Crunch. Crack.
The sound of bones being pulverized echoed through the room, amplified a hundredfold, enough to raise the hairs on the back of one's neck.
——Qi Wuxuanzong. The man who had harbored boundless ambitions to swallow Tokyo whole and fantasized about ruling the world had, at this moment, been reduced to a pile of mangled flesh that could never be put back together again.
The chameleon-type Gastrea hung inverted from the ceiling. Its long, mucus-slicked tongue — as flexible as a tendril — coiled around a stray chunk of flesh on the floor and conveyed it leisurely into its mouth. It was in no hurry to leave.
Its two independently rotating eyes moved in opposite directions: one fixed on the bloodstain already beginning to congeal and dry on the floor; the other looked out through the vast floor-to-ceiling window, watching the sky outside gradually lighten with the approach of dawn.
---
Cut to the wider world.
Black smoke billowed skyward in great rolling columns, staining the entire world a murky, turbid gray-black.
The magnetic field that had protected the city had already failed.
Those weapons that had been heralded with so much hope — regarded as humanity's sole bulwark against the monsters — now crumbled against the evolved carapaces of the Gastrea, no better than fire pokers.
Bullets struck their hides and produced only a few harmless sparks.
Blades bit into their armor and left nothing behind but stinging, numb wrists — not a single decent wound to show for it.
But.
Not everyone had chosen to bare their necks to the slaughter.
Even knowing it was futile.
There were still those who gripped their now-useless weapons — to protect the family behind them, to buy a few precious seconds for the person beside them to flee, or simply because they refused to die in disgrace — and kept swinging.
As for —
The Tokyo Area.
---
Hundreds of meters above the ground, on the rooftop of an unfinished high-rise.
Far removed from the chaos below, the wind was fierce, rattling the scaffolding that had yet to be dismantled with a hollow, clanging rhythm.
In one corner of the rooftop lay a human body.
It was a man of absurdly massive build, dressed in a camouflage tactical vest. Though dead, his hands still clutched a greatsword that had been snapped in half.
——Ikuma Shoukan.
IP-ranked 1584th among the civil officers — a name that carried real weight in certain circles.
Renowned for his monstrous physical strength. In better times, he'd loved nothing more than cleaving Gastrea clean in two with that custom greatsword in a single swing. Short-tempered. Mercenary to the bone. A textbook hired-gun type.
Now, his head was gone. The cut at his neck was jagged and uneven — as if something had bitten straight through it.
Only a headless torso remained, lying motionless in a pool of blood long since gone cold.
Not far from him.
Sat a girl.
She had a head of dull greenish hair — an unusual shade — cut with neat, wispy bangs, giving her a quietly composed look. She wore an overcoat clearly a size too large; the sleeves hung past her knuckles, and the hem dragged along the ground. Beneath it, a pair of equally ill-fitting, slightly cheap-looking shorts.
——Chizuru Natsuyo.
"Don't worry — the moment things turn against me, I'll run."
Ikuma Shoukan's Initiator.
A "Cursed Child" bearing the "Dolphin-type Gastrea Factor."
At this moment.
She sat with both arms wrapped around her knees, back pressed against the unfinished concrete barrier still bristling with exposed rebar, staring blankly at everything before her.
Her body was clean.
Aside from a smudge of construction dust on the hem of her overcoat, not a single drop of blood.
Those Gastrea — the ones that had killed Ikuma Shoukan — when confronted with her, had not attacked. Instead, as though faced with some sacred, inviolable relic, they had swerved sharply around the spot where she stood and charged roaring toward other prey.
So.
Shoukan-san was dead.
And she had survived.
Was it simply because she was a "Cursed Child"?
Or was it because of —
Chizuru raised her head and glanced at the sky above, still blanketed by Gastrea.
That voice.
The voice that had resonated inside everyone's mind last night.
——All who are my kin shall be inviolable.
Had that voice protected her?
That being who called himself a "God"?
Chizuru rested her chin on her knees. For a long moment, she genuinely had no idea what she was supposed to do next.
In the days before all of this, her life had been simple. Monotonous, even.
Her mind was sharp. But her actions had always followed Shoukan-san's orders.
Whoever Shoukan-san told her to fight, she fought. Whatever direction Shoukan-san pointed, she walked without turning back.
If Shoukan-san said kill, her hand went to her gun.
Those days hadn't been bad. Not exactly.
