[Location: Hikaru's Home Country]
[Time: One Hour After the Broadcast]
The moon hung low, casting a pale silver glow over the jungle. A calm wind drifted through the trees, brushing against leaves with a soft rustle, almost like the forest itself was whispering secrets. Shadows danced lightly on the ground, swaying with the rhythm of the breeze, while distant sounds of nocturnal creatures added a faint, uneasy chorus to the night.
Hidden deep within the jungle, an abandoned warehouse loomed—its structure barely holding together after years of neglect. The walls were cracked, streaked with grime, and cobwebs stretched into the corners, catching the moonlight in tiny glimmers. A few flickering tube lights buzzed intermittently, casting a weak, cold glow that barely illuminated the interior.
Inside a dimly lit room, three beds were arranged in a row. On the first two, Mike and Aki lay connected to ventilators and monitors, the rhythmic beeping of the machines cutting through the tense silence like a heartbeat. Tubes carried fluids steadily into their veins, the soft hum of equipment blending with the distant creaks of the warehouse.
On the third bed, another figure rested, being carefully stitched and tended to by two doctors and two nurses. Their movements were precise, almost mechanical, but a subtle tension hung in the air—a quiet, unspoken fear that seemed to seep into every corner of the room.
Despite the calm outside, inside the warehouse, the atmosphere was taut, electric, and heavy with the unrelenting sense that danger was never far away.
Mike's monitor started to beat faster as his eyes slowly opened, consciousness returning. His breathing steadied little by little, as if the body was slowly remembering how to live again.
The world around him sharpened. The dim light, the faint hum of machines, the cold air against his skin.
He pushed himself up, sitting cross-legged on the bed. With a rough motion, he removed the oxygen mask and the remaining equipment attached to him.
A heavy silence followed.
"So… how was it? You should feel honored to have survived the face of death itself," a voice cut through the silence.
It was Jester.
Mike turned his head slowly toward Aki, still unconscious on the other bed. His expression tightened—sadness and rage mixing in his eyes. Then he spoke without looking away for long.
"Who was that kid?"
His voice sharpened.
"I never thought I'd fight someone like that… but he tried to hurt my sister."
His fingers curled slightly.
"He won't get away with it. I will break his hands into grains."
Jester gave a wide smile. His mismatched eyes glinted under the flickering lights.
"What are you saying?" he said lightly. "You want to beat Ghost to pulp… that's almost impossible."
His tone dropped slightly, more amused than serious.
"You were lucky. That time, Ghost's wristwatch beeped, and he was called directly by the owner of S.A.O."
Mike's gaze sharpened.
"So how do I beat him?"
Jester's smile widened, almost thrilled by the question. His voice trembled with excitement.
"I will train you…"
A brief pause.
"But before that, remember this."
His expression shifted slightly, becoming more focused.
"Ghost isn't a small fish. The longer the fight goes, the harder it becomes to defeat him."
He leaned forward a little.
"And don't mistake it for just his chokutō. Tungsten, steel… he cuts through them like they aren't even there."
Mike's eyes narrowed. A hint of fear and determination visible in his face
"Then how do I counter him?"
Jester's smile slowly faded, replaced by
something more serious.
"There is only one way…"