"In the coldest corners of war, humanity is often the first casualty."
The next few days were a blur.
Rentarō hardly slept, his mind running in a thousand directions at once. Enju kept a close watch over him, her eyes ever alert, scanning for any new threats. Hotaru and Karasuma had set up surveillance around the outskirts of District 7, using their limited resources to track any strange signals or movement.
Shōma had disappeared into the depths of the old resistance archives, combing through ancient data logs and forgotten military protocols. Rentarō knew the history of the Tendo style and its connection to the Gastrea wars, but Shōma's expertise in the cold, clinical art of war had always been sharper. He would dig into the past and find something—something important.
But for Rentarō, the thought of Chrysalis lingered like a dull ache. He had seen her humanity, if only for a brief moment. That spark of something beyond the machine, beyond the creation. She wasn't just an instrument of war. She was a child—a broken child, perhaps—but a child nonetheless. And someone was pulling her strings.
Rentarō stood at the edge of the ruined rooftop in District 10, staring into the distance. The lights of the city flickered weakly, like stars too far from the horizon. He had hoped for more answers by now, but instead, they were left chasing shadows.
"She's out there," Rentarō muttered. "I can feel it."
Enju appeared beside him, leaning against the broken pillar. "She is. But what happens when we catch her?"
"That's the part I'm still figuring out."
The first lead came in the form of a strange signal—a fragmented transmission that appeared on one of Tina's listening posts in District 7. It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to confirm their worst fear.
Chrysalis wasn't alone.
The message had a location—a hidden underground facility in the center of the district, long abandoned by both the military and civilian forces. The coordinates matched an old Gastrea testing site, a place where bioengineering experiments had once been conducted before being deemed too dangerous.
Rentarō gathered the team.
"This is it," he said. "If we find her there, we find the people behind her. This is where it all started."
The team moved out in full gear—silent, swift, and determined. The streets of District 7 were eerily quiet, a ghost town where shadows hid more than just the decay of the past. As they neared the entrance to the facility, Rentarō's heart began to race.
Inside, everything was silent. The dim light of their flashlights reflected off the cracked walls, revealing rows of abandoned machinery and rusted containment units. It looked like a graveyard for old technology, forgotten and left to rot. But there was a distinct feeling of something more—a lingering presence.
They reached the central chamber, where the signal had originated. The walls were covered in strange symbols, arcane markings that didn't make sense to Rentarō. The air was thick, stifling, as if the facility itself had been holding its breath for years.
"Stay alert," Rentarō ordered. "If Chrysalis is here, we're not the only ones looking for answers."
The group moved deeper, navigating the maze of decaying corridors. And then they found it—an old containment chamber at the heart of the facility, a massive reinforced door with a high-tech security system, still active despite the facility's apparent abandonment.
Tina worked quickly, her fingers flying over the terminal as she bypassed the security measures.
"I'm in," she said. "Brace yourselves."
The door hissed open, revealing a large, sterile room filled with rows of pods. Most of them were empty, their glass covers shattered, their contents long gone. But one pod remained intact.
Inside, another child.
Rentarō's heart skipped a beat.
This one was different from Chrysalis—she was smaller, frailer, her skin pale and translucent. Wires snaked into her body, embedding themselves beneath the skin like parasitic veins. Her eyes were closed, but there was something eerily familiar about her.
"Who... who is she?" Enju asked, her voice soft.
Rentarō didn't answer at first. He just stared at the girl in the pod, feeling an odd, hollow sensation in his chest.
"Her name is Subject 075," Tina said, looking at the data on the terminal. "Another prototype, similar to Chrysalis. The same genetic manipulation."
Rentarō's hands clenched into fists. "She's... another one."
Shōma stepped forward. "It's the same as the first. They're all experiments—trials to create the perfect soldier. But she's not the first of her kind. There are more."
Tina paused, scanning the data further. "Subject 075 is the most advanced model yet. The other prototypes were unsuccessful, but she was meant to surpass even Chrysalis. If this is true..." She trailed off, eyes widening in disbelief. "The next phase of the project—Project Genesis—has already begun."
Rentarō's eyes narrowed. "Genesis?"
"The next step in the evolution of the synthetic soldiers," Shōma explained, his voice cold and precise. "A hybrid, combining human and Gastrea genetics. Without the virus. The goal is to create a perfect soldier—capable of enduring the harshest environments, with intelligence, strength, and loyalty programmed directly into their DNA."
Rentarō turned away, his jaw clenched. "This is worse than we thought. They're building an army."
"We need to stop it before it gets out of control," Karasuma said, his voice firm.
Rentarō nodded. "We will. But first, we need to find the source. Who's pulling the strings?"
Just then, the ground shook. The walls rumbled. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the far hallway.
Enju stiffened. "We're not alone."
A voice—cold, synthetic—echoed through the hall.
"Unit 075 has been activated. Termination of intruders in progress."
The pod containing Subject 075 began to vibrate, the glass cracking as the girl inside began to stir.
Rentarō took a deep breath.
"It's not over yet," he muttered.
And with that, they prepared for the fight ahead.