The streets of Tokyo felt hollow.
Hikari, Lila, Nami, Katsuki, and Lyra moved in a tight, silent formation down a war-torn boulevard, the fading echoes of sirens and distant collapse chasing their footsteps. Neon lights flickered weakly above them, their glow fighting a losing battle against the heavy smog bleeding through the sky like a bruise. Shattered windows blinked like dead eyes in skeletal skyscrapers. The city's bones had already begun to creak under the weight of something unnatural.
Nami: "Alright, this was the last known location. The rogue esper's somewhere in the area."
She didn't need to explain the tension in her voice—the air itself was thick with interference, like it had been digitized and corrupted. There was a static charge lingering against their skin, the smell of scorched ozone embedded in every breath.
Lila: "Do we have a visual?"
Nami: "Yeah. Stark white hair—almost translucent when it catches the light. Cut jagged, right below the chin. Eyes like fire: orange, burning, layered with shifting sigils and streams of live code. Skin's cold—too pale, like she's been peeled out of a morgue drawer."
Hikari: "That doesn't sound human. You sure she's alive?"
Nami: "Alive enough to kill. That's the new baseline."
The words had barely left her mouth before the tension in the air snapped.
The world twisted.
A tremor cracked beneath their feet as concrete shattered like porcelain. At the far end of the block—emerging from the fog and fractured geometry—she stood.
Exactly as Nami had described.
Hair like the underside of frostbitten glass, eyes pulsing with corrupted orange light that blinked in algorithmic patterns—sigils orbiting her pupils like predatory satellites. Her skin was a haunting, sterile white, like she'd been drained of blood and soul both. She wore a regulation-grade uniform, obsidian-black and inhumanly still—stitched with reactive nanowire, each thread humming with kinetic suppression. Embedded aura stabilizers glowed faintly along her arms and spine, twitching like a dying machine.
Esper 026: "Exorcist…"
Her voice was fractured, like it had been translated halfway through a collapsing server.
"…Kill Exorcist."
Then reality convulsed.
The earth erupted in a twenty-five-meter radius. Chunks of asphalt, rebar, entire support pillars from underground train lines exploded upward, levitating in a slow, nightmarish orbit before hurling toward the group with the force of a localized apocalypse. Buildings on either side cracked and groaned, their facades peeling open as structural tendons snapped.
Street signs were folded into shrapnel. The sky itself stuttered.
Katsuki didn't hesitate.
His body combusted into transformation—hair blackening into an oil-slick abyss, erupting into violet hellfire that twisted with his motion. His eyes ignited, glowing like dying stars, and his glasses fractured, morphing into jagged geometric visors that refracted light like cursed glass. His aura distorted the ground beneath him, shadow energy splintering the pavement as he blurred into motion.
His jaw split as the phantom-mask formed—a skeletal maw lined with serrated teeth, like a demon forged from psychic anguish. He dashed through the carnage at Mach 5, the air behind him screaming, and snatched Lyra out of the debris's path a split-second before impact.
Nami twisted aside with inhuman grace, a razor-thin margin separating her from a spiraling chunk of a telephone pole that embedded into the wall beside her like a spear.
Hikari reacted instinctively—telekinesis flaring, she launched herself backward mid-air, her boots scraping glowing lines into the pavement. Lila mirrored the motion, light-stepping between debris trails like a dancer in a collapsing simulation.
Lyra took a step forward, the static in the air snapping like it recognized her.
Lyra: "Looks like we've got a real monster on our hands. Fine by me—I'll shock her straight to hell."
Electricity ignited across her body in rhythmic pulses—serpents of living voltage curling up her arms and legs, casting stark-blue highlights that shimmered like broken starlight in the fog. Her honey-blonde hair flowed in effortless waves, catching the flickering light with unnatural sheen. Traces of electric blue wove through each strand, dancing like plasma veins. Star-shaped clips adorned her locks, deceptively playful against the storm blooming around her. Her golden-brown eyes gleamed with warmth, a curious innocence… but behind it—a spark. Mischief. Controlled chaos.
She became lightning.
