"You've certainly grown stronger."
Saito opened her eyes slowly. James was standing at the far end of the room, watching her with the quiet patience of someone who had learned long ago that silence was its own kind of language.
She rose from her meditation position. "I hope so."
James studied her for a moment then turned toward the corridor. "Come with me."
She followed him through the house to his workshop — a room she had only ever been allowed into with permission. He stopped at the door and looked back at her.
"A year ago I found something I think belongs to you."
He pushed the door open.
In the centre of the workshop sat a long wooden box, worn at the edges, the kind of container made for something that needed to be kept rather than displayed. Saito approached it and lifted the lid.
Her breath caught.
The sword inside was unlike anything she had seen — a deep, consuming red, with black flames carved into the blade in patterns that seemed to shift depending on the light. It looked like something that had been waiting.
"No one has been able to carry it," James said from behind her. "Only through the box."
Saito reached in and closed her hand around the hilt.
The sword glowed.
Not violently — warmly, like recognition. Like something clicking into place after a long time apart. A smile spread across Saito's face before she could stop it.
Behind her James watched in silence, something satisfied settling in his expression.
As expected, he thought. Only she could wield it.
He turned and walked back toward the door. "I've taught you everything I know, Saito. You're free to go."
Saito looked up from the sword. "That's it? No motivational speech? No telling me not to do anything stupid like you always do?"
James paused in the doorway. A quiet laugh escaped him — the kind that meant he was more amused than he was letting on.
"I'm not that old, Saito."
Meanwhile at Kagekami's place the decision had already been made before he reached the door. He would join the Rankers — not just for the money, but to forge himself into something the world would have to reckon with.
The signup port was packed.
Kagekami joined the back of the crowd and looked at the sea of faces around him — hope, nerves, determination, all of it mixed together in the way it always is when people are about to do something that could go very wrong.
This many people signing up for a dangerous job, he thought, the unease settling quietly in his gut. There must be something drawing them here.
He fell into line behind a young man draped in expensive silk, carrying himself like someone who had never once been told no. When the noble's turn came he pressed his hand to the large black orb at the centre of the room and a number materialized above it.
Three hundred and five.
An impressed murmur moved through the crowd like a wave.
Then it was Kagekami's turn. He stepped up and placed his palm on the orb's cool smooth surface and watched his number appear.
Fifty-eight.
A different kind of murmur followed. Not impressed. Someone nearby laughed under their breath. Someone else whispered something to the person beside them. Kagekami kept his face neutral and his eyes forward.
Then the grand doors at the far end of the hall swung open.
The noise died instantly — not gradually, but all at once, like someone had cut the sound from the room. Every head turned. The crowd parted without being asked.
Two figures walked in.
Their presence was the kind that didn't need announcing. It moved ahead of them like a change in air pressure — something the body registers before the mind catches up. Ms. Kasami and Luke, two of the world's most renowned S-Rank Protectors, walked through the awestruck silence without breaking stride, and disappeared through a door leading to the private viewing chamber above.
The room stayed quiet for a moment longer than it needed to.
Kagekami's hand was still on the orb.
He hadn't noticed. Neither had anyone else — every eye in the room was fixed on the door the S-Ranks had walked through. But one worker standing to the side happened to glance back at the orb and stopped breathing.
The number was moving.
Fifty-eight became one hundred. One hundred became three hundred. Three hundred exploded past five hundred and held there — steady, certain, enormous — as if it was only stopping because it had decided to.
She blinked. Looked around. Nobody else had seen it.
Kagekami let go as he decided to walk to the training hall.
She blinked. The number reset.
She nudged her colleague. "Did you see that? His power level — it shot past five hundred right after the S-Ranks walked in."
Her colleague didn't look up from her datapad. "You're hallucinating. Ms. Kasami is a hottie, her beauty clearly fried your last two functioning brain cells."
The worker looked back at the orb. The number was gone now — reset, ordinary, giving nothing away.
The worker stared at the empty orb for a long moment.
What are you?
Meanwhile Kagekami was walking toward the training hall, completely unaware of any of this, thinking about something else entirely.
So that's why there are so many people here. A pause. Not that I blame them. She really is something.
Above the training hall, in the private viewing chamber, a man stood with his back to the door, looking down through the glass at the recruits below.
