's veins as he sprinted alongside the others, desperate to escape the crumbling ruins. It felt like mere seconds ago, they'd narrowly dodged the jaws of disaster, and now, a fresh wave of danger chased them like shadows.

'F*ck this sh*t!!' He thought, the expletive bubbling in his throat but unspoken. The mental and physical toll of the past moments was immense, pushing him to the very edge of his endurance.

No matter how much willpower and adrenaline pumped all of Zephyr's senses and kept him conscious, his body still eventually wore out.

His vision blurred, the world turning into a dizzying tapestry of sand and shattered stone. His throat burned, parched, and raw from the dust-choked air. Sweat, long since dried, caked his skin, sending shivers down his spine as the wind whipped past.

His face then turned blue as if he was without air intake. But he still ran as best he could to reach a safe place while being chased by the ruins of buildings and clouds of sand dust.

With each faltering step, Zephyr's consciousness slipped further away. The tremors intensified, reaching a crescendo. The earth groaned. Buildings crumbled, and a deafening boom echoed across the harbor. A tidal wave of dust and debris surged forth, engulfing everything in its path.

On the shifted plain, a horrified silence descended. The earthquake had ceased, but the world held its breath. All eyes were fixed on the swirling dust cloud, praying for a glimpse of movement, any sign of life.