POV: Le Fay Pendragon
Le Fay sat by the window seat, arms crossed, headphones tucked around her neck but not playing anything. The drone of the plane's engine filled the silence. She glanced across the aisle at her brother Arthur, who sat relaxed but focused, listening to the man seated beside him: Cao Cao.
He was eloquent—too eloquent. Ever since her brother Arthur met him, Le Fay had been uneasy. It was supposed to be a simple mission. A rogue magister haunting an old estate in the French countryside. But when they arrived, there he was—sitting on a moss-covered boulder beneath the shade of a crumbling oak, as if he had always been waiting. He introduced himself with a smile and spoke with the kind of calm that made men listen before they knew they were listening. Within hours, Arthur had invited him to dinner.
And now they were on a flight to Japan, surrounded by his companions. Strangers, yet wearing the names of heroes.
George. Jeanne. Heracles. Leonardo. Marsillio. They had introduced themselves politely earlier. They'd even explained the names.
"We chose them," Jeanne had said with a soft smile, "because some of us are either descendants of these heroes, some spirit inheritors of these heroes from myth and some soul inheritors."
Arthur had nodded at that, finding the symbolism noble. Le Fay had remained silent.
Now, the conversation returned to why they were here.
Cao Cao spoke again, gaze calm but sharp. "A school bus in Japan had gone missing. Vanished without a trace outside Kyoto. Not a single body recovered. The local authorities are useless. The supernatural is involved—I'm sure of it."
Arthur had leaned forward, concerned. "What kind of supernatural?"
"Vampires, possibly," Cao Cao answered. "But it could be devils, or yokais or something else. That's why I'm gathering people with potential. People with the power and the will to fight monsters. People who see others suffer and instead of closing their eyes instead wish to do something about it. People like you. Heros"
Le Fay looked at him. "But why? What's your plan?"
Cao Cao straightened. His tone shifted—still elegant, but heavier now. Sharper.
"Because humanity has no one left. No guardian, no shield, no god who truly fights for us. We are ruled from the shadows by devils and monsters who see us not as people, but as tools, resources to be bent, broken, and discarded. Vampires keep humans like cattle, draining their blood night after night, robbing them of dignity, identity, and life. They treat suffering as their right. Devils are worse. They offer pacts laced in poison, bind men and women to eternal servitude, twist innocent into new devils without consent. They take those born with Sacred Gears—gifts meant to uplift—and chain them into servants for their petty feuds. And the yokai? They smile and whisper lies in alleyways, dragging innocents into the dark to devour them. We have become prey in our own world. And still, the world remains silent."
Arthur frowned. "But surely not all of them are like that?"
Cao Cao gave him a look. Not angry, just measured. "Enough are. Enough to justify action. We humans have no gods that fight for us. No armies of angels. No eldritch powers of our own. The supernatural feeds on us. Lies to us. Uses us."
He looked around at them all.
"That ends with us. With this generation. With people willing to take a stand."
Le Fay crossed her arms tighter. "You speak of darkness, but what of the light? Not all supernatural beings are monsters. What about angels? Gods? There are those who protect and heal humanity."
Cao Cao gave a quiet scoff. "The gods? You speak of them as if they are saviors. As if their divinity makes them just. Look at the Greek pantheon: so often praised, so often worshipped. What were they, truly? Petulant tyrants draped in immortality. They razed cities because they were insulted, condemned families for disobedience, turned mortals into beasts or stone for daring to speak freely. They took mortals as lovers, yes, but not out of love but out of possession. Out of hunger. They were predators who demanded praise, who demanded sacrifice, and gave nothing but ruin in return. And it is not just the Greeks. Across myth and history, the gods have done what they please without consequence. Is that who you would entrust with our protection? Creatures that destroy as easily as they breathe?"
He paused, letting silence stretch.
"And the angels? Those beings of light you speak of so fondly? They sit in their perfect heaven, cloaked in silence and prayer, unmoved while humanity screams below. Where are they when vampires drain children dry in cold cellars? Where are they when devils bind men's souls to eternal contracts? Where are they when demons walk the earth in noble garb and prey on the innocent with laughter on their tongues? They do nothing. Because their heaven is not our earth. Because our pain is not their concern."
Arthur looked down at that. Le Fay saw him nod slowly. She bit her lip.
