The new Tokyo at night was like a beast holding its breath. In the heart of the Bay District, on the forty-fourth floor of Kagerou Tower. With one hand pressed against the black glass window, Ren gazed down at the countless lights spreading below. The high-rise cluster glittered, and beyond the distant coastal defense wall, the darkness of the old city yawned open like a mouth. The room was silent. The S-Class exclusive lounge was empty. Only a taut stillness filled the wide space. The sofa, the table — everything was arranged in black and silver, an inorganic place. Ren didn't dislike nights like this. No, that wasn't right. He could only get by telling himself he didn't dislike them. The shadow at his feet stirred faintly. On the black floor, his shadow shifted its shape. Something the size of a dog poked its head out from within the darkness. Red eyes. Three of them, gleaming. A body of black mist. It was a Shadow Hound — one of the Monoliths Ren had defeated and absorbed into his own shadow. "Quiet." Ren murmured the word, and the Hound manifested its form for just an instant before sinking back into the shadow. Only the original black stain remained on the floor. Absolute Obedience. That was Ren's skill. Rather than annihilating defeated Monoliths, he stored them within his own shadow and commanded them. Right now, roughly thirty Monoliths lurked inside. Shadow Hounds, Armor Knights, Sirens — all manner of aberrations, ready to spring forth at a single command from Ren. Incredible power. Everyone said so. The two hundred guild members respected Ren. The only S-Class hunter in Kagerou Tower. With the Master's seat vacant for half a year, Ren was the one effectively running this massive organization. And yet. Ren lifted his right hand and stared at the back of it. From his fingertips to his wrist, the color was pale. He'd been overusing his skill. The sensation of his psyche being slowly drawn into the shadows — that was growing stronger too. Sometimes his head would fill entirely with the memories of the oldest Monolith. He couldn't exactly blame the Association for viewing this power as a threat. No one came close. Awe of power breeds isolation. That was Ren Kazama's daily life. The terminal on his arm vibrated lowly. Sender: Hunter Association, New Tokyo Branch. Inspector Saya. The message was a single line. —Report to Hunter Central tonight. Ren let out a small breath. A summons from the Association was never good news. He knew that. But he couldn't ignore it either. The Association's rules were absolute. Even for an S-Class, defiance could bring punishment down on the entire guild. Looking at the nightscape beyond the window, Ren didn't move for a while. The reason he didn't dislike this nightscape was probably — Because it forced him to confirm, whether he wanted to or not, that he stood utterly alone above this city. — Inside the self-driving car heading toward the Government District, Ren gazed absently out the window. The route cut north from the Bay District. As the car entered the elevated roadway, the southern view opened up. The wreckage of collapsed buildings, half-submerged roads, pale blue lights drifting here and there. That was the old city — Kuzuriha. Twenty years since the Day of Collapse. Ruins like that still yawned open, right there. Gate lights. Pale blue, faint, flickering. The moment he saw them, something cold raced along Ren's spine. —That day. Twenty years ago. The Day of Collapse. His six-year-old self, sitting alone in the rubble. The surroundings hazy with smoke and dust, no one around. Mom. Dad. He called and called, but no answer came. For three days, he was alone. On the morning of the fourth day, a fallen Monolith suddenly turned to black mist and was sucked into Ren's shadow. Fear, or anything like that — he didn't feel it anymore. He just watched. It was only later that he realized he'd felt nothing at all, and that was the most terrifying part. Ren slowly closed his eyes. That memory resurfaced every time he looked at the nightscape. But the anger and the sadness — they no longer burned hot. They just sat there quietly, like a weight sunk deep in his chest. That was what had driven him forward. That much, at least, he knew for certain. — It was past nine at night when he arrived at Hunter Central. A massive, white, rectangular building, fifty stories tall. The headquarters of the Hunter Association, towering over New Tokyo's Government District. Hunter registration, rank assessments, disciplinary hearings — everything happened here. He passed through the entrance security. Inorganic white corridors. A faint smell of disinfectant. Maybe it was the hallway lighting, but no matter how far he walked, his shadow seemed to grow darker and darker. The designated room was