Early the next morning, the Public Security officers gathered in the office, yawning as they compiled intelligence.
They had chased drones all night long, racking their brains but still unable to figure out where those things had come from.
They appeared out of nowhere on surveillance feeds, flying around aimlessly, as if deliberately toying with them.
Even when the drones were finally intercepted after landing, the locations were usually deserted wastelands. Needless to say, no useful information was found.
Manufacturing origin? Made in —XX had long since become the norm.
While they were quietly grumbling to themselves, Yuhran had already left the alley and was standing calmly on a Japanese street.
Hands in his pockets, he looked like just another passerby, casually scanning his surroundings.
Office workers, students—everyone went about their routines as usual. Some chatted, some laughed, not a trace of tension on their faces.
It was as if yesterday's incident had never happened.
Seeing this, Yuhran shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"So the higher-ups really don't believe that extraordinary powers exist in this world. That's why they're suppressing the news…"
"That's fine too. I don't know how long they can keep it hidden, but it works in my favor."
"They want the extraordinary? Then I'll give them the extraordinary—on the condition that they can actually catch it."
One willing to fight, one willing to suffer. With that thought, Yuhran 's brows relaxed, and the guilt in his heart eased a little.
He turned and headed toward the nearest knife manufacturer.
Now that he had mobility, weapon weight wasn't that important anymore—sharpness was the priority.
As long as he could sever the head in a lightning-fast strike, even the most powerful monster would fall.
The same principle applied to this world as well.
On a windy day, fifty meters per second—no matter how alert a bodyguard was, they wouldn't be able to keep up.
"What a pity…" Yuhran clicked his tongue softly, a complicated glint flashing in his narrowed eyes.
"If I really did something like that, I'd definitely end up on a wanted list. Better to keep it as a last resort."
Mutual destruction was a method he didn't have to use—but he had to have it ready.
The appearance of those boots had given him exactly that opportunity.
With these thoughts in mind, Yuhran quickened his pace and soon arrived at his destination.
There were many blades in the warehouse, but genuine sharpened knives required proper documentation.
Having previously familiarized himself with Japanese laws, Yuhran was well prepared.
He produced a chef's license—naturally fake, but exquisitely made, indistinguishable from the real thing except for one detail: the person didn't exist.
The shop owner, a businessman through and through, didn't care. After a cursory glance, he looked away and brought out a steel knife used for processing animals, tailored to Yuhran 's requirements.
The blade was thirty-two centimeters long, with an HRC hardness above 60—military-grade. It should be sufficient to deal with a ryū.
Anything longer would probably need to be custom-made back home.
After paying one hundred thousand yen for two knives, Yuhran left the warehouse.
He carefully wrapped the blades, stuffed them into his backpack, then stood by the roadside, pulled out his phone, and glanced at the offline map, preparing to change locations.
"I can't stay in that alley anymore. Once was fine—twice, and the police will definitely be waiting there."
"If I go back, I'll almost certainly be watched. The abandoned school in Yonchōme would be good…"
Tap, tap…
His fingers lightly tapped the screen as Yuhran rapidly constructed a three-dimensional overview of the school in his mind.
"Remote. Even if a demon shows up, it won't hurt civilians. And it's backed by mountains—perfect for an escape."
Besides being remote, there was another reason: plenty of buildings.
Even if he failed to escape in time, he wouldn't be exposed immediately.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Yuhran set off toward the school at once.
...
...
Milliarde woke up rubbing her sleepy eyes, hearing footsteps outside.
Stretching lazily, she sat up, her nightwear slipping from her shoulder.
Yuhran lifted the tent flap, his gaze instinctively freezing—then he decisively closed it again.
Wait… where was the chest wrap?
Ah, right. It was morning. No one wore that thing then.
With his back to the tent, he raised a hand to press his brow, exhaling several times before barely dispelling the chaotic thoughts in his mind—though faint impressions still lingered.
"You're back? Why aren't you coming in?"
The sound of Milliarde getting dressed came from inside the tent, a soft rustling.
Yuhran didn't respond. He took off his backpack and pulled out the knives.
His fingers traced the cold blade as he gave it a casual swing, trying to distract himself.
"Put your clothes on first, then we'll talk. By the way… do you want me to bring you some human underwear next time? Isn't that chest wrap uncomfortable?"
He vaguely remembered that the thing restricted development—similar to foot-binding.
The sounds inside the tent paused for a moment, then her puzzled voice followed.
"Uncomfortable? A little."
"What's underwear?"
He'd almost forgotten how unfamiliar she was with modern things. Yuhran gave a brief explanation and decided to bring her some samples next time.
Judging by eye—D cup or above.
After the explanation, Milliarde finally emerged from the tent, looking refreshed.
When she saw the two knives in Yuhran 's hands, she froze slightly, pressed her lips together, and quietly offered her congratulations.
The patterns alone were enough to make one shiver—clearly master-crafted blades. She then looked up and asked:
"Are we starting the raid on the ryū today? When you left yesterday, I did some reconnaissance. It's much weaker than that demon."
"Do you need my support?"
"…No need," Yuhran thought for a moment, feeling the gentle breeze against his face as he steadied himself.
"You just watch from the side. If I really can't handle it, then use wind magic."
He was worried that if his speed got too high, he might lose control—this wasn't an open grassland, after all.
"Mm." Milliarde nodded lightly.
After quickly packing up, the two headed toward the lair.
...
Inside the cave.
Slash!
The sensation of the blade piercing flesh was exhilarating. Yuhran swung his knife and severed the ryū's tail, twisting his wrist—without feeling the slightest strain.
Modern alloy blades really were absurdly overpowered.
"Roar!"
The ryū let out a shrill scream, its limbs scrambling against the ground as it retreated in panic.
Calling it a "dragon" was generous—it was really just an oversized lizard.
So Yuhran felt no fear at all as he fought.
Splash!
In no time, a trickling river of blood formed on the ground. After one final wail, the ryū collapsed, its eyes filled with resentment.
Driven by rage and the imminence of death, it swung its claws at Yuhran with all its remaining strength—
Only for them to be effortlessly blocked with a crisp ding.
An attack that once could shatter rock didn't even nick the blade.
Despair flashed through the ryū's eyes.
"Goodbye."
Yuhran kicked off the ground and leapt high, his movement clean and decisive, cleaving its head off in a single strike.
Thud!
The head hit the ground. Blood sprayed out, splashing a bit onto Yuhran 's face.
He wiped it away with the back of his hand, frowning slightly.
—I'll need to change clothes. But more importantly…
"Tap, tap."
Milliarde hurried in. Her gaze met Yuhran 's first, then shifted with his toward the depths of the lair, anticipation glinting in her eyes.
The treasure was there.
Time to open the chest.
Hopefully this would be a big haul.
Even if there was nothing usable, trading it with the priest for something useful would still be fine.
What he needed now were items that could change appearance—or grant stealth.
Imitating her, Yuhran pressed a hand to the pendant on his chest, closed his eyes, and pretended to pray, hoping to boost his luck just a little.
—Goddess, bless me.
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