— KUBATO —
"Wake up," Kubato heard her grandfather's voice.
Sleepily, she opened her eyes and looked at her beloved grandpa.
"Why…? What's wrong?"
"Wake up, Kubato. We have to go."
Still half asleep, she rubbed her eyes, yawned, and laid her head back onto the pillow as her grandfather turned away.
But where were they going?
They rarely ever left the house. Was something planned?
"Wake up!" the slave woman suddenly shouted.
Kubato jolted upright.
Wasn't Grandpa just here…?
"Kubato," the catwoman said in a frightened voice, her ears flattened against her head. "Get dressed—quickly! We have to leave!"
"Where to?" Kubato hurriedly jumped up, pulling on yesterday's T-shirt and skirt, her movements clumsy with fear. "Wha—"
A loud crash and heavy banging from the ground floor cut her off.
Her heart skipped.
What's happening?
Suddenly, memories flooded back—of her mother, of Konrad trying to kill her.
Fear and panic rushed through her like the air she breathed. Her body trembled, refusing to move.
"Come!" the slave woman commanded again, grabbing Kubato's hand and pulling hard—so hard it hurt.
She dragged Kubato out of the room. From downstairs came shouting, doors slamming open, dishes shattering.
"Where is she?!" a voice roared, twisted with hatred.
"What do you want?!" Marcel shouted back, loud and furious.
"Arrest them all," another voice ordered coldly.
Booted footsteps flooded the house. Voices overlapped. Screams echoed through the halls.
"Now—quick!"
The catwoman pulled Kubato down the upstairs hallway, away from the noise. At the wall, she flipped a hidden switch.
A ceiling hatch opened. A ladder dropped down, leading to the attic.
"Hide!" the woman shouted.
Kubato trembled violently. The fear of being caught paralyzed her completely.
Without hesitation, the catwoman yanked her by the wrist and dragged her up the ladder. Kubato barely managed to keep up.
She stumbled on the last step, but the catwoman held her tightly and pulled her inside.
The hatch slammed shut.
Darkness swallowed them whole.
No windows. The air smelled old and dusty.
The slave woman shoved Kubato into a corner and wrapped an arm tightly around her.
Kubato shook uncontrollably.
"Find the girl!" the hateful voice commanded again from below.
Footsteps approached.
Heavy boots on wood.
The floor creaked under their weight.
"She's here somewhere," the voice repeated.
Kubato curled in on herself. Her breathing grew shallow. She covered her mouth, terrified her breath might give her away.
Grandpa… please… I'm scared…
Silence.
One step.
The attic hatch suddenly flew open, and a beam of light flooded the darkness.
Her body froze. Cold sweat ran down her back.
As soon as a man began to climb up, the catwoman launched herself on all fours at him.
Something flashed in her hand.
Then both of them disappeared through the hatch.
A scream of agony echoed through the house, alarming everyone.
The catwoman glanced back up at Kubato for a split second.
"Stay here!"
The hatch slammed shut again.
Darkness returned.
Chaos erupted below. Screams. Running. Crashing sounds.
Kubato wanted to cry. To scream. Her heart hammered in her throat.
Grandpa…!
She pressed herself further into the corner until her back hit the cold wall.
What am I supposed to do…?
"Pretty dangerous situation," a voice commented calmly beside her.
Akumu.
Hearing his voice shattered her loneliness.
Relief flooded her chest as she threw herself into his arms, sobbing.
"It's my fault!" she cried. "If it weren't for me, none of this would be happening!"
A cool hand stroked her hair, steady and gentle.
"You are wanted," Akumu said softly.
"Otherwise, no one would be protecting you."
His body was cold—yet his presence felt warm.
"Akumu… please—"
A gunshot cut through the air.
Kubato's heart clenched.
Did they…?
Silence. Then screams.
Another shot.
And another.
Kubato screamed instinctively.
"NO!" she wailed. "They're killing them! Akumu—please!"
Through her tears, she beat her fists against him, desperate for him to do something.
"They're not dead," Akumu said calmly. "I would know."
Then he moved.
"I'll be right back."
The attic hatch opened as if by an unseen hand. Akumu leapt down, vanishing like a shadow.
They… they're alive?
Kubato trembled, disbelief mixing with fragile hope.
Slowly, she forced herself to move. Fear loosened its grip as curiosity and hope gave her strength.
Barefoot, she crept toward the edge of the hatch and peered down.
Open eyes stared back at her.
She gasped and recoiled—then forced herself to look again.
A man lay on the floor, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
A kitchen knife jutted from his throat. Blood pooled beneath him.
