Chapter: 94. The Enemy’s Enemy
Nighttime Tokyo.
The streets, which should have been bright with lights and teeming with crowds, were now plunged into utter chaos.
A torrential downpour fell, with dense raindrops pounding against the asphalt, splashing up rings of water mingled with oil. The traffic on the roads had completely ground to a halt, with red lights and brake lights intertwining into a swath of scarlet, cutting through the blurred rain curtain.
“——Ahhh!! Run!!”
Panic-stricken shouts rang out from all directions as pedestrians shoved, collided, and scattered in a frenzied escape. Some fell, others were swept along by the crowd, and some even left behind their luggage or phones, too late to turn back.
Vehicles on the overpass were jammed together in a long line, while rainwater pooled on the bridge, forming small streams. Many drivers attempted to reverse or force a turn, resulting in collisions that sparked loud chain reactions.
At the chaotic center—
Renge and Goshi weaved through the congested traffic, their footsteps quick on the puddled ground, splashing up streams of water.
The tanker they had been driving was completely blocked on the road, with cars immobilized in front and behind, leaving them with no way to move forward even a step.
And behind them—
A heavy metallic crashing sound accompanied by a rumbling roar drew closer through the rain.
Several mechs of varying forms were slowly approaching from the end of the street, their steel structures reflecting a chilling luster in the light and rain.
These mechs were custom-made “artificial fantasy spirit armor” created by SEMA for Goshi, also known as the “Ace Iron Knight.”
The sizes of these mechs varied greatly—the smallest was just over two meters tall, designed to be worn directly on the human body as an exoskeleton enhancement armor; the largest towered at fifty meters, a massive weapon of overwhelming firepower that was typically housed in the underground storage facilities of the SEMA headquarters.
Normally, these “artificial fantasy spirit armors” would be directly controlled by Goshi through his abilities to ensure maximum efficiency and combat precision.
However, in specific emergencies, the SEMA central computer was also permitted to control them remotely, allowing the mechs to act without a pilot and provide support.
Despite this, the mechs were usually under strict authorization restrictions, making it nearly impossible to operate them in the city without proper clearance.
Unless Goshi had, in a desperate bid for survival, issued a summons command to forcefully call the mechs to his side.
But Goshi firmly denied doing so.
He had never sent any “summon mech” command.
In fact, the specialized wristband used to activate the mechs had already been taken by Tsubasa, making manipulation impossible.
Yet at this moment, the mechs were seemingly “rescuing” him, barreling through the streets and crushing obstacles with a near-uncontrolled fervor, racing toward his position.
Instead of feeling a sense of relief at being “rescued,” Goshi felt an indescribable chill slowly creeping up his spine.
He could no longer tell if the appearance of these mechs meant someone was trying to control them to kill him, or if they simply intended to frame him for the destruction they caused—or possibly both.
During his escape, Goshi still harbored a glimmer of hope.
Unwilling to accept his situation, he turned back to look once more.
But what he faced were those mechs he was most familiar with, the ones that represented an undeniable threat.
At the front was a mech constructed of silver-black composite materials, its joints reinforced with a structure resembling muscle fibers, and a closed-face mask design resembling a lifeless killer puppet.
Its right arm was equipped with a high-frequency vibrating blade, and a compact rail launcher hung from its left shoulder, each step leaving deep impressions on the waterlogged ground.
Following closely behind was a somewhat slender assault-type mech, with sharp lines and coated in dark gray camouflage suited for night operations. Its head sported a circular sensor, and its chest housed a multi-target locking core that flickered with red light.
Further back was a low-profile mech that seemed to crawl like a beast, with extremely agile limbs, equipped with shock claws designed to demolish walls, and a raised back housing a folding assault cannon.
The distance between them and Goshi was rapidly closing.
Raindrops clashed against their metallic shells with sharp echoes as the sounds of mechanical joints and the low-frequency hum of power cores intertwined, creating an oppressive rhythm that set his nerves on edge.
Goshi knew all too well the capabilities of these mechs.
He was acutely aware that under these circumstances, escape was impossible.
So he couldn’t help but shout forward to Renge, “They’re closing in!”
However, Renge neither looked back nor responded; he simply maintained his pace as if silently expressing—”You’re stating the obvious.”
“If we keep this up, we won’t get away! Can’t you do something? Just like your partner did!”
Goshi’s tone grew urgent, nearly a roar.
This time, Renge finally spoke—
Although he still did not turn around, his voice came down like cold water, calm and indifferent:
“My ability is not suited for protecting others.”
His words were not an excuse but a calm statement of fact.
The reason Renge had not chosen to confront the mechs head-on was very simple.
They were all inorganic.
His power, “The Scales of Justice,” could not affect purely inorganic constructs.
Though it did not imply that Renge could not handle these mechs, his efficiency-driven mindset clearly did not want to waste time here.
