In some place.
[Alright… so you failed?]
The voice came through the screen with a cold clarity—without emotion, without pressure, yet somehow heavier than any shout.
On the other side of the video call, a blonde woman—Gabriel—flinched slightly. Her shoulders stiffened, her breath caught for a moment. The reaction was subtle, but enough to show that the sentence carried a weight she could not ignore.
The room where she stood was dim, lit only by the glow of the screen reflecting on her face. Her combat uniform still bore traces of battle—dust, scratches, and stains of blood that had not yet been fully cleaned.
"This is truly disgraceful…"
Her voice was low, restrained. There was frustration she tried to suppress, mixed with responsibility as a leader.
[Hmm… were the Numbers secured?]
The tone remained the same—calm, as if discussing something trivial.
"Yes… we managed to secure them at the last moment."
Gabriel's answer was quick and firm, like a military report refined over years of training. Yet behind it, there was a slight tension she could not fully hide.
Silence briefly enveloped the conversation.
[Your failure has caused some of our influence in Japan to be lost.]
The sentence fell slowly, without pressure, yet felt like a burden pressing from all directions.
"We know…"
Gabriel lowered her head slightly. Her jaw tightened, her fingers unconsciously clenched. She did not argue. Nor did she make excuses.
[…Well, let it be. At least we obtained battle data. We can use it to upgrade the Numbers again. There is still plenty of time.]
That casual tone returned, as if the failure was merely a small step in a much larger plan.
[It would be better if you return…]
The order was simple. Short.
But absolute.
Gabriel fell silent.
For a moment, only the faint static from the connection could be heard between them.
"I'm sorry… my Lord."
This time, her voice changed. Deeper, heavier—as if holding back something important.
"May we remain here?"
[What?]
That single word sounded flat.
Yet it was enough to make the air around Gabriel feel heavy.
"We must pay for this failure."
She slowly raised her head, looking straight at the screen. Her gaze was firm, no longer wavering.
"Therefore… we ask to stay."
Silence fell again.
Longer. Heavier.
As if something behind the screen was observing, evaluating, weighing every word she had just spoken.
[Gabriel…]
The voice finally returned. Lower this time, almost like a whisper forced to remain steady.
[Sentinel is a unit we raised.]
There was no obvious change in tone—yet the pressure was clear. Invisible, inaudible… but enough to make breathing feel heavier.
[What makes you defy our order?]
Gabriel's body shivered instantly.
Not just her skin—as if down to her bones.
That invisible pressure returned, thicker than before, pressing against her consciousness from beyond the screen. The air around her grew heavy, her breath restrained without her realizing it.
"I—"
The word caught in her throat. For the first time, her usually firm voice wavered.
[Enough. I have already overlooked your failure… and now you mock my kindness?]
The tone remained flat.
And that was precisely what made it dangerous.
There was no explosive anger—only a cold judgment that felt like a verdict.
"No, we are not like that!"
Gabriel immediately replied, her voice rising without her noticing. Her shoulders tensed, her jaw locked.
[If you do not feel that way, then return.]
The order descended without any room for refusal.
[We must postpone this operation. You are still needed for the next one.]
Each word was spoken slowly, clearly, and absolutely.
[Do you understand?]
Silence.
A few seconds felt far longer than they should.
Gabriel lowered her head slightly, her blonde hair falling over part of her face. Her hands clenched tightly at her sides, but in the end—
She had no choice.
"…Understood."
The answer came out quietly, yet firmly. Gabriel clenched her fists, clearly dissatisfied with her superior's decision.
...
Back at the Azuma residence.
The atmosphere in the room was far calmer than before. The remnants of tension from the spar still lingered faintly, but the conversation had shifted into something more serious.
Yamazaki stood with his arms folded, his gaze fixed on Kazuma—sharp, calculating.
"You heat your body, convert it into kinetic energy… compress it, and release it."
