As Faiz navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the underground base toward his assigned quarters, a familiar, raspy voice echoed in his mind.
(D.Faiz: "You didn't actually sell our soul to that woman, did you?")
"Don't joke around," Faiz muttered under his breath. "We just took our first real step toward the truth of this world. This is a goldmine."
(D.Faiz: "Hmph. Just remember to stay sharp. And one more thing... even though I might act like a parasite sometimes, fundamentally, I am always trying to protect you.")
Faiz paused mid-step, a shiver running down his spine. He blinked, genuinely disturbed. "Eh? Why are you suddenly acting so nice? That's incredibly suspicious."
(D.Faiz: "SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP! Prepare for tomorrow!")
"Alright, alright," Faiz sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're just as stubborn as I am."
He finally located his room and swiped his new ID card. The heavy door hissed open, and Faiz couldn't help but whistle. The quarters were practically a luxury suite. It featured a plush bed, a pristine modern bathroom, a fully stocked kitchenette, and—to his absolute delight—a high-end, military-grade digital microscope set up on a sleek steel desk.
After geeking out over the lab equipment for a few minutes, he took a long, hot shower to wash off the grime and dried blood of the day, changed into comfortable clothes, and immediately collapsed into bed.
The Next Morning
Faiz woke up just before dawn. He made a quick, protein-heavy breakfast in his kitchen, filled a mini-thermos with black coffee, and wandered out to an open-air observation deck on the surface level of the facility.
He sat on a cold metal bench, sipping his steaming coffee as he watched the first rays of the sun paint the Yokohama skyline in hues of orange and purple.
"Taking it easy, I see."
Faiz glanced over his shoulder. Saki was walking toward him, wiping sweat from her forehead with a towel. She was wearing form-fitting athletic wear, having clearly just finished a morning run.
"Morning, Captain," Faiz greeted. "Where'd you come from?"
"Just finishing my daily cardio routine," Saki said, leaning against the railing next to him. "By the way, you don't need to be so formal with me outside of briefings. Just call me normally."
Faiz raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk crossing his face. "Darling?"
THWACK!
Saki's hand chopped down on the top of his head with terrifying speed.
"Ouch!" Faiz winced, rubbing his skull.
"Don't push your luck, rookie," Saki sighed, though there was an amused glint in her eyes. "Anyway, enjoy your coffee while you can. Shortly, you'll be joining the basic training course for the new Akuma Hunter cadets. I'll be supervising you personally. I hope you're prepared."
"Thanks for the heads-up," Faiz said, finishing his coffee.
Saki waved and jogged off to the showers. Faiz headed back to his room, changed into the standard black tactical training uniform he'd found in his closet, and made his way to the training sector.
When he arrived, dozens of fresh-faced cadets were already lined up in a massive, gymnasium-like hall. A few minutes later, Saki walked in, flanked by her three Vice-Captains.
"Listen up, cadets!" Saki's voice boomed across the hall. "Today, you will train under our direct supervision. The curriculum is divided into three phases: Physical Conditioning, Weaponry and Firearms, and finally, Combat Sparring! Each phase will be overseen by one of my Vice-Captains. You have exactly five minutes to get into position! MOVE!"
"YES, MA'AM!" the cadets roared in unison.
Phase 1: Physical Conditioning
The first hall was enormous, filled with pull-up bars, weights, and obstacle courses. Osada Yuki stepped to the front, holding a digital clipboard.
"Alright, everyone!" Yuki announced, her polite voice carrying surprisingly well. "You have exactly one hour. Your first task is to run ten laps around the perimeter of this hall. Once finished, you are free to use any of the conditioning equipment until the hour is up!"
"YES, MA'AM!"
The cadets immediately took off. It sounded simple, but the hall was massive; a single lap was nearly a kilometer. By lap five, several cadets were already collapsing, gasping for air. By lap seven, more dropped.
Faiz maintained a steady, calculated breathing rhythm. He didn't sprint; he paced himself perfectly, crossing the ten-lap finish line at exactly forty minutes before collapsing flat on his back to catch his breath. After a ten-minute rest, he spent the last ten minutes doing rhythmic calisthenics to cool down his muscles.
Throughout the hour, Yuki stood at the center of the room. Her eyes glowed with a faint light as she used her X-Ray ability, scanning the cadets' internal organs, muscle fatigue levels, and heart rates to ensure no one actually pushed themselves into a heart attack.
"Time's up!" Yuki called out. "Form an orderly line and walk through the corridor to your right. The door is equipped with a biometric scanner based on my medical readings. If the scanner flashes red, you are medically disqualified from continuing to Phase Two!"