Her body exploded into a flash of raw electricity, tearing through the air in a jagged line, the ground beneath scorched into molten streaks. She launched herself toward Esper 026, aiming to end it in one electrified blow.
But the esper moved—not with agility, but inevitability. A sharp motion of her wrist, and the world responded.
Behind her, a building fractured.
Metal screamed and groaned as half its mass was torn away. Rebar snapped like veins beneath skin. The structure convulsed, folding in on itself before reshaping into a massive pillar of compacted concrete and steel. With a twitch of her fingers, Esper 026 hurled the monolith forward—an artillery shell of urban decay screaming toward Lyra.
But Lyra had already shifted—flickering back into her human form mid-air, a trail of scorched ozone swirling in her wake. Her boots hit the ground hard. Both arms shot forward, lightning dancing from her fingertips in frenzied arcs. A column of pure electricity surged toward the esper with enough force to vaporize a tank.
Esper 026 weaved through it.
She dodged with a fluid, unnatural grace, like her body was coded to phase between keyframes of movement. But before she could reposition—
Katsuki was already behind her.
The air buckled from the speed of his movement. Shadows fractured beneath his feet. With a feral snarl, he spun, delivering a roundhouse kick laced with violent, spectral energy. His foot connected with the esper's face—bone met kinetic force—and the shockwave shattered every window within a fifty-meter radius.
Esper 026 flew.
Her body ragdolled across the battlefield—until she collided directly into Nami's path.
With unshakable precision, Nami summoned her weapon—Primordial Aura folding into a massive war hammer, its surface etched with glowing sigils that pulsed like a living circuit. She swung with brutal momentum.
The hammer slammed into Esper 026's face.
But the esper didn't fall.
She caught herself mid-air—fingers digging into her own face as if trying to hold it together. Then, with a flicker of focus, her other hand jerked upward.
A telekinetic blast detonated outward, invisible but earth-shattering. Nami's body was flung backward like a puppet cut from its strings. She smashed through a nearby skyscraper—glass, steel, and dust erupting in a geyser of destruction as the building collapsed in on itself, a dying titan crumbling into the abyss.
And then—
Esper 026 vanished.
Not teleported. Erased.
Reality blinked—and she was gone, like a frame removed from a film reel.
Then she reappeared. Directly behind Hikari.
Esper 026: "You're the weakest one."
Her hand rose, aura swelling, the hum of compressed death vibrating in her palm.
But Hikari had ten years of martial arts embedded into her bones. Training honed in blood, sweat, and muscle memory. Her reaction was instinct.
A sharp pivot—heel spinning across the pavement. Her body dropped low, her palm snapping forward.
A psychic blast detonated from her hand, a cone of invisible force erupting into Esper 026's stomach with the impact force of a warhead. The esper's body launched backward like a cannonball, smashing through layers of reinforced steel and brick, finally embedding into the wall of a high-rise building, which buckled inward on impact, groaning as floors cracked and power lines exploded in a firestorm of sparks.
Hikari's breath hitched as she steadied herself, boots skidding back across the cracked asphalt. Her palm still burned from the psychic recoil of her blast, the lingering sensation buzzing through her nerves like static feedback. Dust swirled in the air around her, glinting like ash in the fractured sunlight. Sirens wailed in the distant chaos, but the world had gone quiet inside her head—except for one spiraling thought:
Hikari (Thoughts): "She's fast… too fast. Even though I dodged, it was by a hair. That wasn't skill—just desperation."
A shiver crawled down her spine, not from the cold, but from the truth buried beneath her own words.
"She's right… I am the weakest."
The cracked earth around her pulsed faintly with the residue of Esper 026's power—matter twisted at the molecular level, structures turned to liquid geometry and then frozen again in jagged, unnatural shapes. Hikari could still see where a section of the ground had been bent upward, like a page in a book, suspended mid-flip. Even the air here felt different. Heavier.
Then—
Footsteps.
Deliberate. Confident. A rhythm not born of urgency, but control.