His tone was calm, but it was clear he was not merely guessing. He understood.
"As you saw, Master…"
Kazuma answered briefly, without elaboration.
"Hm… I see." Yamazaki nodded slightly. "How much can you output during the heating process?"
The question sounded simple, but its weight was not.
Kazuma paused for a moment, as if carefully considering his answer.
"I'm still figuring it out… but what I used earlier was around 20%."
Silence.
Not ordinary silence—
but the kind that comes when something is too large to process immediately.
Yamazaki went quiet.
His eyes narrowed slightly, as if confirming he had not misheard.
But it wasn't just him.
Tobera, who had been lounging casually, now completely stopped moving. The faint smile on her face disappeared, replaced by a rare serious expression.
And Fubuki—who had just faced Kazuma directly, who had felt every strike and pressure from that fight—had not fully escaped the memory of those impacts.
"If it's one hundred percent… how strong would you be?"
It was Tobera who asked, her tone light, but her eyes sharp.
Kazuma did not answer immediately. He took a short breath, then spoke calmly.
"If it's one hundred percent… then I would become something like a living sun. That might be the end of me. You know… humans aren't meant to contain that much energy."
There was no arrogance in his words.
Only a statement of fact.
"Yes… you're right."
Tobera nodded slightly, accepting it without objection.
Yamazaki continued, his voice serious again.
"How much can you actually release?"
"I'm still figuring that out… where my body's limit is."
Kazuma's answer was honest, unembellished.
"In that case," Yamazaki crossed his arms, "our months of training weren't wasted. At least, you can already bring out half of your power. Am I right?"
Kazuma paused briefly.
"Yeah… something like that."
His tone carried slight uncertainty. He himself was not fully sure of that limit. But unlike him, Yamazaki seemed confident in his assessment.
The conversation continued briefly, until they reached a conclusion. There was nothing more to discuss that day.
Yamazaki and Kazuma prepared to leave.
Even so, Tobera still grabbed Yamazaki's arm, forcing the old man to "at least consider" the marriage form that had somehow reappeared in her hand.
Amid that small chaos—
Fubuki stepped closer to Kazuma.
Her steps were calm, but her gaze was serious.
"Satou-san… there's something I want to ask."
Kazuma turned slightly.
"Yes?"
Fubuki looked at him directly, without averting her gaze even slightly. Her deep blue eyes seemed calm on the surface, but behind them lay something else—old memories, doubt, and a faint hope she wanted to confirm herself.
"Are you Yumera Satou's son?"
The question came out softly, almost like a whisper—
Yet its weight was heavy.
Kazuma fell silent.
His body stiffened unconsciously. His shoulders lifted slightly, his fingers tensed at his sides. His expression changed—awkward, hesitant, as if there was something difficult to admit even though it was the truth.
That name… was not just a name to him.
For a moment, he did not answer.
Only silence.
But in the end—
Kazuma gave a slight nod.
The movement was small, almost unnoticeable. No words came out, no further explanation. But it was enough to answer everything.
Fubuki took a slow breath.
Her gaze changed.
The hardness faded, replaced by a softness she rarely showed in front of others. As if fragments of long-sealed memories were slowly reopening.
Without warning—
She stepped forward.
Her hand lifted, then pulled Kazuma into an embrace.
The movement was quick, but not rough.
Kazuma had no time to react. His body jolted slightly forward, his balance faltered for a moment, before his face was drawn in and buried against Fubuki's warm and soft chest.
He froze.
A faint, gentle scent—something like soap mixed with something calming—reached his senses. His heartbeat shifted slightly, not because of anything strange… but because of a situation he had never expected.
His hands lifted halfway, as if to push her away, but stopped midway.
He didn't know what to do.
"I see…"
Fubuki's voice was softer than before.
No longer like a firm captain on the battlefield—
But like someone speaking to a memory long lost.
"I'm sorry… for what happened to your mother…"