Aldebaran had finally completed its long march and reached the Tokyo District. Because Haruki Aizawa had already destroyed one of the Monoliths, the monster didn't even need to waste time with its corrosive acid. It simply led its Gastrea legion straight through the gap and into the city's outskirts.

  On the other side of the line, despite the political turbulence and the chaos following Counselor Tendo’s death, Haruki had taken his pce as Corps Commander. He stood at the head of the Civil Security forces, prepared to face the encroaching nightmare.

  "It’s starting, Haruki-san."

  At the front line of the defensive perimeter, the Seitenshi stood on a command balcony, her eyes fixed on the massive shadow in the distance. She had insisted on being present for the "Holy Expedition," risking her life to show her people she wouldn't hide.

  Haruki looked toward the horizon. At the site of the colpsed Monolith, a colossal entity was stepping into the light. Compared to the five-hundred-meter Scorpio he had lured away weeks ago, Aldebaran was smaller, but it was no less terrifying. It was a mountain of muscle and hate, capable of leveling the city on its own.

  And behind it followed a tide of bck—an army of thousands of Gastrea, their numbers enough to drown Tokyo in blood.

  To defend the city, every military asset was mobilized. From high-altitude bombers to ground-based heavy artillery, the full might of Tokyo’s Self-Defense Force (SDF) was unleashed.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  The SDF’s self-propelled howitzers, tank cannons, and anti-aircraft batteries opened fire simultaneously. The shells traced perfect arcs through the air, screaming toward the Gastrea horde.

  Squadrons of fighter jets roared overhead, dropping tactical missiles into the heart of the monster army.

  The earth groaned. Shockwaves from the massive bombardment rippled through the ground, shaking the very bones of the Promoters waiting in the secondary fortresses. Debris and rusted signs were whipped away by the concussive wind.

  Haruki stood perfectly still, unaffected by the tremors. He watched the impact zone. Even through the thick plumes of smoke and fire, his Sense of Fluctuation provided him with a high-definition view of the carnage.

  The first volley vaporized the front line of Gastrea. High pilrs of fme rose into the sky. But the second line didn't falter; they surged forward, stepping over the scorched remains of their kin.

  Then, Haruki sensed something chilling.

  The Gastrea that had been blown apart weren't staying dead. Through the "vibrations" of their biology, he could feel their flesh knitting back together—reforming from mere scraps of meat.

  This was impossible. The SDF wasn't using regur explosives; their shells were packed with Varanium dust. It was designed to shut down Gastrea regeneration instantly.

  Ultra-high-speed regeneration? Or have they developed a biological resistance to Varanium?

  Haruki pondered the possibility but didn't move yet. He watched the SDF engage Aldebaran, remaining a silent observer.

  The SDF commanders were happy to leave him out. They had no love for the "Sword Ghost" who had murdered their political idol, Kikunojo Tendo. If it weren't for the Seitenshi’s direct order, they wouldn't have even allowed him near the front. They were determined to prove that "normal" humans didn't need a masked monster to save them.

  The war between man and Gastrea reached a fever pitch. Haruki’s Civil Security corps remained in the rear, waiting for the military line to finish its work.

  The wait made the Promoters restless. Rentaro Satomi, standing nearby, was pale with anxiety. But no one dared to question Haruki’s command. The memory of Tendo’s head rolling on the floor was still fresh in their minds. They didn't want to find out who Haruki’s next target would be.

  "Rentaro... can the SDF really win?" Enju Aihara asked, her voice small.

  "I... I don't know," Rentaro stammered. A cold, heavy sense of dread was pooling in his gut.

  As the battle continued, the sounds of war began to change. The thunder of artillery grew sparse. The shrieks of the Gastrea faded into a low drone. Then, abruptly, there was total silence.

  A thick, unnatural darkness settled over the Monolith ruins. The Promoters in the rear couldn't see anything.

  "Hey, what’s the status?"

  "Who won?"

  "Did we get them?"

  The murmurs grew into a chorus of confusion. Amidst the unsettled corps, only Haruki remained calm. He closed his eyes, standing at the very edge of the encampment.

  "Satomi, what do you think?" Tamaki Katagiri asked.

  "Common sense says the SDF won," Rentaro replied, though his voice cked conviction. "The shooting stopped. Usually, that means the enemy was repelled."

  "Should we move forward?" Tamaki asked, looking at the dark horizon.

  "That depends on him..." Rentaro gnced at Haruki.

  Every eye in the corps turned toward Haruki. They looked at him with a mix of fear and reverence, but no one had the courage to approach him.

  "Attention everyone."

  Haruki’s voice cut through the specution like a bde.

  "Prepare for combat."

  "Combat?" Tamaki blinked. "The front line is ten miles away. The SDF is out there. There's no way the Gastrea broke through already."

  As the Promoters grumbled in disbelief, shadows began to emerge from the darkness in front of the camp.

