The plane’s tires screeched softly as it touched down, slowing steadily along the runway.
Sasaki Touya’s gaze was fixed on the massive building ahead—the Interpol headquarters.
The towering structure stood like a fortress, a symbol of global justice, but for Touya, it was a gateway to something far greater.
As the aircraft door opened with a hiss, cool air filled the cabin.
Touya stepped out, steady and composed, his boots echoing on the concrete.
Around him, agents and officers moved with brisk precision, acknowledging the man who had come with an unusual mission.
Awaiting him was Major General Viktor Kade, a stern man with eyes that held the weight of command and experience.
“Mr.
Kojiro,” he greeted, “welcome to Interpol.
The President has fully briefed us on your assignment.
This yearlong training program—you’ll be leading it.
We’re here to support and supervise only.”
Touya nodded with calm confidence.
“Thank you, General.
I’m prepared to take full responsibility.”
Beside Kade appeared Captain Tom Bruce, a man whose presence radiated authority and skill.
“Captain Tom Bruce,” he introduced himself with a firm handshake.
“Interpol’s best.
I’ll be overseeing your integration.”
Touya responded evenly, “I’ve already laid out my training plan in detail.
I intend to run this program myself.”
Bruce glanced at the thick folder Touya presented—maps, timetables, equipment schematics.
“Then consider us your logistics team.
Whatever you need, we’ll provide.”
Touya’s voice dropped slightly.
“There’s a custom weapon I need developed.
It has to be ready before my training ends, but I want it handed to me only the day before I depart.”
General Kade exchanged a look with Bruce, then nodded approvingly.
“President Trump made it clear—this is your mission.
We’re here to ensure your success, not to question your methods.”
A faint smile touched Touya’s lips.
“I’m doing this for my friends, my family…
and for myself.
To become stronger than ever before.”
Kade’s expression softened just a fraction.
“Good.
You’ll be shown to your quarters shortly.
Your schedule—wake-up, meals, training—will be set.
But remember, the program is yours to command.”
As they walked through the sleek halls of Interpol HQ, Touya’s mind was already racing through the year ahead.
The road would be long, but every step was planned.
And when that weapon finally came into his hands, it would mark a new beginning.
The soft whir of Touya’s room ventilator was the only sound in the dimly lit quarters.
Outside, the Interpol compound slumbered beneath a canopy of stars, floodlights casting long shadows across steel walls and armored fences.
Touya sat alone, cross-legged on the bed, face aglow from the tablet in his hands.
His eyes were fixed—sharp, unblinking—on a single file among thousands.
He’d sifted through over eighty detailed reports tonight, bypassing standard protocols, scanning mission histories across the globe.
Most were routine: cartel raids, arms smuggling, black-market cyberware seizures.
But one report had broken the rhythm—jagged, erratic, unlike the rest.
Subject: *[REDACTED] – Bio Trafficking / Western Europe*
Status: *Ongoing – Tier 5 Containment Priority*
Keywords: *Unclassified Entity, Blue Fur, No Genetic Match*
Touya’s brows furrowed.
He zoomed in on the attached surveillance image — grainy, near useless — but there it was: something sprinting across an open field, captured mid-motion.
Vaguely quadruped.
Muscular.
And unmistakably coated in shimmering, *vivid blue fur*.
There were no scientific tags, no taxonomy.
Just a brief notation:
> “Unknown entity escaped during transport.
Demonstrates potential unnatural intelligence.
Suspected illegal experimentation.
Reacquisition pending under Tier-5 urgency.”
He exhaled slowly, staring deeper into the image.
He had no idea what it was.
But something about that creature stirred something in him — not fear, not even curiosity.
*Desire.*
Raw.
Unreasoned.
Instinctive.
He didn’t want it because of what it could do.
He didn’t want it because it was powerful.
He wanted it because *he needed it* — not to change the world, not to save it.
Just to *have it*.
Something primal stirred in him.
It wasn’t logic.
It wasn’t training.
It was something older.
Something that whispered to him through the screen.
“It’s mine.”
He didn’t know why.
He didn’t care.
He remembered the moment he first touched the GumSteel alloy for his custom weapon.
That same energy—like some invisible thread pulling him toward a missing piece of himself—was here again, but stronger.
Wilder.
The blue creature.
The shadow in the field.
The anomaly no one could label.
“I’ll get you,” he whispered to the screen.
“Even if I have to walk through hell.”
He slid off the bed, grabbed his coat, and quietly exited his room, heading toward the archive room where Captain Tom often reviewed confidential updates during off-hours.
His boots made no sound against the reinforced floor.
By the time he reached the surveillance hub, the lights inside were on.
He knocked once.
“Come in,” Tom’s voice called, firm but disinterested.
Touya entered.
The room smelled of burnt coffee and cold steel.
Captain Tom sat behind the console, reading through mission files, his broad shoulders hunched under fatigue.
