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Looking out at the distant, rising plume of concrete dust, Kenji breathed heavily, his chest heaving violently in ragged, desperate gasps.
By forcing his physical framework into the [Overload] state, his raw combat output had experienced a staggering kinetic surge.
Both his Strength and Agility metrics had broken past his baseline ceiling to hit 121 points.
Furthermore, because his advanced combat proficiency injected an additional 10% kinetic force multiplier into his physical strikes, that final, devastating linear kick had connected with a terrifying, mathematically absurd threshold of 133 points of raw physical power.
An offensive parameter of that scale was structurally indistinguishable from the absolute peak output of a frontline SS apex predator.
While Sen Takatsuki occupied the absolute pinnacle of existence as a catastrophic SSS biological entity, she remained bound to human proportions while operating outside her automated Kakuja armor; her baseline flesh-and-blood durability simply couldn’t manifest the absolute damage mitigation metrics expected of her class.
Consequently, that single, unmitigated heel strike had forced Eto to swallow an incredibly massive, unprecedented layer of structural humiliation.
Kenji refrained from committing to any further tactical greed.
He didn’t waste a single millisecond attempting to launch a follow-up blitz; instead, he pivoted seamlessly on his heel and executed a rapid tactical extraction.
He needed to fully exploit the remaining operational window of his [Overload] state to maximize his acceleration out of the ward.
With his Heavenly Tyrant synchronization rigidly choked at 30%, engaging a fully realized apex anomaly over a prolonged attrition curve remained a mathematically losing equation.
Back amidst the billowing ruins of the corporate high-rise, the air remained choked with a dense shroud of dust and pulverized drywall.
By the time Tatara managed to force his cellular regeneration sequence to stabilize his charred torso and return to the primary coordinate, he froze in stark, unadulterated disbelief.
Eto’s petite frame was violently embedded deep within the fractured concrete facing of the structural wall, completely paralyzed and motionless.
”Hey, hey…
what kind of ridiculous joke is this?”
Tatara muttered, an intense, unprecedented wave of psychological shock rattling his ironclad composure.
His long Bikaku tail instinctively whipped out from his coat, weaving a high-speed defensive perimeter around his position as he audited the immediate airspace for an invisible threat.
”He has already vacated the sector…”
Eto’s voice drifted out from the recess of the fractured concrete.
Her words were strained and uneven, completely stripped of the hollow, playful cadence she typically wielded.
Cough!
Cough!
Dry-heaving violently, she slowly extricated her body from the indentation in the wall.
The oversized crimson cloak draped over her frame billowed slightly before settling back into a neutral drop, though a single, terrifying crimson flash erupted from her exposed eye.
”That monster…
possessed a physical capability dense enough to reduce you to this state?”
The rank-and-file within the underbelly of Tokyo might have been entirely oblivious to Eto’s absolute threshold, but Tatara commanded an intimate familiarity with her lethality.
Relying strictly on her uncatchable, high-frequency kinetic displacement, she could comfortably run circles around the vast majority of elite SS predators.
When coupled with her long-range, high-yield Ukaku projectile arrays, there was no logical matrix where a standard human encounter should have yielded a catastrophic resolution like this.
”Che…
the bastard set an incredible tactical trap.
His operational reflexes and close-quarters muscle memory are terrifyingly advanced; his movements are clean, minimalist, and executed with lethal precision.
He carries the signature profile of an elite black-budget military specialist or a high-tier international assassin.”
”Map out his global identity profile immediately.
We cannot permit an uncataloged anomaly of his caliber to intercept our long-term objectives.
For a monster like this to materialize right on our doorstep-and project a highly targeted, aggressive execution intent against our command structure-is an exceptionally dangerous variable.”
Eto delivered the directives between short, shallow breaths as her internal biology went to work auditing the massive trauma radiating from her core. This chapter was taken from novelping dot com without permission.
Kenji’s raw physical heel strike had come dangerously close to completely shattering her central nervous system.
