"Mahiro-kun, it's terrible! Satomi-san... something happened to him."
That all-too-familiar opening line dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night, sending him rushing to Magata Public University Hospital.
The last time he'd heard words like this was during the Nine School Competition. Who would have thought he'd hear them again in this world.
"Damn it, Rentaro... you really are hopeless..."
The details were fuzzy—beginning forgotten, middle forgotten, end forgotten—but when Mahiro saw Rentaro lying on the hospital bed wrapped head to toe in bandages like a mummy, he couldn't help but mutter those words.
The guy looked seriously injured at first glance, but there were no life-threatening wounds.
Aside from severe blood loss, he had extensive fractures all over his body and minor bruises.
On the neighboring bed, a high school girl in black attire—Tendo Kisara—was fast asleep.
Her cascading black hair spilled across the pillow, and the fluorescent light cast a gentle glow on her peaceful sleeping face.
Slender shoulders, a boldly exposed neck leading to the delicate curve of her collarbone.
The soft swell of her chest pressed against her sailor uniform, rising and falling gently within arm's reach.
The sweet, distinctly girlish fragrance she exuded filled the air, slightly neutralizing the sharp scent of disinfectant, while her soft breaths only intensified that sweetness.
A slight shift in gaze revealed her long, slender legs tightly encased in sheer black thigh-high stockings, pressed together as though seeking security.
She looked so fragile—he couldn't help but think so honestly.
This was a far cry from the girl who usually fought so hard, the one whose eyes sparkled at the sight of money, the foolish girl who would fly into a rage and throw punches at Shiba Miori regardless of time or place.
Right now, she was heartbreakingly delicate.
Especially the way she curled up in her sleep, as if seeking protection, made him want to pull her into his arms and shield her.
He even remembered clearly how she had looked when he first arrived at the hospital—sitting helplessly on a bench in the hallway, as though the sky had fallen.
When she saw him, she grabbed his arm, her dark, glistening eyes brimming with tears as she gazed at him, asking what she should do. Her expression was that of someone who had finally found an anchor.
"No matter how strong she appears on the outside, at her core, she's still just a sixteen-year-old girl..."
Mahiro murmured softly, then reached out and took hold of the delicate hand peeking out from the edge of the bed. Almost immediately, he saw the tension in Kisara's furrowed brow visibly ease.
She weakly squeezed his hand in return, as if only this could bring her comfort.
As though responding to the warmth he offered, she whispered faintly in her sleep.
"...Don't... leave me... alone..."
"...Help me... get revenge... kill... Tendo..."
Then, suddenly, Kisara's brows knitted together again, her body curling up slightly as she trembled:
"Father... Mother... No, don't die... Someone... save me..."
Hearing her pained murmurs and seeing her fragile, despairing state—her fingertips gripping his hand had even turned pale—all he could do was stand up, step closer, and tuck the blanket around her with one hand. That was all.
"Mmm..."
Just then, Rentaro on the other side stirred, seemingly rousing from unconsciousness. Mahiro immediately adopted a solemn tone and said:
"Ah, you're awake. The surgery was a success—congratulations, you're a girl now."
"..."
Rentaro didn't respond, but the thin sheet covering him visibly twitched.
Then came Rentaro's barely audible sigh, which seemed to carry a hint of relief.
Wow, he actually checked to make sure his little brother was still there.
Witnessing the entire scene, Mahiro couldn't help but give him a strange look.
After a long pause, Rentaro finally spoke in a hoarse voice: "...Don't joke like that."
His gaze wandered slightly, scanning his surroundings with confusion.
"Where am I?"
"....."
With a gaze full of concern for the mentally challenged, he stared at Rentaro: "Did you injure your brain too? Do you really need to ask such an obvious question?"
"Uh..."
Being called out like that, Rentaro suddenly felt extremely awkward.
Indeed, it was clearly a hospital room at first glance, yet he still had to ask where he was.
As if he could possibly be in a hotel or something.
Then, with a stiff tone, he changed the subject:
"Um... where's Kisara-san?"
"She ate something and just fell asleep."
"Oh..."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Rentaro fell into silence, while Mahiro picked up an apple from the fruit basket by the bed, casually wiped it, and started eating.
This action left Rentaro speechless.
If he wasn't mistaken, that was supposed to be a gift for him...
But Rentaro didn't say anything more, and the room once again fell into brief silence, broken only by the crisp "crunch" "crunch" of chewing sounds.
"You... don't have anything to ask me?"
Unable to bear the silence, Rentaro spoke up first.
"Nothing worth asking."
Mahiro tossed the last bite of apple into his mouth, chewing noisily before adding:
"It's just that you didn't bring Enju along this time, ran into another Promoter-Initiator pair, and got your ass handed to you, right?"
That was the only scenario he could think of.
After all, Hiruko Kagetane was already dead—not even a corpse remained—so the events from the original story couldn't possibly happen.
Unless that guy had some kind of possession ability.
"No..."
