_____[ POV: Third Person ]_____
The metallic sound of the elevator echoed through the underground complex as the doors slid open. The first figure to emerge was E-001 — tall, imposing, his wrists bound by a solid block of steel that served as shackles. Behind and around him, a line of armed guards marched cautiously, fingers tense on their triggers, their eyes full of poorly disguised fear.
E-001 watched them in silence, impassive. He knew clearly that they were not there to protect him from external threats — they were there to contain him, should the need arise. That didn't bother him. He understood that his superiors feared him, and it was only natural they resorted to such measures. That was the price of being a creature built to surpass the limits of humanity.
After four months away, acting as the spearhead in the battles around Pearl Harbor, all he had left was a sigh. The conflict had been tedious. He had expected the Americans to present him with some kind of challenge, but the outcome had been nothing but frustration: a sequence of predictable, lackluster skirmishes.
As he walked, the stares of the soldiers around him only amplified the sense of collective unease. At last, after passing through the final reinforced doors, he entered the main laboratory.
"Ah… finally." Dr. Jean Kurogane's voice broke the silence. The scientist smiled with satisfaction at the sight of his creation returning. To him, it was like rediscovering a gleaming trophy after weeks of dust and disappointments. Four months staring at failures had been exhausting; now, before him, stood his perfect work.
When he noticed the steel block around E-001's wrists, Kurogane let out a brief, dry laugh.
"This is ridiculous. Come now, stop playing make-believe. I know very well you can break out of those restraints at any time."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances, shocked at the scientist's audacity. Before they could react, a metallic crack resounded. With a simple motion, E-001 made the steel block groan and, in a second, shattered it into heavy fragments that clattered onto the floor.
Weapons were raised in unison, aimed at his chest. The tension peaked.
"Lower those weapons, you idiots," Kurogane growled, raising his voice in a way he rarely did. "If he wants, he can kill all of you in less than an instant."
The soldiers hesitated, but one by one, lowered their guns, still terrified.
E-001 remained still, showing no interest in the threat or the guards' reaction. He merely turned his head toward Kurogane and replied in a low but steady tone:
"I had to do it. Everyone panics when I'm unbound… this way, it's simpler."
The scientist smirked, amused by the explanation.
"Hah. So that's it? Avoiding trouble, is that it? Makes sense."
As he walked through the laboratory, E-001's amber eyes scanned the incubators around him. Greenish liquids bubbled within, sustaining deformed fetuses or bodies already doomed by degeneration. He stopped before one of them, observing in silence.
"So…" he murmured, still staring at the capsules. "Has another Brute like me appeared?"
The question drew a heavy sigh from Kurogane, followed by a scowl.
"Not even close. Everything that came after you was pathetic failure. Fragile organisms with no consistency… most can only handle a single gene. If we try to add more, the success rate plummets to less than 0.01%. And when two genes do manage to settle, they clash during therianthropy." His voice dripped with disdain. "Failures. All of them."
E-001 listened in silence, his expression neutral. Inside, he reflected. If even two genes were an impasse for science, what did that make him? The One? The only being capable of withstanding and assimilating multiple genes without succumbing?
"But that's exactly what proves it," Kurogane continued, his eyes gleaming with near-fanatical fervor. "That you are nothing less, and nothing more, than the pinnacle of my project. The one born to be perfect. And the strongest Brute."
For an instant, E-001 turned his gaze from the incubators to the scientist. His face showed nothing but cold calm, yet the weight of those amber eyes seemed endless — as if he accepted his role, even if he would never take pride in it.
"If that's what you choose to believe…" he answered simply.
The silence that followed was thick, filled only by the bubbling of fluids in the incubators and the nervous breathing of the guards in the background.
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The white room was silent, broken only by the muffled sound of breathing. Four bunk beds occupied the space, but even they seemed unable to fill the sterile emptiness of the room. Seven children were gathered there, all numbered instead of named, trapped in a fate they hadn't chosen.
"The tests… they're getting harder," murmured 223, a boy with a worn-out expression, staring at his own hands.
The youngest, 307, a fragile-looking girl, sobbed softly. Despite being only two months old, her body resembled that of a seven-year-old child. "I… I don't want to get hurt again…"
191, his eyes shadowed, snapped back immediately, blunt:
"If you don't take the tests, you'll be discarded."
A heavy silence fell over them. The word carried weight, and each of them remembered 178—the boy who hadn't survived the therianthropy and was taken away without ceremony. No one had ever seen him again.
