"Yoshino!"
Yoshinon's voice rang with concern — sharp, anxious, and helpless.
When Yoshino still didn't move, the puppet could only let out a resigned sigh. Yoshinon knew that once Yoshino made up her mind, there was no changing it.
Although Yoshinon existed to protect her, they would never override Yoshino's will. They would only step in when Yoshino truly couldn't decide on her own.
Outside the park, the rain beat softly against the tactical helmets of a squad of GOC agents.
"Target identified as an Spirit — codename Hermit. Requesting instructions," one of them reported.
This squad wasn't dispatched specifically to execute spirits. They were simply passing through on another mission when their scanners picked up an anomalous presence — the Fourth Spirit.
Now they were waiting for orders from above.
A reply crackled through their comms:
"Threat level: low. Ignore and continue with the primary mission."
That was the standard GOC protocol.
The Fourth Spirit — this small, harmless-looking girl — had no record of violence or casualties. Compared to the defected agent they were currently hunting, she posed almost no threat at all.
The agents relaxed.
For now, the spirit would be ignored.
If she became a problem later, they'd deal with her then.
After all, the Global Occult Coalition wasn't like the SCP Foundation.
Where the Foundation sought to contain every anomaly, the GOC prioritized only those that posed clear danger or interfered with human affairs.
If something was harmless — even temporarily — it could be left alone.
They made a silent hand signal, ready to move out and continue their original mission.
But suddenly, a strange electronic rustling filled their headsets.
The sound was distorted — static-heavy, almost painful — and then a new voice came through.It wasn't their commanding officer's.
"Execute both lifeforms in the park. Retrieve all anomalous items in their possession."
The agents froze.
That… was not their superior's voice.
"What the—?" one of them muttered, frowning beneath his visor. The tone was different — harsh, metallic, and grating, as if it clawed at their eardrums.
Before they could even question it, the voice erupted again, roaring this time:
"Execute immediately! Eliminate those two and bring back everything they have!"
A notification flashed across the HUD of their visors:
[Command override — Deputy Secretary-General desk authority engaged. Execute immediately.]
The squad leader drew a sharp breath.
That override wasn't from his direct superior.
Damn… it's from the Council of 108.
He didn't dare say it aloud — only thought it. To offend the Council of 108 was to invite a fate worse than death.
He had seen it before — how those people treated their own kind.
It was nothing short of hell.
With a bitter expression hidden behind his visor, the squad leader gave the signal.
The agents moved — surrounding the park in a tactical formation.
The mission had changed.
Now, they were ordered to execute everyone inside.
Inside the park, Haruto frowned slightly.
The instructions given through those tactical headsets were encrypted, inaudible to normal ears — yet to Haruto, they were crystal clear.
His perception transcended reality itself — a divine-level awareness.
He could hear everything.
The agents' mission wasn't originally about him or Yoshino — they were supposed to prioritize capturing or neutralizing a reality warper elsewhere.
That was standard procedure.
Spirits, though capable of distorting reality, rarely posed existential threats.
So why the sudden change in orders?
Why the override from the highest level of the GOC?
Haruto thought for a moment, fingers brushing his chin.
Could it be because of me?
No — impossible.
As a supreme divinity, his metaphysical nature couldn't be detected by the GOC's primitive surveillance systems. Neither their technology nor their thaumaturgy had reached the point of even comprehending a god's essence.
Then… what drew their attention?
Before he could think further, the agents breached the perimeter.
Three of them raised their assault rifles and opened fire without hesitation — unleashing a barrage of bullets across the rain-soaked park.
The gunfire roared through the storm.
Yoshino screamed softly and instinctively clung to Haruto, burying her head against his chest. Even though ordinary rounds couldn't truly harm her, the pain still terrified her.
Haruto sighed lightly.
His thoughts were broken — but no matter.
He raised a hand.
In that instant, every bullet in the air vanished — erased from existence before they could touch him.
A simple gesture. A crude use of divine energy. But the effect was… breathtaking.
Inside the agents' tactical helmets, their energy sensors went wild.
"Ultra-high energy fluctuation detected! Requesting backup — requesting immediate backup!"
Their visors lit up with violent red warnings.
Whatever they were facing was beyond reason. Even hardened soldiers could feel their blood run cold.
"Retreat!" one shouted — but before they could take a step, Haruto snapped his fingers.
The sound echoed like thunder.
And instantly, all movement stopped.
Every agent froze where they stood, weapons raised but motionless — their eyes glazed, their minds hollow.
Haruto's presence had overwritten their cognition entirely — a memetic distortion on the level of Tomie's curse.
Reality bent to his will.
Haruto turned to Yoshino, gently rubbing her head.
"Don't be afraid," he said softly. "No one will hurt you."
Yoshino peeked up timidly.
The agents were still there, surrounding them — but none moved.
None fired.
She blinked, confused.
Yoshinon tilted their head, voice coming from the rabbit puppet's mouth.
"Wow… I thought you'd just go slicing through them like fruit."
They mimed a chopping motion with the puppet's stubby arms.
Haruto chuckled lightly.
"If I really did that," he replied, "you'd probably be more afraid of me than them."
"Eh… fair point." Yoshinon admitted.
Despite the chaos, Yoshino couldn't help but smile faintly at the exchange.
"I don't harm humans unless I must," Haruto said quietly. "Even the worst criminals deserve judgment through proper order."
He wasn't one to slaughter aimlessly.
At most, he would remove a human from reality — transfer them to the D-class program for containment or correction.
Yoshinon tilted the puppet's head.
"Then… why aren't they attacking anymore? You hypnotized them or something?"
Haruto didn't answer.
The technique he used — though similar to charm — was far darker. It wasn't something he would ever explain to Yoshino or Yoshinon.
Some truths were better left unspoken.
He raised a hand toward one of the immobilized agents. The man obediently walked forward, blank-eyed, and Haruto took the headset from him.
"I'm curious," Haruto said calmly, holding the earpiece between his fingers. "What is it that you want so badly?"
A burst of static — then a horrific scream tore through the channel.
The sound was inhuman, like a beast howling through rusted machinery.
Then came a distorted voice:
"Damn heretics! Hand over the Heart of the Broken God! That abomination must be destroyed!"
The shriek was so sharp it felt like fingernails on glass — scraping against the inside of his skull.
Haruto frowned, rubbed his ear, and casually crushed the headset into dust.
"Well," he muttered, "I suppose that answers that."
From his pocket, Haruto pulled out a pen — sleek, metallic, and faintly humming.
He had used it often enough that he'd nearly forgotten where it came from.
It was forged from the core of the mechanical colossus during the Broken God Ascension Incident.
The Church of the Broken God in the main world called it the Heart of the Broken God.
Apparently, the GOC had just detected it — and the Council of 108 had overridden all field command to retrieve it.
But the voice over the radio had said something strange —
"Damn heretics."
In this world, there was no Church of the Broken God. No fragments of the deity had ever been left here. By all accounts, such knowledge shouldn't even exist.
So who, exactly, was speaking through that channel?
Another thought surfaced in Haruto's mind.
The GOC had recently been obsessed with hunting down SCP-610 — The Flesh That Hates.
Their attack on Murasame Reine had been part of that search — an attempt to locate and harness the flesh virus.
Both Reine and the local Foundation had assumed the GOC wanted to weaponize it.
But now… Haruto wasn't so sure.
This wasn't about weapons anymore.
Something far deeper was moving beneath the surface — something that even the GOC itself didn't fully understand.