In the days that followed, Arcadia became a hive of frantic activity, working around the clock to reinforce and dramatically heighten its defensive walls. The original ten-meter-high barrier of super-holmium alloy was visibly growing taller, a stark, gleaming silver scar against the skyline that ascended at an almost supernatural pace.
As for the Seitenshi, she was no fool. She hadn't put all her hopes on a single, cynical bet. While her wager with Mahiro stood, she simultaneously launched her Plan B—the full mobilization of the Tokyo Area's Initator-Friendly Agencies (IFAs).
This mobilization order, of course, included the Tendo Civil Security Company. Although Kisara had relayed the request to him, his refusal had been absolute and final. Therefore, the only one dispatched from their office was the recently discharged Rentaro Satomi. It was said a special "IFA Auxiliary Force" was being assembled for a desperate last stand.
Notably, neither Enju nor Tina were sent to join this force. He had absolutely no intention of letting them march out to die alongside the rest.
"Tendō Style Sword-Drawing Technique, First Form: First Step—"
In the cool, quiet air of the early morning, a clear, focused voice echoed through the tatami-floored dojo. Tendo Kisara, dressed in her stark black sailor uniform, stood motionless in the center of the training hall. Her eyes were closed, her breathing measured. She slowly relaxed her muscles, her right hand settling on the hilt of her sheathed sword as she gradually lowered her center of gravity into a picture-perfect iaijutsu stance.
This was the Tendo-ryu Sword-drawing technique "Cry of Nirvana's Clarity/ Nirvana Myoushin no Sei"—an offense-defense integrated form signifying an effortless, enlightened existence capable of adapting to any situation. It was a stance of breathtaking beauty and perfect poise.
As the sole spectator, Mahiro couldn't help but admire it. While its pure, practical lethality might be debated, its aesthetic and technical perfection were maxed out. A subtle, imperceptible aura seemed to emanate from her, forming an intangible domain where she stood as the epicenter. From any angle, an intruder would feel the imminent threat of the blade, still sheathed, striking them down.
Just like now—
"Mizu Kooru (Water Freezes)."
Her soft whisper fell into the silent dojo.
Clang—
The blade left its scabbard, transforming into a single, brilliant flash of white light that cut through the air with a sound more felt than heard—a soft, clean whoosh.
The target directly in front of Kisara, a training dummy made of tightly packed wood shavings and wrapped in cloth, was torn into multiple pieces in that single, decisive instant. The fragments pattered softly to the floor like fallen leaves.
Though it appeared to the eye as one fluid draw and strike, the result suggested multiple, impossibly fast slashes had been executed simultaneously. The most astonishing part was the distance: over six meters separated Kisara from the dummy. No magic or special ability had been used to extend the reach; it was pure, unadulterated iai, a testament to terrifying skill and focus.
"Hoo—"
Kisara slowly exhaled a long, deep breath, the tension draining from her shoulders. She straightened up with practiced grace and returned the sharp, slightly ominous demon blade, "Snow Shadow," to its sheath at her waist.
It was said to be a cursed blade passed down through the Tendo Family, a demonic sword that would drag those with wavering hearts into destruction. Yet, no trace of uncertainty or instability could be seen in Kisara now. Clearly, the blade could not sway her; or rather, her own singular obsession and madness had fallen to a depth even the demonic blade could acknowledge, forcing its submission.
"Here."
Mahiro stood up from his seated position and casually tossed a folded towel to her.
Still mentally and physically drained from the extreme concentration of the strike, Kisara tiredly murmured, "Thank you," and caught it, using it to wipe the fine sweat from her brow and neck.
"Honestly, that sword-drawing technique just now was truly beautiful, President."
"Don't call me 'President' outside of work hours," she chided, though her tone lacked its usual bite. "Just Kisara is fine."
She raised her chin, her expression stern as she met his gaze. "But no matter how beautiful the technique, once Mahiro-kun's sharingan see it, it will be completely copied and absorbed, won't it? It's really… too convenient."
By the end, she couldn't help but mutter the last part under her breath, a hint of petulance in her tone.
But Mahiro shook his head. "You can't compare yourself to me, Kisara-san. I am merely a clumsy imitator, a thief of techniques. You are the genuine article, having honed your martial arts through years of genuine hard work and sweat. In terms of true comprehension and deep understanding of the art itself, I cannot hope to compare to you."
"Of course." A proud, genuine smile finally broke through Kisara's stern facade. She giggled softly as she gathered the long, silver hair that had fallen onto her neck during her exertion. "No matter what, I am a 'Menkyo Kaiden' of Tendo-ryu Battoujutsu."