an inquiry chamber on the upper floors. The moment he opened the door, cold air touched his skin. The fluorescent lights were white, illuminating everything in the room with sterile evenness. A bare table, two chairs facing each other. And standing beyond them — Inspector Saya. A perfectly straight back. Long silver hair flowed over the shoulders of her crisp uniform. A pale, slender face. Cold blue eyes. Her gaze held no emotion whatsoever; it simply fixed on Ren, unwavering. She stood about a hundred and sixty-five centimeters, slightly shorter than Ren. But her air of flawless composure far exceeded his. Her uniform was pressed sharp, fastened all the way up to the collar hook. At hand were a thick terminal and several documents. "Kazama Ren. Vice-Master of Guild Kagerou. S-Class Hunter." Her voice was a little stiff. Somewhere between monotone and composure. The way someone speaks when they're trying to suppress their emotions. "[serious] Absolute Obedience — a skill that stores defeated Monoliths within your own shadow rather than annihilating them. Current commandable count: approximately thirty. Is this correct?" Amid the string of words merely reading off data, Ren sensed something faint. —This person has lost something too. He had no basis for it. But the thought settled quietly into his chest. "Correct." Saya operated her terminal without looking up. "[cold] Then regarding the multiple past reports of memory contamination — are you also aware of those?" Her voice was still stiff, but the glance she flicked at Ren between words — it wasn't just to check data. A heat, as if searching for something, flickered faintly deep within that cold blue. "I'm aware. But I can manage my own power." Ren said it quietly. There was no reason to argue. All of Saya's points were valid from the Association's standpoint. Absolute Obedience was dangerous. The mental strain it imposed was beyond common sense. Above all, the act of preserving defeated Monoliths potentially violated Article 17 of the Hunter Management Regulations. "[serious] The Association requires objective evidence, not your subjective assessment." With that single line, their gazes collided head-on. A few seconds. Silence. It was Saya who looked away first. She dropped her gaze to her terminal. But before her fingers touched the keyboard, there was a moment's hesitation. Something wavered beneath the mask of cold authority — Ren felt it clearly. (Why did this person become the Association's dog?) The question quietly took root in his mind. Saya probably realized that Ren had noticed. In the air-conditioned room, her body temperature seemed to rise just slightly. In her head, she was aware that her heart rate was higher than usual, but she didn't let it show on her face. In the chilled air of the inquiry chamber, the two of them still hadn't exchanged a single personal word. But they were beginning to faintly sense the outlines of each other's solitude. —That was when it happened. The building-wide alarm blared deafeningly. Red lamps spun, and the ceiling monitors switched over in unison. An Association emergency broadcast. The papers slipped from Saya's hand. What appeared on the monitor was a shaking image. Underground. A dark passage. Voices could be heard — no, voices that resembled human speech. WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU. It was a language he'd never heard before, but the meaning alone was clear. The ruins of the old Tokyo subway, the Corridor of Lamentations. The A-Class hunters who had advanced below the eleventh layer had engaged a humanoid Monolith — and been annihilated. The footage distorted. The audio cut out. The moment Ren felt the wavelength of that voice, a chill froze his spine. For just one second — the Monoliths within his shadow stirred restlessly. They quieted immediately, but cold sweat ran down his back. "[scared] ...Humanoid...?" Saya murmured the word under her breath. She stared at the monitor with a grim expression. Her uniformed hands gripped the edge of the table tightly. Ren stared at the monitor in silence. Without a word, the two of them stood enveloped in the same tension and unease. The Association's announcement continued. —The following morning, an emergency summons would be issued to all S-Class hunters. —The assigned inspector must attend the strategy meeting without fail. Saya drew in a small, sharp breath. Tomorrow, as Ren's assigned inspector, she would stand before all of the S-Class. Knowing that, Ren said nothing, simply watching her profile. Those cold blue eyes wavered ever so slightly. No one understood anything yet. But — one thing was certain. Something was about to begin. Even after the alarm fell silent, the voice from that footage lingered between them for a long while.