The heart of Ikebukuro, Sunshine 60 Avenue, was currently hosting a grand parade of "friends."
Colorful, twisted beast shadows surged, leaped, and roared between shattered shop windows and the burning wrecks of cars. Feathers, scales, carapaces, and exoskeletons reflected chaotic light under the dazzling midday sun.
The air was filled with the melody of "Welcome to Japari Park," primal drumbeats, excited screams, and an overwhelmingly thick scent of blood.
This was a doomsday carnival, a revelry belonging to the Kemono friends.
However, this "harmony" was violently torn apart by a bright yellow Little Hornet scooter, careening wildly.
"The accelerator! Keep the accelerator pinned, meow—!"
The girl's scream was drowned out by the roar of the engine and the dense gunfire behind her.
She gripped the handlebars tightly, her pinkish-purple cat ears pressed against the inside of her helmet, wishing she could shrink into her neck. The brand-new Little Hornet drifted wildly, braked sharply, and accelerated between the beast horde and the ruins, its tail flinging mud mixed with dark red liquid.
On the back seat, Togawa Fuuki sat like a black sculpture. His golden hair fell, covering most of his face, and shadows moved slowly across his facial contours like living things, exuding a suffocating sense of oppression. He sat steadily on the speeding back seat, oblivious to the bumps, the wide hem of his black trench coat flapping in the wind.
A pale green kitten was nestled securely in his collar, its amber eyes calm and unperturbed, as if the scene before it were merely a noisy market.
"Roar—!"
Ahead, a "rhino-man" the size of a small truck suddenly crashed through a overturned bus, its bone-spiked hooves shattering the pavement, its crimson single eye locking onto the glaring yellow scooter.
It lowered its head, its thick neck muscles bulging, and charged with a thunderous impact like a battering ram! The air was compressed, creating a deafening boom!
Fuuki moved.
His right hand shot into the inside of his trench coat, pulling out not the twisted submachine gun, but a sleek, coldly shimmering silver pistol—[Pain]!
The gun body was long and slender, possessing a sacredness like a crucifix.
He barely aimed, raised his hand, and pulled the trigger.
Ting—
The sound was crisp, yet carried a strange penetrative power.
A condensed silver light shot out of the barrel, instantly embedding itself into the hard bone armor on the rhino-man's forehead.
The next moment, a terrifying sight occurred.
Centered on the point of impact, the rhino-man's massive head, covered in thick keratin and bone plates, began to violently react, twist, and dissolve silently, like a wax figure thrown into strong acid. A strong silver-white light erupted from within, accompanied by a grating "sizzling" sound and a pungent ozone smell.
The hard bone armor softened, collapsed, and disintegrated like butter on a hot pan.
The colossal body lost all its strength, crashing down like a collapsing mountain of gold and jade, kicking up a cloud of dust on the road. The dissolution continued; wherever the silver light passed, flesh and bones turned into a bubbling, foul-smelling, viscous sludge.
One hit, one kill.
"Meow!" Nyamu's tail bristled with fright at this terrifying effect, and she sharply turned the handlebars, the Little Hornet narrowly scraping past the steaming "remains," its tires crunching over several large, not-yet-fully-dissolved bone fragments with a chilling sound.
"Left turn! Obstacle!" Fuuki issued the command coldly.
Nyamu instinctively wrenched the handlebars. The road ahead was completely blocked by concrete debris and twisted rebar from a collapsed building, forming a wall of despair several meters high.
Fuuki's left hand simultaneously reached out, grasping a completely different pistol—[Ruin].
The gun body was matte black, styled with Gothic sharp angles, and its muzzle was unusually large. He unhesitatingly aimed at the rebar and concrete debris and pulled the trigger.
Boom!
A dull, thunderous roar; what spewed from the muzzle was not flame, but a blindingly white, surging ball of light with strange crystals.
The moment the light ball hit the obstacle, there was no earth-shattering explosion, only an extreme, silent dissolution.