Out of the settling dust stepped a tall man, lean and angular, clad in a sleek, matte-black suit that didn't just shimmer with style—it radiated defense. Thin threads of kinetic shielding pulsed along the fabric like veins of living metal. His tie, crisply knotted, bore a glowing silver pin shaped like a half-obscured eye—an insignia that didn't register in any known government or corporate database.
Black gloves, smooth and seamless, were woven with neuro-reactive mesh, syncing with the microscopic sensors lining his wrists. His sunglasses were opaque, but subtly shifting—augmented with retina-tracking overlays, impossible to see past, impossible to read. He looked like someone who didn't walk into rooms—he infiltrated them. Who didn't exist until it was time for you to know he did.
He was power in the form of restraint.
He stopped next to the wreckage of the skyscraper, dust brushing off his shoulders with casual elegance. Beside him, rising from the mangled remains of the building as if untouched by its collapse, stood Esper 026—expressionless, eyes still glowing with those shifting rings of encrypted symbols and cold, emotionless fire.
Nami, bloodied but very much alive, emerged from the rubble moments later, her steps uneven but her aura flaring.
Nami: "Who the fuck are you…"
Her voice was sharp—half fury, half disbelief. Her hammer was still crackling in one hand, trembling with residual energy.
The man adjusted the sleeves of his suit with a small smile, the kind that never reached the eyes.
Man: "How unkind of me. Let's not start on the wrong foot."
He cleared his throat, theatrically straightening his tie.
"My name is Marcus E. Kessler. And I work with Area 51."
Lila blinked, the words hitting her like an electric jolt.
Lila: "…Area 51?"
Marcus turned toward her slowly, as if savoring the reaction.
Marcus: "That's right, my dear. But not the fairy tale version with little green men and dusty UFOs. That's the surface narrative—the misdirection fed to the public to keep them from noticing what really matters."
He paused, head tilting slightly.
"We don't chase aliens. We manage anomalies—things that rewrite physics, bend perception, and erase gods. And recently… you've been operating very close to our jurisdiction."
Hikari's heartbeat spiked. Her telekinetic field instinctively tightened around her, subconscious defenses coiling like invisible threads. The weight of his words hit her harder than she expected. He spoke with the calm of someone who'd seen the impossible and filed it under "acceptable losses."
Marcus (cont'd): "You've all made quite the mess here. Buildings leveled. Matter destabilized. Energies untracked. And, of course…"
He gestured to Esper 026, who stood still as a statue, her aura quietly bleeding out into the air like an oil spill.
"…unauthorized assets operating far beyond containment protocols."
Nami's eyes narrowed.
Nami: "You controlling her?"
Marcus gave a low chuckle—dry and surgical.
Marcus: "Control is an illusion. Influence, however…"
He leaned slightly forward, the air between him and the group tightening like a noose.
"…that's very real."
For a brief moment, his glasses flickered—exposing a flash of something underneath. Not eyes. Not entirely human. Data? Rotating rings? Hikari couldn't tell if it was a glitch or a threat.
Marcus: "You'll be hearing more from us. Whether as allies… or anomalies. That choice, however, rarely belongs to the field agents."
Then, without another word, he placed a gloved hand on Esper 026's shoulder.
And they vanished.
Not through teleportation. Not with sound, light, or warning. They were there one frame, gone the next—edited out of reality like they'd never belonged in the first place.
Silence swallowed the battlefield.
Crushed steel moaned in the distance. Glass clinked and cracked from unstable buildings. Somewhere, a news drone hovered silently, recording the aftermath—but even its sensors glitched for a second, as if reality itself had hiccuped.
Hikari remained still, chest rising and falling as she stared at the spot they'd stood. A quiet tremor ran through her hand.
Area 51.
They weren't just cleaning up supernatural threats.
They were organizing them.
Katsuki exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Well, I guess that could've gone better."
Lila scowled, her arms crossed tightly. "I'll say. She wasn't even going all out, and she still beat us. We're supposed to be the ones in control here, aren't we?"
Lyra clicked her tongue, clearly irritated. "No shit, Lila, but it seems like she's not a normal esper. Never seen anyone with the ability to manipulate matter like that. Whatever she's capable of, it's beyond anything we've faced."