Touya wasted no time.
He walked up to the desk and placed the tablet on it, showing the blue-furred creature’s report.
“I want to go with you,” he said calmly.
Tom didn’t even look up.
“Go where?”
“This case.
The Western Europe animal trafficking ring.”
Now Tom looked up.
His expression had changed—hard, skeptical.
“No,” he said.
Touya blinked.
“Why not?”
Tom set the tablet aside and leaned forward, eyes now sharp, cold.
“Let’s get something straight.
I didn’t ask to train you.
I don’t trust you.
I don’t like you.”
Touya’s jaw clenched.
Tom continued, voice like gravel.
“You’re a spoiled, arrogant, spotlight-chasing kid who somehow got the U.S.
President to hand you the keys to the kingdom.
You waltz in here with your custom gear and that smug smile like the world owes you something.”
“I didn’t ask for special treatment,” Touya replied.
“But you love it,” Tom snapped.
“You went to the World Cup, got permission to use a global broadcast to advertise your fancy phone project and yet you didn’t see anything better to say but told the entire world you were gonna ‘wreck the system’ and ‘reign as King.’ You think this is a game?”
Touya was silent.
Tom’s glare burned.
“You pull something like that under my watch — I won’t wait for protocol.
I’ll take you out myself.”
A tense silence.
Then Touya smiled faintly.
“So that means I can come with you?”
Tom leaned back, disgusted.
“Suit yourself.
But no one’s carrying you when it gets ugly.”
As Tom turned to leave, Touya called after him.
“Sir I know this is not a game but it’s a competition, a race to reach the biggest seat one can hope to sit on, I may not know who I’m competing against but I’ll win and then I’ll be the King…”
Tom paused.
“…But if i need to become a monster with no care for the law to achieve it I’ll be the monster too.
If that’s what it takes.”
Tom didn’t respond.
The door shut behind him.
Alone again, Touya turned back to the screen.
The blue creature shimmered silently in its captured frame.
“I’ll find you,” he whispered again, the words hanging in the sterile air.
He didn’t want to understand it.
He didn’t care if it was part of some larger truth.
*He just wanted it.*
Touya spent the next few days preparing for the trafficking mission.
Not just physically — though he did stretch his body past its limits — but mentally, emotionally, and even strategically.
He was calculating far more than his superiors realized.
Interpol granted him access to a private equipment lab.
He requested specific gear, light enough for speed, strong enough for encounters.
Tactical boots, insulated gloves, retractable blades, micro drone lenses, and a comms earpiece modified with his own coding firmware — subtle touches of the Krown team’s brilliance.
Though surrounded by the best technology in the world, Touya didn’t allow himself distractions.
His old phone — filled with apps, games, contacts, and noise — was powered down and handed over to the Interpol treasurer.
“Keep it till the day I leave,” he said quietly.
“I need silence.”
Before turning the device off, Touya did one thing: he manually transferred only *four numbers* into his Krown prototype phone.
Four names.
Four people who had earned his respect — or stirred something inside him worth remembering.
One of those names had a British number.
He stared at it for a moment, thumb hovering.
Then typed:
*”I’m coming to see you, dude.
Time to work.”*
No reply came.
But he hadn’t expected one.
The person on the other end would understand.
He always did.
Touya locked the phone and slipped it into a hidden slot inside his jacket.
It wasn’t just a tool — it was an extension of himself.
Krown wasn’t just a phone brand.
It was an ideology, a voice, and soon… it would become a revolution.
The sun had barely risen over the Interpol HQ when Touya walked briskly toward the helipad.
Tom Bruce was already there, gear strapped tight, eyes shielded under tactical shades.
No words were exchanged at first.
Just a nod.
Mutual acknowledgment.
Uneasy, but professional.
As Touya stepped into the helipad hangar, something on Tom’s desk caught his eye — a red-stamped folder, thick and sealed, but partially open at the top.
The name was handwritten in black: *Project 9-A — Sealed Prisoner File.*
Touya’s curiosity spiked.
“Who’s that?” he asked, pointing.
Tom didn’t look at him.
“Our most dangerous inmate.
Not strong.
Not trained.
Just…
insane.
Smart, calculating, and utterly unpredictable.”
Touya tilted his head, intrigued.
“Insane, huh?”
Tom shrugged.
“Some men break the rules.
He was born outside them.”
As the blades of the transport chopper began to spin, Touya cast one last glance at the red folder.
Something about it sparked a flicker in his chest — a pull he couldn’t explain.
He followed Tom into the aircraft, strapping in with steady hands.
The mission in Western Europe would be his first true test since arriving.
But his mind was already plotting something more.
A path that branched out far from the mapped operations Interpol had prepared.
As the engine roared to life and they lifted off, Touya allowed himself a brief smile.
*”When I return…”* he thought.
*”I’m opening that file.”*
And whatever—or whoever—was inside, he was going to meet them.
