Genji leaned back in his creaking chair, his fingers rhythmically tapping the armrest—tap, tap, tap.
In the world of the Armed Girls, two names stood at the undisputed apex of potential. If he was to build a Familia capable of tearing through the deep floors of the Dungeon, these two were non-negotiable.
First: Inaba Tsukuyo.
To the uninitiated, her blindness was a tragedy, a flaw that should have relegated her to the sidelines. But Genji saw it differently. Sight was often a noisy, distracting sense; it cluttered the brain with colors and light that obscured the deeper truths of combat. As the old proverb went, the five colors blind the eyes. By losing her vision, Tsukuyo had been forced to evolve. Her hearing had become a radar, capable of tracking the rustle of grass or the shift of a muscle across the entire academy. In the pitch-black labyrinths of Orario, where monsters struck from the gloom, such a "defect" was a divine gift. Coupled with the Yagyu Shinkage-ryu—a style predicated on the absolute, lethal speed of the first strike—she was a monster waiting for a master. One blessing from a God, and that hyper-perception would sublimate into a Mind's Eye that no adventurer could hope to match.
Then, there was the second candidate: Kirukiru Amou.
If Tsukuyo was a hidden blade, Amou was a collapsing star. She didn't just practice martial arts; she had turned her own biology into a weapon of mass destruction. The "Empress" didn't need steel when her hands could shear through bone and wood alike.
But it wasn't just her physical prowess that intrigued Genji; it was her will. Lions did not associate with sheep, and Amou had spent her life surrounded by livestock. She was bored, sitting atop a pyramid of mediocrity, starving for a challenge that could actually make her blood burn. To tame a girl like that, ordinary recruitment was useless. He couldn't offer her gold or a home; he had to offer her a horizon she couldn't reach on her own.
"One is the ultimate union of shield and spear; the other is the pinnacle of speed," Genji whispered, standing up. He straightened his simple hemp collar with the grace of a king adjusting his crown. "I'm going to need both."
In the competitive shark-tank of Orario, being a step behind was the same as being dead. If the System had opened the door, he would kick it off the hinges.
"System," Genji commanded, his aura shifting. The air in the dusty shrine began to hum, vibrating with the sudden, violent awakening of his intent. "Lock onto coordinates for World S-14. Destination: Aichi Coexistence Private Academy."
[Command Confirmed.] [Coordinate Locked: S-14.] [Initiating Dimensional Tunnel... Warning: Host's divine power is currently sealed. Transfer will utilize System Reserves.] [Countdown: 3... 2... 1...]
The space inside the shrine rippled like a disturbed pond. An azure gate erupted from the floor, a swirling vortex of high-dimensional energy that swallowed Genji whole. A second later, the room fell into a deathly silence. The only thing left was a crooked recruitment sign lying face-down in the dust.
World S-14: Aichi Coexistence Private Academy
It was mid-afternoon. The sun filtered through the lush canopy of the campus, casting long, peaceful shadows against the school walls. But the atmosphere was anything but peaceful.
The social hierarchy was a grotesque inversion of the norm. Girls in sharp uniforms patrolled the halls with katanas and rapiers at their hips. The boys they passed were pathetic shadows—faces caked in thick, clownish makeup, their heads bowed in a desperate attempt to avoid the "correctional" wrath of their peers.
In a high-floor office overlooking the grounds, Amaha Kirukiru stood by a massive floor-to-ceiling window. She watched the students scurry below like ants in a glass farm.
Her long black hair caught the light, and her eyes held a chilling, predatory boredom. She had won. She had defeated the Five Swords. She had broken the spirit of the student body. And now, she found herself gnawed by the loneliness of the summit. When you are the apex predator in a world of quails, survival loses its luster. She craved someone who could make her heart race—not with romance, but with the terrifying, electric fear of a worthy opponent.
"How tedious," she murmured.
Then, the world broke.
Without warning, the clear blue sky was torn open as if by an invisible blade. A jagged rift manifested, bleeding an azure radiance that drowned out the sun. It wasn't a storm; it was a cosmic intrusion. The majesty of the light was so heavy, so undeniable, that it halted every heartbeat on the campus.
The sword-swinging girls froze. The cowering boys looked up. Even the teachers dropped their pens. All eyes were fixed on the rift.
At the center of that terrifying, beautiful light, a figure slowly emerged—descending as if the air itself were a staircase.
Genji arrived not as a student, and not as a traveler. He arrived as a God among mortals, his presence casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the very soul of the academy.