The instant the sharp blade touched Sol Mirek's eye, a crisp metallic snap rang out. The dark blade shattered into fragments, scattering across the room, yet Sol's eye remained completely unharmed.
"A clever tactic," Sol said, not even blinking, his tone amused, "Too bad it means nothing."
Kishou Arima's pupils tightened. His grip on the broken weapon trembled faintly. He had seen monstrous durability before, but nothing like this. Even IXA had failed to leave the slightest mark.
"Why don't you kill me?" Arima asked, composed as ever.
"Loneliness."
Sol released his wrist and strolled toward the French window.
"Those at the top always want someone who can stand beside them."
Rain tapped against the glass, blurring the lights of Tokyo beyond. Arima rolled his sore wrist, watching Sol's back. His power was beyond reason, but what unsettled him more was the emptiness behind those words.
"So you provoked a war just to find an equal?" Arima asked.
Sol traced a finger through the condensation on the glass.
"War is only a method, not the goal. I just want to see how much fun this country can offer."
Arima fell silent, then spoke with conviction.
"I can become your opponent."
Sol turned, scarlet eyes narrowing with interest.
"Oh?"
"Give me time," Arima said, meeting his gaze. "I will become strong enough to make you stop feeling alone. Strong enough to catch up."
Rain filled the silence.
Then Sol laughed, light and playful.
"Interesting. Do you even realize what you're saying, White Reaper?"
"I do."
Arima's voice was steady.
"Better I shoulder that burden than let this country drown in war."
Sol approached, each step making the air feel heavier.
"And do you know how strong you'd need to become?"
"I don't."
Arima did not move.
"But I'll find a way."
For a moment, Sol only studied him.
Then his smile faded.
"Strength isn't gained through someone else's mercy."
Rain hammered harder against the window.
A flicker of frustration crossed Arima's grey eyes before disappearing.
"I understand."
He bent and picked up the broken IXA.
"Then I'll see you on the battlefield."
Sol looked back out over Tokyo.
"If you have what it takes, catch up to me during the war."
Arima moved toward the door, then paused.
"There are tens of millions of innocent civilians in Tokyo."
He glanced back.
"Your Neon forces and the United States military have already hurt many innocents."
Sol did not turn.
"I don't harm civilians. I'm not a beast."
After hearing that, Arima made his choice.
The door shut softly.
Silence returned.
Then Sol's senses expanded.
Five high speed signatures, moving fast.
Fighter jets.
His lips curled.
"They're quicker than I expected. Good."
At the underground command center beneath the Prime Minister's Official Residence, tension gripped the room.
"All units ready," the Defense Minister ordered into the communicator. "Target confirmed inside a luxury apartment in District 20. First strike will be conducted by the Air Self-Defense Force F-15Js."
The Prime Minister's expression was grim.
"He won't flee?"
A military officer shook his head.
"Intelligence says he's waiting for us."
A long breath.
"Begin the operation."
Above District 20, four F-15J fighters screamed through the clouds.
"Hawkeye One has target lock. Requesting permission to fire."
"Permission granted."
"Missiles away."
Four missiles tore through the sky toward Sol's building.
Seconds before impact, they stopped.
Frozen in midair.
As if reality itself had refused them passage.
Inside the apartment, Sol stood by the glass, hands in his pockets.
"That's all?"
With a lazy flick of psychokinesis, the missiles reversed direction.
Faster.
Deadlier.
"Evade, evade!"
Panic erupted over comms.
Too late.
Four warplanes worth hundreds of millions of yen vanished into fireballs.
Explosions ripped across the night.
Shockwaves shattered nearby windows.
Burning debris rained toward the streets below, but before it touched the ground, invisible force crushed every fragment into dust.
Inside the command center, nobody spoke.
Faces drained of color.
"This… impossible…" the Defense Minister muttered.
The Prime Minister's voice hardened.
"Contact the United States forces in Neon. Request immediate support."
At Yokota Air Base, alarms blared.
"Sir, four Self-Defense Force fighters have been destroyed!"
Colonel Williams shot to his feet.
"By what?"
"Their own missiles, sir."
His face darkened.
"Launch Blackbird Squadron. This is not a routine mission."
Five F-35s roared off the runway.
Six Apache helicopters lifted into the sky, Hellfire missiles gleaming beneath their wings.
War was moving.
Across Tokyo, chaos erupted.
People screamed as flaming wreckage fell.
Police sirens echoed through the city.
Evacuations began.
Inside Anteiku, everyone gathered around the television.
Emergency broadcasts flooded the screen.
"Unidentified hostile forces have appeared in District 20. Citizens are urged to evacuate in an orderly manner."
Ken Kaneki looked pale.
"Was that him?"
Touka Kirishima clenched her fists.
"That lunatic really declared war on the whole country."
Yoshimura frowned deeply.
"Get everyone into the underground shelter. Now."
They had barely moved when the café door opened.
Rain poured in.
Arima stood there drenched, white hair plastered to his forehead.
His expression was unreadable.
"It's too late," he said.
His voice was calm.
"The war begins."
◇ I'll drop one bonus chapter for every 10 reviews
(Leave a review/comment)
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 100
Power Stones.
◇ Read 80 | 100 chapters ahead on [email protected]/_Zeph