Shibuya, Meiji Jingu Shrine
"What's this?"
The voice slithered through the air, raspy and venomous, as if it carried the weight of countless curses. It echoed from the shattered depths of the shrine, each word dripping with malice. The shrine, once a place of sacred reverence, now stood in ruins.
Ancient wooden walls, once adorned with prayers and blessings, bore deep gashes, claw marks carved with inhuman precision. Thick cobwebs sprawled like suffocating veils across corners, while insects scuttled over broken tiles, their movements a macabre dance in the suffocating stillness.
A low, guttural chuckle reverberated, shaking the very air. It wasn't just a sound; it was a presence, cold and overwhelming, pressing into every crevice of the ruined shrine.
The darkness blanketed the area, thick and oppressive, pierced only by the pale, haunting light of the moon. The beam spilled through a jagged hole in the shrine's roof, illuminating the scene like the eye of an indifferent god peering into the devastation below.
The air was thick with the scent of decay, a mix of damp earth and something sharper, metallic, like blood long dried.
"That bastard... Ryu Takahashi." The voice dragged the words out, slow and deliberate, as though tasting each syllable. "He's sent more entertainment into the Kyukogai, hasn't he?"
From the murky shadows at the shrine's heart, a figure stirred. It lounged on a jagged throne of bone and debris, its posture casual yet exuding authority. One leg crossed lazily over the other, an elbow resting on the throne's arm as a clawed hand cradled its head. The figure rose, its movements fluid yet unsettling, like a predator waking from a long slumber.
The entity stepped forward into the moonlight, revealing its grotesque form. At first glance, it seemed almost human—almost. Its skin shimmered with a sickly, pale-pink hue, mottled and grimy, as though it had been soaked in blood and left to rot. Its physique was monstrous, muscular yet lean, every sinew and vein sharply defined, unnatural in its perfection. Broad shoulders framed a torso that rippled with power, a cruel parody of human strength.
Twin horns, jagged and sharp like ancient weapons, jutted from its forehead, spiraling slightly backward. Smaller, spike-like protrusions lined its shoulders, resembling venomous fangs poised to strike. Its face was a grotesque blend of humanity and monstrosity, with deep black sclera framing crimson pupils that pulsed with a hellish light. The eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness, seeking, calculating, and hungering.
Its mouth twisted into a grin, revealing disturbingly human teeth save for the elongated, razor-sharp canines that glinted under the moonlight. When it smiled, the sound of grinding enamel echoed faintly, reminiscent of nails scraping against a chalkboard.
001. That was its name. Or rather, the name etched into its existence—a name devoid of humanity, like a brand on a weapon. The entity was no mere Nephom but the pinnacle of their kind, a living nightmare forged in the depths of human ambition and folly. Created by the Three Divine Academies, it was their greatest and most horrifying success. The undisputed Alpha of the Artificial Kyukogai, 001 ruled as both tormentor and executioner, its dominance unchallenged among the wretched abominations that infested this apocalyptic Tokyo.
The Nephom's grin widened, stretching its face into something grotesque. Its teeth ground together, producing a shrill, metallic screech that filled the shrine. It raised its arms to the moonlight, its skin catching the light in a way that seemed to mock life, glimmering unnaturally as if infused with some malevolent energy.
"Shall I go and make new playthings?" it mused, its voice dripping with a sinister glee.
As it spoke, the air grew heavier, oppressive with an unseen force that seemed to seep into the bones of the shrine. The ground beneath its feet trembled subtly, as if even the earth itself recoiled from its presence. The entity's movements were deliberate, each step resonating with power and dominance.
The Nephom tilted its head, almost playfully, as it gazed into the moonlight, the glint in its eyes sharpening. The promise of violence lingered in the air, thick and suffocating.
"Yes," it whispered, the word lingering like a curse. "Let's see how long they'll last before they break."
And with that, 001 turned toward the forest beyond, its grin never faltering.
...
"That should make it 800 points." Seijuro Matsuda muttered to himself, his voice carrying a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion as he wiped the sweat off his brow. The grey Nephom he'd just punched into oblivion dissolved into a swirling cloud of ash before vanishing entirely.
A soft ding from his watch confirmed his tally. The glowing display read 800, just as he expected. He allowed himself a small smirk, though the effort it took to earn those points weighed heavily on him.
"Thirteen Nephoms down," he muttered, stretching his arms as he surveyed the eerily quiet street around him. "And every single one has been more annoying than the last. At least I'm almost done with this ridiculous test."
Dusting off the fine grey residue left behind by the defeated Nephom, Sei exhaled deeply. The barren streets of Shibuya were unnervingly quiet, the silence broken only by the faint hum of his watch and the occasional rustle of debris carried by the wind.
