"MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!"
Nanami's voice cut through the absolute chaos like a jagged blade, sharp enough to snap the panicked soldiers back to attention. "All units—get into the vehicles! Staying here is suicide!"
The world was a cacophony of grinding gears and frantic footsteps. Engines roared to life, coughing thick exhaust into the smoky air as soldiers from the 1st Division rushed toward the convoy. They moved with a desperate, heavy rhythm—weapons slung over their backs, jawlines set tight, supporting injured comrades whose boots dragged through the dirt.
From the lead armored vehicle, Commander Hayato jumped down the moment the tires screeched to a halt. Behind him, a line of ambulance trucks drifted into position, medics already leaping out with stretchers before the vehicles had even fully settled.
"Captain Nanami," Hayato said urgently, his eyes scanning the growing sea of wounded. "We've got too many injured. We need to leave immediately. And—" He paused, his gaze shifting toward the distant, mist-shrouded river. "What's happening on the 3rd and 4th Division side?"
Nanami opened his mouth to answer, but Xiaolong spoke first. He stood as still as a statue, his eyes fixed on the impenetrable green of the jungle.
"A 2nd Grade Soul Reaper attacked from the riverside," Xiaolong said, his voice eerily calm despite the carnage. "Sami went there first. Takashi and Kento followed to back her up."
Hayato's expression darkened, the weight of that news settling visible on his shoulders.
Before anyone could respond, the jungle breathed.
Movement erupted from the shadows of the trees. Dozens of soldiers—limping, bleeding, and half-conscious—staggered into the light. They were a broken tide retreating from the riverside battlefield.
Nanami noticed them instantly, his arm snapping out to point. "That way!" he shouted. "Second Division—assist them! Get everyone out!"
The 2nd Division rushed into the fray, lifting the wounded and dragging those who could no longer walk, hoisting them toward the safety of the idling transports. Moments later, two figures emerged from the foliage at a full sprint—the 3rd Division Commander, Noyota, and the 4th Division Commander. Both were bloodied and battered, but they were upright.
Nanami ran to meet them. "What happened? Sami went there—what's the situation?"
Noyota exhaled sharply, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. "A 2nd Grade Soul Reaper ambushed us. Casualties were heavy. We would've been wiped out…" He swallowed hard, looking back at the trees. "…but Sami arrived just in time. She held it back. Saved us."
Before Nanami could reply, Xiaolong cut in sharply. "Everyone—this isn't the place to talk. The longer we stay, the worse it gets. Get in the vehicles. We can talk while moving."
No one argued. The logic was as cold as the fear in their chests.
Nanami raised his voice again, his command echoing over the engines. "All soldiers! Into the vehicles—now! We're pulling out!"
The Hundred-Fold Hunger
One by one, the trucks and armored transports filled to capacity. As the convoy prepared to lurch forward, Xiaolong made his move. He didn't climb inside; instead, he jumped onto the roof of the central transport, crouching low like a predator. His eyes never stopped scanning the horizon.
Engines roared in a synchronized growl. The convoy began to move. For a brief, flickering moment, it felt like they might actually escape the nightmare.
Then Xiaolong's eyes widened.
Left flank. Movement. Too much movement.
His blood ran cold. "…No way."
From the forest line, dozens upon dozens of shapes emerged. They were warped, skeletal, and fast—unbearably fast. They didn't just run; they surged through the undergrowth like a dark, hungry wave.
"CONTACT LEFT!" Xiaolong's scream tore through the air, sharp enough to rival the roar of the engines.
"Fourth Grade Soul Reapers—massive numbers! Almost a hundred!" He braced himself against the wind, his eyes wide as he took in the scale of the nightmare. "Drive as fast as possible! I'll handle as many as I can!"
Inside the lead vehicle, Nanami slammed a fist against the dashboard, the metal groaning under the impact. "You've got to be kidding me… again?!"
He grabbed the comm device, his voice booming through every radio in the convoy. "All units—brace yourselves! Defensive posture! Protect yourselves!"
The interior of the transports became a blur of frantic preparation. Seatbelts clicked into place with metallic snaps. Weapons were readied, the sliding of bolts echoing the fear that had settled like lead into every chest.
On the roof, Xiaolong planted his feet, grounding his center of gravity. He raised both palms toward the horizon. The moisture in the humid air answered his call instantly, surging together and condensing into a massive, rotating sphere of water—a liquid boulder larger than the transport itself.
