The moon barely touched the horizon, a pale sliver reflected across the jagged obsidian spires of Black Haven. I stood at the central platform of the fortress, arms crossed, observing the 10 Kings and Queens as they filed into position after their latest engagement.
"They performed…adequately," I murmured, voice muffled behind the white mask streaked with black sigils. My tone wasn't one of praise—it never was—but a sharp note of analytical approval lingered in the words. They have the raw power, I thought, but it is the orchestration that will define their purpose.
I raised a hand, and the battlefield simulations illuminated around me, an intricate web of city grids, enemy movement patterns, and contingency outcomes. Each dot represented a potential threat, each line a path to total control. I had already seen their reactions before they made them. That was my principle. That was John Merciless.
"Kaien, Mirielle, Draven—intercept positions remain active. Orien, hold perimeter; Veyra, Ayaka, Serah, Lucienne, Ryn, you monitor any anomalies. Every escape route must remain sealed. Nothing leaves this city tonight that I do not allow."
They nodded, not out of obedience, but out of recognition that my plans were immutable. Even the most arrogant—Draven and Orien—understood the weight of orchestration when their own battlefield intuition collided with my foresight.
I turned my gaze toward the archives, where the information on the Circuit Guardians' lab had been compiled. The girl. Seven years old, resilient beyond reason, her very existence a testament to flawed experimentation. I allowed a rare flicker of…something. Not sentimentality. Not empathy. Possession. She became a variable I could exploit, a fulcrum to tilt this balance.
"By the time the Circuit Guardians comprehend what has occurred, their system will be compromised," I said aloud, voice echoing through the stone halls. They will not know the hand that moved them until it is too late.
A small projection flickered near my left palm, displaying schematics of the city and potential response units. I traced a single path through my mind, imagining every reaction before it could occur. If they attempt to counter with 2,000 elite users, they'll find themselves immobilized, cornered…humiliated. My left eye—Koketsu—glowed faintly beneath the mask. Even dormant, it hummed with the potential to enforce reality itself.
I allowed myself a brief smirk. They see a villain, an anomaly, a threat. They will never see the true master plotting behind it.
Arata-
The wind carried the scent of oceans and ash, a combination that reminded me of the temporal slippage between continents. I adjusted the strap of my satchel and looked toward the city of Arkion on the horizon—a metropolis known across the eastern continent for its density of high-level circuits users, mercenaries, and rare artifacts. Population estimates barely captured the intricate web of power hierarchies hidden beneath the surface.
Time to play the role of the background character once more, I thought. Let them underestimate me, let the oblivious world carry on. I'll observe, learn, and…intervene when necessary.
I replayed the Zero-Sum confrontation with Seirath in my mind. He had thought he killed John Merciless. Had thought he succeeded. I laughed quietly in the wind, remembering John's own commentary: "Yes…you thought you did. If you hadn't pulled that move, I would never have executed it."
The logic behind Zero-Sum was elegant in its cruelty and simplicity. John Merciless, as an avatar, could manipulate causality within a localized quantum field I had established at the moment of his "death." The sequence required a precise calculation of energy vectors, spatial anomalies, and the timing of neural input—effectively allowing John to circumvent death and reset the battlefield without anyone perceiving the mechanism. It was, in essence, a one-way cognitive exploit turned into a physical phenomenon.
And yet, this was only the tip of what Koketsu could accomplish. The second awakening had revealed the slit in my pupil, an ability I dubbed "Killing Intent Manifest" internally. Through it, I could:
Induce immobilization over a radius of up to 100 meters.
Project fear, desperation, or the sensation of imminent death into a group's consciousness.
Temporarily manipulate perception to overlay tactical illusions.
The Circuit Guardians would never know, I thought, adjusting my mental parameters. I've yet to fully awaken the second stage. Right now, my full cognitive output can run at near 100%, manipulating probabilities, extrapolating enemy behavior, and calculating multistep contingencies without breaking stride.
I allowed myself a mental smile. By the time Arkion realizes what has arrived, it will be too late for them to resist without casualties.
As I approached the city gates, I observed from afar the unique architecture of Arkion—towers carved from black stone interlaced with reflective metals, bridges suspended over rapid-flowing canals, and the glimmer of magical wards faintly visible to my perception. Each building represented a node of power, each district a controlled variable.
I thought of John Merciless again, resting at Black Haven, issuing directives that I could not interfere with directly but could study and anticipate. Even avatars can teach the original, I mused. His logic is flawless because it is mine…refined through an alternate persona designed to act without ego.
The streets began to hum with the life of the city. Merchants, circuit users, mercenary teams, all unaware of the storm approaching from above. I allowed my eyes to drift briefly to the horizon, visualizing a sequence where Koketsu's slit would project illusions subtly, enough to sway decisions of even elite circuit users in this city.
The Qute Equation, I whispered internally, recalling the text I had studied in the academy's library—the formulas that tied probability, energy accumulation, and psychic projection into a singular schema. It had inspired John's Zero-Sum tactic. Every action, every energy unit, every conscious choice…manipulable if you understand the parameters.
I adjusted my coat, letting the wind play with its hem, and continued toward the city. To any observer, I was just another passerby, a seventeen-year-old—or rather, the seventeen-year-old body I inhabited.
No one will ever see the full picture. They will only react.
And in that, there was art.
I considered what Zero-Sum had revealed about causality manipulation. By carefully storing energy and projecting intent through Koketsu's slit, I could construct localized probability collapses, events that appeared miraculous or instantaneous to outside observers. The implications were staggering:
Urban-scale influence: Subtle control over decision-making of a group of circuit users. Physical manipulations: Short-range teleportation-like movement by instantaneously recalculating spatial vectors and momentum. Tactical preemption: Ability to simulate enemy strategies in real-time and enforce outcomes without confrontation.
Every variable in Arkion is now a potential vector, I thought. Every citizen, every mercenary, every warrior—calculable and, if needed, disposable.
The city gates loomed ahead. I inhaled, feeling the pulse of the population, the resonance of circuits, and the flow of magical energy in the environment. I adjusted my walking pace to appear casual, a background character in every essence, while my mind calculated several dozen contingencies simultaneously.
By nightfall, I will know every node of resistance, every potential ally, and every exploitable weakness.
I smiled faintly. And yet, they will never know that the hand guiding this game has already won.