The online discussion forums in reality exploded once again.
"Holy crap! Who is this lady? Golden-ringed eyes! So cool!"
"Directly pulling up Kuchiba Hiro's file? Such a privilege abuser! Definitely a big shot from The Authorities!"
"Looking at how calm and composed she is, she feels more like the final boss than Seventh Master..."
"Subordinate? She wants to recruit Seventh Master? I love this plot development!"
"Fight! Fight! I want to see a battle between gods!"
Amidst everyone's anticipation, the content on the light screen continued.
(Kuchiba Hiro left the Abandoned Industrial Zone, turned a few street corners, and walked into a rather clean and cozy-looking Izakaya. As the fatigue and adrenaline from the battle faded, they were replaced by emptiness and hunger.
He walked into the shop, ordered some Yakitori, a bowl of Tonkotsu Ramen, and a large glass of ice-cold beer, then found a quiet seat in the back and sat down.
In the interval while waiting for the food to be served, the chatter of the surrounding diners and the aroma of the food actually allowed his tightly wound nerves to relax slightly.
Once his mind relaxed, certain things he had forcibly suppressed surged up uncontrollably—memories of his father, and fragments of daily life that he could never return to.
This was the first time in his life he had truly experienced the death of a close relative. Even though he armed himself with the flames of revenge and cold logic, trying to accept this cruel reality, the void that had been brutally carved out of his heart and that bone-deep pain still became clear enough to suffocate him whenever the memories struck.
He took a deep breath, trying to dispel this useless sentimentality, and took out his phone, wanting to find something to distract himself.
The izakaya bell chimed, and Hiro glanced up. He froze, genuinely struck.
The woman stepping inside was unusually tall, draped in an oversized trench coat that still somehow accentuated her striking figure. Her face was a strange contradiction—gentle and inviting, yet veiled by an icy detachment.
Pale pink-orange hair fell in a loose braid over her shoulder, but her eyes were what demanded attention: hypnotic golden irises marked by strange concentric rings. They held a disturbing, inhuman apathy, yet somehow drew him in.
Kuchiba Hiro watched her pass before forcing his gaze away. She's genuinely beautiful, he thought, turning back to his table.
But after ordering a plate of yakitori, a large bowl of udon, and two tall chilled beers, she didn't look for an empty booth. Instead, she walked straight up to Hiro's table. Her voice was steady and smooth, carrying an eerie warmth as she spoke to him as naturally as if they were old friends:
"Excuse me, do you mind if I share the table?"
"Swish—!"
Almost the instant her voice fell, Kuchiba Hiro's muscles tensed up. His eyes, which had been somewhat relaxed, suddenly became as sharp as a hawk's as he looked at her. Deliberately lowering his voice with an undisguised air of rejection and a hint of intimidation, he said coldly, "Aren't there empty seats over there?"
At the same time, he concentrated his mind intensely, pushing his perception abilities to their full capacity. This ability not only warned of physical danger but also had a certain degree of lie-detection effect. If the slightest bit of falsehood or malice leaked from this woman's next words, he would not hesitate to pull out the pistol behind his waist and kill her on the spot.
Having experienced multiple pursuits and battles, he maintained the highest level of vigilance toward any stranger who took the initiative to approach him.
Makima seemed completely unsurprised by his reaction and wasn't intimidated by his attitude. She didn't rush to answer but unhurriedly took off that cumbersome, oversized trench coat, revealing the outfit underneath that accentuated her figure even more. She sat down in the chair opposite Kuchiba Hiro on her own accord, neatly placing the trench coat to the side.
Then, she finally lifted those golden-ringed eyes, calmly meeting Kuchiba Hiro's scrutinizing and hostile gaze. Using her gentle voice, she dropped a bombshell:
"I heard... you're looking for the location of the 'ark'?"
Under the warm lights of the Izakaya, undercurrents suddenly surged.
Kuchiba Hiro's pupils contracted imperceptibly, and his fist clenched involuntarily. Meanwhile, Makima continued to watch him calmly with that mysterious smile that seemed to see through everything.
Kuchiba Hiro's heart thudded heavily in his chest, and his adrenaline spiked again, nearly bursting through his veins.
The urge to draw his gun gnawed at his nerve endings like a venomous snake. But his remaining reason suppressed this impulse—the opponent dared to approach him so openly and strike directly at his most urgent need. Either she was a fool who didn't value her life, or... she was a controller with absolute confidence and strength.
From the extraordinary composure this woman had shown since stepping into the Izakaya, and the bottomless indifference in those golden-ringed eyes, she clearly belonged to the latter.
He forcibly suppressed his churning killing intent. His muscles remained as tense as iron, but he slightly adjusted his sitting posture, shifting from total defensive alertness to a stance more convenient for a sudden outburst or negotiation. He needed information; before figuring out the other party's intentions and depth, acting rashly would be the foolish choice.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice still cold, but the deliberately feigned intimidation from before had lessened, replaced by pure scrutiny and questioning.
Facing this blunt question, Makima didn't answer immediately. Instead, like an innocent young girl stumped by an interesting question, she tilted her head slightly, her orange-pink braid swaying along with the movement, a thoughtful expression appearing on her face.
"Hmm... how should I explain it?" she said softly, her voice still gentle. "As for my position, there isn't a very precise job title."
She paused, seemingly looking for the simplest expression. Then, in that soft voice, she uttered words enough to make anyone in the know tremble:
"To put it simply... I am the person who 'makes the rules.' Theoretically, all the Transcendents in all of Japan are under my control."
"..."
Kuchiba Hiro was stunned.
Not because of the arrogance of the words themselves, but because—in his perception, this woman was not lying!
Every single word was as real and undeniable as if cast in iron!
In other words, this woman who looked young, beautiful, and even had a strange sense of approachability, really was The Authorities itself—the one standing at the peak of the transcendent world, wielding power, making rules, and forcing countless unruly Transcendents to bow in obedience!
A sense of extreme absurdity instantly welled up in Kuchiba Hiro's heart. For the past month, he had been hiding, fighting bloody battles, and contending with Bounty Hunters and various factions from all sides, believing he had already stepped into the depths of the dark world.
But at this moment, he felt as if he had just left the starter village and was still worrying about how to fight minor mobs, only to be teleported directly in front of the final arch-demon!
All his struggles, all his revenge, and all his searching—in her eyes, were they perhaps just a trouble that needed to be "controlled"? Or perhaps, a drama worth "observing"?
Under the warm lights of the Izakaya, the air seemed to freeze. Kuchiba Hiro could hear his own slightly erratic heartbeat and the sizzling sound of frying food from the nearby kitchen. Looking at those golden-ringed eyes that seemed capable of sucking away one's soul, for the first time when facing an enemy, he felt a bottomless sense of pressure originating from a difference in rank.
"...So?" Kuchiba Hiro said, his voice dry, forcing himself to calm down and thinking that if he couldn't win, he could still run. "What business does a Big Shot who 'makes the rules' have with a 'rule-breaking' wanted criminal like me?"
He stared intently at Makima, waiting for her next words, which would determine where this sudden meeting would lead.)
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