Rentaro shook his head in denial. "What I encountered wasn't a Promoter-Initiator pair... If it were, it wouldn't have ended up like this..."
As if reminiscing, Rentaro's eyes, peeking out from beneath the bandages, drifted slightly toward the ceiling as he recalled the experience. Yet, his lips beneath the bandages trembled faintly.
"That guy... like me and Hiruko Kagetane... is a survivor of the New Human Creation Plan... No, no, that guy was newly created, said he was meant to... surpass me."
Rentaro's words were slightly incoherent.
But he still clearly remembered that boy who called himself "Dark Stalker," whose real name was Mitsugi Yuuga!
It shouldn't be possible.
The New Human Creation Plan had been canceled long ago!
Yet that guy was undeniably a mechanical soldier, with specs that genuinely surpassed his own!
He still vividly remembered how his moves had been completely read by that guy—just like when facing Mahiro, his spinning kick had been caught by that boy.
And the geometric patterns that appeared in his eyes, the way his pupils spun rapidly inside... Rentaro would never forget it...
"...So you lost? You still need more training, Rentaro-kun."
These words didn't come from Mahiro, but from the doorway of the hospital room.
There stood Muroto Sumire, who had appeared at some point, leaning against the doorframe and waving at the two of them as if to say, "Am I interrupting?"
"Do you have any ideas, Dr. Sumire?"
"Well... just a little."
Since she had been addressed, Muroto Sumire took it as permission to enter, clicking her high heels audibly against the marble floor. With a flourish of her white lab coat that carried a faint fragrance, she plopped down beside the bed where Kisara lay sleeping, crossing her long, stocking-clad legs with an air of effortless grace.
She exuded generosity and wealth.
Only then did she continue, "Anyway, it wasn't me."
Rentaro: "..."
Mahiro: "..."
Wasn't that obvious?
"Seriously, can't you provide any useful intel?" Mahiro sighed in exasperation.
"Of course I can."
Sumire twirled a lock of her long hair around her fair, jade-like fingers. "Actually, this is pretty easy to deduce. Back when the New Human Creation Plan was underway, there were four of us in charge..."
The four of them were collectively known as the Four Sages.
Among them, Sumire was responsible for developing the artificial eye's computational functions. The man she referred to as the "unprecedented old fossil," Ayn Rand, handled the thought-driven interface. Arthur Zanuck worked on the self-repairing Varanium spinal implants and research into optical camouflage embedded beneath the skin.
But above them, there was one who oversaw all three.
The foremost of the Four Sages and the highest authority in the Mechanized Soldier Project—
"Albrecht Grünewald. The mechanized surgery that turned Hiruko Kagetane—the one you killed, Mahiro-chan—into what he was? That was all his handiwork."
"Well, though that guy's personality is even weirder than mine, and he's got a real obsession with copying things, I have to admit—his abilities far surpass the three of us combined."
Hearing Sumire's words, even though Rentaro couldn't move, cold sweat seeped from his skin. An indescribable chill crawled up his spine.
This was the first time he'd ever heard the doctor praise someone so frankly.
"So, if everything Rentaro-kun said is true, then this time, your opponent is even more formidable than Hiruko Kagetane. In fact, there's a real chance the Tokyo Area might face... The Great Extinction."
"G-Great Extinction? Doctor, what the hell are you talking about?" Rentaro stammered, bewildered.
Sumire merely looked at him with pity in her eyes.
So innocent, like a lab rat. Do you even realize what you're caught up in?
Just then, Mahiro's phone suddenly rang, shattering the suffocating silence in the hospital room.
"Mahiro-san, it's me."
The gentle voice on the other end carried a soothing warmth, like a spring breeze.
"Oh~ Seitenshi-sama. Calling me at this hour—what's the occasion?"
"Well... there's something I need to discuss. First, I apologize for disturbing your rest at this time. I've also heard about your colleague, Satomi Rentaro-san's injuries. Please allow me to offer my condolences..."
"Alright, alright, Seitenshi-sama, let's skip the formalities. I'm just a hired hand—no need to be so polite. Just tell me what you need."
"Understood. Just moments ago, we pinpointed the exact location of the Legacy of the Seven Stars. I'd like to entrust you with the task of retrieving it safely."
Although rudely interrupted by Mahiro, Seitenshi showed no signs of irritation. Instead, she made her request in a clear voice, though her tone carried a hint of pleading.
"The price is still one billion?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"Let me ask this—I won't be the only one participating in this operation, will I?"
"No, aside from you, Mr. Mahiro, there will be many other Civil Officers involved. This is the largest operation in history. Nevertheless, I sincerely hope you will take part."
Seitenshi's sincerity was more than enough—or rather, in all of Tokyo, Mahiro was the only person worthy of receiving a personal call from Seitenshi requesting his participation.
Moreover, Seitenshi specifically emphasized the danger of this operation—
"...There's something I can no longer keep from you, Mr. Mahiro. The 'Legacy of the Seven Stars' inside that suitcase is actually a catalyst capable of summoning a Stage Five Gastrea."