"I hold full mastery and transmission rights in the Tendō-ryū sword-drawing art."
Perhaps because the worlds were different, the classification of mastery also differed. In this reality, the titles of "Menkyo" (license) and "Kaiden" (full transmission) were combined into a single, ultimate rank.
"Then, Miss 'Menkyo Kaiden,'" Mahiro's tone shifted, becoming more serious. "What have you decided regarding our discussion from before?"
At his question, Kisara's delicate body trembled almost imperceptibly. Her movements stilled. After haphazardly wiping the last of the sweat from her neck, she let down her tied-up hair, the silver cascade falling over her shoulders. She turned to face him fully, her expression utterly serious.
"...Are you going to start acting now?"
"More or less." Mahiro shrugged, stating the truth plainly. "Time is running out." The energy required for his ultimate objective was almost gathered, which meant his journey in this world was approaching its finale.
"Is that so…" Kisara nodded silently, her voice a soft murmur as she seemed to contemplate the weight of his words. Then, she looked up, and for the first time, addressed him with a formality that bordered on reverence. "Mahiro-kun... no, Yotsuba Mahiro-sama. Do you truly intend to overturn and destroy the Tendo Family?"
"Of course." Uncharacteristically, Mahiro was not joking. He even put away his usual casual smile, replying with matching gravity. "Essentially, I hold no personal hatred for the Tendo Family. But for the sake of those children—for the children who have already died because of their corruption and cruelty—I must eliminate Kikunojo Tendo. And this… this is only my first step."
He paused, letting the words hang in the dojo's quiet air before delivering the final, devastating blow.
"Next… I will destroy this world."
!!!
He wasn't joking!
Kisara could feel it with every fiber of her being—a will as strong and unyielding as tempered steel, a conviction as dark and terrifyingly firm as her own desire for revenge, yet magnified a thousandfold. It was precisely because she recognized this familiar, obsessive darkness that her eyes widened in utter, disbelieving shock.
For the first time in the past year, she was seeing the true face of this man.
Hidden beneath that kind, handsome, and often teasing exterior was an endless abyss capable of devouring everything. It was stronger and more terrifying than her own spite; it was a force that seemed capable of incinerating the entire world, burning it all to ashes!
If she was merely a vengeful spirit clinging to a single grudge, then this man was a Demon King, the very personification of annihilation as a core belief!
"Then... after destroying the world?" she found herself asking, her voice barely a whisper, even though such a thought had never crossed her own mind. "What will you... do?"
"It's simple," Mahiro replied, startlingly candid. "I will take that group of children and leave this world." He laid his cards on the table without reservation. "As you can likely surmise, I am not from this world. So, if you accept my terms, the final outcome will be this: you become my person, and I will take you with me when I depart. Perhaps you think I'm crazy, a lunatic spouting nonsense, but that is the unvarnished truth. Whether you choose to believe it or not is entirely up to you."
"...I believe you."
Just as Mahiro had said, Kisara's rationality screamed that this was insanity, the ramblings of someone utterly unhinged. Not from this world? Could he truly be from another dimension?
But the current reality, filled with the impossibilities he had already manifested, forced her to believe.
Just like those mysterious eyes that could dissect and replicate any technique. Just like during the Scorpio incident, when he'd simply aimed that strange, blocky pistol and pulled the trigger, effortlessly annihilating Hiruko Kagetane and the Five Wings Syndicate's mechanical soldiers, turning them to fine ash.
And finally, the power he'd displayed to defeat the Stage Five itself—a force that could make the very sea recoil and freeze everything in its path. No matter how one looked at it, these feats were fantastical, completely shattering the understanding and worldview of any normal person.
Therefore, she had no choice but to believe him. The evidence was simply too overwhelming.
"So, Kisara," his voice cut through her reverie, calm and expectant. "What's your answer?"
"If I refuse," she asked, bracing herself, "what will happen?"
"Nothing much," he replied, his tone deceptively light. "You'll just become an enemy. And I don't give my enemies a second chance."
"..."
Kisara pursed her lips slightly. She found no fault with his words; in fact, she appreciated their brutal clarity. It was a binary choice: comrade or enemy. Such a belief was far more resolute and unyielding than her own tangled web of revenge and attachment.
However...
"Before I give my answer, may I ask one more question?"
"Go ahead."
"If... if Rentaro stands in front of the Tendo Family and obstructs your path... what will happen to him?"
She didn't truly care about the fate of the world. The only existence that truly mattered to her, the one tethering her to a different path, was Rentaro. After all, no matter what, he had stayed by her side for years. He had helped her escape the gilded cage of the Tendo Family and establish her own IBO agency. Not to mention... Rentaro had once saved her life.