Throughout her long, brutal survival safari from the slums to the apex of the underworld, she had sustained a staggering volume of physical structural damage.
Yet, across her entire ledger of agony, Kenji’s singular kinetic footprint left the deepest, most terrifying cognitive scar.
Feeling the continuous, pulsing agony radiating from her abdominal muscles, Eto’s brow furrowed tightly beneath her medical wrapping.
”Are we truly permitting his asset to walk out of this ward without an immediate retaliation strike?
Should I mobilize the tracking vanguard?” Tatara inquired, his gaze tracking the empty, distant avenues where Kenji’s truck had long since vanished.
”Negative.
Our macroscopic mobilization timeline is far too tight.
We cannot afford to burn critical operational capital triggering a secondary conflict right now, lest it permanently disrupt our primary timeline.”
Kenji hadn’t progressed far outside the geographical borders of District 11 before an intense, crushing layer of systemic exhaustion began flooding his central nervous system.
The [Overload] protocol granted him a massive, temporary 10% amplification across his core attribute matrix, but the moment the system window closed, the mechanical backlash forced him straight into a specialized [Debilitated State], slashing his entire statistical ledger by a catastrophic 90%.
In his current state, his immediate physical metrics were completely indistinguishable from a standard, unconditioned civilian baseline.
The saving grace of his logistical positioning was that the afternoon sun was still high in the sky, and the public security indexing across the adjacent District 10 was maintained at an exceptionally high standard.
He had zero cause to anticipate a random, low-tier predator intercepting his trajectory.
Flagging down a local taxi, he navigated back to Mado Kureo’s apartment complex.
The residence was completely hollowed out of life; the interior rooms were silent, indicating the family had deployed elsewhere for their respective routines.
Retreating straight to his allocated quarters, Kenji stripped off his sweat-soaked garments, cleansed his frame under a hot shower, and collapsed onto the mattress.
As his biology slowly worked to reverse the cellular fatigue, his analytical mind began a cold, clinical review of the engagement variables.
The Overload configuration can comfortably sustain its operational ceiling for roughly thirty minutes.
However, the system has yet to clarify the exact duration required to burn out the subsequent Debilitated matrix.
I can only hope the biological tax doesn’t remain locked for an unmanageable period.
My initial tactical directive was designed around the clean extraction of Yamori’s World Force.
Tragic that my operational luck rolled a critical failure, forcing an immediate tactical intersection with an absolute apex monster like Sen Takatsuki.
It appears my immediate efficiency curve will be optimized by temporarily shifting my targeting parameters toward isolated, unaligned S targets who operate outside the major syndicates.
Once I scale my baseline synchronization percentage to a sufficiently dominant threshold, I can return to systematically dismantling these primary narrative anchors.
Analyzing the structural landscape deeper, Kenji recognized that every single high-tier canon character in this reality was backed by an immense, deeply entrenched institutional or underworld machinery.
Extracting World Force from their portfolios was never going to be a straightforward, low-profile safari.
To put Yamori in the dirt, one was required to directly clash with the vanguard of the Aogiri Tree.
Conversely, attempting to sanitize any high-value target rated at S or higher within the central districts would inevitably force a direct collision with the Anteiku network.
That specific coffee shop housed an absolute SSS legend in Yoshimura Kuzen, and the operational capability of his elite staff was remarkably advanced.
Whether it was the SS Devil Ape or the SS Black Dog, the legacy factions sleeping beneath their current low-profile civilian identities commanded an immense volume of localized military output.
Beyond those elements loomed the multi-layered shadows of the Clowns, alongside the absolute monolithic entity that was the V Organization.
The V Organization was backed entirely by the supreme global infrastructure of the Washuu Clan itself, while the Clowns operated from a position of absolute, chaotic mystery.
Without a shadow of a doubt, both collectives harbored an extensive network of SS and SSS apex assets within their secret registries.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose to clear the cognitive strain, Kenji realized that his initial assessment had been slightly overconfident; he had assumed that after accumulating a modest spike in physical power, he could comfortably roll over these massive geopolitical syndicates.