  It was a group of about fifty men. They wore the uniforms of the SDF.

  Seeing the soldiers, the Promoters instinctively rexed. A few even stepped forward to welcome them back, assuming the victory was theirs. Haruki didn't stop them. He just watched.

  Rentaro felt a spike of arm. Why weren't they using their radios? Why were they walking back in such a disorganized, silent heap?

  "Stay back!" Rentaro shouted, though he didn't know why.

  But his warning was too slow.

  As the "soldiers" drew closer, the horror became clear. Their uniforms were shredded. Their bodies were mangled. They weren't "walking" back—they were being puppeted. Some were literally dragging their own intestines behind them, their eyes gssy and dead.

  And hiding directly behind them, using the corpses as human shields, were the Gastrea.

  "GET AWAY! DON'T LET THEM TOUCH YOU!!" Rentaro screamed.

  The Gastrea lunged. A massive, spider-like monster burst from behind a mangled corporal, its scythe-like legs aimed directly at a Promoter’s throat.

  SHING.

  A fsh of violet light tore through the night.

  SPLURT!

  Haruki moved with a speed that made the Reaper look sluggish. In a single motion, he had cleared the distance and sliced three Gastrea into perfectly measured pieces.

  "Get back to the line," Haruki said calmly, his bde already returning to its sheath.

  "Thank... thank you... no, I'm sorry..." the saved Promoter stammered, his face white.

  Haruki had warned them. They hadn't listened. If he hadn't moved, they would be headless corpses right now. In that moment, the fear the Promoters felt for Haruki shifted. It didn't disappear, but it was joined by a profound sense of security. Against the encroaching darkness, Haruki Aizawa was the only thing that felt solid.

  The SDF was gone. Total annihition.

  As more and more Gastrea emerged from the shadows, the Promoters were forced to face the reality of their situation. The military, with all its high-tech Varanium weaponry, had been sughtered in minutes.

  While Haruki had neutralized the initial ambush, hundreds of Gastrea were now pouring over the ridge. One particurly rge monster, a scorpion-type with a glowing tail, charged at the camp's center.

  Haruki looked back at Kayo Senju, who was stationed at the tactical hub in the center of the camp. He gave a sharp nod.

  Kayo immediately triggered the heavy fre unchers.

  WHOOSH!

  A series of specialized chemical shells shot into the sky, bursting into brilliant, white-hot magnesium miniature "suns."

  The battlefield was instantly illuminated. The Promoters gasped. The hills were crawling with Gastrea of every shape and size. The "victory" the SDF had supposedly won was actually a massacre; the fields were littered with the broken remains of tanks and men.

  "No way..." Rentaro choked back a sob.

  The Promoters were on the verge of a total morale colpse. How could the monsters defeat Varanium?

  Only Haruki knew the answer. Through his Sense of Fluctuation, he had observed the SDF’s final moments. Aldebaran’s horde hadn't just "resisted" the Varanium; they had been biologically altered to neutralize the metal’s magnetic field on contact. The "Varanium shells" the SDF used were no more effective than lead against these specific mutants.

  But Haruki noticed something as he looked at the pieces of the Gastrea he had just killed.

  They weren't regenerating.

  Why? Was it because of his Darkin energy? Or was it Onikiri, his custom-forged bde?

  Haruki didn't have time for a scientific analysis. He saw his men wavering, their eyes filling with the same cowardice he had seen at the IISO. He needed to show them that these "gods" could bleed.

  He stepped past the front line and walked straight into the path of the charging horde. He drew Onikiri, the dark Varanium bde humming with a sinister, violet light.

  "The enemy is many," Haruki said, his voice carrying through the camp like a crion call. "But one strike is all I need."

  "Alpha Strike!"

  Haruki became a flicker of light.

  He vanished from the sight of the Promoters and reappeared in the center of a Gastrea cluster fifty meters away. In that microsecond, he had struck seventeen times.

  CRA-CRACK!

  Seventeen high-level Gastrea were instantly reduced to minced meat. Unlike the SDF’s kills, these did not reform. They stayed dead, their biology utterly crushed by Haruki’s concentrated killing intent and the dark "vibration" of his style.

  The Promoters watched in stunned silence. Then, a roar went up from the ranks.

  "GO!!"

  "KILL THEM ALL!!"

  The fear was gone. If Haruki Aizawa—the man who had killed their "god" Tendo—was on their side, then they weren't fighting for a lost cause. They were fighting alongside a monster of their own.

  "Corps Commander! Lead us!" Tamaki roared, drawing his own bde.

  Haruki looked back, a faint, cold smirk visible beneath the edge of his mask.

  "Don't fall behind," he commanded.

  The Sword Ghost dove back into the tide of monsters, and for the first time in ten years, the Gastrea were the ones who felt fear.

  ***********************************************

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