"He will die," Mahiro stated, his voice flat and absolute, devoid of any hesitation or malice. "Without a doubt."
As soon as the words fell, a morning breeze swept into the dojo, stirring the air between them. Though it was summer, a chilling coldness ran down Kisara's spine. Upon hearing this verdict, she couldn't help but offer a bitter, resigned smile.
"As expected..."
Kisara was not a fool. In fact, she had already guessed the answer the moment she posed the question. Because she knew, better than anyone, that even without Yotsuba Mahiro's involvement... the day she finally raised her blade of vengeance against the Tendo Family, Rentaro would undoubtedly step forward to stop her.
Although Rentaro was adopted, Kikunojo Tendo had groomed him as a potential successor. Perhaps because of this, Rentaro held an inexplicable, stubborn sense of loyalty and gratitude towards the old man...
And she could feel it in her bones. If she continued down this path of revenge, refusing to turn back, the day would inevitably come when Rentaro would stand as her enemy, tasked with eliminating her for the sake of the family's stability. A hint of a sigh escaped her, laden with profound sadness.
"Now," Mahiro's voice broke the heavy silence once more. "What is your answer?"
As his words faded, the dojo was once again plunged into a silence that felt both endless and absolute.
Tendo Kisara's answer was, naturally, an affirmation. She ultimately accepted Mahiro's invitation, but under one condition—that if Rentaro truly stood in their way, she would be the one to personally deal with him. To personally sever that final, painful tie.
Mahiro naturally had no reason to refuse; if possible, he even looked forward to the dramatic, tragic poetry of such a lovers-turned-enemies confrontation. Not to mention, the one who would end up dead was that self-righteous, hypocritical coward who preached peace while enabling a corrupt system.
As for why it was certain that Rentaro would die? The reason was simple. He had already injected Kisara with the perfected AGV serum developed by Sumire Muroto.
Amidst tearing muscle fiber and burning neural pathways, Tendo Kisara had been reborn. She now possessed strength, speed, and regenerative abilities far beyond her previous limits. Now, she was fully qualified to raise the blade of revenge not just in spirit, but in the physical power to see it through.
However, matters of personal vengeance would have to wait a little longer. Because his wager with the Seitenshi was about to reach its dramatic conclusion.
...
Tap, tap.
A soft knocking sounded at the office door.
"Come in."
With a gentle creak, a young girl entered. The first thing that caught the eye were her legs—not just slender, but alarmingly thin. Raising one's gaze, her entire frame seemed fragile, her limbs so delicate they looked as if they could be snapped with minimal effort. She wore denim shorts and a pink tank top, topped with a casual jacket, her bob-cut hair framing a perpetually serious, expressionless face. But the most unforgettable thing about her was her aura—icy and detached, as if she were observing the world from behind a pane of thick glass.
"Oh, Hotaru? What brings you here so suddenly?" Mahiro was with Kayo, going over a stack of documents, while enjoying a cup of tea served by the ever-attentive Asaka. He looked, for all intents and purposes, like a local warlord holding court.
But as the door opened, all their gazes fell upon the girl. Her name was Hotaru Kogure, an Initator possessing the rare planarian Gastrea factor, which granted her incredible regenerative abilities. He had found her while gathering scattered Cursed Children in the Eighteenth District. When they met, Hotaru was calmly extracting a bullet from her own abdomen, having been shot from an unknown assailant. He had, of course, brought her back to Arcadia.
It must be said, he mused internally, the Zodiac Gastrea virus is truly marvelous; it can even fuse with the genes of ancient, simple organisms like planarians... I wonder if there are any with American cockroach factors? Or perhaps a round-headed old man who likes to spout riddles? He shook his head. Probably not. After all, this isn't Terra.
Just as he was getting distracted, Hotaru Kogure stated her purpose with robotic efficiency. "Mahiro-sama. The Seitenshi's motorcade will arrive at Arcadia's main gate in approximately five minutes."
"Oh, I see. Thank you, Hotaru. I'll be right there."
He left Kayo to manage the office, while Asaka, as was her custom, fell into step beside him as he followed Hotaru out. Counting the time, the Seitenshi's arrival was right on schedule. After all, there were less than two days left until the monolith's predicted collapse.
The massive albino patches staining its surface could no longer be hidden from the public. Although he hadn't ventured into the Tokyo Area's downtown during this period, he could easily imagine the chaos that must have descended. The panic was surely palpable; even the shrewd Shiba Miori had already officially relocated her core operations into the safety of Arcadia.
And just as he stepped out of the office building, the familiar, imposing luxury limousine was already rolling to a stop just inside Arcadia's main gate. Under the curious and wary gazes of a multitude of children, the passenger door opened.