"Shhh, calm down." 196, a short-haired girl, hugged 307, trying to console her. "Just hold on. That's all we can do."
But the others lowered their heads in mourning. The fate of 178 still haunted them.
In the corner, sitting on a bed with his back against the wall, was the oldest, 074. His body looked like that of a twelve-year-old boy, but his mind carried more weariness than any of the others. He sighed, irritated:
"Cut it out. All this crying and whining makes me sick."
"How can you say that?!" shouted one of the boys, 223, clenching his fists.
074 merely lifted his eyes, cold and indifferent.
"You're weak. Pathetic. I'm the oldest. If anyone here knows what pain is, it's me. You wouldn't last half of what I've been through."
The group fell silent. His words, cruel as they were, still rang true.
That was when the room's sliding door opened with a metallic hiss. Armed guards entered without hesitation.
"Stand up. Come with us."
The children obeyed silently. They walked down the corridors until they were brought into a huge white hall. The sight wasn't unfamiliar: this was the combat testing ground. But something was wrong.
The air smelled of iron. Before them, the bodies of "defective" experiments lay scattered on the ground—grotesque mutants, torn apart, a cruel reminder of what happened to those deemed imperfect.
And in the center stood a man with fiery red hair and an imposing build, surrounded by the dead.
The guards left them, and the armored door closed behind them with a resounding thud.
The group froze, confused and afraid. Only 074 began to tremble, eyes wide.
"Hey, what's wrong?" whispered 201, touching his shoulder.
But before he could answer, a deep, firm voice echoed through the hall.
"I am E-001. Or, if you prefer… simply 001."
The children froze. That was the number they always heard from Kurogane's mouth, accompanied by screams, threats, and humiliation. That was the name that symbolized the perfect weapon.
Their blood turned cold.
"It can't be…" muttered 074, almost in despair. He had seen him before. He knew the hell this being represented.
"You're here because I want to test how strong you really are," the red-haired man continued, his voice calm but laden with inescapable authority. "You're the only ones who still maintain an acceptable form. You're not defective like these."
He pointed at the bodies on the ground. The children averted their eyes, recognizing some of them. Friend, companion, roommate… now just mutilated flesh.
307 stammered, tears in her eyes:
"Th-the… Doctor… is throwing us away? A-are you going to kill us?"
E-001 turned to her. His amber eyes glowed, impassive, but his voice came clear, almost natural, as if he were stating something obvious:
"No. I'm only here to measure your strength. These…" —he gestured at the fallen bodies— "…were useless. Defective. That's why they died. But you…"
He stepped forward. The children recoiled instinctively.
"…if any of you fail to show usefulness, you might just join the pile."
The silence that followed E-001's words weighed on the group like a blade. Every breath grew heavier, the air itself seemed dense, and the threat of being discarded — like mere failures — still hung vividly in everyone's minds. None of them dared to move a muscle, except for 074.
Without hesitation, he charged forward. His feet cracked against the concrete floor, propelling his body toward E-001. The Bombardier Beetle gene pulsed within his arm, flesh twisting until it gained a dark brown sheen, rigid, with glands ready to unleash the lethal mixture. With a precise leap, 074 struck E-001's chest.
"Explode!"
A deafening detonation shook the room. The blast was so brutal that lifeless bodies were flung aside like dolls, and the living were forced to shield their faces against the scorching shockwave. Dust and smoke filled the space, suffocating any vision.
"D-did we do it?" murmured 191, squinting, trying to pierce through the gray curtain.
The answer came before they could even believe it. A shadow burst from the smoke: 074, hurled like a projectile, slammed against the ground before them. 160 screamed and dropped to his knees beside him, clutching his shoulder, eyes wide with despair.
Then, two palms clapped together. The dry sound reverberated like thunder, and the shockwave scattered the smoke at once.
E-001 stood in the center, untouched. Not a scratch. Only his cold, impassive expression — as if nothing had happened.
He raised his amber gaze to the group and spoke in a neutral tone:
"You've improved since last time, 074… but your firepower is still not enough to hurt me. Not even in this form."
074, still trembling on the ground, lifted his head and forced a defiant grin.
"I don't care… that wasn't even my strongest attack."
His insolence was the trigger. 191 stepped forward, pupils contracted with determination. Serrated blades sprouted from his arms, sharp as guillotines.
"My turn!" he shouted, charging.
