Next morning, Hibiki woke up early as usual, and after finishing his morning routine, he began preparing breakfast for two.
Yawning, he flipped the food in the frying pan.
Pink bacon and tender white fried eggs sizzled over the stove, releasing grease and a savory aroma.
The smell couldn’t help but remind him of the scene from a few hours ago, where he had torn three living people into pieces.
It still felt a bit nauseating…
Comparing a delicious breakfast to corpses smeared on a wall was indeed a bit twisted; Hibiki wrinkled his nose slightly.
However, he didn’t feel much guilt or the discomfort typically associated with killing for the first time.
“Is it because my mindset completely transformed into that of an Oni while acting with Ibaraki Doji’s saint graph?”
“Or perhaps, deep down, I never considered those cultists to be my own kind?”
“It can’t be because I’m naturally evil…”
He curled his lips in self-mockery and, taking advantage of a gap in cooking breakfast, took out his phone and began searching casually.
Miyuan Church…
As a transmigrator who had lived in Tokyo for eighteen years, he had heard of this cult, but only to the extent of knowing the bare minimum about the organization.
He had never paid any attention to its scope of activity, doctrine, or personnel.
“Celebrating the 100th anniversary of the cult leader’s birth… Donating one billion yen to collaborate with charitable foundations in building orphanages and nursing homes…”
“Acquiring and renovating abandoned shrines across various regions… Creating a model civilized religion for modern society…”
After casually browsing the news about the Miyuan Church, Hibiki’s expression turned peculiar.
Judging solely by these reports, the Miyuan Church seemed like a cult full of positive energy.
Not only did they frequently donate to various foundations, but they also funded and helped build many orphanages and nursing homes, and even worked on preserving Japanese shrine traditions that were gradually dying out.
It was no wonder some politicians called them a model civilized religion; they were simply too wealthy.
So the question was, where did all that money come from?
Looking at these high-sounding news headlines, Hibiki couldn’t help but narrow his eyes.
In the past, he wouldn’t have cared about such boastful showmanship at all.
But now, he seemed to be able to smell something different between the lines—a thick, inseparable scent of blood.
It turned out that beneath the customary peace and tranquility…
so much ugliness was hidden.
Putting his phone down, Hibiki’s posture was somewhat complex.
In this life, he had a good background and had lived in a comfort zone since childhood.
Even when he had conflicts with his family, his aunt took him in, so he never ended up homeless.
Living comfortably within the walls, he had almost forgotten the cruelty of a capitalist country.
No…
he was probably just afraid to see it, so he subconsciously ignored it.
Shaking his head, Hibiki confronted his own weakness.
Before, he was powerless to change any of this, so he could only avoid it.
But now, with the Heroic Spirit Summoning System, he had the power to shake the very foundations of this world.
What would he do?
What should he do…
or rather, he was already doing it.
…
At seven in the morning, at the Tachibana Family’s dining table, Hibiki was using a butter knife to spread cream on toasted bread.
However, judging by his mechanical repetition of spreading in the same spot, the boy’s thoughts had already flown to some far-off place.
Across from him, a purple-haired woman wearing loose beige loungewear cast a suspicious glance.
“Kyo? Did you get enough rest last night?”
“While I won’t be as strict as your mother about your deviation score or forbid you from writing novels in high school, as a student and a minor, getting enough sleep is essential.”
“If you’re really too busy, let me handle breakfast so you can at least sleep a bit longer.”
Seeing Hibiki’s distracted look, Kyoko Tachibana, sitting across from him, tapped the table and asked with a gentle, worried tone.
Kyoko Tachibana was a reporter for a well-known Tokyo newspaper and also Hibiki’s maternal aunt.
She had taken him in after he clashed with his biological mother; in a way, both of them were considered outcasts of the Tachibana Family.
“Sorry, I was just spacing out.”
“Didn’t we agree that I’d handle the chores? If I did nothing and just lived off you for free, even I would feel my self-esteem take a hit.”
“Besides, Aunt Kyoko, your work is very busy—at least ten thousand times harder than me attending a public high school.”
Looking up with a bright smile, Hibiki responded to Aunt Kyoko’s concern.
He respected and appreciated this elder from the bottom of his heart.
If not for Kyoko’s help, his biological mother would have forced him into a private high school, shuttled him between cram schools, and made him battle one private tutor after another, all to climb the highest peak of Tokyo’s competitive parenting world with his Third-stage Mental Power talent.
“Maybe not ten thousand times… but if you feel tired, you can talk to me.”
After staring intently at Hibiki’s handsome face for a moment, Aunt Kyoko’s expression finally softened.