"Then what's your solution?" she asked. "How do you plan to protect humanity?"
Cao Cao's eyes met hers. "Simple. Eliminate all those who threaten us. All who prey on mankind."
Le Fay stared. "That's vague. Who decides what counts as a threat? What about beings with power but no ill intent?"
"Intent is fleeting," Cao Cao said calmly. "Power is constant. If someone holds the power to enslave or kill millions, they are a threat, intentional or not."
"That's dangerous thinking," Le Fay said. "That's how massacres happen."
"And inaction leads to the same ruin," Cao Cao replied, his voice sharpening. "Every century, every decade, we say the same words—'Wait, hope, endure.' But how many humans have died because others stood by, too afraid to act? How many children have vanished in the dark, how many cities have become feeding grounds, how many sacred lives have been stolen, all while the world turned its face away?"
Her voice rose slightly. "But we're not talking about people, we're talking about entire races. You're talking about genocide."
He didn't flinch. "Genocide? No. I call it what it is—defense. The final, necessary stand of a race long betrayed. Humanity cannot be free while it remains bound in chains, chains not of iron, but of fear. Chains forged by devils who control our fates. By yokai who deceive and devour us. By gods who manipulate from above, and angels who let us die while whispering their hymns. The supernatural is Cain, reborn in a thousand forms. And we, the human race, are Abel, doomed to die over and over if we do not rise. But this time, Abel must lift the stone. This time, he must strike first or perish again, forgotten and broken. If we do not fight, we will remain slaves. If we do not resist, we will remain prey."
Le Fay looked away, tense. "Humans hurt each other all the time. We lie, kill, destroy. Are we not also monsters? Are we not a threat to ourselves then?"
"We are flawed," Cao Cao admitted, and for a moment his voice softened. "We lie. We steal. We kill. But we are human. And when we harm one another, it is a tragedy of our own making. It is a pain within our family. Suffering from within the species. We can understand it, judge it, and heal from it. But when the supernatural kills us, it is not family—it is domination. It is the powerful imposing their will upon the powerless. It is a lion devouring sheep. No remorse. No justice. Just cold control. That is not a tragedy. That is enslavement. We can change ourselves. But we cannot change those who see us only as tools and food and pawns. The difference lies not in the act, but in the intent, the perspective. The moment a being sees a human as less than equal, the tragedy becomes tyranny."
"That's not justice," she said. "That's fear, dressed in reason."
She sat up straighter, eyes on Cao Cao. "There are miracles too, even now. Moments of grace that defy cruelty. There are devils who have healed, yokai who've protected children, and even angels who walk among us quietly, doing what they can. Not all supernatural beings are monsters. Some of them love humans. Some are humans—twisted by fate, by magic, by blood, but still trying. That has to count for something."
Her gaze moved to her brother, briefly.
"You speak of monsters as if they are born and finished, that nothing can change. But people, creatures, change. They surprise you. They grow."
She drew a breath.
"Do you remember the parable of the Good Samaritan? A man beaten, left for dead on the road. A priest passed by. A Levite passed by. Men of the cloth, righteous men, who looked the other way. But it was a Samaritan, a foreigner, a man reviled by society, who stopped. Who cleaned his wounds. Who saved him."
She looked around the cabin. "We talk of blood and race and power as if they define morality. But kindness isn't bound to species. Mercy isn't exclusive to one race. The divine isn't found in wings or fire. It's found in choice. The choice to help. The choice to forgive. The choice to change."
Le Fay's voice began to rise, not in anger, but conviction.
"If we kill every creature with power simply because they might harm us, then what are we? Judges? Executioners? We become no better than the ones we fear. A world ruled by suspicion, by preemptive hatred—that's not salvation. That's just another kind of cage."
She looked straight at Cao Cao now.
"You speak of defense, of standing tall. I understand that. But strength is not only found in the sword. It's found in the hand that chooses not to strike. In the heart that listens. In the soul that believes redemption is possible. If we forget that, if we forget compassion, we've already lost."
She exhaled slowly.
"I don't deny that darkness exists. But neither will I deny the light. Not in others. Not in us."
Cao Cao gave a small smile. "You're kind, Le Fay. But kindness alone won't save humanity. The only way to end our suffering is to remove those who cause it."