The hard concrete, like snow under a scorching sun, instantly softened, boiled, and flowed down as scorching lava. Thick rebar twisted and melted like noodles, dripping golden-red molten iron. Pungent metal vapor and lime dust mixed and rose, forming a scorching curtain wall.
With just one shot, a huge gap, its edges still flowing with molten material and wide enough for a vehicle to pass, was literally "ablated" in the center of that despair-inducing wall of ruins!
"Go through!"
Nyamu gritted her teeth, twisting the throttle to its limit. The Little Hornet let out a roar and plunged into that molten hell, which radiated terrifying heat and had not yet fully solidified.
A blast of hot air hit her face, instantly fogging the helmet visor, and the scooter's metal shell groaned under the strain. The tires crunched over the edges of the flowing lava, emitting a "sizzle" of burning, and the smell of scorching rubber permeated the air.
'My scooter! My scooter that I just fixed, meow!'
Nyamu's heart bled, as if she heard the sound of her wallet burning again.
The moment they burst out of the lava tunnel, the view suddenly opened up, but it was not a release.
Before them was a crossroads plaza completely submerged by a horde of beasts.
Dense shadows of beasts, like a surging tide, varied in form, roaring to shake the heavens. They were thoroughly enraged by the earlier loud noises and bright lights; countless pairs of crimson, cloudy, greedy eyes simultaneously fixed on this intruder into their "paradise."
Their retreat was blocked by newly emerging beast hordes—a true dead end!
Fuuki's eyes narrowed, and the most ferocious-looking weapon, [Annihilate], which had been slung over his shoulder, was finally raised by his single hand.
The gun body was welded from twisted metal pipes, covered with crude rivets and inexplicable tubing, with a bulging energy cell in the center that flickered with unstable blue-purple electrical arcs, exuding a rough and ominous wasteland punk aesthetic.
He stood up steadily, pressing the gun stock firmly into his shoulder.
Beneath his trench coat, a faint purple-white phantom flashed, enhancing his stability.
"Suppress."
Da da da da da—!!!
[Annihilate] opened fire.
The sound was no longer gunfire, but a mixed cacophony of tearing metal, high-voltage electrical bursts, and furiously unleashed energy, as if countless dilapidated engines were exploding simultaneously at maximum RPM!
What spewed from the muzzle were not bullets, but irregular, high-velocity, scorching "scrap" projectiles trailing blue-purple exhaust flames! They rained down like a storm upon the surging beast tide!
Pffft! Sizzle—!
The moment the scrap projectiles hit their targets, the effect was bizarre and terrifying!
A monster covered in thick carapace, resembling a giant pangolin, was hit in the chest and abdomen. There was no penetrating wound; the twisted mass of metal and unknown substance instantly "stuck" to its carapace, emitting a dazzling blue light and a violent "sizzling" sound!
Immediately after, the pangolin let out a shrill, distorted shriek of agony; its hard carapace rapidly blackened, softened, and collapsed as if corroded by strong acid!
The scrap projectile seemed to have a life of its own, furiously "melting" into its body. Within seconds, half of its chest, along with one forelimb, disintegrated and collapsed in a violent rejection reaction, turning into a pool of smoking, viscous substance, while the remaining parts were permanently "welded" by the scrap, and it fell, twitching violently.
Another muscular werewolf with a lizard tail was hit in the arm. The scrap projectile did not immediately disintegrate it, but rather "melted" into its flesh and bone like a maggot in a wound.
The werewolf let out continuous, agonizing wails; that arm visibly turned black, swelled, and became deformed at a rapid pace, each movement bringing excruciating pain, becoming its eternal burden.
This was the nature of [Melt]—forced fusion, rejection leading to disintegration, non-rejection leading to permanent pain and deformation.
The firepower of [Annihilate] was like the scythe of the Grim Reaper, furiously harvesting the beast horde that dared to approach.
Each burst or short volley created a chorus of shrill screams and various forms of death or distortion. Blue-purple electrical arcs leaped and flickered between the gun body and the beast horde; gunpowder smoke, scorching smells, blood, and an indescribable chemical pollution odor mixed together, forming the perfumery of hell.
