The dozen remaining Yoju closed in, a skittering, slithering circle of mindless hunger. They were a grotesque menagerie of nature's worst ideas: chitinous insect-lizards, multi-limbed blobs of corrosive jelly, and gaunt, wolf-like creatures with jaws that unhinged like a snake's.
Under normal circumstances, this would have been a terrifying sight. A civilian's worst nightmare.
For Kafka Hibino, it was now a classroom.
His right arm still hummed with the potent, emerald-green energy of Kaiju No. 8. The sheer, intoxicating power of his first strike made him want to repeat the performance, to simply wade in and obliterate them all with explosive punches.
"Do not indulge in the brute's ecstasy," Jin-Woo's voice cut into his thoughts, as if he had read his mind. The Monarch stood utterly still, a spectator in the eye of the storm, making it clear he would not intervene. "That path leads to exhaustion and ruin. Power without control is just a tantrum."
A wolf-like Kaiju, faster than the others, broke from the circle and lunged, its saliva sizzling as it dripped onto the concrete.
"A blade," Jin-Woo said, his voice a calm metronome against the chaos. "The energy you command is not solid. It is fluid. Give it a shape. Will it to be sharp."
'Sharp?' Kafka thought, his mind racing. He brought his supercharged arm up to defend. 'How do I make energy sharp?'
He didn't have a real weapon. His fist was all he had. But Jin-Woo's words echoed in his mind. It is fluid.
The Kaiju's jaws were inches from his face. Time seemed to slow. He didn't just try to channel the power anymore. He tried to command its form. He visualized the green energy not as a glove, but as an extension of his own arm. He pictured it flowing past his knuckles, stretching, thinning, compressing… hardening into an edge.
SHIIIING—!
The green light encasing his forearm flickered and then solidified. A blade, a meter long and glowing with a ferocious internal light, erupted from his arm, right over his knuckles. It wasn't smooth like steel. It was serrated, raw, and looked like it was carved from a shard of green volcanic glass. It hummed with contained power.
Kafka, acting on pure, newfound instinct, swung.
The lunge of the wolf-Kaiju met the arc of the energy blade.
There was no clang of impact. No resistance. Just a whisper-quiet SLISH.
The Kaiju continued its trajectory for a moment before its top half, cleanly severed from its bottom, slid sideways and crashed to the ground. The cut was perfect, cauterized by the sheer energy of the blade, leaving a glassy, black surface on the wound.
Kafka stared at the glowing appendage attached to his arm, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Holy… crap…"
"Adequate," Jin-Woo's voice remarked, devoid of praise. It was the detached assessment of a pass-fail grade. "You wasted thirty percent of the blade's energy on cauterization. It bled out into the environment. Unnecessary. The goal is to sever, not to cook. Focus the edge. Make it thinner. Denser."
Thinner? Denser? Kafka's mind reeled. This was like getting advanced calculus lessons during a street fight.
He didn't have time to process it. Two more Kaiju, a giant centipede and one of the jelly-blobs, charged from opposite sides.
He spun, the blade on his right arm a terrifying but clumsy weapon. The jelly-blob launched a glob of acid. Kafka instinctively swiped at it with his blade. The acid hissed and evaporated on contact with the energy, but the blade flickered, its light dimming for a moment.
"You used your weapon to block," Jin-Woo observed instantly. "You allowed your energy to be negated by the enemy's. A foolish exchange. Evade. Let your power be the sole arbiter of the outcome. Strike only when the result is a kill."
The centipede was upon him. Kafka dodged, its bladed legs narrowly missing his face. He twisted his body, bringing his energy blade around in a low, sweeping arc. He remembered Jin-Woo's critique. Thinner. Denser.
He focused, willing the energy of the blade to compress, to become less of a glowing cudgel and more of a scalpel. The blade's aura shrank, its color deepening from a bright lime to a dark, menacing forest green.
SWISH.
The blade sliced through all of the centipede's fifty legs on one side, its passage now almost completely silent. The giant insect toppled over, writhing and helpless. Kafka then stabbed downwards, the refined blade punching through its armored head with a sickening crunch. Another kill. Efficient.
The jelly-blob was reforming for another attack. Kafka's eyes narrowed. Punching it would be useless. A blade might just get stuck.
'A spear…' Jin-Woo had said.
He pulled his arm back, and this time, he willed the energy to form not an edge, but a point. He imagined all the power he was channeling, not just in his arm but a fraction from his chest and shoulders, funneling into a single, piercing tip.
The blade retracted, and the energy reformed, erupting from his clenched fist in a two-meter-long, drill-shaped spear of solidified green light.
He thrust forward.
*PSSH-KRRRAK!*
The energy spear shot from his fist like a piston. It wasn't a thrown object; it was a projection of pure force. It hit the jelly-monster dead center. For a moment, it was simply impaled. Then, Kafka channeled a tiny, extra burst of power down the length of the spear.
A secondary shockwave, a concussive *THUMP*, echoed from within the creature. The jelly-blob convulsed violently and then completely destabilized, dissolving into a quivering, inert puddle on the concrete.
Four down. Nine to go.
Kafka stood panting, his arm now bare as he'd let the spear construct dissipate. The controlled channeling was a massive mental strain, far more exhausting than the mindless rage of a full transformation. But the results… the results were undeniable. He wasn't just a monster. He was a weapon. A versatile, adaptable weapon.
"Your forms are clumsy," Jin-Woo's voice cut in again, ever the critic. "They are born of desperation, not design. You mimic the shape of human weapons because it is all you know. But your power is not metal. It is life. It can be more."
He pointed at one of the insectoid Kaiju clinging to the side of a chemical tank. "That creature has scythes for arms. Can your blade not mimic that superior design? Another has an armored carapace. Can your power not be woven into a shield? Stop thinking like a man playing with a new tool. Think like the monster whose power you have stolen. What would it do?"
The question hit Kafka like a physical blow. He had been so focused on controlling the power, he hadn't considered understanding it. He was imposing his own will, his own limited imagination, on an energy that was fundamentally alien.
One of the remaining Kaiju, a hulking, gorilla-like beast with four arms, beat its chest and charged, roaring.
Kafka looked at it. Then he looked at his own two hands.
He took a deep breath. This time, when he reached inside for the power, he didn't just pull. He listened. He felt the savage, predatory nature of Kaiju No. 8's energy. It wasn't meant to be a simple blade or a spear. It wanted to rend, to tear, to crush.
He channeled the power into both his arms. No elegant shapes this time. The green energy erupted, raw and wild. His hands elongated, his fingers fusing together and hardening into two massive, wicked claws, each ending in three razor-sharp talons. They were perfect, savage replicas of a predator's tools.
The gorilla-Kaiju swung a massive fist.
Kafka met the strike not with one claw, but with both, catching the blow in a shower of sparks. The force was immense, but his new claws held. They were stronger, more durable than his simple blade had been. He felt the design's inherent superiority.
With a roar that was part human defiance and part beastly rage, Kafka pushed back, driving the tips of his other claw deep into the creature's chest. He didn't just stab. He felt the savage instinct of the power and he tore downward.
Flesh, muscle, and bone gave way. The Kaiju let out a gurgling shriek as he ripped a fatal wound through its torso.
He looked down at his monstrous, glowing claws, then at the circle of now hesitant monsters. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.
Jin-Woo, watching from his position, remained completely impassive. But inwardly, a sliver of genuine interest was piqued.
The boy was a shockingly fast learner. His instincts were good. He had been a man pretending to be a monster.
Now, for the first time, he was a monster learning to be a man. And that was a far more powerful, and dangerous, combination.