Hikari stayed quiet, her gaze distant as she replayed the encounter in her mind. "I know I'm still new to all of this," she murmured, "but it seems she might have some kind of teleportation ability. At least, that's what I'm guessing."
Nami nodded, her expression unreadable. "I noticed it too. There's no way she's moving at that speed by normal means. We'll need to be prepared for that next time."
Lila raised an eyebrow. "You think they left the city?"
"No," Nami replied flatly, her eyes narrowing. "It wouldn't be that simple. And even if they did, the mission's far from over. Gyo, the escaped convict, is still out there. We can't afford to let up."
Lyra huffed, clearly not thrilled with the idea. "So what do we do now? Not like we can focus all our attention on just this rogue esper."
Nami shot her a sharp look. "No shit. That's why we're splitting up. Hikari, Lila, you two are on Gyo. Neutralize him by any means necessary." Her gaze lingered on Hikari for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in.
Hikari hesitated. A knot twisted in her stomach. "When you say… neutralize, you mean capture, right?"
Nami's voice was cold, firm. "That or you'll have to kill him." Her eyes were steady as she watched Hikari, measuring her reaction.
Hikari's breath caught in her throat. Kill another human? The thought slammed into her chest like a freight train. This wasn't just any rogue esper. This was a man—a criminal, yes—but still a man. A human being. It wasn't something she'd ever imagined having to do, not even in her darkest thoughts.
She couldn't say it. Couldn't bring herself to voice her doubt. But it burned through her mind relentlessly, like a brand.
"But…" Hikari started, trying to regain control of her voice, "there has to be another way. We don't need to kill him. We—"
Nami's eyes flashed with cold understanding, cutting her off. "In this world, Hikari, killing is law. It doesn't matter whether it's a supernatural being or a human. The rules are the same. You will have to kill to survive. You don't have the luxury of mercy."
The words hit Hikari harder than any physical blow could. Mercy? She used to believe in it. Maybe it was foolish of me to believe there's always a way out without crossing that line, she thought bitterly. The shock of Nami's words gnawed at her insides, like acid eating through her resolve.
You think you can change the world by holding onto mercy? The voice echoed in her head, a bitter reminder of the brutal realities she'd been trying to avoid confronting.
Lila, as usual, stayed quiet, her gaze distant, unwilling to engage in the conversation. But there was something unsettling in her silence, something Hikari couldn't quite place.
"I know you're new to all this," Nami added, her tone softening just a little, but only enough to seem like an attempt at reassurance. "But I'm telling you, the sooner you accept it, the better. Out here, you either kill, or you die. There's no in-between."
Hikari clenched her fists, fighting to keep her emotions in check. Am I ready for this? she thought, her heart pounding in her chest. Is this what it takes to survive?
She opened her mouth, but the words died on her lips. There was no denying what Nami said. She knew that. The supernatural world was a chaotic, violent place, and it didn't give second chances. But there was a part of her—a part she'd kept locked away—that refused to accept the truth.
"I'll do it," Hikari muttered, her voice strained as she tried to swallow the fear rising in her throat. "I'll go after Gyo." Her words felt like lead in her mouth, but she knew it was the only way. She had to follow through.
Nami gave a brief nod, her gaze softening just a fraction. "Good. I'll be counting on you."
The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. No one said anything more. Hikari felt the weight of Nami's expectations settle on her shoulders, heavy and suffocating. She could feel the pull of the upcoming battle already—the one with Gyo, the one with herself.
But it wasn't just the fight with Gyo that loomed on the horizon. The more Hikari thought about Nami's words, the more she felt the creeping dread in her stomach. The sooner you accept it, the better. Was she truly ready to kill, to throw away the person she'd been, just to survive?
Nami was right about one thing: there was no easy way out. If she didn't stop Gyo, no one else would. If she hesitated, people would die.
But as she stood there, staring at the dark skyline beyond, a whisper of doubt crawled into her mind. How much of myself am I willing to lose?
To be continued…