The exhausted cadets lined up. The results were brutal—exactly half of the recruits were disqualified and sent to the infirmary. Faiz passed through the green-lit door without issue, entering the next facility.
Phase 2: Weaponry
Waiting for them in a high-tech shooting range was Ishikawa Hisoka.
"Listen closely," Hisoka barked. "Phase Two focuses on armed combat. First, firearms proficiency. Second, close-quarters weaponry. For the melee portion, you will select a weapon from the armory racks. UNDERSTOOD?"
"UNDERSTOOD!"
The cadets flooded the firing range. Faiz picked up a standard-issue tactical handgun, aimed at the paper target, and fired.
Bang. Bang. Bang. He completely missed the bullseye, hitting the outer rings and the wall behind it.
"Terrible," a voice muttered. Hisoka materialized next to him.
Instead of mocking him like he would have yesterday, Hisoka reached out, adjusting Faiz's stance. "If you want to hit the target, focus your dominant eye on the front sight, not the paper. Lock your wrists so the recoil doesn't throw off your second shot. And most importantly... relax your shoulders."
Faiz blinked, surprised by the actual, constructive advice. He adjusted his grip, exhaled slowly, and fired again.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three shots, grouped tightly in the center mass of the target.
"Not bad," Hisoka nodded in approval. He turned to the rest of the room. "Alright, firearms portion is over! Move to the armory racks and pick your melee weapons!"
As the cadets rushed past, Faiz put the gun down and turned to follow them.
"Hey, Faiz," Hisoka whispered, so quietly it was almost drowned out by the footsteps. "Be careful out there."
Faiz stopped. "Hm? Did you say something?"
Hisoka immediately looked away, his face flushing bright red. (Crap, did he hear me?) Hisoka panicked internally. On one hand, he genuinely respected Faiz after getting his butt kicked, but his pride absolutely refused to let him show it openly. "I-I didn't say anything! Just hurry up and pick a weapon, idiot!"
Faiz shrugged, chalking it up to Hisoka being weird, and walked over to the weapon racks.
Swords, spears, axes, and daggers lined the walls. But Faiz's eyes were drawn to a peculiar weapon resting on a velvet cushion. It looked like two short, black metallic batons, but there was no chain connecting them.
Curious, Faiz picked them up. The moment his hands gripped the handles, a bright, humming cord of dense plasma ignited, connecting the two batons.
"Wait... are these Nunchaku?" Faiz asked, amazed.
Hisoka walked over, recovering his composure. "Good eye. But those aren't your standard martial arts toys. They're bound by a high-tension energy cord. It's significantly lighter than a steel chain, but it can cut through standard Akuma flesh like butter."
Faiz gave the weapon a test swing. The plasma cord hummed through the air. He seamlessly transitioned into a blindingly fast routine—twirling the batons under his arms, behind his back, and striking imaginary targets with snapping, fluid precision.
"Whoa... these are incredible," Faiz grinned. "They're even lighter than the wooden ones I used to practice with back home."
Hisoka watched, his eyes wide. The movements weren't just fast; they were elegant and deadly accurate.
"Cadet Faiz," Hisoka announced loudly, drawing the attention of the room. "Your Phase Two training is complete. Take the weapon and proceed immediately to Phase Three."
The other cadets murmured in shock—Faiz had barely been in the room for ten minutes. Ignoring the stares, Faiz holstered the nunchaku at his waist and walked through the exit.
Phase 3: Combat Sparring
Faiz pushed open the heavy double doors, stepping into a massive, reinforced combat arena. Saki and Yori were already waiting for him in the center.
"Huh. That's weird," Saki mused, checking her watch.
"What is?" Faiz asked.
"I expected at least a few cadets to pass Hisoka's evaluation by now. But it's just you. I have no idea what goes on in that speed-freak's head."
"I don't get him either," Faiz agreed.
"Well, whatever," Saki smirked, pulling a small remote from her pocket. "This works out perfectly. I wasn't quite finished testing you yesterday."
(Damn it,) Faiz thought. (This crazy woman just won't let me rest.)
Saki pressed a button on the remote. Immediately, four pylons in the corners of the room lit up, generating a translucent, dome-like barrier over the arena floor.
Suddenly, Faiz felt a wave of nausea wash over him. His knees buckled slightly, and a dull ache throbbed in his head.
(D.Faiz: "Ugh... this barrier... it's a mutant-suppression field. It forcibly halts the flow of Akuma cells. And since I am a part of your biology now, it affects us too. We can't use our full output in here... only a fraction of it.")
