The F-Area of Tokyo was a wound on the face of the Earth.
A decade ago, a "Gate-class" Kaiju event had occurred here, an unstoppable swarm that had overwhelmed the Defense Force and rendered a dozen city blocks uninhabitable. The area was walled off, quarantined, and became a breeding ground for feral Kaiju and a haunting monument to humanity's failures. It was a concrete jungle reclaimed by monsters.
The ATU's stealth transport hovered silently over the quarantine wall, its engines making less noise than the mournful wind whistling through the skeletal remains of skyscrapers. The mood inside was tense. This wasn't a standard Kaiju subjugation mission. It was a reconnaissance-in-force, a calculated expedition into the heart of enemy territory. And they were bringing live bait.
Kafka Hibino, designated live bait, sat strapped into his seat, the vibrations of the transport rattling his bones. He was in his full combat gear, the sleek black under-suit that went beneath his soon-to-be-manifested biological armor. For the first time, he wore the official crest of the Third Division on his shoulder. It felt heavy.
Across from him, Kikoru was sharpening the edge of her axe with a high-frequency whetstone, the sound a low, angry hum. She hadn't spoken to him since the training session, her expression a mask of intense focus. He had passed the diagnostic, but that didn't make them friends. It just made him a more credible, and therefore more complicated, variable.
Hoshina stood at the front of the cabin, studying a holographic map of the F-Area. "Intel reports No. 10 is stationary, deep in the old Shibuya district, near the epicenter of the original outbreak," he announced, his voice crisp and professional. "Its energy signature is… strange. It's cycling. Powering up, then down, in a rhythmic pattern. Like a heart that's struggling to beat."
"Is it injured?" one of the veteran agents, a stern-faced woman named Haruta, asked.
"Unlikely," Hoshina replied. "More likely, it's a trap. A beacon. The Architect wants us to come. It's laid a piece of cheese in its brand new, custom-built mousetrap." His gaze shifted to Kafka. "And we are going to deliver the mouse."
Kafka's stomach churned. He was the mouse.
"Alright, here's the plan," Hoshina continued, zooming in on the map. "Insertion is on this rooftop, two kilometers from the target. Standard recon protocol. Haruta and Kenji, you're on overwatch and sniper support. Kikoru and I will form the primary assault team. We'll advance on foot. And Hibino…"
Everyone looked at Kafka.
"You are our ace in the hole, and our early warning system," Hoshina said, his expression serious. "The Architect built this thing. Its primary function, we believe, will be to engage, capture, or destroy a being with powers similar to Sovereign. That's you. When we get close, it will react to your presence. The moment it does, I want a full report. How does it feel? What kind of energy does it emit? Does it feel like it's specifically targeting you?"
He wasn't just a lure. He was a Kaiju-detecting metal detector, and they were about to go sweeping in a minefield.
"Understood, Vice-Commander," Kafka replied, his voice steadier than he felt. The training session, as brutal as it had been, had given him a sliver of confidence. He knew more about his power now. He wasn't just a scared janitor anymore. He was a scared soldier. It was an improvement.
"Five minutes to the LZ," the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom.
The team began their final equipment checks. Kafka closed his eyes, ignoring the metallic clicks and snaps of weapons being readied. He reached inward, into his own personal void.
'I'm heading into the field,' he projected into his mind, a silent, mandatory report to his true master. 'A new Numbered Kaiju has appeared. Designated Number 10. We believe it was created to counter you.'
There was a long moment of silence. He wondered if Jin-Woo was listening, if he even cared about such a low-level report.
[I am aware,] the Monarch's voice finally replied, its tone as cold and distant as deep space. [The creature's energy signature registered the moment it was spawned. It is a crude, but interesting, design. It emits a null-energy field in its dormant state.]
'Null-energy? What does that mean?' Kafka asked.
[It means the Architect is a faster learner than I anticipated,] Jin-Woo's voice held a new, razor-thin edge of something that might have been surprise. [It has attempted to create a weapon that negates the energy of its target. A biological counterspell. Against a lesser opponent, it would be formidable. Against me, it is an annoyance. Against you… it may prove fatal.]
A spike of pure ice shot down Kafka's spine. Fatal?
[Do not allow it to touch you,] Jin-Woo commanded. [Its skin secretes a bio-agent that breaks down unconventional energy sources. If it makes direct physical contact with your biological armor, it will begin to dissolve it. It is a creature designed specifically to devour a being like yourself.]
The Monarch was giving him tactical advice. Not out of concern for his well-being, but because he didn't want his tool to be broken on its first use. The chilling pragmatism was terrifying, but the information was life-saving. The Defense Force's sensors saw a cycling energy signature; Jin-Woo saw the creature's fundamental, secret weapon.
'I understand,' Kafka thought back, his resolve hardening. 'Don't let it touch me. Got it.'
"Landing in three… two… one…"
The transport's rear ramp hissed open, revealing the skeletal, vine-choked skyline of the dead city. The air that rushed in was stale, smelling of decay and old rain. The team disembarked onto the rooftop, their boots crunching on gravel and broken glass.
The silence here was different. It wasn't peaceful. It was the heavy, expectant silence of a predator's lair.
"Alright, ATU," Hoshina whispered into his comms, his twin blades already in his hands. "Eyes sharp. Hibino, stay in the center of the formation. Let's go wake up the monster."
They moved like ghosts, descending into the concrete canyons of Shibuya. The streets were littered with the rusted husks of cars and overgrown with thick, mutated vegetation. Strange, chittering sounds echoed from the dark alleyways and shattered storefronts, the calls of the feral Yoju that now owned this city.
As they drew closer to the epicenter, Kafka felt it.
A subtle, creeping numbness in the air. His own internal energy, the ever-present thrum of Kaiju No. 8, seemed to quieten slightly, as if being dampened by a powerful magnetic field. The monster within him grew agitated, not with aggression, but with a strange, instinctual wariness.
"Vice-Commander," Kafka whispered into his mic, his heart beginning to pound. "I feel it. It's… a dead spot. It feels like my power is being suppressed. The closer we get, the worse it gets."
Hoshina nodded, his expression grim. "The null-energy field. Just as Sovereign predicted," he muttered under his breath, before speaking to the team. "Alright, everyone. Target is close. Prepare for contact."
They rounded a final corner, coming into what was once the famous Shibuya Crossing. Now, it was a cratered, overgrown wasteland. And in the very center, standing motionless as a statue, was Kaiju No. 10.
It was not a giant. It was shockingly small, no larger than a grizzly bear. It looked like a grotesque fusion of an armadillo and a deep-sea anglerfish. Its body was covered in thick, overlapping plates of matte black chitin that seemed to absorb the light. It had no visible eyes or mouth, only a long, fleshy lure protruding from its forehead, which pulsed with that faint, rhythmic glow. The air around it visibly shimmered, distorted by the energy-dampening field it emitted.
It was completely still. Waiting.
"What is it doing?" Kikoru asked, her axe held at a low ready.
"Waiting for the mouse," Hoshina replied grimly. He looked at Kafka. "This is it, Private. This is your debut. On my mark, I want you to flare your power. Just a bit. Ring the dinner bell."
Kafka took a shaky breath. His moment had come. He had to draw the attention of a creature specifically designed to kill him, while being backed up by a team that didn't trust him, all while being telepathically supervised by his tyrannical shadow master.
'Just another day at the office,' he thought with a surge of black humor.
He nodded at Hoshina.
The Vice-Commander raised a single hand. He held it there for a tense, silent second.
Then, he dropped it.
Showtime.