"The rules are simple."
Seijuro suddenly heard a voice, sharp and commanding, echoing directly in his ear. It wasn't just any voice—it was unmistakably Ryu Takahashi but it seemed to be an automated audio, radio like.
"A watch displaying your points has been automatically attached to each of your wrists upon entering the Kyokugai," Ryu's voice resonated with a clarity that felt both invasive and inevitable. As if on cue, Seijuro noticed a black watch materializing on his wrist, its sleek design exuding an ominous energy. The glowing display read: Points: 0
Seijuro raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the device. He wasn't sure if he was impressed by its seamless integration or unnerved by the lack of consent.
"You have approximately two hours to gather as many points as possible. The stronger the Nephom you defeat, the more points you will earn," Ryu continued, his tone unwavering.
Then came the kicker.
"Those who fail to reach the minimum threshold of 1,000 points will be eliminated from the Academy's enrollment."
The air grew heavier. Seijuro's brow furrowed, but before he could process the implications, Ryu added one more twist:
"Additionally, sharing and stealing points from other students is permitted. In fact, it's encouraged."
The voice cut off abruptly, like a radio losing signal. Seijuro stood in the foggy ruins of the apocalyptic city, processing the chaos that was about to unfold.
"Stealing, huh? That'll stir the pot nicely," he muttered, a crooked smirk forming on his face. "I'd bet my last yen this test isn't just about survival. They're trying to weed out the weak—and maybe a few of the reckless, too."
Despite his appearance, often mistaken for a delinquent, Seijuro had always been keenly observant. His sharp mind was hidden beneath a facade of casual indifference, a mask that had served him well in both life and combat.
"Either way," he said, cracking his knuckles, "I'm not sticking around to find out who gets picked off first."
He glanced around. The desolate city bore an uncanny resemblance to Shibuya, though it was twisted into something out of a nightmare. Skyscrapers loomed like jagged teeth, their glass facades shattered, reflecting fractured light through the dense fog. Roads were cracked and uneven, with cars abandoned in mid-chaos. Shops were decayed remnants of what they once were, their signs flickering with faint, ghostly light.
"Kekekeke..."
Suddenly, an eerie cackling echoed through the mist.
Seijuro froze. The sound wasn't human. It was sharp, irregular, and laced with malice—a distorted, hyena-like laughter that sent a chill down his spine. The fog thickened around him, clinging to his skin like a living thing.
His muscles tensed. A Nephom, he thought, his senses heightening. Whatever it was, it was fast, and the fog disoriented him further. Visibility dropped to almost nothing, forcing him to rely on his hearing.
The laughter grew louder, erratic. It was moving. Circling.
Seijuro's pulse quickened, but his lips curled into a smile. "Alright," he murmured, shifting into a defensive stance. "Let's see what you've got."
A sudden rush of air. His instincts screamed a warning.
"From above!" he barked internally, sidestepping just as a gleaming set of claws tore through the space he'd occupied a second ago. The air hissed from the force of the swing.
The Nephom landed with a thud, its form partially obscured by the fog. A high-pitched cackle erupted from it, like nails scraping against glass.
Seijuro finally got a good look at his opponent. It was small but grotesque, its hunched frame covered in raw, sinewy flesh that seemed to pulsate unnaturally. Its eyes glowed a bloodthirsty crimson, and its face—if it could even be called that—was locked in a permanent, twisted grin. Yellow, jagged teeth jutted out at odd angles, giving it the appearance of a deranged child's doll brought to life.
"Kekekekeke… I've never had a hooman dodge my first strike before," the creature hissed, its voice broken and fragmented like a corrupted recording.
Seijuro raised an eyebrow. "Great. A Nephom that has intelligence to speak and to use tactics. Is this what the Academy call weak?!" He said to himself frustrated.
The creature's grin widened, its clawed fingers twitching with anticipation. "Impressive, hooman… but not for long."
Without warning, it melted back into the fog, its glowing eyes vanishing like embers extinguished by the night.
Seijuro's smirk widened. "So, that's how you want to play it, huh? Fine by me."
The next attack came faster. From above, again. This time, the Nephom twisted mid-air, aiming a bone-breaking kick straight at Seijuro's ribs.
He crossed his arms just in time, absorbing the blow but sliding back several meters. The force stung, but he remained upright, grinning through the pain.
"Not bad," he admitted, his tone almost amused. "But is that all you got?!"
The Nephom cocked its head, seemingly confused by his lack of fear. Then, like before, it disappeared into the fog.
The pattern repeated. The Nephom would dart in with lightning speed, attacking from unpredictable angles, only to retreat before Seijuro could counter. It was relentless, a ghostly predator exploiting the fog to its full advantage.
"You can't win, hooman," it taunted between attacks. "My swiftness combined with this fog makes me unstoppable! Kekekekeke!"
But Seijuro wasn't tiring. On the contrary, he was adapting. His movements became sharper, his dodges more precise. He was studying the Nephom, cataloging its patterns, its tells.
When the creature launched another attack from the air, Seijuro didn't just dodge—he countered. His fist tore through the fog like a bullet, aimed squarely at the Nephom's exposed torso.