"I see."
"Though we don't know what their goal is, we absolutely cannot allow a man named Mitsugi Yuuga to take it."
"Understood."
"Because that object could bring about the extinction of Tokyo."
"Right."
"...Would you like me to explain what a Stage Five is?"
"No need... Even I know about that thing."
Perhaps because his response was too indifferent, Seitenshi seemed ready to naively explain common knowledge to him.
But how could he not know? In fact, he was already fully aware of the Legacy of the Seven Stars and the Seven Stars Village experiment.
It was a sin committed by humanity itself, the bitter fruit of their own making.
What they faced now was merely repayment—a debt owed to those forced to participate in the Seven Stars Village experiment.
Finally, after saying, "I'll take the job," he hung up the phone.
Listening to the dial tone, Seitenshi, clad in pure white ceremonial robes, stood before the floor-to-ceiling window. She placed her slender, snow-white fingertips against the glass pane that the attendant had just closed and gazed at the bright moon in the night sky, murmuring softly:
"May fortune favor you in battle, Mr. Mahiro."
Meanwhile, inside the hospital.
"Where's the doctor?"
After finishing his phone call, he realized Muroto Sumire was nowhere to be seen.
"The doctor… she just stepped out."
Rentaro replied in a tone that wasn't exactly calm. Judging by his expression, he was still trying to process everything he had just heard.
"Alright."
Given the urgency of the situation, Mahiro didn't plan to dwell on the doctor's whereabouts. He slowly rose from his chair.
"Are we heading out?"
At some point, Kisara had woken up and sat up on the hospital bed, looking at him as she asked the question—even grabbing the hand he had let go of earlier.
"Mahiro-kun, tell me… will we really win?"
"Of course. Guaranteed. Don't worry, President. I'm not Rentaro, after all."
"Is that so…"
Though his words carried a slight jab at Rentaro, neither Rentaro himself nor Kisara refuted it.
Kisara lowered her eyelids briefly before suddenly lifting her head. "Mahiro-kun… no, Yotsuba Mahiro. As your president, I order you—no matter what, you must achieve victory. And no matter what… you must come back alive! I, Asaka, Enju, and Rentaro… we'll all be waiting for you at the office."
"Understood."
Mahiro set aside his usual playful demeanor, a faint smile appearing on his face as he spoke solemnly:
"President Kisara's will has been clearly received."
...
...
...
"Ahead lies hell, young man."
"Yet I go willingly."
In the hospital hallway, the two shared a knowing smile, their wavelengths perfectly aligned.
After leaving the ward, he ran into Muroto Sumire again. This time, she handed him a bag.
Inside were weapons and equipment entirely crafted from super-varanium alloy—all prepared by Shiba Miori. They were simple blades, nothing like firearms.
Simple, yet perfectly suited to his preferences.
In addition, Sumire handed him a jet-black syringe.
"This is…?"
"A parting gift from me. I had the young lady make it—entirely from super-varanium alloy. It can effectively suppress the Gastrea virus."
"You're going to do it anyway, aren't you?"
"You really see through everything, Doctor." Mahiro chuckled.
Sumire wasn't just intelligent—she could be called his confidante.
Without him saying a word, she already knew his plans.
Indeed, he had thought that with Hiruko Kagetane dead, this incident would end easily.
But then a troublemaker named Mitsugi Yuuga appeared out of nowhere.
And he had stolen the case as well.
From the tone of Seitenshi's voice, the Tokyo Area seemed to be on the brink of disaster.
In that case, he had no problem stirring the waters further—taking the opportunity to draw a sample of the Scorpion's blood.
At worst, he could always find a way to kill the Scorpion later. With strategic-level magic, there was always a solution.
Besides, the home he had just built for those children—along with little Asaka and little Enju—were all in the Tokyo Area. No matter what, this was something he had to do.
"Don't die, kid. If you do, there'll be one less person delivering meals to the basement. That'd be troublesome for me."
"Really? I'd think you'd be thrilled if I died, Doctor." Mahiro joked.
"Hmm... If that's the case, I do have an important suggestion. Want to hear it?"
"What suggestion?"
The moment he turned around, Sumire suddenly leaned in close. With the distinctive feminine fragrance accompanying her, she gently placed both hands on his shoulders.
"...If you must die, die beautifully."
"Huh?"
"Personally, I'd prefer if you froze to death.—No no, that might be too much to hope for. Actually, even starving would be fine. I'd pour turpentine into your corpse's rear, wrap you in lye, and leave you to bake in the sun."
"Haha, Doctor, you're as twisted as ever... Are you planning to mummify me and display me in a museum for everyone to admire?"
"No, I'd keep you exclusively in my research lab. For my eyes only."
Sumire declared firmly: "This would be my personal artwork. I wouldn't let anyone else lay a finger on it."
"Alright, alright. But Doctor, you should know very well—I'm not going to die."
"I believe that too."
Dropping the joke, Sumire smiled gently instead. "So make sure you come back alive, young man."
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