The incident ended abruptly—like a film that cuts to black just as it hits its climax, leaving everyone unprepared.
Helicopters circled overhead. Units equipped with specialized gear were already neutralizing the residual Honkai energy. The disinformation department had mobilized, suppressing trending topics and steering public discourse.
The explosion that destroyed nearly a third of Chiba Academy's campus would be officially labeled a terrorist attack. Government officials and the police were preparing their press statements. Memory manipulation specialists had begun their work.
Witnesses would be hypnotized. With such efficient and professional cleanup, the entire event would soon fade into rumor—an urban legend at best—overshadowed within days by the latest celebrity scandal. After all, the public found gossip far more compelling than truth.
"Efficient cleanup. Professional response. But tell me, Lieutenant Himiko—how long do you think you can keep fooling the public?"
Ryan sat comfortably in a secure room, freshly dressed, a cup of hot coffee in hand, calm and self-assured.
Opposite him sat a red-haired woman—Himiko—her expression troubled.
Fire Moth had, of course, treated him politely. They had to.
Taking down a Honkai Emperor single-handedly—no support, no heavy weapons—wasn't something they could afford to ignore, even if he had connections and operated outside the rules. Were it not for precedent, Himiko might have thought he was some kind of monster.
"Ahem. Dr. Ryan, let's not worry about that," Himiko said, noticeably pausing on the word "doctor," resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "We'll just keep lying—one day at a time."
Doctor, really? What kind of scholar fights Honkai beasts with his bare hands? Shouldn't he be tinkering with gadgets in a lab somewhere?
"I'm sorry I had to summon you like this. Honestly, I have no idea how to write your battle report," Himiko muttered, rubbing her temples. Rose, her assistant, gently patted her shoulder and handed her a pen and notepad.
"For the sake of our records—and my paycheck—I need to ask you a few questions. How exactly did you defeat the Honkai Emperor? How did you control the Honkai energy? Was it difficult?"
The battlefield had been chaotic, much of the scene obscured by dust and debris. From what Himiko saw, the Honkai Emperor had been obliterated in one punch. It was almost… absurd.
I can't tell them the truth. My path must remain secret. My real strength must never be known.
Ryan took a moment, then replied calmly, "I don't really know. Just like those 'Honkai-adapted' individuals you've seen—some of us are born different. Call it divine selection if you like. Like those two students who escaped… they were both unique."
Himiko remembered the two. The girl seemed normal enough, but the boy had the instincts of an elite soldier. According to reports, he killed two Knights with a baseball bat and fought his way out.
Incredible as that was, it still didn't compare to the man sitting in front of her—this walking, talking demolition unit.
"But you're different. Even Honkai-adapted subjects need years of training and specialized equipment to fight high-level Honkai creatures."
Ryan sipped his coffee. "Oh, don't scare me like that. Fire Moth's records aren't exactly short on examples of 'ordinary' people punching Honkai beasts to death. There are those with stranger powers than mine."
He remembered a certain nun—one with terrifying precognitive ability. Compared to her, he wasn't even the weirdest anomaly.
So why am I drinking coffee, and she's probably locked in a lab somewhere? Himiko thought bitterly.
Her tone shifted, casual no longer. "Look, writing reports and using field data to prepare for the next battle is my job. So drink your coffee and be helpful."
She was clearly annoyed now. This man gave off the aura of a carefree student, not a war-hardened veteran. Yet somehow, he had the experience, the control, the strength.
Ryan only shrugged. "I already told you—I don't know. But I'd like to meet those two students."
"No," Himiko replied coldly. "You're not one of us. You're not Fire Moth. If your power spirals out of control, we'll be the ones cleaning up the mess. Until further notice, you're under observation."
Then she turned and called out, "Rose, order two katsudon and two beers. I'm having dinner with Dr. Ryan."
"But Commander—"
"What's there to command? Everything's moving on schedule. Take the money. Bring back change."
