Kuro moved in the shadows, training alone inside the bunker.

During the last mission, after being captured by Kugutsu's subordinates, the boy had relived some traumatic events from his childhood, back when he was nothing more than a lab rat.

Being imprisoned again, in a tiny cell, with no hope of escape, had filled him with both rage and fear.

To make sure it never happened again, the [mage] was pushing himself to the limit, trying to surpass the boundaries of his powers.

So far, the results had been promising.

Even so, his stamina and [mana] had reached their limit before he could release all his frustration.

He now lay paralyzed from exhaustion, on the cold floor of the training hall.

(I can do better… The more I train, the faster I can use [shadow step]. At this point, I might even escape Fumio-sensei? No… I need to work harder… I must become intangible like a shadow during battle. Only then will no one ever be able to cage me again.)

---

Elsewhere in the city, Hajime was undergoing a different kind of intensive training—under Veronica’s supervision.

"Overcharging your senses will only make you vulnerable. You need to find balance, otherwise, your powers will hold you back instead of helping you."

With a tight blindfold covering his eyes, Goto's stepson was trying to dodge the strikes of his shishou’s wooden staff.

So far, he had made little progress or so he thought.

"If you can’t hear my footsteps, focus on my breathing, or my heartbeat."

"I—I’m trying!" (Hajime)

"Then why are you so slow to dodge?" (Veronica)

The [Omega mage] was pushing Hajime to his limits. In truth, he had made significant progress in just one day, actually, in just a few hours.

But every time he improved, Veronica would raise the difficulty level, giving him the false impression that he was constantly failing.

At this point, she was trying to silence the sound of her steps entirely and move faster than the seventeen-year-old [mage] could perceive.

Yet Hajime was almost managing to dodge half her strikes.

"Enough with just hearing. Now focus on your sense of smell and touch as well."

"Veronica-shishou, I get the smell part, but… how is touch supposed to help?" (Hajime)

"aaah, Even I can’t completely cancel out the impact I have on the environment when I move, Hajime-chan. Every strike I make shifts the air in a specific direction. If you learn to read those changes, you’ll gain a few extra milliseconds to dodge. Now concentrate."

"I’m ready."

"Didn’t you just say you were ready?" (Veronica)

Hours passed, until Hajime hit the limit of his focus, beyond which he could no longer channel his powers into his senses.

"You did well. Same time tomorrow. And if you see your master, the much less sexy one, tell him I said hello." (Veronica)

"N-no, Fumio-sensei mustn’t know that I-"

The forty-year-old didn’t even bother listening to the rest of his sentence.

(Oh, Hajime-chan… it’s almost adorable that you think he doesn’t know you’ve been getting extra lessons. The fact that you now know how to make a [mage]'s internal organs implode should’ve tipped him off already. Or maybe he realized it from how your development started to diverge from his other students. Not that it matters.)

As she left the training room, she couldn’t help but look forward to her next encounter with Yukihime.

Teasing and irritating her fellow [Omega] had become a kind of guilty pleasure she couldn’t resist.

(Maybe I should tell Hajime-chan about his master? No… he’s smart enough to make up some excuse,even if it’s useless. And besides, if he ends up clashing with his group… he’ll have no choice but to turn to me. Yes… no matter what happens, I win.)

Confident in her position, since Yukihime couldn’t confront her directly or stop her from training Hajime as long as he was the one seeking her out, Veronica sat down in her living room armchair.

The news broadcast showed a particular headline that only lifted her mood further.

"Heh So this is their first attack? Bold, but nothing that can topple the foundation Goto built... Yes, the status quo is about to shift on this island."

---

Many hours earlier, Fumio had returned to the bunker, uncertain about how to approach the subject he needed to discuss with Yukihime.

(That woman has sunk her claws into Kamijo-san… she’s the one who made him stronger, defying Yukihime-sama’s not-so-subtle warnings to stay away… I should tell her, but we’re about to face the [Black Corps], and Yukihime-sama isn’t exactly impartial when it comes to her best friend’s son… Hoshi-san already doesn’t like Goto’s stepson. If she found out he’s in contact with that monster of a woman… No. I’ll handle this myself.)

Sighing, the man went to check on his other students. Only afterward did he turn on the TV—to witness the first strike made by the [New Dawn] against their enemies.

---

The day after Kugutsu freed the prisoners, one of the most critical squads, specifically, the one from the Eastern District, was carrying out an important operation.

Emiko, Bashira, and Aito were [mages], while Benjiro was an [esper]. Though not as powerful in direct combat as other groups, their skill in executing "scalpel-level" missions, where precision mattered more than brute force, was undeniable.

At the moment, their leader, Emiko, was meeting with a journalist in a secluded yet public location, far from prying eyes.

“So, what scoop did you want to talk about?”

“The one that’s going to blow up very soon and drag the leader of the [Black Corps] into the mud.” (Emiko)

"Scoffs You didn’t bring me here to waste my time, did you? Half the journalists who go after Mokuro Goto disappear, resign, or end up working for him. The man is untouchable. Everyone knows that."

"That’s what he wants us to believe. He wants us to see him as invincible, powerful, untouchable. But he’s far from it. And you, as a talented journalist, should already suspect that a man who polices information networks that aggressively… has a lot to hide." (Emiko)

“You still haven’t told me why I’m here.”

"A scandal is about to break. And many more will follow. I’ll contact you again when there’s a real story, with evidence to protect it. If you're truly a journalist who believes in the truth, and who feels disgusted by injustice… be ready."

“What if this is just a trap?”

“No one can guarantee it’s not. I won’t lie to you. you could die, or worse. If you want to back out, now’s your chance. I don’t want a good man’s blood on my conscience.”

The journalist simply looked out the café window.

Men, women, and children walked by, blissfully unaware of just how rotten the world around them was.

They deserved to know the truth, no matter how painful. Even if some would hate him for shattering their illusion of peace, he couldn’t ignore the evil he saw.

Someone, someday, had to shed light on society’s shadows.

“I wouldn’t call myself a good man… but I am the right person to pour salt in the wounds of the [Black Corps]. If your group can make them bleed.”

“Then… until next time. And watch your back.” (Emiko)