A young girl, dressed in a pristine white gown resembling a wedding dress, her beauty as outstanding as ever, emerged. She held a delicate parasol in one hand, but from the shadow it cast, one could see that her exquisite face, though still maintaining a regal composure, now held a deep, profound weariness in the depths of her light purple eyes.
Upon seeing him come out to greet her, she walked towards him with measured, deliberate steps.
"...Mahiro-sama, I have come for our appointment."
"I've been waiting. But you look exhausted, Seitenshi-sama. Haven't you been resting? Would you like to take a nap here first?" Mahiro spoke to her as casually as if they were discussing the weather, his tone a stark contrast to the impending doom.
However, the Seitenshi shook her head, a gesture both graceful and heavy with fatigue. "Thank you, but there's no need... The Tokyo Area is in imminent danger. I have no time for rest... Mahiro-sama, I must ask. Have I... won our bet?"
In recent days, she had ordered her people to constantly monitor the movements and sentiments of the Tokyo Area's citizens. It was true that the news of the monolith's impending collapse had been leaked, and a massive riot had erupted, especially after the limited quotas for entering the underground shelters were determined by a controversial "lottery."
But fortunately, from all the reports she had seen, this riot seemed to be contained within the urban centers. People were smashing storefronts and looting. Yet, crucially, among these angry mobs, not a single group had marched to the Thirty-ninth District to retaliate against Arcadia. Even though their chants were filled with demands to repeal the "Gastrea New Law" and expel all Cursed Children.
"Are you certain of that?" Mahiro's gaze seemed to pierce straight through her, seeing the fragile hope she clung to.
And the Seitenshi, clinging to that very hope, nodded with serious conviction. "I am certain."
"Alright then. Before I announce the result, there's something I'd like to show you." Saying this, he snapped his fingers, a clear, sharp sound that cut through the air. Asaka Mibu, standing attentively nearby, immediately understood. "I understand, Mahiro-sama." With that, she turned and left.
After a short while, the previously quiet, industrious hum of the Arcadia street was broken by a growing, dissonant noise. Following the sound, the Seitenshi's light purple eyes widened slightly, an expression of sheer disbelief dawning on her face.
From the other end of the street, a large crowd of people, being escorted by a contingent of Initator children, was being marched towards them. Without exception, the prisoners looked sallow, emaciated, and utterly disheveled, their condition worse than that of the Cursed Children who used to wander the Tokyo Area's ruins. Their number was staggering—nearly a thousand! A dense, dark mass of humanity. And they were bound, their hands and feet tightly secured by ropes that connected them one to another in a long, miserable line, stumbling forward just like enslaved people trafficked during a bygone, brutal age.
"Mahiro-sama... these people are...?" the Seitenshi whispered, her voice trembling.
"You'll understand soon enough," Mahiro replied with a slight, knowing smile.
The large group of captives, upon spotting the Seitenshi's distinct, pure-white figure, immediately stirred. Their eyes lit up as if they had seen a divine savior!
"It's the Seitenshi!"
"Great! It's the Seitenshi! We're saved!"
"Seitenshi-sama! Quickly, order the Self-Defense Force to flatten Arcadia! This is a nest for those Gastrea monsters!"
"Yes, that's right! Those damned Cursed Children dare to hide here?! Unforgivable!!!"
.....
Their clamorous shouts shattered the peaceful atmosphere of Arcadia. All around, the children—whether they had been working in shops, tending to chores, or simply passing by—stopped what they were doing. Some leaned on windowsills, others stood perfectly still in the streets. They watched this performance unfold with quiet, intense eyes. In their gazes, beyond the initial fear, a simmering anger began to boil, so potent it seemed to ignite the Gastrea factors within their bodies, their pupils glowing a uniform, threatening crimson.
Unforgivable...
They had hidden here, just trying to survive, to build a sanctuary. And now these people wanted to snatch it all away, to destroy their last refuge!
Hearing their vile shouts, the Seitenshi's mind went blank with a resounding buzz. She swayed on her feet, the world tilting, and would have fallen had Mahiro not swiftly moved to support her.
At the same time, he gave a subtle, almost imperceptible signal to the Initator children responsible for escorting the prisoners.
Swish—
A dark shadow blurred through the crowd. A single, clean slash severed the head of the man who had been shouting the loudest and most viciously. The head tumbled to the ground with a dull thud, the body following a moment later.
A girl with retractable claws flicked the blood from her fingertips, her voice a cold, disdainful snarl that cut through the sudden, dead silence. "Tch! Weaklings should act like weaklings! You are prisoners now! Do you not even understand such a simple truth?!"