The doors opened behind him.
"What's up, old man?"
Walter turned. Luke was already helping himself to something from the snack table. Ms. Kasami stood beside him, smiling.
"It's been a while," she said. "How have you been?"
Walter's expression softened in the way it only did for a very small number of people. "Better now that my former students have finally shown their faces."
Luke bit into whatever he'd grabbed from the table. "Who wouldn't visit you? It's not every day you get to see a genuine fossil."
Walter moved past him toward the door, pausing just long enough to fix Luke with a look that communicated several things at once. "I have work to get back to." He glanced at Ms. Kasami. "Good to see you." Then at Luke. The look spoke for itself.
The door closed behind him.
Ms. Kasami settled into a chair by the window and looked down at the training hall below. "There are a lot of them."
Luke dropped into the seat beside her. "Quite a few. I hope they put on a decent show."
Walter's voice filled the training hall like a physical force, cutting through every conversation instantly.
"Listen up, recruits." Walter's voice filled the hall without effort, the kind of voice that had spent decades not needing to repeat itself. "Your final test is a series of one-on-one matches. Killing your opponent is forbidden. Victory is achieved by knockout or submission. Your rank will be assigned based on your performance here today."
He let that settle for a moment. Then he looked out at the sea of faces below him.
"For those of you who don't know how the ranking system works — pay attention. I'll only say this once."
He began to pace slowly along the platform.
"Rank B. B-Ranks handle cleanup operations and provide support to higher ranked combatants in the field. Think of them as the foundation — essential, but not yet ready for the front line."
He held up two fingers.
"Rank A. A-Ranks are assigned to fight monsters capable of town-level destruction and are responsible for clearing low-threat dungeons. If you make A-Rank today, consider yourself capable — but not comfortable."
He paused, his eyes sweeping the room.
"Rank S. S-Ranks are tasked with countering large scale Ripper attacks and eliminating threats from Dragons. You've all seen the news. You know what those fights look like. That is the baseline level of strength required to carry that rank."
His voice dropped slightly — not quieter, just heavier.
"And then there are the S-Rank Protectors. They are your superiors in every sense of the word. They are this country's shield. They fight monsters capable of city-level destruction and clear high-level dungeons that would end most of you before you reached the first room." He looked around the hall one final time. "For those wondering what separates an S-Rank from an S-Rank Protector — the answer is simple. S-Rank Protectors have broken through the ceiling of Rank S entirely. They exist beyond it."
He stepped back from the edge of the platform.
"That is all. Let the fights begin."
The first rounds were straightforward. A contestant going by the name Black Flash moved with dizzying speed and dispatched his opponents cleanly. The noble from the signup line handled his match with the ease of someone who had trained for exactly this. The crowd watching from the balcony stirred with mild interest.
Then Kagekami's name was called.
He stepped forward and faced his opponent across the floor. The two of them looked at each other. His opponent looked back — and something in Kagekami's eyes made him stop. Something dark. Something that hadn't been there an hour ago and couldn't quite be named.
The opponent raised his hand. "I submit."
The room murmured.
Kagekami turned and walked back, jaw tight.
That's the fourth one, he thought, grinding his teeth. Four opponents. Zero fights.
He looked up at the crowd pressing against the balcony railing, craning their necks, whispering excitedly amongst themselves.
They all just came to see Ms. Kasami, didn't they.
It wasn't a question.
Soon only three contestants remained — Kagekami, Black Flash and the noble.
The noble faced Black Flash first. He stood completely still, a faint smirk on his lips, watching Black Flash blur around him with dizzying speed. Patient. Unbothered. The moment Black Flash committed to an attack the noble's hand shot out — not to block, but to catch. His fingers closed around Black Flash's leg mid-motion and the smirk didn't move at all.
A sickening crack filled the hall.
Black Flash's leg twisted in a direction legs aren't supposed to go. He hit the floor screaming, one hand raised in submission before the pain fully registered. The crowd went very quiet.
The noble straightened his collar and waited for the next name to be called.
Up in the viewing chamber Luke leaned forward in his seat. "Who do you think wins this one?"
Ms. Kasami's eyes stayed on the arena below. "I don't know," she said. "The one named Kagekami hasn't fought a single match. Every opponent forfeited before it started." She paused. "Not that they were particularly strong — most of them came here desperate for money. They have no real idea what kind of hell they're walking into." She watched Kagekami circle the noble on the floor below.