After all — as long as Shoukan-san was there, there was a direction, a command, something to tell her what her next step should be and what to keep living for.
But now.
The one who had given her direction was dead.
She was free.
And yet.
That freedom — in this world now utterly broken — felt only like an extraordinary kind of disorientation.
"Huu——"
At that moment, a gust of wind fiercer than before swept through.
It carried the chill unique to great heights and tossed her dull green hair into disarray, a few loose strands clinging to her cheek.
The oversized overcoat flapped and billowed in the gale, revealing a pair of thin, cold-whitened legs beneath.
The properties of the Dolphin-type Gastrea Factor had not gifted her with exceptional physical strength. Instead, it had granted her a level of perception that far exceeded that of ordinary humans.
Therefore — whether it was temperature, or the presence of a person, or the emotions of those around her — she was acutely sensitive to all of it.
The next second.
Chizuru's eyelid gave the slightest twitch.
An extraordinarily subtle, undeniable sensation suddenly emerged.
On instinct, she lifted her head and turned her gaze toward the edge of the rooftop.
——There.
Where only the barrier and empty air had been moments before —
At some point, a silhouette had appeared.
Black hair. Black eyes. A straight, upright figure.
When she made out who it was, Chizuru's pupils dilated by a fraction.
She recognized that silhouette.
Last night.
That light and shadow.
The divine being who had descended in judgment and brought countless Gastrea to their knees in submission.
——It was Him.
"..."
Chizuru said nothing. She even held her breath.
She simply watched in silence as that figure ambled leisurely to the barrier beside her and stood there, looking down over the city streets below the parapet.
Below —
Was where the fighting was most intense.
Fires raged skyward. Explosions rang out one after another.
The screams of humans. The roars of monsters. The thunder of guns and cannon.
Even from hundreds of meters up, it all carried clearly on the wind.
He seemed utterly absorbed in the sight.
After a long while —
On this rooftop where time seemed frozen and only the howling wind filled the silence —
Chizuru finally could no longer hold her tongue. Her voice came out soft, carrying the faint rawness unique to children, and a calm that did not quite fit her age.
"Are you angry, by any chance?"
"Why do you ask?" Haimer's voice answered.
Chizuru pressed her slightly pale lips together and hesitated for a moment.
She released her knees, pressed both palms against the dust-covered floor, and pushed herself to her feet with some effort.
Her legs had gone half-numb from holding the same position so long. She stumbled once before steadying herself.
Then she dusted off the hem of her overcoat, took a few stiff steps, and stopped two paces behind Haimer.
——A position that was neither rude nor too close. A safe distance.
Mimicking Haimer's posture, she rose on her tiptoes and looked down at the dying city below — still thrashing, still fighting. She watched the people on the streets still firing guns, still brandishing blades, still struggling with everything they had just to stay alive.
"Because everyone is still fighting back."
Chizuru said quietly, a note of puzzlement in her voice.
"When you, Kami-sama, have already delivered your divine decree."
"When the judgment has already begun."
"You announced humanity's sins. You passed their death sentence."
"And yet these people — they are still resisting."
"Even…"
She paused, as if the next words were difficult to say.
"Even those of us under your protection, Kami-sama… those Cursed Children who were supposed to have every reason to despise humans — the ones humans spat upon in return."
"Even they are trying to protect those same humans. Taking up arms. Fighting back. Standing against your armies."
"Is this not an act of disrespect toward your divine decree, Kami-sama?"
"You offered us salvation. You wanted to grant us the privilege of living free from discrimination."
"And yet they still chose to stand on the opposing side."
"Seeing us defy your will like this — Kami-sama, does it not make you angry?"
As she spoke, her voice grew smaller and smaller. Her head began to droop; she didn't dare look at that figure's back.
In her logic —
A god should be supreme and absolute.
A divine decree should be an inviolable law.
Since a god had already pronounced humanity's crimes, any form of resistance was a deepening of that transgression — an unforgivable blasphemy.
Following the logic of human rulers —
Such rebellion should be met with thunderous wrath, followed by an even more terrible punishment. Or simply obliterated on the spot.
Just like what had happened to Shoukan-san.
However.
The moment those words left her mouth —
Haimer turned around.
What met Chizuru's eyes was a fair, handsome face bearing a gentle, quiet smile.
"Angry?"
"Why would I be angry?"
Haimer turned his gaze back down toward the city below.
"Blazing with the brilliance of life."
"That, in my eyes, is not an unpleasant sight."
"On the contrary."