She turned to Arthur. "Brother, I would advise you against partaking in this folly. It can only end in sorrow. A mission born of hate cannot bring good. Those with power should seek better ways, not slaughter."
Arthur didn't respond.
Cao Cao laughed softly and stood. His voice filled the cabin.
"So! Will this valiant company abandon the innocent to their chains? Let devils rule and yokai feed while angels sit and watch? I say no."
He looked at each of them, his eyes intense.
"If sorrow awaits us, we have known it already. This world is not fair. We bowed our heads, and still the innocent bled. So now—we raise them. Through grief, we'll find joy. Or freedom, at least."
He turned back to Le Fay.
"If I cannot tear down the architects of our pain, then I will at least hurt them so badly that even the heroes of old will hear of it and wonder. And perhaps, in the end… they'll follow me."
He sat down. The cabin went quiet.
Le Fay exhaled slowly. The hum of the engine was louder than before.
She turned to the window.
Somewhere far below, the sun was rising.
POV: Tobio Ikuse
It had been a month since the bus vanished. A month since his classmates disappeared without a trace. A month since anyone last heard Sae's voice. The world had moved on. He hadn't.
Most days, Tobio Ikuse sat on the park bench after school and stared at the ground. He didn't cry anymore. That had stopped two weeks ago. There was just numbness now. The kind of dull emptiness that made the hours feel like sludge. People passed him by, not seeing him. He preferred it that way.
But recently, something odd had started to happen.
He'd made a new friend.
It was two weeks ago. He was sitting at a bench near Shinjuku Gyoen, half-numb, when a stranger approached. Foreign. Tall. Golden hair, red eyes. Striking beyond reason—not just attractive, but impossible. Beautiful like he wasn't real.
"Is this seat taken?" he'd asked in perfect, unaccented Japanese.
Tobio shook his head. The man sat down.
"You look like someone carrying too much silence," the stranger said, tone soft, words thoughtful. "Sometimes it helps to share a little of it."
It wasn't the kind of thing someone just said. And yet it didn't feel forced.
Tobio didn't talk much at first. But this man, Riser, he would later learn, was different. Riser had a way with words. He seemed genuinely curious about everything. He asked Tobio questions that weren't just polite, but thoughtful. Real.There was something disarming in his calm, something magnetic in his presence. He didn't pry, didn't pity. He simply listened, then offered comments that were both insightful and oddly comforting. The man introduced himself as Riser. A foreigner, apparently, though his Japanese was flawless.
Over the next few days, they kept meeting. Sometimes by chance, sometimes planned. And slowly, Tobio began to talk. About his life. His pain. His confusion. The bus. The school. His friends. His own guilt for not being on the trip. How he kept wondering what would've happened if he had been.
Tobio didn't know what compelled him to talk to the man, but somehow, conversation came easier than it had in weeks. Riser never judged. Just sat with him, asked the right questions, and let him speak.
They talked about everything. Music. Football. Books. History. Riser had an opinion on everything, always well-informed and strangely elegant in how he phrased things. It wasn't arrogant. Just... precise.
One afternoon, after an hour of talking about literature of all things. Tobio said, "Your Japanese is incredible. I wouldn't have guessed you weren't native."
Riser tilted his head. "Thank you. But I do not consider myself fluent. You see, I can neither read nor write Japanese."
Tobio blinked. "Seriously? How can you speak it this well and not read or write? Where did you learn it from?"
" From a Japanese man," Riser said with a small smile. It wasn't evasive exactly, but something about it felt deliberately vague
"Still, that's insane," Tobio muttered. "Reading and writing are like... half the language."
"Then perhaps you could help me complete the other half," Riser said, eyes gleaming. "Would you be willing to teach me?"
Tobio hesitated, then nodded. "Sure. Why not."
"Excellent."
And so, he did. For the next two days, they spent their time with notebooks and textbooks. Riser absorbed everything. Not just quickly, but perfectly. By the end of the second day, he was writing full sentences in perfect kanji and correcting Tobio's stroke order.
"You're not normal," Tobio muttered once, only half-joking.
Riser just smiled. "Perhaps. But neither are you."
Their bond grew. Tobio found himself looking forward to their talks. He started sleeping better. Eating again. Laughing, even.