The aircraft touched down on a bleak tarmac in Western Europe under a silver sky.
The base was remote — surrounded by steel fences, abandoned warehouses, and mist.
Tom barely said a word as they disembarked, only handing Touya a secure badge and motioning toward temporary quarters.
But Touya wasn’t ready to sleep.
With the wind brushing against his jacket and streets cloaked in twilight, he wandered past the official path, leaving the base perimeter through a gap in the fence.
This was a new city, a new piece on the chessboard — and he wanted to feel it breathe.
The alleys whispered.
Neon lights flickered against cracked walls.
Touya’s boots echoed on the cobblestone, his mind replaying details of the trafficking ring…
and of that mysterious prisoner file still sitting back in HQ.
A muffled sound caught his ear.
Not just noise — violence.
Down a narrow side path, five men in dark vests surrounded a sixth, slamming fists into his ribs, boots into his back.
Blood painted the ground beneath the victim’s mouth.
His arms covered his head, defenseless.
Touya stepped into the alley without hesitation.
“Hey,” he called calmly.
“You hit hard, but only when your target’s already on the ground.”
The men turned, annoyed, then grinning.
“Wrong alley, pretty boy.”
Two lunged at him.
Big mistake.
Touya moved like a shadow with weight — fast, precise, almost effortless.
He dodged one punch, elbowed the attacker in the throat, spun, and swept the other off his feet.
The third swung a chain — Touya caught it mid-air and yanked him forward into a knee strike.
The last two ran before he even looked their way.
He thought to himself “I’ve gotten way stronger” then he gave a faint smile
The beaten boy coughed and sat up slowly, eyes wide.
“You… you shouldn’t have done that.”
Touya offered his hand.
“You’re welcome.”
“No — you don’t understand,” the boy said, still trembling.
“Those guys… they work for *the General.*” The way he said it, capital letters weren’t even necessary.
The fear was real.
Touya raised an eyebrow.
“And?”
The boy looked around, panicked.
“You beat up even one of his men, and ten more will come for you.
He runs this entire side of the city.
People disappear.”
Touya’s smile was calm.
Dangerous.
“Then let ten come.”
He helped the boy stand and wiped dust from his shoulder.
“I’m not here to bow to bullies.
I won’t let the strong crush the weak while I stand by.
If that puts a target on me, so be it.”
The boy looked up, disbelief still in his eyes.
“Are you crazy?
This man…
he’s called a General for a reason.”
Touya chuckled, slipping his hands into his coat pockets.
“Let me tell you something.”
He stepped into the streetlight, eyes sharp and voice firm.
*”There are levels to this.”*
*”And there’s a difference between a General…”*
*”…and a King.”*
The boy didn’t respond — just stared.
Touya turned and walked toward the base, the night curling behind him like a cloak.
Somewhere in this city, the General had eyes.
Let them report what happened.
Let them come.
He wasn’t hiding.
He was declaring war.
In a dimly lit room somewhere in the industrial outskirts of the city, a group of men knelt silently before a figure obscured in shadows.
He sat with one leg crossed over the other, his face hidden beneath the brim of a hooded coat.
Only the glow of a cigar lit his jawline.
One of the kneeling men finally spoke.
“He beat five of ours.
Alone.”
A long pause followed.
The figure didn’t react—just exhaled smoke and stared out the window overlooking the city.
Another man added, “Our people in the area say he claimed to be a king.”
The figure finally moved—raising his head slightly.
A faint, amused breath left his lips.
“So he wants to play king…” His voice was low, unbothered.
Too calm.
“Bring him to me.”
The command was clear.
And not a soul dared question it.
Back at the Interpol outpost, Tom Bruce leaned back in his seat, reading several reports in silence.
Touya stepped into the room, his expression unreadable.
“I’ve been hearing whispers,” Touya began.
“People call him *the General.* You know who I mean.”
Tom didn’t answer immediately.
His eyes stayed fixed on the file in his hand.
Then, with a reluctant sigh, he looked up.
“Yeah.
His name’s Kyle Mason.”
Touya blinked.
“Kyle?”
Tom nodded.
“Eighteen.
Made his first million at fourteen, formed a gang at sixteen.
Now?
His network’s so deep and wide, they say he could rival the U.S.
military in numbers and tech.”
Touya stayed quiet.
Tom leaned forward, serious now.
“No one knows his true motive.
No political agenda.
No philosophical rant.
He just… *built an empire.* One that rules the underground of Europe with terrifying silence.”
That night, Touya stood by his window, watching the distant skyline.
The stars above were quiet — too quiet for what was coming.
Somewhere out there, a war was beginning.
Not just bullets and bodies.
Ideals were about to clash.
Titles.
*General…*
*King…*
As he closed the curtain and turned to his bed, a chill ran through the room.
He wasn’t afraid.
He was curious.
“Let’s see what kind of monster you really are… Kyle Mason.”