The air in the decaying shipping yard crackled with released energy. Akira Kurogiri was a storm of motion, his 99% liberation rate making him a blur of silver and controlled violence. He wasn't just fighting; he was a symphony of stolen powers, each movement a testament to the kaiju he had absorbed.
He lunged, his speed multiplied by the Tiger Beetle's acceleration, closing the distance in a blink. His sword, reinforced by the Hardened Carapace ability, came down in a devastating arc aimed at the Kaiju No. 9's primary horn. The creature moved, its own speed terrifying, a blade-like arm deflecting the strike with a shower of sparks.
CLANG-SHIIING!
"You steal the strength of lesser beings and believe it makes you my equal?" The kaiju's voice was a dry, mocking rasp in Akira's mind. It countered with a thrust of its own, a spike of bone shooting from its forearm. Akira twisted, the Mantis variant's precision allowing him to read the trajectory and avoid a fatal blow, but the spike still grazed his ribs, tearing through his suit and drawing a line of fire across his skin.
[Ravan: Host minor injury. Suit integrity compromised at section 4B. Target combat analysis ongoing. Adaptation rate: increasing. Host's current output insufficient for a decisive victory. Probability of defeat rising: 42%.]
Shut up and calculate a new angle! Akira thought, gritting his teeth. He pushed off the ground, using a burst of the Toad variant's concussive force from his feet to create distance. He fired his pistol twice—BAM! BAM!—the rounds infused with a fraction of the Worm's corrosive secretion. The kaiju swatted them aside, but the acid sizzled on its carapace, earning a flicker of irritation in its multifaceted eyes.
"It is a pitiful mimicry," it hissed, the acid burns already beginning to fade, its flesh knitting itself back together. "You wear their power like a ill-fitting skin. You are a child playing with tools he does not understand."
"I understand enough to put you down," Akira snarled, breathing heavily. He was giving it everything he had, a repertoire of abilities that would have decimated any other foe. But this thing... it was different. Stronger. Faster. It learned, adapted mid-fight. The data from his previous life was obsolete. This was a living, evolving nightmare.
He underestimated its next move. It didn't lunge or strike. It flexed the space around it. The air pressure spiked, and an invisible wave of force slammed into Akira like a freight train. It was the same spatial distortion used for teleportation, focused into a weapon.
CRUNCH.
Akira heard a rib crack before he felt it. The air was driven from his lungs as he was thrown backward, crashing through a stack of empty oil drums with a deafening clatter. He landed in a heap, pain screaming through his side. His sword skittered out of his grasp.
[Ravan: Critical impact. Fractured rib. Lung contusion suspected. Liberation rate dropping to 87%.]
He tried to push himself up, his vision swimming. The Kaiju No. 9 was suddenly there, looming over him, its featureless face looking down. It planted a foot on his chest, pressing down just enough to make the broken rib grate. Akira cried out, the sound a mix of pain and fury.
"This is the pinnacle of humanity?" the kaiju whispered, its mental voice dripping with contempt. "A fragile, arrogant creature that breaks so easily. You build your little cities, you play with your little weapons, and you believe you are the masters of this world. You are nothing but noise. A chaotic, selfish plague."
Memories, unbidden and painful, flooded Akira's mind. Not from this life, but the one before. A life of isolation, of cold screens and colder human interactions. The relentless pressure of a world that demanded conformity, the quiet cruelty of indifference. The loneliness that had been his only constant companion.
Then, like a sun breaking through storm clouds, other memories overwrote them. Kafka's dopey, unwavering grin. Reno's stubborn determination, his fierce loyalty. Kikoru's prideful scowl that hid a heart of gold. The chaotic, warm camaraderie of the barracks. Mina's stern belief. Hoshina's challenging smirk. They weren't just memories; they were feelings. A sense of belonging he had never known in either life.
They weren't a plague. They were worth protecting.
The kaiju leaned closer. "I will silence your noise. I will add your anomalous data to my own and become perfect. There is no—"
The words died in its mind.