But part of him couldn't ignore how... off Riser seemed. Too perfect. No one should be that perfect. He seemed to know everything. Philosophy, science, music, literature, sports, even fashion. He could quote obscure authors, play classical piano, and had once broken into fluent French mid-conversation before apologizing and switching back. Once Tobio heard him speak in German and Italian on the same day. And he moved like someone who'd trained for centuries.
He wasn't just beautiful. He was unreal.
And yet, with all that, he never made Tobio feel small.
Riser had a way of making him feel seen. Not pitied, not managed. Just... seen.
Still, Tobio sometimes caught himself watching Riser like he might disappear. No one should be that beautiful, that smart, that patient. It didn't feel real. But then, neither did his grief. Maybe they matched.
Because for the first time since the bus vanished, he didn't feel alone
Maybe that's why Tobio kept meeting him. Because Riser made the world feel sharp again. Not brighter, necessarily. But clearer.
And that was enough.
Pov: Tobio ikuse
Two months had passed since Tobio Ikuse's classmates vanished. The pain hadn't dulled, no– it lingered, like a fog in his chest that refused to lift but it has become bearable since he has started talking about it with his new friend. That night, after parting ways with Riser, Tobio walked home under dim streetlights, lost in thought. The sky was a deep blue, the kind that felt heavy.
Then he saw him.
Kouta Sasaki. A former schoolmate.
Alive. Standing across the street like nothing had happened.
"Kouta?!" Tobio called out.
But Kouta didn't react. No smile. No confusion. Just turned and walked away.
Tobio sprinted after him, heart pounding, confused and hopeful and afraid. He followed Kouta through narrow alleys, and finally caught up to him in an abandoned park.
What he saw froze him in place.
Kouta stood beside a lizard-like creature hunched over a dead dog. It looked up, bloodied, jaws twitching. Tobio backed up. Kouta raised a hand, flat, mechanical, and the beast lunged.
Tobio ran.
He stumbled, clawed at the dirt, kicked wildly, but it was useless. The lizard-like creature was faster, stronger. He was going to die.
Then a flash of light cut through the night and something slammed into him from the side.
They rolled, and when Tobio looked up, someone was standing between him and the monster. Slim frame, short brown hair tied back, wearing a school jacket.
He blinked. "Natsume…?"
She didn't answer right away. She stepped forward, movements sharp and precise, hands glowing with light as she raised them toward the beast. The monster snarled, but didn't approach.
Tobio stared in disbelief. "You're alive?"
She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Yeah. And you're lucky I am."
Later, in a quiet corner booth of a run-down family restaurant, Tobio sat across from her in stunned silence. The menu between them sat untouched. The fluorescent lighting buzzed overhead. She was nursing a soda like nothing had happened. Like this was normal.
"I thought you were gone," Tobio said finally. His voice was hoarse. "Everyone said you transferred. That you missed the trip."
"I did. On purpose."
He blinked. "What?"
"I knew something was off. That whole trip reeked of a setup. I tried to convince the others not to go, but no one listened. So I stayed behind."
"And you've been… what? Hiding?"
"Investigating," she corrected. "Trying to figure out what happened to our classmates. Took me a few weeks, but I got a name: the Utsusemi. They're the ones who took everyone."
Tobio's head was spinning. "But Sasaki—she was with that thing—"
"They all are," she said. "The Utsusemi bonded them with creatures. Parasites. Living weapons. I don't know if the others even know who they are anymore. Their memories, their minds… they're not whole."
She pulled something out of her bag and placed it on the table. It looked like an orb, dark blue and veined, faintly glowing. It pulsed like a heartbeat.
"This one's for you."
"What is it?"
"Think of it like an egg," she said. "There's something inside. Something that's meant to bond with you. Like the creatures they forced on the others. Only this one hasn't hatched yet. You need it if you want to survive what's coming."
Tobio stared at it, then back at her. "Wait. What the hell do you mean 'bond'? What's inside this thing? Why would I die without it?"
Natsume leaned forward, lowering her voice.
"Because they're going to come after you now. You've seen Sasaki. That means you're marked. And without a partner, you're just prey. That egg, whatever's inside, is the only thing that can level the playing field."
Tobio looked down at the orb. It didn't look dangerous. It didn't look like salvation either.
"This is insane," he muttered.
"I know. But it's real. You'll see soon enough."