He struck in succession, thrusts and slashes as swift as gusts of wind. But E-001's skin seemed forged of living steel; the blades only left faint, superficial scratches, barely visible. Then, 191 felt a deadly chill run down his spine — E-001's fist was already coming for him. Instinctively, he spread his insect wings and leapt back just in time to avoid being pulverized.
"Hmph… acceptable reflexes," E-001 assessed, impassively.
That was when 223 stepped forward. He swelled his chest, the cicada gene vibrating within him. His vocal cords quivered to their limit, unleashing a sonic scream that made the walls shake and the group's ears throb.
E-001 raised his arms, shielding himself from the sonic impact. The sound was an invisible blade vibrating through his entire body, warping the air around him.
"Sleep…" said 175, voice tired but firm.
From his hands, black smoke spread rapidly, enveloping E-001. The gas was dense, with a sweet scent, laced with numbing properties. A lethal cloud, like a shroud of slumber.
Then came 074 again, ignoring the pain tearing through him. His hands trembled, but he focused everything he had. The next explosion was monstrous, so intense it turned half the room into a sea of heat and wind. The deafening roar echoed like thunder trapped inside a sealed space.
The group threw themselves to the ground, shielding their faces. 074 collapsed to his knees shortly after, arms scorched, muscles vibrating from the violent recoil. His breath was ragged, his body on the verge of collapse.
191 chuckled nervously, trying to break the tension:
"Maybe we finished him off… didn't seem that tough after all!"
"Idiot!" snarled 074, filled with rage. "You think he… would fall from that?!"
And the answer came like a blade in the dark.
Suddenly, E-001 was in front of them, moving at absurd speed. His arm shot forward and seized 074 by the neck, lifting him into the air like a doll.
"You pass," he said in a low, emotionless voice.
With a single motion, he hurled 074 against the wall. The impact was brutal; cracks spread across the concrete, and the boy collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
"074!" screamed 160, rushing to him, tears welling in his eyes.
E-001 ignored the outcry. He turned to the others, his amber eyes glowing beneath the cold light of the room. His voice echoed with a weight that made their stomachs churn:
"Next. Prove to me you're useful… or vanish as failures."
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When the training ended, the group was escorted back to the shared dormitory. The silence of the place was broken only by the sound of their dragging steps, heavy as if they carried invisible chains. Each bore bruises, scratches, and tearful eyes — but all of them, somehow, had passed.
As soon as they entered, 307 could no longer hold back the built-up tension. He collapsed on the edge of the bed, covering his face with his hands and sobbing. Soon after, 223 gave in as well, tears running silently down his cheeks, followed by 160, who curled up in a corner, chest heaving with fear.
"Lucky..." 223 murmured, trying to breathe deeply between sobs. "It was just luck..."
The crying echoed through the suffocating room until 191 clicked his tongue in annoyance. He walked to his bunk with heavy steps, threw himself onto the hard mattress, and buried his face in the pillow. "What a hellish noise..." he muttered, but his voice was soon muffled. In the darkness of the pillow, his own tears slipped out, hidden.
175 lay down on the bed beside him without saying a word, his exhausted body asking only for sleep. 074 remained standing for a few moments, motionless in the center of the room. Finally, he threw himself onto his bunk, his eyes fixed on his own hand. He clenched it tightly, fingers trembling with rage.
"Damn you..." he whispered through gritted teeth. "One day I'll become stronger than you. And when that day comes... I'll kill you."
The promise lingered in the air like a solitary flame, while the rest of the room drowned in sobs and silence.
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Hiroshima — August 6, 1945, 08:00 a.m.
Four years had passed since E-001 was last deployed on an overseas mission. Since then, after his display of power, the Japanese government had decided it was safer to keep him confined within the underground complex. Not for lack of usefulness, but out of fear.
At that moment, he was sitting in his private quarters, a spacious room by military standards, yet cold and devoid of personality. Metallic walls reflected the white light of fluorescent lamps, and the bed was perfectly arranged — he rarely used it. In his hands, a crumpled newspaper carried headlines about the latest war developments. Without realizing it, he silently counted the seconds, each tick of the clock's hand echoing in his mind like part of an inner chronometer.
While he remained underground, other experiments had been deployed into combat. Over the past two years, the number of missions involving them had grown. 074, in particular, stood out: its explosive power had reached proportions comparable to a hundred tons of TNT. An impressive weapon, but still far below what E-001 could unleash. And it was precisely because of that disparity that he remained there — watched, feared, imprisoned.
