The noon siren blared across every block of Titan Island. It was not the usual lunch signal. A shrill, prolonged, ear-splitting alarm. In the mess hall of Central Block, the first scream went up. A prisoner in the ration line suddenly slammed his tray into the face of the man next to him. Gray blocks of synthetic protein scattered, and shattered front teeth fell to the floor along with blood. The man who'd been struck collapsed, eyes rolling white, unable to comprehend what had happened. "[angry]The hell are you doing, you bastard!" Another prisoner shouted. But his voice, too, was cut short. When the man turned around, his eyes had already lost their sanity. His pupils were dilated, foam bubbling at the corners of his mouth. Excitatory drugs. Something mixed into the moonshine had found its way into the lunch ration paste. The entire mess hall transformed into a swelling vortex of murderous intent. The prisoners began lashing out with violence at anything within reach. Trays, chairs, bare hands. Before the guards could draw their batons, another prisoner looped an arm around a guard's neck from behind and choked him unconscious. The baton was seized and brought down on the guard's skull. A dull sound. Blood stained the gray floor red. Fifth floor of the control tower. Graves stood silently beyond the thick protective glass, gazing down at the scene. His massive one-hundred-ninety-two-centimeter frame stood motionless by the window. The bluish light of the monitors reflected off the distortions of his shaved skull. His small, sunken gray eyes did not blink once. In his left hand, he held the mass-activation switch for the Neuro-Chains. One press, and the neural suppression chips embedded in the back of every prisoner's neck would unleash excruciating pain, quelling the riot in seconds. But his finger did not touch the switch. "[cold]It needs a little more fire." The murmur was barely more than a breath. He was observing the riot. No—he was waiting. Waiting for the moment this chaos would isolate Karasuma and Viola completely. His adjutant rushed into the office in a fluster. The gaunt man's face was pale with terror. "[scared]Warden! Blocks E and F have been overrun! The Barossa faction has seized full control of the mess hall, and reports indicate remnants of the Outer Sphere Independence faction have sealed off the mining sector entrance!" "[cold]Is that so." Graves turned around slowly. "[cold]And where is Viola Clemente." "Sh-she is in the Central Block corridor, awaiting instructions from the guards as ordered..." "[cold]A detention warrant has arrived from the Federal Security Bureau. She is to be detained on suspicion of espionage. Send four guards. Confine her in the control tower's holding cell." The adjutant bowed and hurried out of the room. Graves opened his desk drawer. From inside, he took out an old holograph photograph. A young officer's smiling face. His younger brother, Arthur. For nearly a minute, he stared at it in silence. "[whispers]Arthur... today, it ends. That piece of waste who killed you will know true hell." He placed the photograph on the desk and walked toward the large locker against the wall. He entered an authentication code, and the heavy door opened. Inside, the jet-black reinforced exoskeleton suit "Gehenna" hung suspended like the corpse of a beast. A military powered suit that amplified muscle strength eightfold, with ballistic and impact-resistant capabilities. A weapon that amplified its wearer's will in the form of destruction. Graves touched the suit's chest plate. The cold sensation of metal clung to his palm. The three remaining fingers of his right hand slowly traced the armor's surface. — Around that time. The underground tunnels of the mining sector. Two hundred meters below the surface. The temperature was minus thirty degrees. The prisoners' breath froze white, and frost crystals clung to the surface of their life-support suits. Karasuma was at the front line of the tunnels, assigned to the afternoon work shift. The arms swinging the pickaxe had already unleashed the wildness that had slumbered for two years at the bottom of his apathy. The morning's attack. That had been a trap set by Graves. And now, from the tunnel entrance, the war cries of the Outer Sphere Independence remnants and the roar of metal being smashed echoed through the shafts. The entrance had been sealed. The path to the surface was cut off. Karasuma set down his pickaxe, expressionless. His unkempt black hair clung to his forehead with sweat and dust. In the dimness of the tunnel, his deep amber eyes intensified their golden gleam, like those of a beast. He read the presence around him. Three. No, four. From the tunnel junction, lower-ranking members of the Barossa faction were moving about. In their hands, improvised spears made from detached mining drill bits, weapons with iron pipe tips sharpened to a razor's edge. The heat of their gazes converged on Karasuma's back. (So they've come to kill me.) His bloodless, thin lips twisted faintly. It was far too cold to be called a smile—the moment the assassin's instinct that had smoldered for two years at the bottom of his silence surfaced for the first time. Karasuma picked up the mining drill at his feet. Heavy. But that weight was good. The drill bit was made of super-hard alloy meant to crush bedrock. Human bone would shatter like tofu. He began to walk. With his back to the tunnel wall, the first man. The man let out a war cry and swung down the iron pipe. Karasuma evaded with minimal movement, turning half his body aside. The tip of the pipe struck the tunnel wall with a shower of sparks. In that split-second opening, Karasuma's left hand seized the man's wrist. *Crunch.