9.

They’d set up their “relief” effort outside a large barn. A white banner featuring the Saisei sigil fluttered above its double doors. The longer I stared at it, the more the design resembled a bloated spider. Underneath, boxes of tainted rations sat on a portable table.

I threw them into the nearby fire pit, swearing never to touch another foil-wrapped, freeze-dried anything. Inside the barn, silence dominated, yet tiny colored lights flashed and winked.

Aside from stray cats drawn by the promise of food, the soldiers had left the barn unguarded. No security drones patrolled the area, and my night vision goggles detected no surveillance equipment. This lack of security intensified the sinister nature of the situation. The soldiers knew the Otakoga wouldn’t suspect anything and wouldn’t resist.

The barn housed a cache of MBLs, full-sized beam launchers, and two more TerraCycles. Both looked like they’d fought a losing battle with inhospitable terrain. One, its chassis twisted and tires clogged with debris, looked like someone had ridden it over a cliff. The other TerraCycle, dented but still functional with a full battery, turned out to be a larger, heavier version of the one I’d stolen.

I realized it was too heavy for me when I tried a test move and nearly pinned it atop myself. Being a giant must be an enlistment requirement in Mazawa’s regime. The compact GPS mounted to its crossbar was the cycle’s only saving grace.

In the back of the barn, a dim blue rectangle flickered on a table stand with two folding stools beside it. A tablet! Jackpot!

After fiddling with its controls, a map appeared, revealing my exact location. My excitement dissolved into unease as I interpreted the symbols.

Pin markers closest to the holodome identified the Ome, Hachi, and Noda Clan strongholds. More markers spread across the countryside, rippling outward like shock waves from a central point. I spotted clusters of triangular markers in red, blue, and black near each pin. They might represent troops, the colors denoting unit size. No wonder Mazawa couldn’t spare soldiers for my mission! They’d started their killing spree close to home.

When I tapped the screen, the blue markers moved in formation, confirming they were indeed troops, while the red markers seemed to depict travel routes. The black markers, however, remained a mystery.

A cold weight settled in my gut as I swiped to Seikan Prefecture on the map, then magnified a single location: the black-marked Hakodate stronghold—my home.

Kei’s words echoed in my head. They will remember his Saisei Era as a time of sweeping transformation.

The truth landed like a punch. My clan—gone. The only family I’d ever known had been wiped out while I stood here holding the evidence. Mazawa had lied.

I hurled the tablet. It hit the ground and skidded into darkness as the table tipped over.

A blade of light cut through the barn boards, slicing across the floor.

Mourning could wait. Somewhere beyond that light, an engine hummed, low and steady. Getting closer.

I grabbed the nearest beam launcher and a coil of rope, then charged up the stairs. That window-like opening over the door now looked promising. If I was right, its twin waited at the far end of the loft.

Time stretched thin while I prepped for the freight shifter’s arrival. Its cockpit would be shockproof, and the soldiers inside would wear aramid or something similar. Precision mattered. I needed clean headshots.

I braced the butt of the beam launcher against a support post near the back window and rigged a rope sling using the loft’s crossbeams. The laser pistol offered more mobility, but ever since that flea comment, I’d wanted to repay the insult with something heavier.

With the launcher in place, I crouched beside it and checked the charge gauge. It lit green.

My pulse picked up. I steadied the barrel on my shoulder. If brute force didn’t do the job, there was always Plan B.

While waiting for the soldiers, I offered a silent tribute to whatever deities might be listening in: This is for Satoshi, for my clan, for the men in the shithole, and all who never stood a chance. I do this in your memory.

Outside, the freight shifter whined to a halt. The soldiers disembarked, voices raucous and triumphant. Their outbursts only fueled my resolve. Let’s see how they enjoyed taking a hit.

With a determined button press, I launched a ball of blinding light through the window into the night. The first shot went low, skimming off the freight shifter’s cockpit to sear the woman’s abdomen, igniting her fatigues. She swore, beating out the flames as she scrambled back into the cab.

Kaito, slower and less seasoned, hit the ground screaming. “I knew there were more of them, Hana!”

“Shut up and help me!” she barked back.

Still using the cab as cover, Hana retaliated with fury, her shots obliterating what remained of the upper window’s broken shutter. Each blast filled the loft with streaks of red and gold. The smell of charred wood hung thick in the air.

The exchange continued—my shots ricocheted off the freight shifter’s armored exterior, while Hana’s return fire sent needle-sharp splinters zipping past my arms and singeing my hair. Kaito left his spot behind a rusted tractor and made a desperate dash for the barn.

My next shot found his forehead, a clean hit. Silenced before firing a single shot, he collapsed.

Hana, undeterred, fired up the freight shifter once more. Whether she planned to escape or ram the barn with it remained unclear, but it signaled time to put Plan B into action.

I adjusted the beam launcher, letting the sling cradle the barrel’s weight. Although this setup angled the weapon lower, it only needed to hold long enough for me to move outside.

Despite their range and intimidating appearance, full-sized beam launchers proved cumbersome and ill-suited for close combat. After setting it to auto-launch, I nudged it into a gentle pendulum motion, then crept downstairs.

Just as I’d hoped, the now-sporadic blasts disoriented Hana. They ricocheted off the freight shifter and zipped through trees, lighting up the night and setting nearby rooftops aflame. Hovering a few feet off the ground, Hana, thinking she had the upper hand, retaliated with wild shots and bursts of manic laughter.

The launcher in the barn faltered, showering the freight shifter with weak sparks before it petered into silence. When she was certain no more volleys were coming from the barn, Hana kicked open the freight shifter’s door.

Knowing it wouldn’t be a fair fight, I ended her suffering, which was more mercy than she deserved. One sickle-blade whistle later, her severed head bounced into the long grass.

Instead of cheering, I stood frozen, waiting for the implant in my neck to explode. Time slowed to a crawl. My heart thundered in my chest.

The wind faded to a whisper. On nearby rooftops, little fires flickered and fizzled to wisps. In the distance, a cat yowled.

But then, nothing.

Nothing!

The realization struck me like a fist. Mazawa either couldn’t track my movements or had chosen to give me a pass this time. Then, I thought of another reason: had the tracking seed malfunctioned?

Whatever the explanation, this moment of rebellion had gone unpunished, and for the first time since my capture, I felt a flicker of something dangerous kindling inside me.