Luke said nothing. He watched.
Below, Kagekami kept his distance — circling wide, staying out of arm's reach. He'd seen what one touch of those hands could do.
"Why aren't you attacking?" The noble's voice carried easily across the floor. "Is it fear? I imagine it must be difficult to comprehend power this far above your station."
Kagekami didn't answer. He was thinking.
One touch and I lose – No.
He went still. Let his focus narrow down to a single point — his left arm. He drew his energy into it slowly, quietly, the way you fill something without spilling it. Then he exhaled.
And dashed forward.
The noble's smile appeared immediately. He watched Kagekami's right arm coming and reached out to catch it — the same trap, the same grip, the same ending as every other match today.
His fingers closed around Kagekami's right arm.
Then Kagekami's body pivoted. He used the grip as an anchor, swinging his weight around it, and his left hook connected with the side of the noble's face with everything he had.
The noble left the ground. He landed across the stage in a motionless heap and didn't get up.
The hall was silent for a moment. Then the noise came back all at once.
In the viewing chamber Luke let out a low breath. "He's exactly what we need for the war."
"No he isn't." Ms. Kasami's voice was calm and certain. "He sacrificed his arm to land one punch. In a real fight — against a Ripper, against anything with actual power — if that punch hadn't been enough he'd be dead." She leaned back. "That strategy has its place. But as a habit it leads to one thing." She finally looked away from the arena. "It would all lead to a very high body count."
Luke looked at her. Then back at the arena. He didn't argue.
The final ranks appeared on the large screen at the far end of the hall. Kagekami was staring at it when someone spoke beside him.
"That was a strong punch."
He turned. A young woman was crouching beside him, hands already glowing with a soft steady light as she worked on his injured arm. Her touch was careful and precise.
"I'm Emily, by the way" she said, not looking up from her work.
"I'm Kagekami." He flexed his fingers carefully as the pain began to pull back. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." She looked up and smiled — warm, genuine, slightly tired around the edges. "What rank do you think you'll get?"
He shrugged. "Whatever comes is fine. As long as I get stronger it doesn't matter."
Emily's smile shifted into something quieter. "I like that." She glanced back at her glowing hands. "I'm terrified, honestly. But I don't have a choice. My siblings' education will all depend on this job I've chosen for myself"
"Their parents?"
"Gone," she said simply. "I took them in. It's hard. But I'm hoping I'll be okay on this path."
Kagekami looked at her for a moment. "If we ever end up in the field together," he said, "I'll protect you. I promise."
Her cheeks went pink. She looked back at the screen quickly.
The ranks loaded. Emily — Rank A, for her healing ability. Unique and essential, the kind of power an army is built around.
Kagekami found his name.
Rank B.
He stared at it for a long moment and nodded slowly to himself.
Sora is going to hold this over me for the rest of my life.
He turned to Emily. "I hope I see you out there."
"I look forward to it, Kagekami," she said.
He pushed through the crowd of journalists and interviewers waiting outside the building without breaking stride and turned toward the hospital. The chest wound from Hunter needed to be checked before it got worse.
He was halfway there when his hand drifted unconsciously to his chest.
Was it a dream?
Darkness's voice surfaced in his mind — vast and patient and old in a way that had no comparison.
No. It wasn't.
His jaw tightened.
Darkness. Next time we meet you're going to tell me everything you know about Arcturus.
His fist connected with a nearby utility pole without him fully deciding to do it. The metal bent. He kept walking.
The memory came without permission — his father's face. The field. The sound of it. He walked through the storm with his eyes forward and didn't notice the sleek black car that had slowed down at the stoplight beside him.
Inside, Ms. Kasami was looking out the window.
Her gaze found him the way attention finds something that doesn't quite fit — naturally, without effort. She watched him walk. The bent pole. The way he carried himself.
Something made him look back.
Their eyes met through the glass — just for a moment, brief and still, like two currents passing through each other. Kagekami's gaze held the anger he kept within him.
Then the car pulled away and the moment was gone.
She looked forward and said nothing. But her expression had changed — something behind her eyes quietly rearranging itself, the way it does when you've just seen something you weren't expecting.