Akira's hand shot up, not to push the foot away, but to clamp onto the kaiju's ankle. His eyes, glazed with pain a second before, now burned with an incandescent light.
"Shut up," Akira growled, his voice low and vibrating with power.
[Ravan: Liberation rate spiking. 90%... 95%... 99%. Adrenal override engaged. Pain suppression active.]
The kaiju had a microsecond to register the shift. The energy emanating from the human beneath its foot didn't just return; it intensified, sharpened with a razor's edge of pure, focused will.
Akira moved. He didn't throw the foot off; he used it as a pivot. His body twisted with the fluid, brutal grace of the Mantis variant, his free leg scissoring up to kick the kaiju square in the chest with the reinforced force of the Carapace and the concussive blast of the Toad.
BOOM.
The blow wasn't just powerful; it was perfectly timed, aimed at a minute fissure in its armor that Ravan had been silently calculating. The Kaiju No. 9 was thrown backward, its mocking posture shattered, a crack now visible on its chest plate. It landed on its feet several meters away, its head tilted, its single red eye wide with something akin to shock.
It had not expected this. It had not calculated this resilience.
Akira was already on his feet, his sword back in his hand. He didn't waste breath on a quip. His expression was cold, lethal focus. He had underestimated his enemy once. He would not do it again.
The dynamic of the fight had shifted.
A few kilometers away, the sound of battle was a desperate, one-sided affair. CLANG! Kikoru's axe was batted aside again, the force of the impact sending shudders up her arms. She was bleeding from a cut on her forehead, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her liberation rate was a steady 49%, a testament to her will, but it was not enough.
The slender Kaiju No. 9 variant moved around her with infuriating ease, its blade-arms leaving shallow cuts on her legs, her arms, wearing her down. It wasn't trying to kill her quickly; it was dissecting her defense, studying her.
"Your determination is a fascinating data point. Illogical, but persistent," it whispered in her mind.
"Shut up!" she screamed, launching another reckless swing. It dodged, and its counterstroke slammed the pommel of its blade into her stomach. She doubled over, retching, her axe falling from nerveless fingers. She collapsed to her knees, unable to draw breath, unable to move. She had given everything, and it hadn't been enough.
The kaiju raised its blade, aiming for her exposed neck. "Conclusion reached. Specimen resilience: exceeded expectations. Specimen usefulness: terminated."
From behind her, Reno watched, frozen. He saw Kikoru fall. He saw the killing blow poised to fall. He saw his own rifle, its ammunition depleted, useless in his hands. The fear was a ice-cold pit in his stomach.
Then he saw other things. Akira, effortlessly deflecting blows meant for him during training. Kafka, throwing himself in front of that kaiju in the hospital, his body breaking to save Reno's. Their faces, not annoyed or disappointed, but determined. Protective.
They always... they always protect me.
Tears of frustration and shame welled in his eyes, blurring his vision. He was so weak. He was always the one being protected.
The kaiju's blade began its descent.
A sound tore from Reno's throat, a raw, broken scream that was more than fear. It was a vow. "NO!"
He didn't think. He moved. He dropped his empty rifle and ran, not away, but directly toward the kaiju, placing himself squarely between the falling blade and the helpless Kikoru. He spread his arms wide, as if his frail body could possibly block the attack.
"I won't let you touch her!" he yelled, his voice cracking, tears streaming down his face. He stood his ground, eyes squeezed shut, awaiting the impact.
The Kaiju No. 9's blade halted mere inches from Reno's face. The creature seemed… perplexed. This action made no logical sense. The weaker specimen was sacrificing itself for the stronger one. It was an irrational variable.
"Fascinating," it whispered, its single red eye boring into the trembling, crying boy who refused to flinch.
The blow did not fall. Yet.
Kafka felt it. A surge of immense, familiar power from Akira's direction, followed by a spike of absolute terror and desperation from Reno. His heart hammered against his ribs. He was close. So close. The chemical plant was just ahead. He pushed his transformed legs even harder, a blue comet of dread streaking through the industrial wasteland. Hold on! Just hold on!
