Location: Japan — One of the Last Strongholds One hundred years have passed since the crisis began. Out of the more than three hundred nations that once stood across the globe, five have been completely swallowed by the Dead Zone: the Philippines, Korea, Spain, the United States, and the United Kingdom. All other countries remain intact — and Japan stands firm among them, its great Anti‑Viral Barrier glowing bright against the gray horizon. Inside the walls, the sun shone warm over quiet streets. Children laughed in the parks. Markets bustled. For one peaceful morning, the horror waiting outside felt like nothing more than an old, distant story. But out beyond the shield, beyond the towering containment wall… silence never lasted long. Deep in the mist‑choked forests outside Japan's border, a blur darted between ancient trees — so fast it left nothing but faint ripples in the air. A massive scaled beast roared, slashing out with claws the size of swords… and struck only empty space. It twisted, lunged, thrashed — yet never once caught sight of what hunted it. That was Kazo Eteya. Japanese, twin daggers glinting faintly in his grip. He was legendary for speed so extreme, his reactions outpaced what the eye could even track. At full sprint, light itself seemed to slip past him — making him all but invisible while he fought. In the next heartbeat, shadows detached from the tree line and rose up. A katana sang as it swept through the beast's leg — not enough to cripple, just enough to guide its movement. This was Auriel Monoya, born in the fallen Philippines, the squad's shadow‑walker. He moved without a trace, his presence vanishing completely even when he stood right beside you. His fighting style was wild, brutal, impossible to predict — like a monster roused from slumber. Right now though, once the strike landed, he slumped against a trunk with a long yawn. "Too much effort…" he muttered, eyes drifting toward one of his squadmates. He only ever paid full attention to Aishel. From the opposite side, another blade cut through the mist. Saita Doza, originally from fallen Korea, katana moving in fluid, gentle arcs. He feinted left, then shifted strike so smoothly the monster bit at empty air even after the blow had already landed. He was fast, silent, and deceptive — turning lethal strikes harmless before anyone even realized the danger was there. The beast roared and charged — only for a fist to slam square into its jaw hard enough to crack bone. Koda Marquez, from fallen Spain, never carried a weapon. He had mastered every form of unarmed combat known to humanity: karate, boxing, jiu‑jitsu, and dozens more — blending flawless technique with crushing, overwhelming raw power. A second fist landed right beside the first. Mozark Aiz, from the fallen United Kingdom — just like Koda, he relied entirely on his own two hands. Their strength, skill, and fighting instinct were perfectly matched; they argued and sparred constantly, yet stood back‑to‑back without a second thought when it mattered most. High above, two arrows streaked down in perfect unison — pinning the monster's thick hide to the earth without piercing deep enough to rupture its core body. Shilla Modaka, formerly of the fallen USA, possessed eyes as sharp as an eagle's; her aim never strayed, and every shot carried a lingering, agonizing burn that slowed even the toughest beasts. Beside her stood Aishel Sauki, Japanese — her vision cut straight through rock, steel, and mist alike. She calculated angles no one else could see, firing around obstacles, over ridges, through gaps too narrow for sunlight to pass. Kazo finally reappeared right at the beast's neck — delivering a clean Trimour Cut: a shallow, precise incision, never severing fully. The monster slumped instantly, gone forever without releasing a speck of virus. "Man, this really is too easy," Kazo grinned, spinning his daggers. "Don't get careless," Aishel called down from her perch. "Easy doesn't mean safe." Miles away, inside the safety of the walls, Iku Matame stood watching the sky — born in the Philippines before it fell, now just an ordinary young man living in Japan. No spark, no gift, no special edge at all. Beside him sat his younger sister Keta: half Filipino, half Japanese, quiet and bright… and one of the lucky ones. She had Awakened. For a century, humanity across the remaining nations has lived trapped in a terrible bargain. The Anyxorus Virus — airborne, sentient, endlessly hungry — could not be destroyed. If you killed an infected monster and broke its body open, the virus flooded back into the atmosphere and multiplied out of control. The only way to keep it contained was to keep it trapped inside living hosts. So the world built the System. Every ten years, a global lottery selects exactly ten percent of all humans — those without Awakened powers — to be taken, injected with pure Anyxorus, mutated into beasts, and dropped into the Dead Zone. It was a cruel sacrifice… to keep the sky itself from turning into poison. But anyone born with powers like Keta? The virus rejected them as unsuitable vessels. The System marked them exempt. They would never be drawn in the lottery. They would never be taken. "I'm safe… so you will be too, right?" Keta asked softly, though she already feared she knew the answer. Iku forced a smile, but his chest felt tight. But they had no idea — the shadows were already stirring, the old rules already fraying. The King of Monsters was no longer just a myth whispered in fear. He was drawing closer, step by shadowed step, and the ground itself held its breath… for the sovereign they thought would never rise again, may already be here. [TO BE CONTINUED]

The World