Herzog finally forced himself to suppress the bone-chilling fear that had made his teeth chatter. He kept reminding himself—his hideout hadn't been exposed. If it had, Bondarev would've already sent a Heroic Spirit to kill him.
What terrified Herzog the most wasn't just that his base might be compromised—but that the information Bondarev had now completely outstripped what he himself controlled.
Back when Shirou teamed up with Yuan Zhisheng to investigate Aoiya, Herzog had already preemptively swapped out Aoiya's leader, severed ties with the South American black market, and even altered the database records.
After all, Aoiya's head, Daifeng, had acted as a proxy for Tachibana Masamune in human trafficking deals with the South American cartel "Gordinho," supplying human test subjects for the Dead Servant experiments. On paper, the client had always been "Tachibana Masamune."
If Yuan Zhisheng found that out, how could he stay in power?
So the name "Tachibana Masamune" had to be completely erased from the records.
Using the investigation team's travel time, Herzog replaced every record with "Bondarev" instead. That way, not only would suspicion fall on someone else, but it would naturally draw Yuan Zhisheng's attention to investigating the glaring name "Bondarev."
But all that scheming was shattered by the Heroic Spirit's sudden attack.
His carefully altered and baited database was obliterated in one blow. And the probe against Bondarev was smothered before it even began.
"…"
For the first time in ages, Herzog was left speechless in the face of the Heroic Spirit—the ultimate weapon.
Immune to physical attacks, appearing and vanishing like a ghost, and possessing power exceeding even Emperor-class hybrids—this wasn't just a weapon of war. It was the ultimate tool for assassination and intel-gathering.
Even if Bondarev had obtained a god's remains and used the White King's authority to develop Heroic Spirit tech… how exactly had he done it?
Could Bondarev be a Dragon King himself, a master of alchemy?
Even if he were a Dragon King, why wouldn't he just devour the divine remains outright? Dragons didn't need to follow the human path to godhood. That route was meaningless to them.
Herzog sat with a tortured expression, trying to wrap his mind around the logic.
The idea of a being that was both a Heroic Spirit and a Dragon King should have instantly triggered one association: Odin.
But Odin had been publicly killed on the Shenzhou battlefield by Shirou, witnessed by many. Even if that intelligence had been false, would a Dragon King really stoop so low—staging a fake death and playing out a whole drama at Black Swan Port just to mess with humans?
What puzzled Herzog even more was why Bondarev would showcase his Heroic Spirit tech so boldly. It was like a nation performing a nuclear test—not for actual combat use, but for the strategic value of deterrence.
And everyone knew: the real value of nukes wasn't in using them—but in having them.
So the Heroic Spirit wasn't Bondarev's goal. Rather, the demonstration of threat was a signal of a deeper objective.
Herzog recalled Bondarev's promises from years ago—grand blueprints of "ascending to godhood" and "sharing the world." But if Bondarev saw him merely as a pawn, those promises were probably just manipulative bait.
Instead of dissipating, the fog surrounding Bondarev's true identity had only thickened. Even as more truths were revealed, the deeper things became, the harder they were to grasp.
——
Meanwhile, Eriri sat obediently in Shirou's living room, watching TV.
Today, for once, she was allowed to watch something other than children's animation. To her, this alone was enough to celebrate.
Back in the Sakuya Eight Families, everything she watched had been filtered by the surveillance team. Even if she tried switching channels, she'd be stuck with state-run NHK documentaries.
But now? On Shirou's massive flatscreen, they were replaying the classic tokusatsu series Ultraman Tiga—a legendary show full of memes and callbacks, beloved in Japanese media history.
Among fans, it was famous for nicknames like "Crash & Horn-Breaker Duo" (referring to Tiga and his human host Daigo), the "Happy Mode" red form, and the bittersweet line: "That year, we all became light."
Yet, by modern standards, the show's visuals and fight choreography were… outdated. Without the lens of childhood nostalgia, the fights looked clumsy and silly.
That was how Eriri saw it.
She blinked slowly but kept her eyes locked on the screen—completely focused.
Only, she wasn't watching Tiga, the hero of justice.
She was watching the monster—the one doomed to die.
Staring at the creature, Eriri couldn't help but recall her own past, when she too had been an uncontrollable monster.
Her power was Sequence No. 111: a lethal verbal curse known as "Judgment."
She didn't understand the theory behind Dragon Speech or how the sequences worked. But she knew she was dangerous.
Once activated, her ability killed every living thing within its range. Whether the victim was sliced by paper or crushed by ice—it didn't matter. Death was guaranteed.
Worse, she couldn't even speak without triggering it. So she stopped talking altogether, relying on notebooks to communicate.
Even more terrifying, her condition wasn't stable.
Every time she used her power, black veins would creep along her arms and legs. Her wrists and ankles would grow white scales. Her consciousness would slip—hallucinations, voices, black poison invading her mind.
Sometimes, the only way to stay grounded was to injure herself—cutting and scratching until the pain jolted her back to reality.
Only after the family injected her with some unknown suppressant would she return to "normal."
Her gaze dimmed. One day, she'd become just like that monster on screen.
Yes, whispered a chilling, unfamiliar voice. You are a monster. And one day, a hero of justice will kill you.
Eriri jolted upright from her cozy seat. The cheerful, mournful child disappeared, replaced by the cold and regal successor of the Sakuya Eight Families—Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto.
She raised her arm and turned toward the shadow in the corner of the room—blackness twisted in a space too small to hold it, yet staring back at her with an unfathomable presence.
That thing again…
Since when could it talk?
She hesitated for a second. Then, without further thought, she stepped forward, plucked a hairpin from her head, and pointed it like a blade into the darkness.
You plan to use your power again? Look at yourself, monster.
Her eyes widened.
Black veins were crawling up her arm again. Faint—but visible, like dark cracks running through porcelain.
The memories of losing control came flooding back.
She panicked.
She didn't want to become a monster again. She didn't want to hurt Shirou or any of his friends—people she had finally come to enjoy being around.
Maybe… maybe she should just go back.
Return to that prison-like home.
Little monster… do you want freedom?
The shadow whispered again. Then, while her heart wavered—
Darkness exploded.
The room was engulfed. The daylight vanished.
Poor thing, the voice cooed. Let me help you.
But just as Eriri was about to react, everything disappeared.
The light returned. The room was bright again. The outside sun still shone gently through the window.
Had it all been an illusion?
She looked at her arm.
Smooth, flawless.
The veins were gone.
(End of Chapter)
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