Haimer turned his head.
"I quite admire it."
Admire?
A god who admires the mortals who resist him?
Chizuru stared, stunned. For the first time, those clever eyes showed an expression of pure, uncomprehending bewilderment.
"Those children who are still protecting humans."
"They made that choice themselves."
"I may have delivered my decree, but I am not the sort of control freak who likes to hold the children I cherish like puppets on strings."
"Every child has the right to choose their own path."
"Even if that path runs contrary to my own."
"As long as it is what they truly want in their hearts — that is enough."
"And so."
As he spoke those words —
Haimer noticed the deep, bone-deep exhaustion lurking in the depths of Chizuru's eyes.
He walked over to her.
Before Chizuru could react, he dropped down with casual ease onto the open stretch of floor beside her.
Without the slightest care for whether the dust would dirty his clothes, he patted his thigh in a single suggestive gesture.
"Though it's a bit unusual for a man to offer a girl his lap unprompted."
"But would you like to rest a little?"
"This is a god's lap pillow, mind you. Most people couldn't get one even if they begged — even other divine beings couldn't obtain something like this."
"Miss this village and there won't be another inn."
Chizuru: "..."
Looking at Haimer — smiling, even expectant, absolutely not joking —
The carefully maintained composure on her small face began to crack, giving way to something odd and indescribable.
This Kami-sama…
Is a little different from what I imagined?
Not only was there none of that towering, lofty divine dignity — he was actually being a little improper?
"If you said something like that to an ordinary girl, Kami-sama, you'd definitely be reported for sexual harassment."
"The worst kind, too — the 'using your position to take advantage of someone' type. The kind where an old man with a little authority just does whatever he pleases."
"You'd be arrested."
Chizuru muttered her complaint in a small voice, her tone still its usual flat calm — but she'd clearly relaxed noticeably.
——Particularly.
Even if her mouth was saying that, her body was perfectly honest.
Because.
Perhaps she really was just that tired.
That exhaustion was bone-deep. Even standing felt like an effort; her calves had begun to tremble.
Or perhaps —
Perhaps it was the aura Haimer radiated. It was simply too calming to resist.
There was none of Ikuma Shoukan's usual brutishness. None of the ordinary human disgust toward a "Cursed Child." Just a pure, warm, all-encompassing sense of acceptance.
And so.
Chizuru slowly shifted herself.
She didn't refuse.
She moved straight toward Haimer's side.
Slowly, she bent at the waist and knelt down. Then — carefully, as though afraid of dirtying Haimer's trousers — she gently lowered her heavy little head onto his thigh.
The moment they made contact —
Even through the fabric, she could feel the warmth radiating from him.
Warm. Comfortably warm.
Chizuru's body — chilled through by the high-altitude wind — seemed to slowly thaw from that single point of warmth outward.
The tension in her nerves, strung taut for so long, finally eased in that moment.
"If it were me, I doubt anyone would be filing complaints."
Haimer looked down at the small head resting on his lap. The dull green hair was a little disheveled, so he reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of her bangs back into place.
"After all, I've been told my face is reasonably decent."
"In a world that runs on looks — good-looking people doing this sort of thing is called 'charm.' It's only sexual harassment when ugly people do it."
Hearing that, Chizuru couldn't quite hold back — the corner of her mouth curved, just slightly.
It was a bad joke. But it had definitely lightened the mood.
"Kami-sama..."
After a moment, Chizuru had already closed her eyes.
She hadn't fallen asleep, though. Instead, she spoke softly, her voice low and hushed.
"Shoukan-san is dead."
"And yet here I am..."
"Here, enjoying this comfort. Enjoying your lap pillow."
"Is this… wrong of me?"
For a "Cursed Child" — especially one serving as an Initiator —
The primary duty was to obey the Promoter's commands and fight alongside them.
This was the law of survival drilled into them from birth.
Initiators bore the brunt of combat. They did the hardest work, bled the most. Yet they had virtually no rights.
Even being shot and injured by a Promoter was considered acceptable.
And the moment an Initiator lost their assigned Promoter, the IISO would forcibly detain them — returning them to the status of tools without autonomy, or simply having them destroyed.
That belief was deeply ingrained.
So even though Ikuma Shoukan had been a bastard, now that he was dead, Chizuru still felt the weight of guilt.
She felt she hadn't protected him well enough. She even felt that her current idleness was something shameful.
Hearing this —
Haimer's hand did not stop.