There was a long silence.
Tobio finally asked, "Why are you helping me?"
She looked up at him. "Because I couldn't save the others. But maybe I can help you."
Tobio didn't have a reply. He just sat there, staring down at the thing that might be his last hope.
As they stood to leave, Natsume paused and leaned in close. "I'll come by your place later tonight. Make sure you stay alive until then."
Tobio barely remembered walking home. The world felt fragile now, like it could shatter at any second.
Once inside, he placed the orb—egg—whatever it was, in the bathroom sink. It didn't do anything. Just pulsed gently, rhythmically.
He stared at it a long time.
Then, drained, he collapsed onto his bed and slipped into a restless sleep.
At midnight, he awoke to a strange feeling.
Someone was watching him.
Tobio crept to the window. A boy was clinging to the wall of the building across from him. A massive spider loomed beside him, attached to the wall by thick strands of webbing.
His heart dropped. The boy moved. Fast.
A second attacker appeared from below, this one, a girl, accompanied by a frog the size of a car.
Tobio ran. He darted through the apartment, spider silk lashing behind him. The frog crashed through furniture.
Panicked, Tobio threw himself into the bathroom. The egg.
It was cracked.
He stared, trembling. The monsters were outside. He tried to hold the door shut. Then it burst open.
Cornered, back against the tub, he remembered something, his grandmother's hand on his forehead, the seal she placed years ago. She'd said it would protect him one day.
And then the blade appeared.
From his shadow, a long, black blade erupted, piercing the frog through the face.
The spider reared back.
Out of the shadows stepped a small black puppy, eyes glowing faintly, a blade jutting from its head. The frog lashed out with its tongue. The dog jumped, clean, fast and diced the frog apart in midair.
The spider tried to run. The dog grew blades along its spine and gave chase.
Tobio followed, stunned.
In the living room, another beast had appeared, with its human master. The dog charged again, but was intercepted and knocked outside. Tobio, desperate, hurled a pot at the man. He collapsed.
Outside, Tobio watched the monster drag the dog skyward.
Then it changed. The puppy twisted into a long, elegant blade and impaled the monster through the chest. Both fell, crashing onto a rooftop.
Tobio gasped.
He remembered. His grandmother had warned him about the dog. Told him it was dangerous but loyal. That it would come when he needed it most.
Natsume appeared beside him.
"You did great," she said. "That power of yours... It's amazing."
Tobio didn't answer at first. He just stood there, staring out into the night, the adrenaline still fading from his system. He finally muttered, "I think… I'm safe now."
She looked at him with concern, but said nothing more. For now, the monsters were gone. The danger had passed, at least for tonight.
Unbeknownst to either of them, someone else had been watching the events unfold from a nearby rooftop.
A tall man stood with his hands in his coat pockets, golden hair catching the moonlight, crimson eyes glowing faintly with interest. He tilted his head, a slight smile curling at his lips.
"Well now," Riser Phenex murmured, amused. "This is getting interesting."
POV: Tobio Ikuse
The small black puppy, Jin, Natsume called it, curled up in her lap as they sat in the living room. She absentmindedly scratched behind its ears while Tobio stared at the deep gouges left in the hallway wall. The chaos from earlier still echoed in his mind: the monsters, the shadows, the blades that had erupted from nowhere.
"You okay?" she asked.
Tobio nodded slowly. "I… think so."
"Good," she said, still focused on Jin. "Because we need to move. The Utsusemi might come again, and next time they won't send amateurs."
He blinked. "Wait what?….now?"
Natsume looked up, serious. "Yeah. Pack what you need. Just the basics. We can't stay here."
Tobio stood, hesitating. "Did no one hear the fight? The neighbors, or someone? That noise had to draw attention."
"They cover their tracks," she said. "Whatever tech or magic they use, it's efficient. People forget, cameras stop working, signals jam. No one will remember anything."
He opened his mouth to protest, but her tone left no room for argument. So he packed.
They were halfway down the street when it happened.
The sound of something slithering scraped across the pavement. Tobio turned, eyes widening. A creature like a snake, only much larger, coiled and misshapen, blocked the road. Its scales shimmered with unnatural light. Behind it stood a boy. No older than Tobio, wearing a blank expression.
Natsume tensed. "Another one."