Fuuki was expressionless, like the most precise killing machine.
The power of White Snake surged within him, forcefully counteracting the terrifying recoil of [Annihilate], allowing him to maintain a stable firing posture on the speeding, bumpy back seat of the scooter.
Each time he pulled the trigger, the pale green cat on his shoulder, its amber pupils, would slightly contract, as if silently replenishing the blue-purple electrical arcs consumed in the gun's energy cell.
All three of these guns were crafted by Wakaba Mutsumi. Utilizing the characteristics of 'Lighting Rider', she custom-made these three weapons for Fuuki, specifically designed for special situations.
There was 'Pain', which fired highly corrosive proton bullets; 'Ruin', which incorporated thermite-like properties to demolish reinforced concrete; and 'Annihilate', which used scrap materials from the manufacturing process as bullets to suppress large numbers of enemies.
Of course, these three weapons also had their drawbacks—namely, the limited number of bullets and the energy required for firing. For prolonged use, Wakaba Mutsumi had to be nearby to constantly recharge them!
Nyamu gritted her teeth, pushing the Little Hornet's maneuverability to its limit.
She drifted to evade attacks, accelerated to break through encirclements, and slammed on the brakes to shake off pursuers!
Her pink cat-like eyes were fixed ahead, her forehead beneath the helmet slick with sweat. Each thrilling dodge was accompanied by a silent scream in her heart:
"I'm a Working Warrior, Yuutenji Nyamu!!"
"I'm a Working Warrior burdened with a 3.5% daily compound interest rate, meow! How can I fall here!"
Gunfire, beast roars, engine screams, the brainwashing paradise song... chaos reached its crescendo over the ruins of Ikebukuro.
============
After an unknown duration of fierce fighting, the obstructing beast shadows ahead finally thinned out. Fuuki's gaze rapidly scanned the beast tide, finding no presence resembling a command center, only a chaotic frenzy.
Fuuki decisively put away the scorching 'Annihilate', and instantly, several discs shimmering with faint white light—command discs—were clamped between his fingers.
He flicked his wrist, and the discs shot out as if alive, accurately embedding themselves into the back of the necks of several flying Kemono friends, some with bat wings and others with feathers, circling at low altitude.
The flying beasts stiffened abruptly, and after a brief moment of confusion in their eyes, they were overridden by forced commands. They immediately ascended, circling rapidly above the chaotic parade like loyal reconnaissance drones, their sharp beast eyes scanning every corner below.
Fuuki closed his eyes and concentrated, sharing their vision through the partial sight attached to the command discs.
Chaotic streets, frenzied beast shadows, shattered buildings... the view rapidly swept past.
A few seconds later, the flying beasts seemed to receive an irresistible summons, turning in unison, no longer searching, but flapping their wings and flying rapidly towards the northwest sky, away from the center of Ikebukuro. Their speed increased, until they disappeared into the hazy horizon.
Were the commands overridden? Or were they attracted by a higher priority instinct?
Fuuki suddenly opened his eyes, his eyebrows beneath the shadow tightly furrowed.
"Didn't find it?" Nyamu saw Fuuki's expression through the rearview mirror, and her heart sank as well.
Fuuki did not answer, only coldly uttered a single word.
"Go."
The Little Hornet let out a sigh of relief, its engine sound seemingly lighter, carrying a car full of gunpowder smoke and silence, finally breaking completely free from the crazy vortex and turning onto a relatively intact side road, plunging into an empty open-air parking lot.
Dead silence instantly enveloped them.
Only the faint parade music and sporadic explosions from a distance proved that hell had not gone far.
Nyamu slammed on the brakes, almost collapsing onto the seat, panting heavily.
She took off her helmet, revealing a head of sweaty purple short hair and equally wilted purple cat ears.
"Ha... ha... I survived, meow..."
She patted her chest with lingering fear, then suddenly remembered something and quickly brought up the [FT] panel that only she could see.
The quest bar still showed [Find the Source].
"Damn it!"
She instantly bristled, her pink cat-like eyes almost spitting fire, her fingers wildly poking at the air, as if jabbing the system's nose.
