At this moment, the city was settling into a heavy, artificial silence that only comes after a catastrophe.
The smoke from the industrial district was still a faint smudge against the moon, but for Shirohara Retsu, the world remained a clinical, predictable stage.
She was walking through the dark, empty streets toward Nishimiya Private Hospital, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her pristine white lab coat.
Her pace was leisurely, almost rhythmic, as if she were taking a stroll through a quiet garden rather than a city reeling from a supernatural war.
Just then, she let out a faint, weary sigh.
Without breaking her stride, she closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly to the right, a move so subtle it looked accidental.
CRACK!
A violent whooshing sound, accompanied by the sharp, ozone-scented crackling of lightning, tore through the air exactly where her head had been a millisecond before.