Did the catwoman… kill him?
Kubato swallowed hard.
I need to know… Are they alive?
She climbed down carefully, fighting the trembling in her limbs.
Shouts echoed. Something crashed.
Heart pounding, she crept to the end of the hallway and looked over the railing into the kitchen near the entrance.
Her breath caught.
Marcel and Margarita lay bound on the floor.
Near the stairs lay the slave woman, blood-soaked but still gripping a knife—bullet wounds in her leg and chest.
Another man lay upside down on the stairs, a knife buried in his throat. Dead.
Kubato's vision blurred.
This is all my fault…
Uniformed men shouted in panic.
Akumu emerged from a man's shadow, seized him from behind, and slammed him to the ground—then vanished again.
"What's happening?!" someone screamed.
"Who is that?!" another yelled, raising his gun.
In the next moment, Akumu appeared behind him and struck him down.
A gunshot rang out.
Akumu vanished again.
Screams filled the room as he attacked another.
He had been right—her parents were alive, watching in horror.
Then Marcel's eyes met hers.
His face went pale.
The gray-haired man in a special uniform followed Marcel's gaze.
"There she is! Shoot—"
His words were cut off as Akumu's fist smashed into his face, sending him crashing to the ground.
The man screamed in pain, clutching his bloodied face.
Kubato felt countless eyes on her.
Fear surged through her veins.
"Run!" Marcel shouted as soldiers rushed toward her.
She couldn't move.
Heavy footsteps closed in.
As one man reached for her, Akumu appeared from his shadow and hurled him over the railing.
More followed.
Akumu turned toward Kubato, his gaze strained—questioning.
A shot rang out.
Louder. Brighter.
Time slowed.
In the next instant, Akumu's head exploded in a burst of light and fire. Black fragments splattered across the wall as his body staggered and collapsed.
Silence.
As if the world stopped breathing.
"NOOO!!! AKUMU!!!" Kubato screamed, tears pouring down her face.
Why…? First Grandpa… and now you too…
She ran toward him instead of away, sobbing uncontrollably.
In the corner of her eye, she saw the gray-haired man with the broken nose lowering a large pistol, still glowing red.
Awe—and terror—gripped her.
Rough hands seized her. Soldiers slammed her to the ground, treating her like a dangerous enemy. Handcuffs snapped painfully shut. Someone hoisted her over his shoulder.
"We got her!" they shouted triumphantly.
Kubato screamed and struggled, calling Akumu's name again and again.
His body didn't move.
Why…? Isn't he Death itself? Can he really be defeated so easily…?
They dragged her outside.
"Let her go!" Marcel shouted, breaking free and charging after her.
Another soldier kicked him hard in the stomach. Marcel collapsed, vomiting.
"Papa!" Kubato screamed—
Darkness swallowed her.
Why does this keep happening?
Is it all because I exist?
Why do I only bring suffering to others…?
— COMMISSIONER SIEGMUND —
The sun shone brightly again that morning.
Almost as if in his honor.
Siegmund would have liked to pat himself on the back—but the heavy losses during the mission left a bitter taste in his victory.
He surveyed the courtyard of the Bernheim villa. His face throbbed in pain—his nose broken and bleeding, his uniform ruined.
A blood-stained trophy.
"Commissioner Siegmund," a city guard reported, saluting sharply. "I formally report the capture of a beast-folk."
Siegmund liked the address. This mission was under his command.
"Very good," he said. "Transport the prisoner and the Bernheims to the Fortress of the Crimson Blade. The execution will take place tonight."
"Yes, sir!"
But one thing still troubled him.
The Bernheim children.
Mobilizing his forces that morning had been difficult—but he was confident they would be captured soon enough.
Another soldier approached.
"Commissioner Siegmund. I regret to report the loss of two city guards, killed by the catwoman."
Siegmund grimaced in anger—then immediately regretted it as pain flared.
"That damned bastard," he growled, remembering the fist coming toward his face. "He got what he deserved."
"Yes, sir," the soldier continued. "Two heretics are also confirmed dead. A beast-folk slave and an unidentified man whose head was shot off."
Satisfied, Siegmund stroked his experimental pistol—newly developed, powered by an energy stone that unleashed devastating firepower.
Receiving it that morning had felt like a blessing.
"Good. Leave the bodies. Our priority is the eradication of the heretics. All units, return to the fortress."
Eager for the execution to come, he stumbled into the vehicle.
He watched as city guards roughly loaded Marcel Bernheim and his wife—bound and battered—into a cage-like transport.
Then they drove off.