Seeing that he didn’t look overly exhausted, Aunt Kyoko muttered something and dropped the subject.
Silence returned to the dining table, punctuated only by the occasional clinking of dishes.
“Aunt Kyoko, do you think gods exist in this world?”
The quiet atmosphere lasted for a moment before Hibiki suddenly asked out of the blue.
Hearing this question, Kyoko Tachibana paused briefly while drinking her miso soup, set down her bowl, and asked in return.
“Why ask such a question all of a sudden?”
She turned her head, her bright eyes filled with confusion.
“I just saw some things related to myths and legends while studying. Since you’re a reporter, Aunt Kyoko, you must encounter more things than I do.”
Continuing his breakfast, Hibiki spoke without a change in expression, as if it were just casual small talk.
“Probably not… though I do wish there were gods watching over us.”
“If there really were gods, those tax-evading entrepreneurs, merchants selling shoddy products, and lying politicians at least wouldn’t be as utterly unscrupulous as they are now.”
“Unfortunately, things like karma don’t seem to exist at all.”
Picking up her bowl and blowing on the hot miso soup, Kyoko Tachibana shook her head with regret.
Perhaps she was thinking of a past report of hers, or a draft rejected by her editor-in-chief, as her tone inevitably carried a hint of resentment.
Although she was a famously stubborn reporter in the industry, she was often helpless against society’s deep-seated problems.
At times like those, the wish for evildoers to receive divine punishment couldn’t help but surface.
Unfortunately, it was just wishful thinking.
“I see…”
Confirming that his aunt also wished for gods to exist in this world, Hibiki nodded thoughtfully.
As they were chatting, Kyoko Tachibana’s phone suddenly rang.
“Yes, it’s me.”
She took the call, and her relaxed expression instantly turned solemn.
Covering the mouthpiece, she left the table and walked toward the balcony, sliding the partition door shut behind her.
Hibiki continued his breakfast without looking up; he wasn’t exaggerating when he said Kyoko Tachibana was busy.
Receiving emergency calls during off-hours was a routine occurrence for her.
Reporters—especially good ones—being on call at all times was perfectly normal.
“Understood, I’ll head to the scene immediately…”
After a low-voiced conversation for about a minute, Aunt Kyoko slid open the balcony glass door and returned to the living room.
“Sorry, Kyo.”
“The station suddenly has an urgent on-site report, so I have to leave early.”
“Go to school on your own after you finish eating. Don’t be late, or Nadeshiko will get angry again.”
Ignoring Hibiki’s gaze, Kyoko Tachibana swiftly pulled off her loungewear, tossed it on the sofa, and dashed into the master bedroom.
By the time she reappeared before Hibiki, the Tokyo Daily reporter had changed into a sharp professional suit, applied elegant makeup, and meticulously styled her long hair.
Like an arrow notched on a bowstring, she swiftly grabbed her bag from the rack, changed into sensible flats at the entrance, and finally pulled open the heavy security door.
“I’m heading out!”
“Be safe on the way.”
Hibiki stood up to see his elder off.
A few minutes later, Kyoko Tachibana appeared less than a kilometer from the Tachibana house, arriving at a crime scene cordoned off by the Metropolitan Police Department.
This was exactly the site of the cult sacrifice where Ibaraki Doji had appeared.
Watching Aunt Kyoko’s hurried steps disappear behind the door, Hibiki wore a thoughtful expression.
Aunt Kyoko was the star reporter for the Tokyo Daily, known for her impartiality and boldness…
Seeing her in such a rush, the Miyuan Church case had likely come to light.
Last night, the Ibaraki Doji he transformed into had unleashed a Noble Phantasm nearby.
Although he had consciously held back his power, he had still nearly collapsed that Detached house.
With such a huge commotion, it was impossible for the neighbors not to call the police.
Plus, since the Miyuan Church was live-streaming at the time, relevant information would surely reach the cult’s higher-ups quickly.
The fact that the TV station was only just receiving news suggested that someone had been working behind the scenes to delay it.
In a world without gods…
people lack a sense of awe.
Aunt Kyoko’s words still echoed in his ears, and a vague thought gradually became clear.
Punishing evildoers treats the symptoms but not the cause.
The sacrificial girl last night had prayed to a god before her death, and Aunt Kyoko also wished for a god to judge evil.
Humans long so deeply for an absolute justice that transcends the mundane.
So, if there are no gods in this world…
“Then I shall create one.”
“The one from another world—the Alien God.”
The previously vague future now manifested concretely in Hibiki’s heart.
He reached out, Spiritual particles of light gathered, and a Heroic Spirit Card appeared between his fingers.