As Rose left with a sigh, Ryan gave a slight smirk. She really was avoiding paperwork.
But she wasn't wrong.
Honkai-adapted individuals were more than just "chosen." From the First and Second Herrscher incidents, Fire Moth had long suspected they were possible vessels—or conduits—for Herrscher-level power.
Officially, nothing was wrong. Unofficially, they were walking red flags.
Ryan thought of Kevin and Mei, then glanced down at his own coffee. I still have that Honkai Emperor's data to analyze… and I don't want katsudon.
"Lieutenant," Ryan said, lowering his cup, "you really want to know my secret?"
"Of course. If we could replicate it, we might save lives. But from another angle… we're also uncontrollable. Like the walking dead. You've seen those elite units—they're Honkai-adapted too."
Her voice softened for a moment, a flicker of fatigue passing through her eyes. She had seen things. Lived through them.
"That's why I want you to cooperate. The world is already chaotic enough. We can't waste time worrying about individual preferences. Join us. Fight under command. That's what I'm asking."
So it wasn't about a promotion. It was recruitment. Personnel acquisition.
Ryan understood. "Lieutenant… you're one of the young progressives, aren't you?"
She blinked, caught off guard. "You know about that?"
Fire Moth's internal factions were well known. The young progressives believed in focusing all resources solely on fighting Honkai—sacrificing everything else.
Ryan smiled faintly. "So when you saw me handle a Honkai Emperor alone, you realized you couldn't afford to ignore me—regardless of my past actions."
"Exactly," Himiko admitted. "There's no time left for internal games. The higher-ups squabble like children while the world burns. They haven't stood on a battlefield. They haven't seen corpses piled ten layers deep. Do they still think Honkai is something we can play politics with?"
Ryan looked at her and nodded silently.
I understand. But my path is different. I must grow through real combat, through confrontation with Honkai itself. That growth—must remain hidden. Humanity only needs one unpredictable variable.
In truth, I'm not as strong as Elysia. If the higher-ups figure things out, they'll just have to grit their teeth and accept it. After all, even Elysia hides the full extent of her power.
These thoughts flashed through Ryan's mind as he steepled his fingers beneath his chin, his expression calm and serious.
"Lieutenant," he said, "let me give you a heads-up. You're about to receive a call from headquarters—an official order from the Fire Moth Council. They'll praise your efforts in averting a crisis, commend your loyalty, and thank you for your service."
Himiko let out a dry laugh and unfolded her arms, her smile tinged with sarcasm.
"I know Fire Moth has ties with your family, but there's only so much influence you can pull. After this, you won't be allowed to operate freely anymore."
"Exactly," Ryan nodded. "Which is why they'll tell you I've officially joined Fire Moth—assigned to a special task force. Think about it. Where do you think all that funding comes from? Why do politicians fall in line? Why is Fire Moth the sole organization authorized to fight the Honkai?"
Himiko's smile faded. Her body stiffened as if something clicked. Her voice was low. "Go on."
"This world isn't simple. The enemy isn't just the Honkai. You're underestimating how much is at stake. Value determines freedom—and the value I offer outweighs whatever I could do in a lab or on the front lines. That's the way this world works."
Himiko stared at the young man's composed face. Her lips twitched, but she said nothing.
In that moment, she understood his calm. Everything had been planned—every step calculated, every action made on his own terms. No wonder he could act like some lone hero.
The room fell into silence—until a phone rang.
Himiko glanced at her screen.
She sighed.
He was right.
...
Military vehicles thundered past the ruined streets. The "terrorist attack" cleanup had begun. Of course, Fire Moth was orchestrating everything.
Ryan stood on the roadside with his hands in his pockets, watching soldiers move with mechanical precision. After a while, a small, self-mocking smile curled at the corner of his lips.
No one here was stupid. Under Fire Moth's surveillance network, there were no true "unknown heroes." That was why Ryan had planned ahead—years in advance—to secure his own freedom of movement.