"I'd say there's about thirty minutes left in this test," he thought aloud, though his voice carried an edge of frustration. "Not that I'd know for sure. For some reason, this stupid watch doesn't tell the actual time!" He scoffed, tapping the screen in mock irritation.
Still, he knew the real challenge wasn't fighting the Nephoms—it was finding them. The sprawling streets of Shibuya, once alive with vibrant energy, were now a labyrinth of abandoned shops and crumbling buildings, their emptiness amplifying his irritation.
"It's like this entire test was designed to piss me off," he grumbled, kicking a stray can that clattered noisily across the pavement.
His thoughts drifted as he continued his search. He hadn't seen another human since encountering the siblings earlier, and the absence of interaction gnawed at him. That could only mean one of two things: either the other participants were scattered in different areas of Tokyo, or the majority of them had already been eliminated.
"Neither would surprise me," he mused.
This was the world they lived in now—a world shaped by centuries of evolution, where Martial Artists were the frontline defense against an ever-adapting enemy. The Nephoms, grotesque and ever-changing, were relentless. In this era, strength wasn't just a necessity; it was survival. Children as young as ten began their martial training, and anything less than excellence was a death sentence.
Weakness was a luxury the world could no longer afford. The Reitō practitioners—those who sought to master the ancient art of combat honed to counter the Nephoms—understood this truth better than anyone. This test was a microcosm of that brutal reality, separating those ready to face the harshness of life from those destined to be trampled underfoot.
But for Seijuro Matsuda, failure was not an option.
His reasons for fighting were his own, a quiet fire that burned fiercely within him. Winning wasn't just a goal; it was an absolute necessity.
As he wandered deeper into the desolate streets, his mind drifted to thoughts of strategy and his next moves. That's when it hit him—a wave of primal fear so intense it sent his instincts into overdrive.
Without thinking, Sei leapt back, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and his heart hammered against his ribcage.
"Kekeke... Your instincts saved you this time, human," a voice rasped, low and guttural, dripping with malice.
Seijuro's eyes darted upward, narrowing as they locked onto the figure emerging from the shadows. Standing before him was a towering Nephom, easily two heads taller than he was. But this one was different.
It looked human.
Almost.
Its skin was an unnatural, mottled grey, stretched taut over a muscular frame that radiated raw power. Two twisted horns protruded from its forehead, jagged and sharp like cruelly forged weapons. Similar spikes jutted from its shoulders, glinting under the faint light like obsidian blades. Its elongated nails were akin to knives, each one capable of slicing through flesh and bone with ease.
The Nephom's grin was grotesque, its sharp teeth gleaming as it relished Seijuro's reaction. Its eyes glowed a sinister red, pulsating faintly as though the creature's malice was alive.
Seijuro's body tensed, his fists clenching instinctively.
"This one... It's not like the others," he thought, his sharp gaze analyzing the creature before him. His breath hitched as his eyes caught sight of something unmistakable, a detail that sent a chill racing down his spine.
"This Nephom..." He gritted his teeth, his voice low but laced with disbelief. "It has a Reitō."
The creature chuckled, the sound deep and guttural, vibrating through the empty streets like a death knell.
"Ah, so you've noticed," it sneered, taking a deliberate step forward. Its movements were slow, almost mocking, as though it knew the fear it instilled in its prey. "You're not like the others I've crushed. You have a talent for sensory, I see."
"Perhaps you might prove to be more.... entertaining."
Seijuro's mind raced. A Nephom with a Reitō? That was unheard of. The Reitō was a sacred art, the pinnacle of human martial prowess, a testament to discipline and training given by god. For a Nephom to possess it was an affront to everything he knew.
"Just what in the world has the Academy created." Sei thought. "Giving a Nephom acess to Shinkoku no Dō is basically tripping away why we humans had a chance against the Nephoms in the first place."
"The entire Academies history can get terminated if the world found out about this."
He steadied his breathing, forcing his fear to the back of his mind. "It's speech is also flawless," Sei said, his voice steady but sharp. "This Nephom is gonna be a big problem."
The Nephom's grin widened, its crimson eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Oh, human," it purred, its voice like the scrape of metal on stone. "I do hope you can keep up."
"So far I've only fought two humans, they seemed to be siblings but they were quite boring."
"They broke so quickly, although that annoying girl tried to put up quite the fight. But it was futile."
Sei's mind instantly flashed a memory of the siblings he had taken points from earlier, his eyes opening in surprise. "Could it be them?!" He thought.
"So please do try not to die too quick."
Seijuro shifted into his stance, his body coiled like a spring ready to unleash. The ruined streets of Shibuya seemed to hold their breath, the oppressive silence broken only by the faint hum of energy crackling between the two.