The shadow that was Sung Jin-Woo had vanished, but the chilling authority of his final command remained, hanging in the air like a death sentence.
Consume it.
Kafka stared down at the mangled heap of Kaiju flesh at his feet. Nestled within the gore, the core pulsed with a soft, sickly yellow light. It was a grotesque, living tumor, about the size of his fist. Veins of some black substance webbed its surface, twitching rhythmically.
*Thump-thump. Thump-thump.*
It had a heartbeat.
His human side recoiled. Bile rose in his throat. Every fiber of his being, the part that remembered hot meals and the simple pleasure of a beer after work, screamed in protest. This was wrong. Abhorrent. Cannibalism of a different kind.
But beneath the revulsion, Kaiju No. 8 was stirring. It wasn't a thought, but a deep, primal need. A starving beast seeing its first meal in an eternity. It was a hunger so profound, it resonated in his bones, making his teeth ache and his saliva glands run thick.
He remembered Jin-Woo's words. "Force it down. Make its power your own."
Was this the path to strength? This disgusting, monstrous act?
He thought of Mina Ashiro on the front lines, a beacon of true power. He thought of his own pathetic inadequacy, the mop in his hand, the constant fear of being discovered. He thought of the promise. The chance to become more.
'Damn it all.'
With a trembling hand, he reached into the bloody mess.
SQUELCH.
His fingers closed around the core. It was warm, rubbery, and vibrated with a low energy. He pulled it free. Sticky, black ichor dripped onto his shoes.
He took a deep breath, pinched his nose, and lifted the pulsating organ to his mouth.
'This is insane,' he thought, one last time.
Then, he shoved it in.
The taste was indescribable. It was like licking a car battery while chewing on raw, spoiled meat. A jolt of bio-electricity shot down his throat, making his whole body seize up. He bit down.
CRUNCH.
The core's outer membrane ruptured. A thick, viscous fluid, tasting of copper and ozone, flooded his mouth. It wasn't just a liquid; it was pure, condensed information. Raw data. He tasted the creature's synthetic creation, the echo of its master's commands, its brief, violent life.
For a moment, he thought he was going to die. His vision tunneled. His heart hammered against his broken ribs like a trapped bird. The world dissolved into a screaming kaleidoscope of light and pain.
And then, the power hit him.
VWOOOOM—!
It was not a gradual warming. It was a nuclear detonation in his very cells. A tidal wave of raw, chaotic energy ripped through his veins. It was nothing like the dormant power of Kaiju No. 8. This was foreign, alien, and violent. It felt like his own DNA was being shredded and rewritten by a superior code.
He dropped to his knees with a choked gasp, his hands clawing at the pavement. Every cell in his body screamed. His bones creaked, his muscles contracted, his very essence was being forcibly evolved.
He could feel it—the core was being dissolved, assimilated, its energy being claimed and subjugated by the far greater power of Kaiju No. 8. His inner beast roared in triumph, devouring the lesser energy and making it its own.
The pain subsided as quickly as it had begun, replaced by… clarity. An impossible, terrifying clarity.
His senses exploded outward.
He could hear the frantic heartbeat of the rescued cat, hiding under the slide fifty feet away.
He could hear the hushed conversation of a couple in an apartment building six blocks east.
He could hear the low, distinct whine of a high-tech Defense Force engine, still two miles out but approaching fast. Too fast.
His vision was no longer just sight. He could see the stress fractures in the concrete beneath him. He could see the individual dust motes dancing in the faint moonlight. He could see the faint, residual energy signature left behind by Jin-Woo—a cold, deep void in the fabric of the alley.
And he could feel himself. His own power. It was no longer a dormant pool. It was a raging river, flowing with a new, potent current. He felt stronger. Faster. His broken ribs were already knitting themselves back together with an audible crackle.
This… this was the power Sovereign had promised.
He had paid the price. And the first reward was already his.
But that clarity also brought a new, immediate terror.
They're coming.
"Floor it!" Kikoru Shinomiya snapped, her knuckles white where she gripped the side of the armored personnel carrier.
"Ma'am, we're already exceeding city-street safety protocols by 40%," the driver responded, his voice tight with stress.
"The only thing unsafe right now is letting that thing get away!" she shot back.
Vice-Commander Hoshina sat opposite her, polishing one of his blades, a picture of calm in the storm. "Easy, Shinomiya. We'll get there. Our phantom doesn't seem to be in a hurry. It likes to leave a message."
"That's what worries me," she muttered, her eyes locked on the road ahead. 'That pressure... that feeling of absolute insignificance. I will not feel that again. Next time we meet, it will be on my terms.'
Suddenly, the APC's main console flickered wildly.
*BZZZZT! KSSSHH!*
"Whoa! What the hell?!" the driver yelped, fighting the controls. "Major energy spike ahead! It's interfering with the systems!"
Hoshina's calm vanished. His eyes snapped open, a predatory glint within them. "That's it. That's the signature." He recognized the suffocating electronic static from Yokohama. "It's him. He's there right now."
Kikoru was already on her feet, her hand on the handle of her massive axe case. "Get us there! NOW!"
The APC screamed around the final corner and screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley leading to the small playground. The doors hissed open before it had even fully stopped.
Hoshina and Kikoru burst out, their blades and axe at the ready.
The playground was silent. Empty.
"He's gone…" Kikoru breathed, a wave of profound disappointment washing over her.
"Is he?" Hoshina's eyes narrowed. He took a slow, deliberate step into the space, his senses on high alert.
The air was wrong.
It was thick with a palpable residue of power. It was like walking into a room that had just held two raging bonfires. He felt an echo of the void-like, soul-crushing pressure of Sovereign. Cold. Ancient. Absolute.
But there was something else.
Woven into that familiar terror was a second energy signature. It was newer. Hotter. Raw, chaotic, and brimming with a ferocious, bestial power. It was unmistakably Kaiju, but purer, more condensed than anything he had ever felt. It made the air thrum.
Kikoru felt it too. The Sovereign's chilling aura was a ghost on her skin, but this second power… it made her own fighting instincts flare. It was a challenge. A gauntlet thrown down.
"Two of them," she whispered, her eyes wide. "He wasn't alone."
Hoshina slowly walked over to the wall where the intelligent Kaiju had been destroyed. He ran a gloved finger over the grotesque smear. Nothing but organic waste. But his eyes were locked on the ground just below it.
Faint scuff marks. A dark, oily residue. Traces of a struggle, but not a fight.
"No…" Hoshina said slowly, his analytical mind firing on all cylinders. "Not two fighting together. One predator, one prey." He looked back at Kikoru, his expression grim. "Sovereign didn't just kill a Kaiju here. He cornered another powerful entity. A new one."
"Vice-Commander!" an agent yelled from the APC, his hand pressed to his headset. "Sensors are picking something up! The energy residue of that second signature… it left a biological trail! Very faint, but it's there. It's moving north through the rooftops. And it's moving fast."
Kikoru's head snapped up. A trail. They had a trail.
Hope, fierce and sharp, ignited in her chest.
"Track it!" Hoshina commanded, his voice sharp as the edge of his blade. "Send up the drones! I want to know what kind of monster Sovereign is hunting in our city!"
He had no way of knowing that their prey wasn't a monster being hunted.
It was a man.
A man who was now frantically running across the rooftops, with a small, meowing cat tucked safely inside his jacket. And for the first time in his life, Kafka Hibino wasn't just running away from the Defense Force.
He was running from the hunt.