Despite her impressive pedigree as a Rank 275 Initiator, Asaka Mibu was simply outclassed. Haruki Aizawa had already faced and defeated Tina Sprout, the 98th-ranked assassin in the world. Asaka, though formidable, didn't stand a chance.
CLANG!
When their blades met, Haruki's sword didn't just parry; it overwhelmed.
Asaka's physical strength was monstrous, even for a Cursed Child, but in the domain of the sword, Haruki held absolute dominion. However, Asaka wasn't done. She wielded a highly specialized pair of twin blades that clicked together, transforming into a massive, double-ended glaive. With a roar of effort, she spun the weapon, her style shifting from quick slashes to heavy, sweeping strikes that utilized the torque of her mechanical exoskeleton.
For a few moments, the air was filled with the screech of metal on metal. Asaka was a "Power-type" Initiator, and every time Haruki blocked, the vibration sent a jolt of force up his arms that actually made his muscles thrum with numbness.
Simultaneously, Nagamasa Gado used the distraction to lunge from the flank. His movements were aided by high-pressure hydraulics, his blade whistling toward Haruki's throat.
The duo fought with the seamless coordination of a pair who had lived and died on dozens of battlefields. They were, without a doubt, the strongest opponents Haruki had faced in this world—actual warriors, not just thugs with high stats.
"Impressive," Haruki muttered, parrying a combined strike that would have leveled a stone pillar.
He felt a flicker of genuine respect for them. Under different circumstances, he might have enjoyed the challenge. He might have treated this as a sparring match to refine his own path.
But Haruki hadn't come here for a duel. He had come here because he was furious.
He had come to kill the man inside. And anyone who stood in his way was no longer a fellow swordsman—they were just obstacles to be cleared.
RUMBLE!
A violent, blood-red aura exploded from Haruki's pores. The air grew hot, smelling of ozone and copper. His eyes, already sharp, bled into a terrifying, demonic shade of crimson.
Asaka sensed the shift and lunged forward, her glaive aimed at Haruki's chest, hoping to break his momentum before the "burst" reached its peak.
BOOM!
Haruki didn't dodge. He swung Onikiri in a simple, vertical arc.
The force of the collision was cataclysmic. Haruki, who had been momentarily pushed back by the girl's strength, now delivered a blow that shattered her guard instantly. The shockwave tore the exoskeleton plating from her arms and sent her spinning through the air like a broken doll.
Before she even hit the ground, Haruki blurred.
CRACK!
He appeared in front of Nagamasa Gado before the man's eyes could even track the motion. Haruki's fist, wreathed in dark energy, slammed into the center of Gado's chest plate.
The veteran Promoter was launched backward, crashing through the reinforced stone wall of the Tendo mansion. He slumped into the rubble, unconscious before he could even register the defeat.
The courtyard fell into a deathly silence. Every other guard and Promoter stood frozen, staring at the man who had just dismantled two of the top-ranked fighters in Tokyo as if they were children.
Haruki didn't look back. He walked through the shattered remains of the wall, entering the heart of the Tendo Estate to face the man at the center of the rot.
"So, the Sword Ghost has finally arrived to take my life."
The voice was calm, resonant, and carried the weight of decades of authority. Haruki stepped into a traditional, tatami-matted hall. Standing at the far end was an old man.
Despite his age, Kikunojo Tendo was a mountain of a man—nearly 180 centimeters of lean, hard muscle hidden beneath a dark formal kimono. His hair and beard were snow-white, but his eyes were as sharp as a hawk's, glowing with a fierce, unyielding light.
"That's the plan," Haruki said, his voice level. He stood in the center of the room, his red eyes fixed on the Advisor.
"You're doing this for them? For the Cursed Children?" Tendo asked, his gaze measuring Haruki. "Do you truly believe that by killing me, their lives will magically improve?"
"The man who drafted the Census Deprivation Act dies today. That's a start."
"I may have written the law, but the hatred that fuels it comes from the people," Tendo said, his voice cold and detached. "I am merely the representative of their will. I give them a target for their trauma, an outlet for their fear of the Gastrea. Even if I die, another will rise to take my place. The world hates those monsters, Haruki Aizawa. That is a fact you cannot change with a sword."
"Heh. You think I don't know that?" Haruki let out a short, dry laugh. "The Seitenshi wanted to change the world through kindness. She wanted to prove the world wrong through laws and words. She failed. So, I'm doing it my way."
"And what is your way? Murder?"
"Violence," Haruki corrected. "If the world refuses to listen to reason, I'll make it listen to the blade. From this day forward, I will kill. I'll start with you, and I'll keep going until everyone who threatens those children is either dead or too terrified to speak their name. I'll make the cost of hating them more than this city can afford to pay."
"You're insane. You're no different from Kagetane Hiruko."
"I never said I was. Kagetane's only mistake was that he wasn't strong enough to finish the job."
Tendo's expression finally shifted. He realized the man standing before him wasn't a vigilante or a misguided youth. Haruki Aizawa was a force of pure, focused madness—a fire that would consume everything to reach its goal.