"I see," Faiz muttered aloud, steadying himself.
Saki's smile widened. "It looks like you figured it out. Let's see how well you fight without your little safety net. YORI! Attack!"
Yori didn't hesitate. She lunged forward, spinning a solid steel quarterstaff in her hands. She brought it crashing down toward Faiz's skull.
Faiz sidestepped, the staff shattering the floor tiles where he had just been standing. He hopped backward, putting distance between them.
"Whoa, coming in hot without a warning?" Faiz teased. "Didn't yesterday teach you anything?"
Yori remained dead silent. Her eyes were fiercely focused. She didn't let him breathe, launching a relentless barrage of thrusts and wide sweeps. Faiz dodged and parried, but the suppression field was slowing his reflexes. Eventually, the blunt end of the staff caught him squarely in the stomach.
"Guh!"
Before he could recover, Yori delivered a spinning back kick to his chest, sending him skidding across the floor.
Faiz wiped his mouth, a competitive spark igniting in his eyes. (Even without her rock armor, her base physical stats and technique are amazing. Fine. I'll have to rely on my own martial arts.)
Yori charged again.
This time, Faiz didn't retreat. As the staff thrust toward his face, he slipped past the weapon by a hair's breadth.
(Rush Counter: A principle utilizing maximum speed to enter the opponent's blind spot and strike using purely reflexive muscle memory.)
Faiz deflected the staff with his forearm and delivered three lightning-fast jabs to Yori's ribs. Yori grimaced, stepping back to swing again.
(Dragon's Tempo: A stance that perfectly balances speed and power, allowing for consecutive strikes that geometrically increase in kinetic force.)
Faiz pressed the attack, launching a spinning hook kick that battered Yori's guard, forcing her to stumble backward. Before she could regain her footing, Faiz rooted his feet firmly into the ground, dropping his center of gravity.
(Beast Impact: Sacrificing all mobility to channel the body's entire momentum into a single, devastating blow.)
He drove his palm upward, striking the center of her staff with enough force to send a shockwave up her arms, throwing her completely off balance.
As he executed the techniques, Faiz felt a familiar, burning energy begin to course through his veins, fighting against the suppression field.
(So this is it,) Faiz realized. (Half-Crazy is active... but the field is capping it at 50%.)
It was more than enough.
Capitalizing on her broken guard, Faiz drew his energy nunchaku. With a flick of his wrists, the plasma cord snapped forward in a blinding arc, wrapping tightly around the shaft of Yori's staff. He yanked it out of her hands, spun the baton, and brought the blunt metal handle stopping exactly one millimeter away from her right shoulder.
The fight was over.
" Huff... huff... I win," Faiz panted, lowering the weapon.
Yori, realizing she had been completely disarmed and bested in pure technique, dropped to her knees. She kept her head bowed. Her voice, usually so loud and brash, was incredibly small.
"I'm sorry."
Faiz blinked, caught off guard. "Sorry? For what?"
"For yesterday. For my arrogance. For everything," Yori said, her voice trembling slightly. "I was completely in the wrong."
Looking down at her, Faiz didn't see the proud Vice-Captain. He saw a silhouette of his own past—a younger, reckless version of himself who had made terrible mistakes and had to swallow his pride to apologize.
Moving entirely on instinct, Faiz knelt down and wrapped his arms around her in a gentle, comforting hug.
"You worked hard," Faiz said softly. "You did your best in this fight. So stop beating yourself up over yesterday. Okay?"
He pulled back and offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet. It was only when she was standing in front of him, her face incredibly red, that Faiz realized what he had just done.
He immediately let go of her hands, stepping back awkwardly. "A-Ah! S-Sorry! I didn't mean to do that! Reflex!"
Yori looked down at the floor, a soft, genuine smile gracing her lips. "It's fine."
Faiz rubbed the back of his neck, thoroughly embarrassed by his own out-of-character behavior.
But deep in Yori's heart, a strange new emotion was blooming. (His embrace... it felt so warm. It felt like family. It was so reassuring...)
Meanwhile, at Narita International Airport
The terminal was bustling with tourists and returning citizens. Standing near the arrivals gate, looking incredibly out of place in his neat corporate suit, was Kiyoshi.
He held up a small whiteboard with a name written on it.
A figure stepped out of the crowd, pulling a rolling suitcase.
"I was told to pick you up and bring you directly to Faiz," Kiyoshi said nervously.
The mystery arrival flashed a bright, dangerous smile. "Ehehe... I absolutely cannot wait to see him."