The Holy Child wanted to change the plight of these children. She wanted to establish the "New Gastrea Law" to protect them, to give them the human rights they deserved.
But the resistance she faced was unimaginable.
The implementation of the new law went nowhere.
It was her constant worry.
Then, without warning, that mysterious screen appeared before her, glowing faintly blue.
After a moment's thought, the Holy Child stepped outside to find her guard.
"Holy Child-sama, do you have orders?"
The guard immediately stepped forward, voice respectful and concerned. However, beneath his bowed head, excitement flickered across his face. He didn't care what problem the Holy Child was facing—he only cared that it was another chance to show himself before her, to win her attention.
Essentially: Marry a beautiful, rich noblewoman, and rise to the peak of life!
"...No, nothing." The Holy Child shook her head slightly, hiding the storm within.
The screen had explicitly warned not to reveal its existence. She wisely refrained from asking whether the guard could see it too.
Instead, she just watched their reactions. Their expressions stayed unchanged—it was clear they saw nothing.
That only deepened her doubts.
What was this? Why could only she see it? Why did it appear only before her? And the name on it... Zeroy—it sounded like a girl's name.
Holding onto her questions, the Holy Child returned alone to her office.
Her slender fingers unconsciously reached toward the screen.
A light-blue syringe appeared in her hand.
[Gastrea Virus Serum, Test Sample: Upon injection, can completely cure a Cursed Child's Gastrea Virus while retaining the powers it grants.]
[Non-replicable, non-analyzable. Otherwise: erasure.]
"—?!"
...
Rain poured in torrents. Tokyo Area's 39th District—this, too, was an outer zone.
It was a borderland adjoining the monoliths, a ruined city never rebuilt after the Gastrea War, used now for polluting factories—and as a place where homeless Cursed Children dwelled.
Abandoned, collapsing buildings littered the area—discarded trash no one cared to look at, yet they had become the children's homes.
For even if they were ruins, at least they sheltered from the wind and rain.
In a dark, damp warehouse, the muffled sobs of children echoed.
Ten-year-old Saori curled up in a moldy corner, clutching her feverish younger sister.
Around them, other children wrapped in ragged burlap huddled too. Their eyes were hollow, but they pressed their mouths shut, afraid to make the slightest sound.
Because if discovered… their fate would be torture and slaughter.
On their pale, dirt-streaked faces, crimson eyes glimmered faintly in the dark—the brand of the Cursed Children, and their death mark.
"Oi, found them! Knew they'd be here!"
With a cruel laugh, the iron door was flung open.
Harsh flashlight beams cut into the room as several grown men with rebar and hammers blocked the entrance.
"Heh, look at this bunch of little monsters, hiding so deep?"
A scar-faced man grinned, striking the wall with his rebar, sending a chilling metallic clang echoing.
The children trembled, pupils contracting.
They knew these men. Factory workers nearby, who after their shifts wandered the outskirts to hunt and beat Cursed Children, vented their resentment at being forced to work in the outer zones.
"Please... no... please don't..."
A girl not yet ten tried to crawl away in panic, scrambling on all fours.
In the next instant, her hair was yanked, dragging her back.
"Still trying to run?!"
The man sneered and slapped her hard across the face.
Blood spilled from her lips, her crimson eyes flashing faintly under the pain.
"See! Red eyes! Born evil! Monsters that should all die!"
The crowd erupted in curses, then rushed the children.
"Kill them all! Wipe them out!"
"Don't kill them too fast. Make it slow."
Some children tried to resist. As Cursed Children, they had strength far beyond humans.
But the men had come prepared—
"No! My sister's still sick..."
Saori's cry was cut short. A stun gun struck her shoulder, agony flooding her body, stripping her of strength.
Her little sister was torn from her arms, shrieking echoed in the rain-soaked night.
A leather shoe crushed Saori's fingers, bones snapping underfoot, the sound mingling with the downpour.
The little girl desperately tried to crawl back to her sister, but a brutal kick slammed her against a concrete pillar. The sickening thud and the crack of ribs curled her into a ball of pain.
She screamed, but no one cared.
No one cared about the cries of "monsters."
"Mom... save us..."
Saori gazed despairingly at the black ceiling, her tears mingling with blood.
Albeit it was their own mothers who had abandoned them here. And the men raised bloodied iron rods, aiming at the trembling sisters. They were not extremists, nor perverse nobles, nor agents of violence… just ordinary workers.
Yet even they could torment and kill these children at will. For the children had no rights, no humanity.
Killing "monsters" only won applause from the public.
And though they were only children, they were forced to bear the hatred of the world.
"You all deserve to die!"
The warehouse ceiling exploded. With a thunderous crash, rubble rained down. Something fell like a meteor, slamming into the warehouse center, dust and smoke erupting.
The abusers froze, terrified, staring at the source of the crash.
A flash of black and crimson blade cut the air as dust swept away in a gust. In the night, they saw only a black silhouette, a black-red Striker Unit, and—
A pair of emerald eyes, glowing faintly, filled with suffocating murderous intent.
"I'll ask once."
The voice cut like an arctic wind.
"What have they done to harm you?"
The killing intent in the air grew tangible, choking every abuser present.
...
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