“Then you must have a plan!”
Goshi shouted as he ran, rainwater running into his mouth, making his words muddled. “No matter how much we run, they’ll catch up with us eventually! Running away is completely meaningless!”
“In fact, I’m not running away.”
Renge calmly interrupted, still unperturbed.
“I’m just leading them to a suitable location.”
“…A suitable location?”
Goshi instinctively repeated, confusion lacing his tone, evidently not comprehending Renge’s statement.
However, Renge had no intention of explaining further.
He suddenly stopped.
“Hey!? Why did you stop—”
Before Goshi could question further, he too was forced to brake abruptly, stumbling slightly on the slick ground.
Just as he was about to voice another complaint, Renge spoke first:
“Our reinforcements have arrived.”
“You have reinforcements?!”
Goshi’s eyes lit up at the words, hope flashing across his face.
But Renge simply shook his head lightly, his tone indifferent:
“To be precise… it’s the enemy’s enemy.”
No sooner had he finished speaking—
Boom!!!
Accompanied by a surge of potent magical energy, a red figure plummeted from the sky like a meteor, crashing heavily onto the roof of an abandoned car behind Renge. The tremendous impact caused the vehicle to instantly crumple, glass scattering everywhere.
From within the rain curtain, the figure slowly stood up.
A crimson coat billowed in the wind and rain, and in the next moment, a pair of eyes glowing with a scarlet light shone in the darkness.
The newcomer was none other than the ace-class esper of SEMA—Akane Mori.
—————–
On another battlefield.
The shattered street, washed by the rain, was drenched in gloom.
Bang!!
Another heavy impact echoed, and the figure of Kanade was sent flying like a broken kite by a shadow blade, crashing into the outer wall of an abandoned building, concrete fracturing and crumbling, swallowing him into the structure.
The air was thick with the scent of burning and dust, the wall deeply dented, leaving an uneasy silence.
Tsubasa repeatedly interrupted Kanade’s “rewriting” process, and the latter’s fighting spirit seemed to be dwindling.
Her words pierced into the depths of the guilt he’d long suppressed—guilt toward Nagi, making it impossible for him to concentrate on continuing the fight.
Because he knew Tsubasa was right.
What had sustained him all this way was never a reconciliation with the past, but avoidance.
—Avoidance of the fact that Nagi was already gone.
He repeatedly told himself he had to become “the only protagonist,” to obtain overwhelming power and resources so he could “revive” Nagi.
But that was merely an excuse and a rationale for his avoidance.
Deep inside, he craved success, yet in a corner of his being, he yearned for failure.
Like Sisyphus from ancient Greek mythology, condemned to endlessly push a boulder up a hill, forever unable to complete it—
He kept telling himself, “I must keep moving forward,” while placing his hope in the process of “repetition.”
Seeking meaning in the act of pushing the stone itself, in order to avoid facing the non-existence of the “summit.”
He wasn’t unaware of this.
But until now, he chose to close his eyes.
Tsubasa stood in the rain, her silver hair completely soaked, clinging to her back and neck, raindrops falling from the tips.
Her amethyst eyes quietly gazed at the collapsed opening ahead.
Unclear if it was rain or tears, they slid down her cheeks.
She gently bit her lip, her pink lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something.
But that sentence ultimately lodged in her throat, swallowed down after a moment of silence.
At that moment.
Boom—
A sudden, violent explosion erupted from several streets away.
Accompanying it was an extremely disordered magical energy wave that rippled through the rainy night, tearing through the air.
Next came the continuous wailing of car alarms, the high-pitched sound of shattering glass, and the mixed screams of the crowd alongside sirens.
Though distant, the sounds carried distinctly in the stillness of the rainy night.
Tsubasa turned her head toward the source of the noise, her gaze falling on the opposite side of the street.
That was—where Renge had fled.
She immediately sensed that a battle had erupted over there as well.
The rain continued to fall heavily, the street empty and chaotic. She stood still for a moment, slightly hesitating.
Tsubasa looked back at Kanade, who was hidden in the shadow of the collapsed opening. He remained unmoving, as if he had lost the will to fight.
Her gaze lingered on him for a few seconds, her expression slightly darkening, as if she had ultimately made a final decision.
As she turned, she intentionally suppressed all emotion, her voice deliberately turned cold as ice:
“Tsuki no Shin, you—shouldn’t continue fighting.”
With her words spoken.
Tsubasa leaped toward the direction of the explosion, her toes barely leaving the ground—splashing water, the earth cracking into a lattice of radiating cracks, the air tearing apart, forming a sonic boom that cut through the rain curtain.
As the echo faded.
The street resumed its silence, as if the battles that had just occurred had never taken place.
Under the continuous silver threads of rain.
A figure slowly approached Kanade.