* The dull sound of a joint dislocating. "Gyaaah!" A scream. Before the drill could fall from his hand, Karasuma slammed the man's body against the wall. The tunnel shuddered with a *boom*. The man collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut. The second, the third. He moved along the shortest path. He did not swing the drill bit. He simply destroyed the vital points of the human body with his bare hands, elbows, and knees. The neck, the solar plexus, the knee joints. The killing techniques that had been frozen for two years were driven into the men's bodies without a single deviation. The third man's knee bent in the wrong direction. Silence. The fourth man stood rooted to the spot, clutching his spear. At the trembling man's feet, urine mixed with blood spread across the ground. Karasuma glanced at the man and walked past him without a word. — To the surface. He sprinted up the emergency stairs of the tunnel. Only the sound of his footsteps kicking against the steel stairs echoed through the shaft. He was out of breath. His heart, for the first time in two years, was pumping blood at full force. Every cell in his body demanded oxygen to fight. The moment he slipped through the surface hatch, the scene that leapt into Karasuma's vision. The corridor of Central Block. Four guards were dragging a woman by the arms. A short bob of silvery-white hair. Amethyst eyes. Viola. She offered no resistance. She simply surrendered herself to the guards with a cold, expressionless face. "[cold]I am an official inspector of the Federation. This detention is an overreach of authority." One of the guards twisted her arm up roughly. "[angry]Shut up! Orders from the Warden. We'll have a nice long chat with you in the control tower!" In that instant. Something inside Karasuma snapped. No. To say something snapped was far too lukewarm. Soundlessly, and with certainty, the door that had been sealed deep within his chest was kicked open from the inside. (The option of abandoning her—) It wasn't even recognized as a subject for processing. His legs moved on their own. He ran down the corridor. Four guards, Viola, the dead-end passage leading to the control tower. Distance: approximately thirty meters. The guards' positioning, their lines of movement, their weapons—two batons, one stun gun, the handguns not yet drawn. He closed in on the first guard from behind without a sound. Silent. He seized the back of the guard's head with his left hand and slammed it against the wall. *Thud.* A dull impact. Before the first man could collapse, he had already taken the second man's baton, reversed his grip, and driven it into his solar plexus. "Guhah...!" The second man fell forward. The third guard raised his stun gun, but Karasuma hurled the baton, striking his wrist with precision. "Guah!" The stun gun clattered to the floor, the sound of its discharge echoing through the corridor. The fourth man, trembling, tried to draw his handgun. But the one who seized his wrist was Viola. Before anyone knew it, she had slipped free of her restraints. "[cold]It's futile. My specialty is information warfare, but I have received basic combat training." Viola locked the guard's wrist and took the handgun. Her amethyst eyes turned toward Karasuma. Deep within those eyes, an emotion that exceeded her calculations flickered for the first time. It was surprise. Karasuma had moved to save her. He had not taken the option of abandoning her. That fact shook something fiercely deep within Viola's chest. "[gentle]Karasuma, you..." Her voice trembled faintly. But those words were never fully spun. From the end of the corridor, a low mechanical hum reverberated. —*Vrrrr... vrrrr... thud, thud, thud.* The weight of metal pressed down on the floor, step by step. The walls trembled. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling swayed, and the shadows warped. Gehenna. The jet-black reinforced exoskeleton suit emerged from the depths of the corridor. A steel giant standing over two meters tall. A military powered suit that amplified the wearer's muscle strength eightfold. Beyond the helmet's visor, Graves's small gray eyes glinted coldly. "[cold]Well, well. The former Red Dragon. I'd heard you'd been dead for two years, but it seems you can still move." Graves's voice was metallically amplified through the suit's external speakers. Karasuma released his grip on the last remaining guard. The man screamed and scrambled away into a corner of the corridor. "[serious]Graves... so this is what you wanted." Karasuma's voice was low and quiet. But his amber eyes alone radiated a golden fighting spirit unlike anything before. "[cold]This is an education. Waste must be taught its place." Before the words were finished, Gehenna moved. *BOOM!!* A roar. Karasuma leapt back, but the suit's acceleration far exceeded the limits of the human body. Its right arm struck Karasuma's torso at a speed that shattered the wall. His ribs broke. A dull, wet sound echoed through the corridor. Karasuma's body crashed through the concrete wall and was blown into the adjacent block. Dust and debris swirled, and blood splattered across the floor. "Karasuma!!" Viola screamed. Her calculating eyes twisted with emotion for the first time. Fear. Anger. And—something that looked as though she might cry. Amidst the rubble, Karasuma lay collapsed, coughing up blood. Perhaps a broken rib had pierced his lung; with every breath, lukewarm blood spilled from his mouth. But his amber eyes had not yet gone out. Looking up, Gehenna stood over him. Graves slowly approached Karasuma. His boots crushed the debris underfoot. The faceless helmet tilted slowly downward. "[cold]Does it hurt. Is it painful. Good. That's what gives it meaning." He lifted Gehenna's boot and slowly shifted his weight onto Karasuma's broken ribs. "Gah... hah...!" Bloody froth erupted from Karasuma's mouth. The fractured bone fragments bit deeper into his body. "[cold]Don't move. If you move, it will hurt more. And now, there is something I must teach you. A final education, in the name of truth." Graves's voice was calm. It did not tremble