...The immediate threat was over. Silence descended, heavy and unnerving, broken only by the hiss of neutralizer agents on the kaiju bomb's remains and the low, worried murmurs of the recruits. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion and the chilling reality of what had just happened.
Mina Ashiro lowered her massive cannon, the weight of it feeling insignificant compared to the weight settling in her chest. Hoshina slid his pristine blades back into their sheaths with a soft, final click, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet. He scanned the square, his sharp eyes missing nothing—the scarred pavement, the stunned faces of the rookies, the empty space where four of their number had stood just moments before.
"Tactical, report," Mina said into her comm, her voice flat, devoid of its usual cutting edge. It was the voice of someone holding back a storm of questions.
Ikaruga's voice was crisp but carried an undertone of shell-shock. "Composite organism neutralized, Captain. Core successfully excised and contained. All clear in the square. No secondary threats detected."
"Casualties?" The word was a blade in her gut.
"Minor injuries among the recruits. Contusions, lacerations, one broken arm. No fatalities from the bomb containment." A pause. A significant one. "No sign of the missing personnel."
Mina closed her eyes for a brief second. No fatalities here. A small, bitter mercy. She opened them, her gaze sweeping across the square before locking onto the spot where it had all unraveled. "The energy signatures from the two primary threats. The 8.0s. Trace them."
A longer pause this time. Kikuchihara's voice came on, hesitant. "Captain... we can't. The signatures didn't fade or move away on the scanners. They... terminated. Instantly. Simultaneously with the disappearance of Recruits Kurogiri, Shinomiya, and Ichikawa. It's as if they were switched off. Or... teleported beyond our sensor range in a way we can't track."
"And the third signature?" Mina pressed, her voice hardening. "The 8.1 that appeared and vanished on this spot."
"The data is... perplexing, Captain," Ikaruga replied. "It manifested with a kaiju energy signature of 8.1, a disaster-class reading. But its composition... there were faint, anomalous traces of human bio-signatures within the energy surge. It was there for 1.2 seconds, and then it was gone. Velocity readings from the drones are inconclusive—it moved faster than our instruments could reliably track, heading north-northwest."
Hoshina had been listening silently, his arms crossed. He walked over to the epicenter of the brief, terrifying blip. He knelt, his gloved fingers brushing against the pavement. There was a single, deep fissure in the asphalt, unlike any blast pattern from the fight. It was a single point of immense pressure, and from it radiated faint, hair-thin cracks that glittered with a faint, familiar blue residue. He held up his fingers; the residue sparked and fizzled out against his glove.
"Looks like someone kicked off from here real hard," Hoshina muttered, his tone deceptively light. "Left a calling card."
Mina was beside him in an instant, her eyes fixed on the blue sparkles. She knew that energy signature. It was the same blue that had flickered around Kafka Hibino during his uncontrolled transformation in the hospital records. The same blue that had been present in the footage of the "good monster" that saved the mother and child.
The evidence was a knot of contradictions. The scanner said kaiju. The energy residue said Hibino. The eye-witnesses—herself and Hoshina—had seen a blue streak. Logic pointed to one, terrifying conclusion: Kafka Hibino had a kaiju power, and he had used it to flee the scene.
But Mina's instincts, honed over a decade of command and countless life-or-death decisions, screamed that it was wrong. It was too simple. Too convenient.
"The signature was a perfect 8.1," she said, more to herself than to Hoshina, her brow furrowed in deep thought. "A clean, disaster-class reading. Not the unstable, fluctuating energy we saw from him in the hospital. This was controlled. Powerful." She looked up, her ice-blue eyes meeting Hoshina's. "Kurogiri, Shinomiya, and Ichikawa vanished without a trace. Their vitals cut out instantly. If that was Hibino transforming, why did he leave a energy residue? Why did he run away? It doesn't fit. He wouldn't abandon them. He couldn't. His entire personality profile screams the opposite."