But the harsh operational reality hammered home a cold truth: at his current 30% development ceiling, he was still nothing more than a highly volatile piece sitting on a grand cheschapte-and he wasn’t even the largest piece on the field.
The operational distance between his current output and the absolute players dictating the macro-game remained immense.
His ultimate parameter was to completely flip and shatter the entire chessboard.
The moment Kureo completes the structural optimization of my primary blade, I will prioritize hunting down unaligned, rogue S targets who carry zero organizational backing.
The high-concentration accumulation of World Force will simply have to be handled via a more calculated, long-term approach.
Having finalized his transitional strategy, Kenji permitted his eyelids to drop, sinking into a deep, restorative slumber to accelerate his biological recovery.
Before long, the afternoon light faded completely, giving way to the dark embrace of the metropolitan night.
The low, rhythmic murmur of casual conversation filtering in from the external living room gently pulled Kenji out of his deep sleep.
Flexing his digits and rotating his shoulders, he discovered that the crushing, hollow sensation of the Debilitated state had been completely cleared from his central nervous system.
I was out cold for a continuous block of twelve hours.
Which means the structural cooldown tax for a thirty-minute Overload deployment scales directly to a twelve-hour operational lockout.
This temporal constraint fell well within his tactical comfort zone; it was infinitely more manageable than a catastrophic scenario where a thirty-minute blitz forced a three-day total physical paralysis.
Hearing a distinct, hollow growl echo from his digestive tract, Kenji recalled that his biology hadn’t received a single unit of nutritional input for an entire twenty-four-hour cycle.
Pushing his bedroom door open, he stepped out into the warm light of the living room.
Beyond the familiar figures of Mado Kureo and Mado Akira, an uncataloged third entity was seated around the table.
”Oh?
And who might this be?”
The young man, who had been locked in an intense professional dialogue with Mado Kureo, cut his sentence short, an expression of mild surprise flashing across his features as his eyes registered Kenji’s arrival.
Seeing his guest emerge, Mado Kureo offered a casual, welcoming gesture with his hand.
”Ah, Kenji-san.
You’ve finally emerged.
Allow me to bridge the structural introductions.
Seated over here is my official bureau partner, Amon Koutarou.”
”Koutarou, this is Kenji-san.
An exceptional gentleman visiting from China.”
Hearing the formal introduction, Amon Koutarou instantly bolted upright from his seat, snapping into a sharp, deferential bow as he extended his right hand, his face radiating a warm, earnest professional energy.
”Kenji-san, it is an absolute honor to meet you!
My name is Amon Koutarou!
I currently serve the Commission of Counter Ghoul as an Investigator First Class!”
Staring at the intensely passionate, clean-cut young man with the sharp buzz cut standing before him, Kenji extended his own right hand, matching the firm grip.
”Kenji.”
Meanwhile, within the borders of District 20.
The Anteiku Coffee Shop.
A young male student, carrying a distinct, soft academic aura and dressed in the standard, pristine uniform of the establishment’s waitstaff, was seated quietly in a secluded corner booth.
He was slowly sipping from a porcelain cup of black coffee, though his eyes kept subtly, nervously darting toward an adjacent table across the room.
Seated at that coordinate was a remarkably beautiful young woman.
She possessed a cascade of long, vibrant purple hair, an elegant, towering physical stature, and remarkably pale, porcelain skin.
At this precise moment, her long digits were delicately cradling a literature book, her focus entirely locked within the text.
Occasionally, she would elegantly lift her cup to take a microscopic sip of her brew, her entire presence radiating a sophisticated, highly intellectual, and deeply mature aura.
On the rare occasions where her gaze casually drifted across the room to cross paths with his, the young student felt his cardiac rhythm spike into a chaotic, fluttering cadence.
She…
she is also reading “The Black Goat’s Egg”…
Perhaps…
perhaps we can find a shared intellectual baseline to initiate a conversation…