"Go."
He hurled it. The sphere smashed into the vanguard of the Soul Reaper swarm, the impact crushing several into the earth and blasting others backward in a spray of dark ichor. But the victory was short-lived. Most of them remained standing, shaking off the impact. Only one… maybe two… looked seriously damaged.
Xiaolong grit his teeth, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "Tch… this isn't enough."
Thirty Soul Reapers responded in perfect, terrifying unison. Their bodies pulsed as red color lasers fired simultaneously, lancing through the air toward the trucks. But before the beams could connect, Xiaolong snapped his hands together. A towering, translucent water barrier erupted around the entire convoy, wrapping every vehicle in a flowing, high-pressure shield.
The lasers struck—and bent away. Deflected by the spinning current, they hissed into the trees.
Nanami stared through the reinforced glass, stunned by the sheer display of skill. "They're not killing us that easily…"
Xiaolong's gaze snapped to the side. He saw it—a pond, small but deep, nestled among the roots of the forest. He didn't hesitate. With a violent upward gesture, the entire body of water rose unnaturally into the air, floating beside the convoy like a captured ocean. With rapid, intricate hand signs, he twisted the mass violently.
Water tendrils shot forward like liquid harpoons, wrapping around clusters of Soul Reapers and binding them mid-charge. Xiaolong closed his fist, and the pressure spiked.
CRACK—CRUNCH—!
Ten Fourth Grade Soul Reapers were crushed instantly, their chitinous bodies imploding under the sheer hydraulic force.
"Xiaolong! Can you handle this alone?!" Nanami shouted, leaning toward the window. "We can assist if needed!"
Xiaolong's breathing grew heavy and ragged, the mental strain beginning to take its toll. "…No. Don't. If you help, I'll lose focus. Just keep moving."
But the Soul Reapers were endless. They closed the distance with predatory grace—eighty of them, all moving at once. The atmospheric pressure from their combined power began to distort the air, making it thick and hard to breathe. Their lasers charged again, a blinding light that signaled the end. The water barrier began to crack, white fractures spreading across the liquid surface like breaking glass.
Xiaolong's legs trembled. His vision blurred. This is it… So this is how I die, he thought, a bitter chill washing over him.
Then—a voice. Cold. Calm. Absolute.
"FREEZE."
Reality simply stopped.
The lancing lasers froze midair like static streaks of neon. The wind died. The swirling water hung motionless. Time itself ceased to flow, leaving the world a silent, breathless photograph. No one could move; they could only watch in terrified awe.
Then, from the void behind the frozen world, multiple cosmic slashes tore through space itself. Invisible blades carved through every remaining Soul Reaper in perfect, shimmering arcs.
One. After another. After another.
Their bodies disintegrated silently, stripped away as if they had never existed.
Then—time resumed.
The world exploded into motion all at once. The Soul Reaper bodies shattered and fell apart mid-run, collapsing into lifeless fragments that dissolved before they even hit the dirt. The convoy kept moving, the path ahead suddenly, violently clear.
Xiaolong dropped to one knee on the roof, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. "…WHAT was that…?" his voice shook, thin and fragile. "That was… beyond imagination."
A heavy, ringing silence followed as the realization dawned on the soldiers. Every single Soul Reaper was gone.
Nanami leaned out of the vehicle, staring in disbelief at the trail of black dust. "Hey… kid. Xiaolong." He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Did you… do all that? Just now?"
Xiaolong looked up at him, his face pale and completely confused. He shook his head slowly.
"…No. Not me."
He looked back at the forest, his skin crawling. Something had happened. Something he hadn't seen.
Something terrifying. Something watching.
Scene shifted to the present time.
Everything was still.
Water droplets, kicked up by the Soul Reapers' movements, hung suspended in midair like shimmering glass beads. Dust motes, caught in the stagnant light, froze in place like tiny, unblinking stars. The five 2nd Grade Soul Reapers were statues of malice, locked in the peak of their assault—half-formed beams of destruction glowing in their maws, their twisted, serpentine bodies coiled for a kill that time had forgotten.
Sami, Takashi, and Kento were conscious, their minds screaming, but their bodies were leaden. They could move their eyes—darting frantically across the gray, motionless landscape—but nothing else.
Then came the sound.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Footsteps. Slow, rhythmic, and utterly calm. They were the only things allowed to move in a world that had ceased to breathe.