They looked at each other, ready to run or fight. But before either could act, the snake burst into flames. Its body twisted once, then crumbled into black ash.
"What the hell—?" Tobio muttered.
A voice spoke behind them.
"Too slow."
They turned. A girl with long blond hair stepped from the shadows, cloaked and wearing a pointed hat that made her look like a storybook witch. Her eyes sparkled, and she gave Natsume a brief smile.
"You're late," she said.
Tobio stared. "Who…?"
Natsume handed her one of Tobio's bags. "Lavinia. She's with us."
"Let's go," Lavinia said. "More could be coming."
The apartment they arrived at was tucked between trees, nearly invisible from the road. It looked abandoned from the outside, but inside was clean and lived-in. Lavinia dropped Tobio's bag by the door and stretched.
Natsume motioned toward the couch. "Sit."
Still in shock, Tobio sat.
Natsume inserted a disc into the DVD player. The screen flickered to life.
"Watch this. It explains what's happening."
The footage was grainy, clearly from hidden cameras. But Tobio saw faces he recognized instantly. Friends. Classmates. People who had vanished. Sae.
He leaned forward. "They're alive…"
Then the video shifted. Each of them appeared again, but now bonded with monsters. Their expressions are blank. Controlled.
His stomach turned.
"No…"
"They're called Utsusemi," Natsume said. "And they've been turning kids from our school into weapons. Bonding them with monsters. Sacred Gears."
Tobio turned to her, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why us?"
"Because we have potential," she said. "You and I, we're Sacred gear users too."
Tobio shook his head. "Sacred Gears? What even is this?"
"God's gift to humanity to protect themselves against the supernatural. And yes, the supernatural exists," Lavinia said from the corner. "Gods. Devils. Angels. Yokai. Dragons. All real. All hidden."
Tobio stared at her, mind spinning. "That's insane."
"I thought so too," Natsume said. "But once you've seen it, you can't go back."
He tried to process it, tried to find some rational part of it he could latch onto, but the world had clearly changed and he couldn't deny what he'd seen.
"How do you know all this?" he asked her.
"I got this info from someone," Natsume said. "A contact. He's someone important, Governor General of a certain group. I haven't met him directly yet, but he told me to give out the last egg. Yours. It can help awaken your sacred gear."
"So this thing," Tobio said, pointing to the egg now resting on the table, "it draws out Sacred Gears?"
"Yeah. It unlocks what's already inside you."
He looked back to the screen, where Sae stood with a twisted creature behind her.
"They're still alive?" he asked.
Natsume gave him a soft smile. "They are. And we can still save them."
He let out a breath, something solid forming beneath the fear. Determination.
"Then let's do it," he said. "I'll help."
Natsume grinned. "Good. We'll figure this out."
Later that night, after she and Lavinia had gone to sleep, Tobio stood outside the apartment. The moon was bright. The air still.
His mind wasn't on monsters or missions. It was on someone else. His new friend.
Riser.
Tobio had meant to tell him about the weirdness, to share what had happened. But now… He remembered that something about Riser felt off. Too perfect. Too beautiful. Too talented. Something not human. And now that he knows the supernatural is real, he wants to be sure.
Tobio left without telling the others.
He found Riser in the usual place, a small park bench in town, lit by street lamps. The man was seated, reading what looked like a haiku anthology.
Riser looked up and smiled. "Tobio."
Tobio sat down, tense. "I need to ask you something."
Riser tilted his head. "Of course."
Tobio looked him dead in the eye. "Who are you, really?"
Riser didn't react. He closed the book and folded his hands.
"I see," he said. "So… you've found out about the supernatural."
Tobio's breath caught. "You knew? Wha–who are you?"
Riser's smile widened, almost amused.
"I am a man of wealth and taste." he said smiling.
He paused, watching Tobio's reaction with interest.
"I hope you've guessed my name," he added.
Tobio said nothing. The words, the tone, it sent a chill down his spine.
Riser leaned back on the bench, calm as ever.
"Relax, I mean you no harm," he said. "I'm still your friend."
But Tobio wasn't so sure anymore.
AN: Another chapter has landed. Nothing too earth-shattering happens here. It's just the beginning of a new arc, which means setup, setup, and even more mysterious setup. But don't worry, I have plans. Stay tuned.