"Then my only mistake," Tendo said, reaching into the folds of his kimono, "was not having you executed the moment you appeared in my city."
"The feeling is mutual."
SHING.
Both men drew their weapons simultaneously.
To Haruki's surprise, Tendo wasn't just a politician. He held his blade with the posture of a master. The pressure radiating from the old man was leagues beyond anyone else Haruki had faced in this world. Tendo was a practitioner of the "Tendo Combat Style"—a lineage of martial arts that had been passed down for generations.
Even in his old age, the man moved with the grace of a ghost.
They stood in silence for a heartbeat, the air in the room swirling in a vortex of killing intent. Then, they clashed.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Haruki didn't use his Blood Burst or his Darkin powers. He met Tendo with pure, refined swordsmanship. He wanted to see the "honor" the architect of Tokyo's laws held so dear.
But he was disappointed.
Tendo's style was efficient and brutal, but it was hollow. It was a style built on ego, on the preservation of power, and on a deep-seated rot. There was no "way" in his sword—only malice.
"You call yourself a swordsman?" Haruki mocked, parrying a lethal thrust. "Your blade is as crooked as your politics. There's no glory here. Just a bitter old man afraid of the dark."
Tendo's eyes flared with rage. He had spent his life being respected and feared; to be mocked by a "mercenary" was an insult he couldn't bear.
The two separated, Tendo panting slightly, his face red with exertion. He lowered his center of gravity, his hand hovering over his hilt in a classic quick-draw stance.
"Tendo Style—Absolute Void!"
He lunged, a strike of incredible speed. But as he drew, he flicked his other hand.
BANG!
A hidden pistol in his sleeve barked. He had fired a point-blank shot at Haruki's head, using the sword strike as a distraction. It was a move designed for an assassin, not a warrior.
Clink.
Haruki didn't even blink. His blade moved in a blur, parrying the bullet and the katana simultaneously.
"Typical," Haruki said, his voice dripping with disgust. "Using a trick like that... you really are an insult to the sword."
"You—!"
Tendo's face went pale. He had never seen someone parry a bullet at that range while under the pressure of a master-level sword strike.
Puchi.
Before Tendo could recover, Haruki's blade was already home. The cold Varanium edge slid through Tendo's chest, piercing his heart.
The old man's sword clattered to the floor. He looked down at the blade in his chest, then up at Haruki. His eyes slowly began to dim, the "Ghost-God" of the Tendo family finally brought low.
"Honor... is for those who win," Tendo wheezed, blood bubbling at his lips.
"No," Haruki said, twisting the blade. "Honor is for those who are worthy. You were just a politician with a toy."
Haruki pulled his sword free and wiped it on the old man's kimono. He walked out of the silent hall, leaving the ruler of Tokyo's shadows dead in his own home.
With Kikunojo Tendo dead, Haruki knew there was no going back. He was now the most wanted man in Japan. He didn't waste time; he sprinted through the night, heading for the Outer Districts to regroup with Kayo and Tina.
The news of the Advisor's death hit the city like a bomb. The political vacuum was immediate and chaotic. Tendo's subordinates, fueled by a mixture of panic and a desire for power, immediately launched a retaliatory strike. They didn't just go after Haruki; they targeted the Cursed Children of the Outer Districts, blaming them for the "assassination" of their leader.
Haruki reached the slums and immediately took command. He found Matsuzaki and formally seized control of the district's defense.
"From this moment on, you are no longer victims," Haruki told the gathered girls. "You are soldiers. If they want a war, we'll give them one."
He overhauled their lives overnight. He scrapped the "cultural" lessons and replaced them with combat drills. He taught them how to use the weapons he had scavenged from the guards at the Tendo estate. He used his knowledge of the sword and his own experiences to turn the "Red-Eyes" into a militia.
But the Tokyo government was finished with "negotiations."
A few days later, while Haruki was training a group of girls in a makeshift dojo, a high-altitude drone appeared in the clouds.
WHISTLE—
A tactical missile screamed down toward the building.
"Down! Everyone get down!" Haruki roared.
He felt the fluctuation of the explosion before it even happened. He didn't have time to move the girls to safety. He did the only thing he could.
"FLUCTUATION BURST!"
He released a massive, outward wave of energy. The explosion met the wave and was deflected, the fire and shrapnel washing over an invisible dome of pressure.
Haruki stood in the center of the ruins, his clothes tattered, his skin burnt, but the children behind him were safe. He looked up at the sky, his eyes burning with a violet fire.
They had tried to bomb children.
The city of Tokyo had officially forfeited its right to exist.
"Kayo. Tina," Haruki said, his voice a low, terrifying growl.
"Yes, Master?"
"We're done defending. If they want to see monsters... let's show them what a real monster looks like."
Haruki turned toward the horizon—toward the massive, black Monoliths that protected the city. He wasn't going to fight the Gastrea anymore. He was going to use them.
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