"To hear the enemy is one thing. To understand them… is a curse."
The silence in the containment room was unnatural, like a vacuum in space. The only sound was the low hum of the electromagnetic field that pulsed around the quarantine dome—a translucent cube reinforced with Gastrea-resistant materials and sealed by triple-layered bio-locks.
Inside, Koharu sat cross-legged on the center platform, a small child wrapped in medical cables and fear. Her eyes were closed, but her lips moved slowly, silently. She was listening.
Enju stood just outside the viewing window, fists clenched. "This isn't right. She's not some monster to lock up."
"She's not locked up," Kisara corrected coolly, though her tone was strained. "She's stabilized in isolation. That's the only way we can prevent feedback resonance between her and nearby Gastrea."
Hotaru looked away. "But she's crying. She thinks we've abandoned her."
Shōma remained still at the far wall, arms folded. "We've done what we must. Now we wait and see if the connection wanes."
But it didn't.
Within the dome, Koharu's world was a tempest.
Voices—high, low, guttural, inhuman—whispered and shrieked in her mind like a thousand insects crawling beneath her skin. The Gastrea didn't speak in words. They spoke in sensations, images, ancient memories of ruin, hunger, and adaptation. She understood them. They called her bridge, false kin, spawn of broken code.
One voice stood out—colder than the rest.
A presence that wasn't Gastrea.
"You were made to unify," the voice whispered. "You are the key to the interface. The anchor of the New World."
Her eyes snapped open, heart pounding.
Elsewhere, in the lowest level of the city's underground military command post, Dr. Albrecht Grunewald stood before a bank of flickering monitors. Koharu's vitals danced in neon patterns across one of them. His expression was almost fatherly—twisted by ambition and madness.
"She's beginning to awaken," he murmured. "Soon, the fractures in the Gastrea's collective consciousness will widen. She will walk both worlds."
Behind him, a shadow stirred. The silhouette of a man with half his face scarred from flame—the survivor of the Aldebaran War, another of Grunewald's "investments."
"Is the interface stable?" the scarred man asked.
Grunewald's eyes glittered. "Not yet. But it will be. Once she accepts her place in the New World Plan."
"And if she resists?"
Grunewald smiled.
"Then we use Rentarō Satomi to break her."
Back in the safe house, Rentarō sat at the console room reviewing data with Kisara. Images of neural patterns flashed on screen—half human, half anomalous.
"She's forming psychic links with nearby Gastrea clusters," Kisara said, her tone clinical but uneasy. "Not just sensing them—manipulating their mood, even redirecting them."
Rentarō leaned forward. "Is she controlling them?"
"No. Not fully. It's more like… influencing. Like a diplomat between hostile tribes."
"Then they understand her?"
Kisara paused. "No. They fear her. Because she's human—but not completely."
Rentarō's gaze darkened. "She's in more danger than we thought."
Enju couldn't take it anymore. Without waiting for approval, she stormed into the observation bay and pressed her hands against the reinforced wall of the containment dome.
"Koharu! Can you hear me?! It's Enju!"
Inside, Koharu stirred. Her eyes slowly opened and fixed on Enju's face. Her lips trembled.
"They're angry," she whispered. "They want to tear me apart… but some of them want to hide me, protect me."
"From what?" Enju asked softly.
Koharu looked down.
"From him."
"Who?"
She looked back up—eyes wide, terrified.
"The man with the white gloves. The one who calls me conduit."
Shōma's voice came through Rentarō's headset. "There's movement in District 12. Three Gastrea signatures approaching the perimeter wall."
Rentarō stood. "Could be a test run. Koharu's presence may be drawing them in."
"Or someone's using her as bait," Kisara muttered.
Hotaru checked her weapon. "I'll cover north. If they're smart, they'll avoid a direct path."
Enju moved beside Rentarō. "We'll go too."
Rentarō nodded. "Shōma, you hold the rear with Kisara. Protect the girl. No matter what."
Shōma offered only a curt nod, the tension in his jaw tightening.
Outside the city wall, the rain had finally stopped, but the air felt electric—heavy with tension and ozone.
Three Gastrea—a spider-type, a mole-type, and one malformed wolf—emerged from the overgrowth and halted near the wall. But they didn't attack. They stood still. Watching. Breathing.
Enju whispered, "They're not acting normal."
"No," Rentarō said. "They're waiting for a signal."
Then Koharu's voice echoed faintly over the comms—though no one had activated her mic.
"They're confused. They don't want to fight."
Rentarō froze. "Koharu?"
"I'm trying to talk to them," she whispered. "But something else is talking to them too."
"What?" Enju asked. "Another cursed child?"
Koharu's voice trembled.
"No… something older. Something broken. Something that remembers."
At that moment, the spider-type let out a shriek and charged.
"Take it down!" Rentarō barked, firing off a burst with his Varanium pistol. Enju leapt into motion, intercepting the wolf-type mid-lunge with a flying kick, sending it skidding backward.
But even as the team fought, Rentarō couldn't shake Koharu's voice in his head.
"Something older… something broken."
Was Grunewald meddling with ancient Gastrea strains? Was this part of the New World Plan—to awaken dormant codes in the cursed children?
The pieces were falling into place—and every step forward led deeper into darkness.
By the time the Gastrea were neutralized, night had fallen again. Rentarō returned with the others, bruised and exhausted.
Koharu was sitting up, lucid, breathing steadily.
"They're not all monsters," she said softly. "Some of them remember a time before they were this way. Before the virus changed them."
Rentarō sat beside her. "How do you know this?"
She looked at him with eyes far older than her years.
"Because they've shown me."
He hesitated. "And what else did they show you?"
Koharu's expression turned cold.
"The New World Plan isn't about ending Gastrea. It's about turning us into them."