Mio
Can stood on the kitchen table, frozen mid-salute.
"Stay," Mio said.
The knight didn't move.
She stepped toward the door. Watched.
Nothing. Six inches of rusted armor, locked in place. The visor stayed fixed on some point past her shoulder.
She reached for the doorknob—
Still nothing.
"I think it's broken," Nana said. She was sitting across from Can in her pajamas, chopsticks hovering near its helmet. A piece of egg dangled between the tips. "It won't eat."
"It doesn't need to eat."
"Everyone needs to eat." Nana pushed the egg closer. The chopsticks clinked against rusted metal. "Open up."
Can did not open up.
"What if someone breaks in?"
"Then it'll handle it."
"What if I break out?"
"Then it'll handle you."
Nana squinted at the frozen knight. Poked its chest plate. Nothing.
"This is a terrible guard."
Mio opened the door. Paused. Looked back.
Can's visor had turned. Just slightly. Now fixed on Nana.
The salute hadn't dropped.
"Be good," Mio said. To both of them.
She wasn't sure which one she trusted less.
The train to Shibuya was packed. Salarymen, students, a woman with a cat in a carrier. Normal people doing normal things.
[Reservoir: 3,000/125,000]
Three thousand. Sixty Sparks. Barely enough for whatever the Bureau wanted.
And the hunger didn't care about enough.
All that life, pressed in from every seat. She could feel them breathing. Warm bodies full of something she couldn't have.
The man next to her shifted. Checked his phone. Oblivious.
She could feel his pulse from here. Two hundred Reservoir, maybe three. Nothing. A rounding error.
Stop.
She bit her tongue. Sat on her hands.
A mother across the aisle pulled her kids closer.
Mio realized she'd been staring.
She looked at the window instead. At her own reflection. Green eyes. Dark circles underneath.
The Shibuya Branch of the Bureau of Integrated Affairs looked like a tax office.
Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, gray carpet muffling her steps. The only hint that this building dealt with anything stranger than zoning permits was the six-circle seal on the wall—and the sword strapped to the receptionist's back.
"Name."
"Tamei Mio."
The woman typed something. Frowned at her screen.
"You're early."
It was 11:47. The reminder said noon.
"Is that a problem?"
"Sit."
Mio sat.
The waiting area had four chairs, all empty. A water cooler hummed in the corner. Magazines fanned across a low table—Delver's Weekly, Integration Living, something called Dungeon Bride that Mio decided not to think about.
She rubbed her arms. The building was cold. Colder than December should make it, even with the doors opening and closing.
The clock on the wall ticked.
11:52.
A man in a suit walked past, talking into his phone about "quota adjustments" and "overflow clearance." A delver in full plate armor sat down two chairs over, pulled out a bento box, and started eating like this was a train station.
11:58.
The elevator dinged.
Segawa stepped out, cigarette already tucked behind his ear. He looked exactly as tired as he had yesterday. Maybe more.
"Tamei." He jerked his head toward the elevator. "Let's go."
She followed. Glanced around.
"Where's your shadow?"
Segawa didn't slow down. "Mori's running late. Something about a limited edition release at Animate." He jabbed the elevator button. "She'll catch up."
She caught herself frowning. Some part of her had wanted her here.
The elevator had more buttons than a building this size should need. Segawa pressed one marked with a symbol instead of a number. The elevator started going down.
"Sublevel Three is assessment," he said, not looking at her. "Baseline metrics first. Then we see what you can actually do."
"You already know what I did in Shinjuku."
"I know what walked out of that incursion." His eyes stayed on the elevator doors. "I don't know what walked in."
The elevator kept descending. Mio's breath fogged. Just slightly.
"Is the heater broken?"
Segawa glanced at her. "Pay attention."
"The Engine doesn't talk to our systems," he continued. "Whatever it tracks—levels, experience, whatever the Vestiges built into it—we can't read it. So we measure what we can."
They can't see my level.
The doors opened.