'Playing dead now! Why were you so eager when you were giving me usury earlier! 'Ding' and eighteen thousand yen were gone, meow! Vampire! Black-hearted capitalist!' She mentally hurled every malicious word she could think of.
Fuuki dismounted, his movements fluid and silent. He immediately pulled open his trench coat collar and looked at the pale green kitten squatting steadily inside.
"Meow." Mutsumi let out a soft meow, her amber cat-like eyes calmly looking at him, extending her pink little tongue, and slowly licking her paw, indicating that she was safe and sound.
Fuuki's taut expression relaxed for a moment. He gently closed his collar and pressed his finger to the Bluetooth earpiece hidden beneath his long golden hair.
"[Spider], what's the situation?" His voice was low and steady, betraying no emotion.
Beep... beep... beep... beep... a long standby tone echoed in his ear, like the cold tick of a second hand striking one's heart.
After four beeps, there was no answer.
Fuuki's fingertips grew slightly cold; this exceeded their agreed-upon safe communication time limit.
Just as he was about to cut off communication—
Click.
The call connected.
However, what came through the earpiece was neither a calm and professional report from the girl, nor the clamor of battle.
Instead, it was an unsettling, rustling sound—like claws or nails scratching on a hard surface.
Then came the sounds of "Clang! Crash!" as things were overturned and rolled around.
"Woof... woof! Woof woof... woof..."
A suppressed cry of pain, with clear whimpers and... canine characteristics.
"..."
Fuuki's body instantly stiffened, a cold, viscous, reason-incinerating killing intent, like a dormant volcano, surged from the depths of his usually cool heart, more intense than ever before!
Shadows twisted and churned violently on his face, almost solidifying and dripping.
The knuckles of the hand holding the phone made a grating "creak" from excessive force, and the hard phone casing itself seemed to groan and deform under this terrifying power.
"Count the prime numbers, Togawa Fuuki..."
"No, Enrico Pucci!"
That deep, blurry voice, with an unforgettable familiarity, like a maggot in the bone, echoed again in the deepest part of his mind.
"Prime numbers are lonely numbers..."
"'Loneliness' that can only rely on itself will give you courage. It can make you... discard useless anger."
"3..." Fuuki almost gritted his teeth, squeezing the number out from between them, trying to lock away the surging destructive urge with cold logic.
"Keep counting."
"5... 7..."
"11, 13, 15! 17! 19!" The pace of his speech accelerated uncontrollably, not stopping even when he miscounted.
The voice in his mind grew clearer and louder, almost drowning out everything in reality.
It was no longer a vague whisper, but a clear voice with a strange, magical power!
It was urging, inducing, trying to take over his thoughts.
Just as the cold numbers and the demonic voice in his mind fiercely tugged, and Fuuki's consciousness felt like it was about to be torn apart—
"Woof woof! Woof woof! Woof—!"
In the earpiece, the painful yet incredibly anxious barking sounded again, sharply cleaving through the entangled chaos in his consciousness.
Fuuki shuddered, forcefully breaking free from that almost mesmerized state, fine cold sweat beading on his temples.
The moment his consciousness returned, the phone in his left hand vibrated urgently.
He abruptly looked down.
The screen was lit, displaying a new message.
The message content, however, was a chaotic mess of garbled characters and symbols, as if laboriously poked out with a paw or nose..
"&SASNN...? Old Tokorozawa Water Distribution Hub:{--}"
Fuuki instantly filtered out the meaningless symbols, catching the only key word with a clear direction amidst the chaos:
"Old Tokorozawa Water Distribution Hub..."
"Woof!" A short, seemingly confirming whimper came from the earpiece.
The answer was almost at hand.
"..."
Fuuki slowly raised his head, his eyes under the shadow gleaming fiercely.
His voice, however, was terrifyingly low, carrying a calm that, after being forcibly suppressed, was even more unsettling:
"...Thank you, Uika."
He took a deep breath; the cold killing intent had not dissipated, but rather solidified into substance.
"The rest, leave it to me."
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