The first step it took was enough to crush the air out of their lungs.
It wasn't a physical force, but a wave of pure, malevolent pressure that radiated from Kaiju No. 9. The ground beneath its feet didn't crack; it sagged, as if the very concrete had lost its will to resist. The air grew thick and heavy, tasting of ozone and something metallic, like blood on the tongue.
Akira, Kafka, and Reno stood frozen, a tiny triangle of defiance against the perfected monster. Kafka's breath hitched in his chest, the blue energy within him recoiling and surging in a panicked rhythm against the oppressive weight. Reno's fingers trembled on his rifle, the barrel wavering uncontrollably. Only Akira stood unbent, his gaze locked on the creature, his mind a fortress under siege.
[Ravan: Catastrophic energy saturation detected. Ambient pressure increased by 300%. Spatial distortion field active. Projectile-based attacks are highly inadvisable. Probability of mission success has fallen to 11%.]
"The anomalous synthesizer," No. 9's voice scraped against their minds, dry and cold. It ignored Hoshina and Kikoru's ongoing struggle with the Infiltrator, its multifaceted eyes fixed solely on Akira. "A blender of essences. A creator of new patterns. You are the missing variable in the equation of kaiju evolution. Your data will complete me."
Kafka tried to step forward, to put himself in front of Akira, but the pressure shoved him back a step, his boots scraping against the rubble. "Get away from him!" he grunted, the words strained.
No. 9's head tilted a fraction. A claw twitched.
Reno fired. It was an instinctive act of defiance. The plasma round tore through the air—and then curved wildly, spinning off into the sky like a confused firefly, its trajectory bent by the invisible spatial distortion surrounding the kaiju.
[Ravan: Hypothesis confirmed. Projectile defense is passive and omnidirectional. Close-quarters combat is the only viable—though highly illogical—option.]
"You are insects," No. 9 stated, not with anger, but with the flat certainty of a fact. "Your struggles are data. Nothing more."
It moved. There was no wind-up, no telegraph. One moment it was standing still, the next, a claw of shimmering alloy was slicing through the space where Akira had been standing. It didn't aim to kill; it aimed to dissect. The wall behind him didn't explode. A perfect, spherical section of it vanished into nothingness.
Akira had moved on pure instinct, a micro-burst of Tiger Beetle acceleration carrying him aside. The force of the passing claw still tore through his damaged boot and sent a jolt of pain up his leg.
[Ravan: Impact shock absorbed. Minor ligament strain detected. Do not attempt to block directly.]
Kafka reacted without thinking. He threw up another wall of blue energy, a desperate, shimmering barrier between No. 9 and Akira. It held for a second under the kaiju's gaze before flickering violently.
"Its right arm!" Reno yelled, his voice sharp with forced calm, his eyes analyzing the movement. "The joint where the new alloy grafts to its flesh! It's not seamless! There's a weakness!"
Akira didn't hesitate. Trusting Reno's eye completely, he pushed off his good leg, using another burst of speed to close the distance. His katana, vibrating with high-frequency energy, aimed not for the body, but for the microscopic flaw Reno had seen.
The blade struck true with a shriek of tearing metal. A spray of dark ichor and sparks fountained from the joint.
Akira landed, already moving back. It was a scratch. A pinprick. But it was a hit.
Kaiju No. 9 looked at the small wound on its arm, then back at Akira. A grotesque approximation of a smile stretched its features.
"Yes…" it rasped, its mental voice humming with pleasure. "Show me more, creator."
[Ravan: Alert! Host's unique energy signature—the synthesis pattern—is being actively scanned and decoded. Target is analyzing the integration algorithm. Continued use of assimilated abilities will provide a complete blueprint for replication.]
Akira's blood ran cold. The realization was a bucket of ice water. Every move he made, every power he used, wasn't just a attack. It was a lesson. He was teaching his enemy how to become him.
He couldn't fight the way he always did. He had to fight stupid. He had to fight human. It was the only way to deny it the data it craved.
"Your disguise is weak, Kaiju No. 8," No. 9's voice shifted, now needling at Kafka. "A costume of flesh over a core of power. You reek of fear and failed control."
Kafka flinched as if struck.
The kaiju's gaze then fell on Reno. "And you. The observer. You see the cracks but lack the strength to widen them. You are the weakest link. You will break first."
Reno's jaw clenched so tight Akira heard it from several feet away. But the recruit didn't look away. He just tightened his grip on his rifle, his aim steady once more.
Akira took a deliberate step forward, placing himself fully in No. 9's line of sight. "If it's me you want," he said, his voice cutting through the heavy air, calm and clear. "Then keep your eyes off them."
The taunting smile on No. 9's face vanished, replaced by cold, intellectual boredom. The game was over. The lesson was becoming repetitive.
"I have seen enough."
It raised its claw. But this time, the energy that coalesced above its palm was different. It wasn't a sphere of distortion. It was a void. A point of absolute blackness that sucked in the light and sound around it, a miniature black hole of annihilating force. The ground beneath it cracked and splintered, debris lifting into the air and dissolving into the nothingness.
[Ravan: FATALITY WARNING. Spatial implosion-type attack detected. Scale: catastrophic. Defensive measures: NONE. Fatality probability: 92%. RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE DISPERSAL MANEUVER.]
The vortex pulsed, ready to be unleashed directly at Akira. There was no dodging. It would erase the space he occupied and everything in it.
Akira saw the options flash before him. Dodge and let it hit the storage building—and the samples—behind him. Dodge and risk it hitting Kafka or Reno.
Or…
He made his choice.
Instead of retreating, he leaned forward. Instead of dodging, he charged.
He poured every ounce of the Tiger Beetle's acceleration into his legs, not to escape, but to close the distance in a single, suicidal burst. His katana, now just a piece of sharpened metal without any enhanced energy, was held before him. A pointless, human gesture.
His eyes, burning with a resolve that had nothing to do with Ravan's calculations, were locked on the heart of the void.
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T/N :
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