Because blind obedience wouldn't save anyone. He needed strength, knowledge, and above all—secrecy.
Rule number one: never assume others are fools.
If every battle were logged and reviewed, someone would eventually notice the inconsistency—how a man who struggled to fight Knight-class Honkai Beasts a decade ago could now take down a Honkai Emperor with ease.
There would only be one result: dissection.
And Ryan wasn't selfless enough to be humanity's sacrificial lamb. His Path—his true strength—was beyond conventional understanding. Cutting him open wouldn't reveal anything.
The greatest shield is mystery.
After the Third Herrscher appears, Fire Moth will be too overwhelmed to care about me. By then, the Soldier Fusion Project will be done. I'll make sure they have plenty of distractions.
He sighed and frowned slightly.
But man, Fire Moth's coffee really is awful.
He passed one last glance at the red-haired woman still inside the building. Then, without another word, Ryan walked calmly into the crowd, easily bypassing the security perimeter.
Before long, he reached a temporary command base.
Several armored and medical transport vehicles were parked in a circle, forming a rough perimeter. A bonfire crackled in the middle, pushing back the night chill. Armed guards scanned the area from atop vehicle roofs, while medics escorted injured personnel into treatment zones.
Eventually, only two people were left in the open.
A girl, quiet and focused, scribbled in a notepad. A boy, on the other hand, looked around curiously—sneaking glances at the soldiers' weapons like a typical teen fascinated by guns.
But the guards, covered in full tactical gear with only their eyes visible, ignored him. Bored, the boy turned to the girl.
"Mei, when are they letting us leave?"
"I don't know," she said softly, not looking up. "We saw things we weren't supposed to. It won't be that simple."
Kevin tensed, flashing back to chaotic scenes like those from a war film. He clenched his fists.
"Mei, I'll protect you."
"There's no need." Mei finally closed her notebook. "Someone already took care of it."
She looked toward the camp's entrance—just in time to see a figure strolling in, completely unchallenged by the armed guards.
A white shirt, hands in his pockets, expression calm.
Ryan.
With a half-smile, Mei asked, "So… should I call you a secret agent or some kind of hidden master?"
Ryan looked faintly annoyed. "That's not important. Besides, is this how you treat your savior?"
Mei gave a reluctant nod. "Thanks. You saved us," she said, then pointed to the medical trucks. "And you saved me from that kind of 'treatment.'"
Ryan winked. "Can't let a brain like yours go to waste."
It was enough. Mei understood the deeper meaning.
Ryan turned to Kevin and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Don't hug me. I'm not into guys."
Ryan chuckled. "Handshake, then?"
"Skip it. We're friends now—none of that formal crap."
Kevin gave him a searching look. There was still a hint of disbelief in his eyes, but he knew Ryan had told the truth.
"Yeah… we're friends."
Kevin tried to calm down, but the memory of that day kept flashing through his mind—monsters, screaming classmates, the collapsing campus…
Everything familiar was now twisted and foreign.
The world felt like a bottomless abyss.
"Ryan… am I dreaming?" Kevin asked quietly.
Ryan slid his hands back into his pockets. The once-cheerful young man now wore a look that didn't quite fit his face—like something was cracking underneath.
But he didn't lie.
He didn't need to.
All around them, the evidence of truth was undeniable—soldiers in heavy gear hauling away body bags, Honkai beast remains being sealed in containers, rotors whipping dust into whirlwinds.
Gone were the students gossiping and holding hands.
Now, only the scent of cordite and the occasional gunshot echo remained—zombies being cleaned up, loose ends tied.
Kevin looked up at the night sky.
The stars were there—but somehow it felt like a prison.
He sat down, staring at the heavens.
To escape this cage… first, you have to survive.
Rumble—
The sound of approaching armored vehicles grew louder—like the wheel of fate turning.
After a long silence, Ryan gently patted Kevin's shoulder.
"No," he whispered.
"You're just waking up."