E-001 folded the newspaper and placed it on the metal nightstand. Rising calmly, his mind still counting the seconds, he opened the automatic sliding door and walked down the corridors of the complex. The environment had an air of modernity: smooth panels, reinforced steel doors with electronic locks, transparent tubes carrying fluids to unknown sectors. Still, nothing seemed to impress E-001. His amber eyes scanned every detail as if seeking to record one last memory.
Upon reaching the central laboratory, he found the routine chaos of Kurogane. The assistants worked frantically, typing on machines, reviewing samples, calibrating equipment. The Doctor, however, was on the landline, his voice heavy with impatience.
"I already told you!" he exclaimed. "Can't you see the absurd mistake you're making by keeping him confined? You're wasting the most perfect piece ever created…!"
The response from the officer on the other end was not favorable. Irritated, Kurogane slammed the receiver back onto the phone, the impact echoing through the room and startling one of the assistants, who recoiled in fear.
"Get back to work…" he ordered curtly, and the assistant hurried off.
Kurogane collapsed into the chair at his desk, breathing deeply, muttering to himself.
"How can they not see…? How can they ignore what is right before their eyes…?"
At that moment, he noticed E-001 approaching in silence. He immediately stood, forcing a smile, almost friendly.
"Well, what a surprise… to what do I owe the honor?"
E-001 remained calm, eyes fixed on the man.
"I came to see the Doctor."
The scientist raised an eyebrow. That truly surprised him.
"You came… to see me? Well, I won't complain. But I must admit I wasn't expecting it. You never fail to be unpredictable."
Silence lingered for a few seconds until E-001 briefly glanced at the phone and asked:
"You were speaking with the superiors again?"
"Yes," Kurogane replied with a frustrated sigh. "Trying to convince them, as always. But they are blind. They can't see your superiority. They send only the failures to the front, while you, the masterpiece, are kept here like a dusty trophy. It's a grotesque mistake…"
As he spoke, E-001 raised his arm and looked at his wristwatch. The hands marked 08:05. His mind, however, was not on the Doctor's complaint, but on the precise count he had been keeping since early morning.
Kurogane paused his rant upon noticing that E-001 wasn't fully listening.
"Hey… are you hearing me?"
The red-haired man lifted his gaze, locking eyes with the scientist. His voice was calm, almost reflective:
"Doctor, perfection… that's something I've always heard from you. Strength, intelligence, efficiency. You always said this world isn't perfect, that everyone is born flawed."
He paused briefly, glancing once more at his watch before returning his eyes to Kurogane.
"But… what if that wasn't the case? What if people were already born perfect?"
Kurogane frowned, puzzled.
"If someone were born perfect, this imperfect world would have already broken them. The flaw would lie around them, not in the person."
"No," E-001 cut in firmly. "Imperfection is contagious. Everyone knows that. It's so common that society has accepted it into their lives. So I'll ask you again, Doctor: what would happen if everyone were already born perfect?"
Kurogane's eyes widened. A new logic, absurd yet fascinating, bloomed in his mind. If a human were born perfect, they would eventually be corrupted by the collective imperfection, by the normality society had embraced as inevitable. The perfect would inevitably become imperfect.
He stared at E-001. For the first time, he saw something he had never seen before: depth. Not in an experiment, but in a man.
E-001 concluded calmly:
"I am imperfect… for now."
Before Kurogane could formulate a response, the alarm on the wristwatch rang, marking 08:15.
Suddenly, E-001's body was fully covered, black and resilient plates forming a carapace — the mutation of the Desert Beetle. The sight alone made the assistants recoil in terror; even Kurogane took a step back.
"It was a pleasure working with you, Doctor," he said, devoid of emotion, yet with a strange solemnity in his tone.
Kurogane tried to react, to speak, to demand an explanation. But there was no time.
The world trembled.
A deafening roar echoed from the depths of the earth. The ground shook violently, walls twisting like paper, metallic structures bending under the pressure. The shockwave of the nuclear explosion in Hiroshima reached the underground with absolute force.
The ceiling of the complex collapsed within seconds, swallowing machines, cables, men, and screams. Power failed, plunging everything into darkness, only to be replaced by the incandescent glare that pierced even reinforced concrete layers.
There was no escape. There were no survivors.
At 08:15, on August 6, 1945, Hiroshima was consumed by the first nuclear bomb in history.
And with it, the underground complex — all life within was erased in an instant…