Still maintaining that unhurried rhythm, he stroked her hair from crown to tip.
"What's wrong with it?"
"All of this was already decided. It was never something you could have stopped."
"You did your best."
"Whether as an Initiator — or as a child."
"You owe him nothing."
"You gave everything you had. Why punish yourself for it?"
"Besides."
"The one truly responsible for all of this — is me."
"It is I who gave those Gastrea greater power."
"So don't take this burden onto yourself."
"You are only a victim swept up in all of this. A little girl who needs to rest."
"So."
Haimer's palm came to rest over Chizuru's eyes, blocking out her sight.
His palm was warm.
"Don't put all that weight on those small shoulders of yours."
"When the sky falls, the tall ones hold it up."
"When a god commits the sin, the god carries the consequence."
"Your one and only task right now —"
"Is to close your mouth, and close your eyes."
"And obediently enjoy this peace."
"That's an order."
Chizuru's lashes fluttered against Haimer's palm.
She seemed not to have expected Haimer to take all the blame so completely onto himself.
That feeling of unconditional acceptance made something in her — that heart that had been suspended in mid-air for so long — tremble, just slightly.
But.
As someone carrying a high-intelligence factor, her thoughts moved faster than most.
Haimer's words had put her at ease.
Yet she still gently pried his hand away and turned her head.
The back of her head resting on his thigh, she opened those withered-leaf-colored eyes and stared directly up at Haimer's downturned face.
"Then, Kami-sama..."
Chizuru chose her words carefully and asked the greatest doubt weighing on her heart.
"Do you truly believe..."
"That destruction brings new life?"
"Of course."
Without a moment's hesitation, Haimer answered calmly.
"This world, in my view, has long since rotted through."
"Like a patient covered in gangrene."
"If you simply keep pretending not to see it — keep wrapping the wound with bandages —"
"Then the only end is the toxin spreading, the whole body succumbing to decay and death."
"Without cutting away that rotting flesh, new flesh can never grow."
"Therefore, no matter the price — even if it means bleeding — that rotting flesh, bone and all, must be carved away completely."
"Even though the process will be painful."
"Even though there will be a great deal of blood."
"Even though many people will die."
But.
"Only by carving away the flesh that has already rotted can new flesh truly begin to grow."
"Shatter the broken, cannibalistic old world completely."
"And then rebuild a brand-new house."
"A house..."
"Where children like you no longer have to live in the gutters. Where you are no longer spat upon. Where you can walk proudly in the sunlight."
"As long as that kind of result can be achieved."
"No matter what it costs."
"Even if it means carrying a few more bad names."
"In my view."
"It is worth it."
Chizuru listened in silence, watching Haimer's expression as he spoke those words.
Calm. Unwavering. Carrying even a kind of matter-of-fact serenity.
Was it cruel?
It was.
But.
Chizuru thought back over the few short years of her own experience.
She remembered those nights she had only dared to dig through trash bins after dark. The looks passers-by had cast her — like looking at a cockroach. And those companions who had died in the gutter before they ever had a chance to grow up.
If this was what the world's rules amounted to —
Then.
Smashing it apart didn't seem so bad.
"Kami-sama..."
Chizuru sighed softly, her gaze holding something complex.
"What a gentle person you are."
"And you?" Haimer didn't linger on the subject and shifted the topic.
"In an hour, all of this will be over."
"No more fighting. No more missions. No more of those chaotic, disorganized commands."
"You won't have to fight desperately just to survive anymore."
"So — do you have any thoughts?"
"Or rather — is there anything you want to do?"
At that question, Chizuru paused.
A flash of blankness crossed her eyes.
Something she wanted to do?
No one had ever asked her that.
Ikuma Shoukan had only ever asked things like "Can you wipe out those monsters" and "What's your corrosion rate at."
No one had ever asked what she herself wanted to do.
She hadn't even thought about it herself.
Because thinking about it had no meaning.
But now —
What did she want to do with her future?
Chizuru's gaze drifted.
She thought of the times she had hidden in Shoukan-san's house, secretly flipping through a handful of books whenever he was asleep or out drinking.
Books she had picked up at a used-book stall.
Those words.
Those illustrations depicting other worlds.
They had been the only brightness in her gray life. The only window through which a girl who couldn't go to school could learn about the world.
"I want to..."
"Read..."
"I want to find a quiet place."
"With a comfortable chair, and sunlight coming in."
"With no one to disturb me — reading for as long as I like."
