Last Time: A Hololive Story

The Gateway activated, and Gura found herself suddenly transported to a new location. She was falling—fast—plummeting toward the ground.

BAM! Gura hit the ground hard, sand cushioning her fall but not enough to stop the jolt of pain shooting through her body. She groaned, rubbing her sore butt.

"What the hell is this?" she muttered in frustration. "Why am I falling from the sky instead of being transported normally?"

As the pain subsided, a flash of memory struck her—AMESS hadn't finished talking before the portal sucked her in.

"Wait... what was the last thing she said? 'Don't...' Don't what?" Gura frowned, trying to recall the final warning.

Then she noticed it—her ticket. It had fallen out of her pocket and was now in the beak of a peculiar-looking chicken. The bird had sharp, dangerous-looking beaks and was aggressively pecking at the glowing ticket, damaging it. Panic shot through Gura. She rushed forward and, in desperation, kicked the chicken aside, snatching the ticket back into her hands.

Relief washed over her as she saw the ticket still glowing, though a bit damaged. "At least it's still usable," she thought. But her relief quickly turned to horror—the chicken, now a strange shade of red, let out an ear-piercing screech. The ground began to tremble.

"Oh no..." Gura's heart raced. AMESS's warning echoed in her mind: "Don't hurt the chickens!"

From the distance, a thunderous sound approached. Something huge—several somethings—were heading straight for her, drawn by the chicken's cry. Gura did the only thing she could: she ran.

She bolted across the sandy terrain, her mind whirling with panic as the sounds of approaching danger grew louder behind her. She had to escape, but how?

Up ahead, she spotted four potential modes of transportation:

A dune buggy, covered in sand but looking fast.

A tricycle, wobbling precariously in the desert winds.

A boat—an absurd sight in the desert, making her question if it was a trick.

A Toyota Land Cruiser and an army jeep, both seemingly reliable.

"A boat? Really? What's it even doing here?" Gura muttered, confused by the absurdity of the selection. "Focus, Gura!"

With seconds to choose, she opted for the dune buggy. But there was a problem.

"Oh no, I don't know how to drive!" she shouted, frantically getting into the buggy. "It's just like the games, right? Just start the engine and go!"

But the engine wouldn't start. Panic surged through her as the mutated chickens neared, their screeching growing louder and more frantic. Gura hyperventilated, her heart pounding in her chest.

Finally, the engine roared to life. "Yes! Come on, let's go!" she yelled, slamming her foot on the gas pedal.

The buggy lurched forward—straight into the boat, causing damage. The bumper dented, and the front axle creaked ominously, but the buggy was still moving. However, it was clear the damage made it less efficient—the steering was slightly off, and the buggy's speed was now slower than expected, but it was still functional enough to escape, making it pull to the left as Gura drove.

As she sped off, she caught a glimpse of the chickens in the distance—bizarre and terrifying. Some had elongated legs, built for running at terrifying speeds, while others had webbed feet like ducks, adapted to traverse the sand. A few had no wings at all, resembling blind, clawed moles with sharp talons, perfect for digging through the terrain. Despite their strange appearances, it was clear these creatures were dangerous predators.

With her heart racing and her eyes scanning the horizon, Gura drove for what felt like hours until she finally managed to outrun the mutated horde. Exhausted, she spotted what seemed to be a deserted village up ahead and decided to stop.

The village was a ghostly remnant of a civilization long forgotten. Crumbling buildings made of clay and stone dotted the landscape, their once vibrant facades now cracked and faded by time and sandstorms. Ancient windmills stood as skeletal towers in the distance, creaking eerily in the dry breeze. No signs of life were apparent, save for the occasional tumbleweed blowing through the streets. The village was surrounded by high dunes, making it feel isolated from the rest of the world. Broken carts and rusted remnants of machinery lay scattered, half-buried in the sand. It was clear this place hadn't seen people in years—if not decades. But something about it felt unsettling, as though the village was watching her.

As Gura calmed herself, she noticed a silhouette in the distance—a frail, old woman hobbling toward her. Gura, still in her buggy, watched cautiously as the woman approached.

"Please... water... I haven't had water in a week," the woman croaked, her voice dry and desperate.

Sympathetic but wary, Gura felt a pang of pity. She hopped out of the buggy to help, offering some of her water. But as she moved closer, a realization struck her.

How had the woman survived a week in the desert heat, with temperatures soaring to 43°C, without water or food? Something wasn't right. Before she could react, Gura felt a sharp jab in her side. She collapsed, her body going limp as her vision blurred.

Through the haze, she heard the old woman laughing hysterically. "For fuck's sake..." Gura mumbled, her voice weak as consciousness slipped away.

Foot notes

Additional Information on the Chickens:

The mutated chickens are a peculiar species in this dimension. Despite their comical appearance, they are lethal in numbers. Their sharp beaks are capable of tearing through flesh, and their cries can summon massive hordes from miles away. Each subspecies has adapted differently to survive: Long-legged chickens are the fastest, capable of sprinting at incredible speeds. Webbed-foot chickens can navigate through loose sand, using their feet to move quickly and efficiently. Mole-chickens, blind and clawed, burrow through the earth, ambushing prey from below. These creatures have developed into a formidable threat, thriving in the harsh desert and hunting anything that disturbs their territory.