Hoshina nodded slowly, his usual grin completely absent. "Yeah. The kid's got the survival instincts of a rock and the loyalty of a dumb puppy. If anything, he'd have tried to throw himself at those things bare-handed." He gestured to the fissure. "But this... this looks like someone who knew exactly what they were doing and where they were going. That's not our Kafka."
"Then what is it?" Mina's voice was a low whisper, frustration edging into her tone. "The scanner isn't lying. That was a kaiju. But if it wasn't Hibino... was it a third one? One that grabbed him while the other two took the rest?" She ran a hand over her face, a rare public display of fatigue. "Why take them? Why not just kill them? And why would a third kaiju mimic Hibino's energy signature? None of this makes tactical sense. It's not a pattern. It's... personal."
The doubt was a cold stone in her stomach. She believed the disappearances of Akira, Reno, and Kikoru were genuine—a terrifying, coordinated abduction by two intelligent, powerful kaiju. But Kafka... his disappearance was different. The evidence pointed to him, but every fiber of her being rejected the conclusion. It felt like a frame-up, a deliberate misdirection played out on her own sensors.
She looked at Hoshina, her second-in-command, the man whose instincts she trusted almost as much as her own. "What do you see, Soshiro?"
Hoshina was quiet for a moment, staring at the northern district. "I see a mess," he said frankly. "I see two new types of kaiju that can think, talk, and teleport. I see four recruits gone—three snatched, and one..." He glanced back at the fissure. "One who might have been taken, or who might have done the taking. But I'll tell you what I don't see. I don't see a traitor in Kafka Hibino. The math on that doesn't add up. The boy's an open book, and that book is about as sinister as a bowl of ramen."
He straightened up. "So, we operate on the assumption that all four are victims. Until we have a body or a definitive betrayal, that's what they are. Our people."
Mina gave a single, sharp nod. His words solidified her resolve. The doubt was there, a nagging, unsolved variable, but it would not dictate her actions. Her duty was clear.
She turned, her voice ringing out across the square, clear and absolute, cutting through the anxious chatter. "All units, listen up! The immediate threat is neutralized. Now, our mission shifts. Recovery." She activated her comm, her image likely flashing onto screens throughout Tachikawa Base. "Commander Shinomiya."
"Captain Ashiro," Isao's voice came through, grave and steady. "Report."
"The composite organism has been contained. However, Recruits Kurogiri, Shinomiya, Ichikawa, and Hibino are missing in action following the appearance and disappearance of two unknown Daikaiju. Evidence suggests they were abducted. We are initiating a full-scale search and rescue operation."
A hushed silence fell over the square. Iharu's face was pale. Haruichi and Aoi exchanged grim looks.
"Permission granted, Captain," Isao replied without hesitation. "All resources of the First Division are at your disposal. Find my daughter. Find all of them."
"Understood." Mina turned to her officers. "Hoshina, you have command of the ground teams. I want a grid search of the entire Northern Sector. Start from the last known coordinates and fan out. Look for any signs of struggle, energy residue, spatial distortions—anything."
Hoshina nodded, already tapping his own comm to rally the platoon leaders. "Nakanoshima, Higarashi! You're with me! Round up the rookies who can still walk. We're moving out!"
Mina continued, her eyes on the tactical map her aides were projecting. "Kikuchihara, Ikaruga, focus all long-range sensors on the Northern District. I want a spectral analysis of every energy fluctuation, no matter how small. Cross-reference with the residue we found here. If anything matches, I want to know yesterday."
"Yes, Captain!"
The base, which had moments ago been a scene of chaotic battle, now transformed into a machine of disciplined urgency. The mystery of the third signature, the doubt about Kafka—it was all filed away for now. It was a question for later. Right now, they were simply four lost soldiers.
But as Mina watched the teams mobilize, her gaze lingered on the northern horizon. The official report would say four recruits were missing. But in the quiet of her own mind, the equation was different: three had been taken.
And one, she feared, had been lured.