A figure emerged from the periphery of the frozen battlefield. He wore a simple black hoodie, the hood pulled low enough to cast his entire face into shadow. There was no pressure leaking from him—no crushing killing intent, no aura of grandiosity. He moved with the quiet grace of a shadow crossing a room.
He stopped in the center of the carnage. He lifted his head slightly, and though his face was hidden, the air itself seemed to bow in his presence.
He spoke, and the word cut through the silence like a cold blade.
"VERSE SLAYER."
Reality answered. With a sharp, metallic echo that vibrated in the marrow of the trio's bones, a sword manifested in his hand. Its blade was a fracture in existence—etched with ancient, weeping symbols and pulsing with a rhythmic, black-and-violet energy. It looked as if it had been forged from the shards of a broken universe. The air around the steel fractured, spider-webbing with tiny, dark rifts.
The man moved.
One step. One slash.
SHHHHHKK—!
Particles of purple and black tore through space. The first Soul Reaper split cleanly in half. There was no resistance, no sound of bone breaking—only the erasure of its being before the pieces could even begin to fall.
The man vanished. He reappeared at an impossible angle, a phantom in the static world.
Slash. Another Soul Reaper dissolved into nothingness.
Again. Again.
Four different angles. Four perfect, silent slashes. Each Soul Reaper died before the spark of realization could reach its ancient mind.
The fifth—the leader—received one final, effortless cut.
Silence returned for a heartbeat. Then, time surged forward.
BOOOOOOM—!
The combined kinetic energy of the slashes detonated at once. All five Soul Reapers disintegrated, their massive forms collapsing into fragments of dark mist that were instantly scattered by the sudden return of the wind.
The river calmed. The ground settled. The choking aura of death evaporated.
Above, the sky brightened. The heavy, oppressive clouds parted, and sunlight poured down in golden pillars—a silent forgiveness for the blood spilled on the earth.
Sami's knees finally gave out. The adrenaline that had kept her upright vanished, and she felt her body tilt forward toward the dirt.
But she didn't hit the ground.
Strong arms caught her. They were warm, steady, and solid. Instead of the cold earth, she found herself resting against a broad chest. Her vision was a blurry, shaking mess of silver spots and tears.
She slowly looked up. The man stood over her, supporting her weight with ease. He reached up with one hand and pulled back his hood.
The face revealed beneath it sent a shock through her soul.
"Forgive my delay, Sami," he said softly. His voice was a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. "But from this breath forward, the world stops hurting you."
His eyes, once cold and distant, softened with an affection that was almost painful to witness. "I am the shield between you and the storm."
Sami's vision cleared completely. Her breath hitched, stuck in her throat as her heart skipped a beat.
"…Ni…tsuki…?"
It was him. Not a ghost, not a memory, but him. Alive. Standing. Real.
Her body moved before her mind could process the shock. She buried her face into his chest, her fingers clawing into the fabric of his hoodie, and wrapped her arms around him with every ounce of strength her battered body possessed.
"YOU IDIOT—STUPID BASTARD!"
Her voice cracked, a raw sob breaking through her words as tears poured down her face.
"Where did you go?! Why were you unconscious for so long?! Do you have ANY idea how worried I was?! How much I cried?! How much I thought—!"
She clutched him tighter, her whole frame shaking. "You don't know anything! NOTHING! You idiot—!"
The sheer force of her embrace, combined with her dead weight, made Nitsuki lose his balance. The two of them tumbled to the ground together, landing in the soft, sun-warmed grass.
Nitsuki didn't defend himself. He didn't say a word. He just smiled—a bright, gentle smile that seemed to outshine the sun. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her just as tightly as she held him, letting her grief and relief wash over him.
Behind them, Takashi walked over slowly. He had one arm slung under Kento, who was bruised, bloody, and leaning heavily on his friend, but grinning like a fool.
Takashi looked down at the scene and smirked, his eyes shining with a rare warmth. "So… you finally decided to show up."
Nitsuki turned his head slightly toward them, his smile never fading. "Yeah," he said calmly. "I'm here now."
The battle was over. No more alarms. No more monsters.
There was only the blue sky stretching infinitely above them, and the sunlight filtering through the trees to dapple the quiet riverbank. The battlefield had turned into a sanctuary.
For the first time in a long, dark while—everything was quiet. And everything was okay.