Sublevel Three was concrete and faded paint. Training rings marked the concrete, targeting lanes beyond, equipment racks lining the walls. A few delvers sparred in the distance, but Segawa walked past them, through a set of double doors, into a smaller room.
White walls, a targeting dummy in the corner, monitoring equipment she didn't recognize. A technician in a lab coat was already waiting.
"Reservoir first," Segawa said. "Then output. Then durability."
The technician approached with something that looked like a blood pressure cuff. Wrapped it around her forearm. Pressed a button.
He squinted at the screen. Tapped it twice.
"Current's reading three thousand." He tapped again. "Ceiling is... that can't be right."
Segawa didn't look up from his phone. "What."
"One twenty-five. Thousand." The technician looked at Mio, then back at the screen. "Maybe higher. We'd need to drain her completely to get an accurate read." He frowned at something else on the display. "There's scaling patterns in the previous subjects' data, but nothing consistent enough to map levels directly."
"Output," Segawa said.
The technician gestured to the dummy. "Standard Spark. Center mass."
Mio raised her hand. The bolt left her fingertip before she'd finished thinking about it.
The dummy rocked backward. Scorch mark dead center.
"One seventeen," the technician said. Checked it again. "That's above her grade ceiling."
"How do you know how to measure any of this?" Mio asked.
Segawa pocketed his phone. Looked at her for the first time since the elevator.
"The three that came before you." He paused. "Good guinea pigs, at least."
The technician pretended he hadn't heard. Segawa turned back to him.
"Durability."
The technician hesitated. "Sir, the standard protocol—"
"She tanked a C-grade blade through her forearm yesterday." Segawa pulled his phone back out. "I read the report. Skip the padding."
The technician swallowed. Picked up something from the equipment rack—a metal rod, blunted at the end. Looked at Mio.
"This will hurt."
"I doubt it."
He made a face. Then swung.
[-45 HP]
[HP: 1,375/1,420]
She didn't flinch.
He swung again. Harder.
[-62 HP]
[HP: 1,313/1,420]
She watched him wind up for a third. Let him.
"Recovery," Segawa said.
Mio pulled from the Reservoir. Green light threaded up her arm, spreading through muscle and skin.
[Vitalize]
[HP: 1,420/1,420]
[Reservoir: 3,000 → 3,221]
The excess bled somewhere she couldn't see. Warmth flooding through her, more than her body needed, finding somewhere else to go.
The technician stared at his readout. "Her Reservoir increased. Mid-heal."
"Overheal passive. Excess converts." Segawa was already at the door. "We're done here."
The technician was still staring at the numbers.
"Sir. Her baseline metrics. They're consistent with a mid-tier C-grade. Maybe higher. But the Engine—"
"Doesn't report. I know." Segawa held the door open. "That's the problem with Marked. We can see what they do. We can't see what they are."
Mio followed him out.
They walked back through the training floor. Past the sparring rings, past the targeting lanes.
The numbers came without asking. The man by the weights, maybe thirty-five hundred. A sparring pair, two thousand each. But the woman near the exit—over twenty thousand. Mio caught herself staring. Worst yet, the woman invited her gaze.
She bit her tongue again. The cut from the train hadn't closed. Stop it.
"You're going to meet someone in the Champion Research Division," Segawa said. He didn't slow down. "They'll brief you more on your condition."
"My condition."
"That's what they call it." He stopped at another door. Heavier. Reinforced. A different seal on the frame—not the six circles, but something older. A single line bisecting a sphere. "The mark. The Engine. Whatever Gaian did to you."
Mio shivered. The cold was worse here. Seeping through the walls.
"Remember what I said about the third champion?" Segawa's voice was quieter now. "Keep your head on. Keep your stomach full." He scanned his badge. The lock clicked. "Or your sister ends up in an orphanage."
He pushed the door open.
"Don't worry. He'll make you comfortable."
✦✦✦
Uploading 1-2 every day CST @ 10am-2pm | add to collection, comment or review!