"I want to know so many things."
"I want to know why the flowers in the pictures bloom in spring. Why they come in so many colors."
"I want to know why the sky brings rain. Why the clouds drift."
"I want to know..."
"What this world is truly like."
When she finished speaking —
A look of longing flickered across Chizuru's eyes. The pupils that had been vacant and hollow seemed to kindle, just faintly, with a small light.
As if it was only in the world of books that she could find true stillness — and reclaim the self that belonged to a child.
Then, as if remembering something, Chizuru turned her head toward Haimer with a flicker of curiosity.
"Kami-sama."
"So — is that why you came to find me specifically? Because I didn't answer your question last night?"
When he had descended last night —
Haimer had asked all the children about their wishes.
At the time, out of caution and worry, Chizuru had chosen silence. She had said nothing.
"Did you ask every child that same question?"
"That's right."
Haimer gave a small nod, openly acknowledging it.
"I wanted to know each one of your wishes."
"Then..."
Chizuru hesitated for a moment. A slightly peculiar thought surfaced in her sharp little mind.
"Did anyone make an unreasonable request?"
"Like — wanting the stars pulled down from the sky?"
Chizuru blinked, a flicker of curiosity in those dull-green eyes.
In her mind —
A god is omnipotent.
So surely there must have been children who had seized the opportunity to make some wild, outlandish demand?
After all, children are greedy. And innocent.
However.
The opposite was true. A shadow passed briefly across Haimer's eyes.
"No."
Haimer let out a helpless sigh. His hand returned to the top of Chizuru's head — pressing gently, giving it a small, affectionate ruffle.
"Every single one of you is sensible to a heartbreaking degree."
"No unreasonable requests."
"Even wanting a new set of clothes. Even wanting a full meal — all of you were so careful, so tentative about it."
"As if you were afraid that if you caused me even the slightest trouble, I would find you bothersome and cast you aside."
"But."
"In front of a god, you don't need to be that sensible."
"A little selfishness, now and then —"
"Throwing a tantrum, complaining, making a small wish —"
"All of that is allowed."
"Because only then does this truly feel like what a real child should be like."
Selfishness, huh...
Chizuru said nothing after hearing this.
She simply closed her eyes again, gently.
And pressed her cheek against the fabric of Haimer's trousers — just once, just lightly — like a stray cat that had finally found somewhere to belong.
Perhaps.
Being here right now, monopolizing a god's lap pillow —
Even while the world burned below — refusing to get up —
This was the most selfish thing she had ever done in her entire life.
---
Author's Note:
Alright, dear readers!
With this, the arc set in the world of Black Bullet comes to a close for now — I know it dragged on far too long, and I'm truly sorry for that!!!
As always, the subsequent Cursed Children who make their way to Orario will appear in the form of little fairy sprites, and the revealed members will join the Familia in sequence. Please rest assured — I know that introducing too many at once wouldn't be ideal (as some readers have noted), so for now only a few of the most popular ones have been brought in. Tina Sprout will definitely come, don't worry! All named characters will be gradually worked into the story in future arcs.
As for Tina's weapon and high-tech equipment — I have a preliminary idea. I'm currently thinking that Asfi Al Andromeda, the Captain of the Hermes Familia, has a rare skill that allows her to craft magical tools — including the [Hades' Helm] that renders its wearer invisible, and the flight tool [Talaria]. These might appear in Orario in the form of magical items created by the protagonist. After all, per the setting, the gods have observed countless worlds and are no strangers to gunpowder-based weaponry — and Orario does have gunpowder technology.
(bag)
Also!
I've noticed some readers wondering what rank the protagonist would receive in the Mondaiji (Problem Children from Another World) universe. The author isn't very familiar with Mondaiji, and opinions vary widely — if you're curious, feel free to discuss in the pinned comment section~!
Here's a quick summary of what's already been hinted at:
Seven-digit and six-digit tiers are basically ordinary communities and low-level supernatural beings — skipping those.
Five-digit is where mythological heroes and lesser divine beings start to appear. Four-digit covers the major deities of mature mythological pantheons — the Norse gods, the Greek gods, and so on.
Three-digit is the true watershed.
Stellar-scale cosmic entities. The apex warriors of major mythological systems. Demon Lord-tier existences.
Two-digit... This range isn't especially well-documented even in the original work, but it essentially covers entities that qualify as "fundamental concepts sustaining the operation of the world itself."
____
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