The creature twisted its body unnaturally, narrowly avoiding the strike, but the force of the near-miss sent it skittering back into the mist.
Seijuro straightened, his grin now feral. "What's the matter? Losing your nerve?"
Deep in the fog, the Nephom hesitated. For the first time in its existence, it felt something alien: fear.
"This hooman," it muttered to itself, trembling. "He's different. Strong. Dangerous."
The image of Seijuro's punch flashed in its mind. It had no doubt—if that blow had connected, it would've been obliterated.
Seijuro, still smiling, cracked his knuckles. "Come on, little guy. Don't tell me that was you're gonna run away."
The fog grew deathly still. The Nephom's glowing eyes reappeared, but this time, they were filled with hesitation.
And Seijuro? He stepped forward, his voice low and full of menace.
"Your move."
The Nephom's instincts screamed at it to flee. For the first time in its existence, the creature, engineered to be a relentless predator, felt fear. Its hunched form trembled slightly as it took an instinctive step back.
"Must run away from Hooman..." It squirmed.
But then, it froze mid-motion. Its grotesque face contorted unnaturally, as though something deep within its mind seized control. The flicker of its glowing red eyes stuttered, glitching like a malfunctioning machine.
The Nephom was not alive in the truest sense; it was a construct, an artificial amalgamation of flesh and instinct, designed with one purpose: to hunt and kill anyone who enters the Kyukogai. When that purpose faltered, its mind—if it could even be called that—reset, erasing hesitation or fear. The process was cruel, stripping the creature of its fleeting sentience and replacing it with cold, mechanical determination.
Its reset complete, the Nephom's expression morphed from terror into something sinister. Its lips peeled back into a grotesque grin, revealing rows of jagged, yellowed teeth. Without warning, it lunged forward, bounding like a twisted hybrid of predator and prey. Its speed was astounding, almost unnatural, leaving blurred afterimages as it vanished and reappeared within the suffocating fog.
Seijuro stood his ground, his expression neutral yet calm, though his muscles tensed beneath his jacket. His sharp eyes tracked the faint disturbances in the mist, his mind calculating. "Faster this time," he thought, his lips curling into a faint smirk.
"So you're not running away after all," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. His voice carried an edge of frustration, but the smirk betrayed something else—excitement.
The Nephom moved with feral intensity, zigzagging through the thick fog in chaotic patterns. Its claws scraped against the pavement as it darted closer. The sound echoed eerily, a chilling reminder of its deadly intent. Seijuro narrowed his eyes and exhaled deeply, letting the world around him fade. The dense fog, the chilling cackle of the creature, even the faint chill of sweat running down his neck—all melted away as he focused solely on his hearing.
Every leap, every brush of the Nephom's claws against the ground, every subtle distortion in the air—it all painted a vivid map in Seijuro's mind. His ears twitched slightly, catching the faintest shift in the fog behind him.
"There you are."
The words barely left his lips before the Nephom lunged from behind, its claws aimed at his spine with surgical precision. It let out a high-pitched screech, a guttural, inhuman cry filled with bloodlust. But Seijuro was already moving.
With a precise sidestep, he narrowly avoided the lethal swipe, the claws missing him by mere centimeters. The Nephom's momentum carried it forward, leaving its guard wide open. Seijuro wasted no time.
"Gotcha!"
His voice rang with quiet confidence as he twisted his torso, planting his feet firmly into the cracked pavement. His body moved like a coiled spring, generating explosive momentum as he unleashed a devastating uppercut. His fist tore through the fog like a cannonball, connecting with the Nephom's jaw with bone-shattering force.
The impact echoed like a gunshot, the sheer power creating a shockwave that temporarily cleared the suffocating mist around them. The Nephom's grotesque body was flung into the air, limbs flailing helplessly before it slammed into the ground with a sickening thud. Its red eyes flickered briefly before dimming completely.
For a moment, the world was still. Then, the Nephom's body began to dissolve, disintegrating into a fine black dust that scattered into the air. The oppressive fog began to creep back in, swallowing the remnants of the battle as if nothing had occurred.
Seijuro glanced at his wrist as the watch emitted a soft "ding". The number on the screen shifted, climbing from 0 to 50. He frowned.
"Fifty points? Seriously?" His voice dripped with irritation, his fists clenching at his sides. "I wasted all that time on that mangy, annoying thing for fifty measly points?"
The veins on his forehead pulsed as he took a deep breath, trying to rein in his frustration. Placing his hands into his jacket pockets, he shook his head. "I swear, if every Nephom's this stingy with points, I'm gonna lose my damn mind."
He exhaled, his breath misting in the cold air as he began walking forward. The fog coiled around him, swallowing his figure as he disappeared into its depths.
"Just 950 more points to go. Yay…" he muttered sarcastically, his voice trailing off as he vanished, leaving only silence and the faint trace of dissipating dust behind.
The fog thickened, an eerie reminder that more dangers lurked ahead, unseen but ever-present. And yet, Seijuro's steps remained steady.