Chapter 1: Electro-ction

In the darkness, a man was running.

Running from something.

What it was—or how it pursued him—he couldn’t say.
Perhaps even he didn’t know.

All that mattered was escape.

His breath came in ragged gasps, his tear-streaked face twisted in raw panic.
He wasn’t just fleeing. He was desperate.

He didn’t call for help. No—he couldn’t.
He had avoided people just to make it this far.

Because in this modern age, no one was without that thing.

No. If he got close to that thing, he’d die.
It would kill him.

An abandoned underground parking lot—his chosen hiding place.
No people. No, that thing.

Just as he began to catch his breath—

"—Uh, excuse me, this area’s been off-limits for a while now—"

“H… Huh!?”

He stumbled into a group of construction workers in helmets.

The floodlights bathed him in white. He froze.

Cold sweat poured down his back. His entire body trembled.
His eyes—unfocused, twitching unnaturally.

"…Uh, hey, are you… listening?"

"Should we call the police? No, an ambulance…?"

The workers exchanged wary glances.

One reached into their pocket—

Then—

A ringtone.

Not just one. All their phones.

A light xylophone.
Electronic harmonies.
A simple alarm.
The chorus of a famous song.

Each sound blared at maximum volume, screens flashing violently.

The workers fumbled with their devices—no response.

Then—

From the ultra-bright LCD screens, blue and purple lightning crackled.

"Mag…"

The charged air took form.

A shape—four-legged. Growling.

"Mag… mag…!"

A thunderous beast surged forth, its body flickering like distorted video.

Reality itself twisted—warped into a sandstorm of glitching rainbow-colored noise.

And then—

From the static, words bled into existence.

Garbled Gothic text, clear despite its corruption.

【NEETs should just die▲】【Stop being a burden】【You don’t deserve to live】
【Who do you think you are?】【Stop being a parasite】【Pest】
【You have no rights】【Disgusting】【You lack even basic intelligence】
【Go jerk off alone, you ape▲】【Stop making excuses】

Like open wounds, the words festered on the monster’s shifting form.

Step by step, it advanced.

The man collapsed onto his back, scrambling, crawling—desperate to get away.

"No… no…! I didn’t… I didn’t mean it like that…!"

"I was just… just joking…!"

"Wait, I’m sorry, I’ll apologize…!!"

The screams and pleas for mercy went unheard.

The workers stood frozen, faces pale, unable to move—unable to comprehend.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
What was this? A hallucination? Some kind of trick?
Something this incomprehensible shouldn’t exist.

But no matter how desperately they clung to logic, it offered no refuge.

The beast’s lightning fangs crackled—

—And then—

"Mag… Gah?!"

A flash.

A silver gleam sliced through the air—

—Piercing the monster.

Like an arrow striking its target, the attack scattered the shadow of the beast just as it lunged for the man.

The source of the attack—

"—This is MassPro Cut, the severance specialist."

A girl stood before them.

Petite—probably around middle school age.

A sleeveless black dress, layered with a military jacket.
White bandages wrapped around both arms.

A hood, pulled low, obscured her face, though strands of pale pink hair spilled from its edges.

Her delicate features remained mostly hidden, but even so—her presence was undeniable.

"Confirmed supernatural threat, code: Electrocution Hound 022."
"Several civilians on-site… no, no casualties. No harm done. Yes, I’ll handle it immediately."

Lowering her hand from her ear, she let out a quiet, almost exhausted sigh.

Then, as if shaking off the weight of something unseen, she tilted her head back—

From within the hood, a single gleaming eye flashed a signal-red glow toward the monster.

And then—

A smirk.

"—Alright! That’s enough of this gloomy fantasy intro! From here on out, it’s a thrilling action scene for everyone’s sake! Let’s get pumped!"

Her voice was abruptly, almost jarringly cheerful.

The monster, momentarily interrupted, let out a low, crackling growl of annoyance.

She paid it no mind. With a casual flick of her wrist—

"Reproduction rate 30%—Utility Knife Manifestation!"

In an instant, dozens of utility knives materialized out of thin air and launched forward.

Slicing. Piercing. Tearing.

The wind howled with each strike as the storm of steel blades ripped into the beast’s body—

—Or at least, they should have.

The attacks passed through harmlessly.

No damage. No resistance.

Because the monster had no physical form.

It was lightning. A mass of electromagnetic energy.

No matter how many times she attacked, steel alone could never harm it—only make it flinch.

And flinch it did.

But only for a moment.

With a furious snarl, the beast bared its fangs. A charged plasma sphere began gathering in its maw, crackling with raw destruction.

It was going to fire.

Now.

The workers instinctively knew it.

But so did the girl.

Her right hand rose, steady.

She gripped her wrist with her left, bracing herself—

Two fingers pointed forward. Like a gun.

At that exact moment—

"Damage Bullet—Slash Shoot."

A crimson arc erupted from her fingertips.

The slash wave tore through the monster’s attack—cleaving the plasma beam, then the beast itself, splitting it clean in two.

One of the bandages wrapped around her arm unraveled from the recoil, fluttering to the ground. Beneath it—flawless, unblemished skin.

The dying creature let out a garbled groan.

Its severed form distorted, twisted—then shattered.

Scattered fragments of light flickered before vanishing completely, dissolving back into the electromagnetic noise from which it came.

The battle was over.

Lowering her hand lazily, the girl turned toward the workers.

"Are you okay?! You don’t look hurt… That’s great!" Her tone was bright, almost too casual for what had just happened. "You can relax now. The cleanup crew will be here soon!"

The men, who had unconsciously been holding their breath, finally exhaled.

The man who had been chased collapsed onto the ground, his strength drained.

—There’s an urban legend in this city.

A hound lurking in the digital world. A sign that causes accidents if you see it. A classroom where only ghosts attend. A rental shop where you can borrow anything in the world.

Countless stories, whispered in passing.

Told and forgotten.

But among them, one legend remains untarnished.

A true hero.

A lone figure standing in the shadows of the city, facing threats beyond human comprehension.

That girl’s name is—

"So, as expected… yes, regarding memory processing… mm, I see. Understood. We’ll proceed with the usual ‘random assailant incident’ cover-up."

With a click, a small device in the girl’s hand emitted a faint, chalk-white flash.

Instantly—

The memories vanished.

The workers, the man—none of them remembered the impossible scene they had just witnessed.

No monstrous hound of lightning. No supernatural battle.

All that remained was a fabricated recollection:

"A man was being chased by some random thug. A passing police collaborator intervened and handled it—nothing unusual."

That was the truth now.

Even as they thanked her, confusion still lingering in their eyes, the girl simply nodded.

She turned, walking away.

Once she reached a secluded spot, her dress and military jacket flickered—

Then disappeared.

In their place, a simple sailor uniform materialized.

Pausing for just a moment, she muttered under her breath, her voice too quiet for anyone to hear—

"…Which episode was that enemy from again?"

---

—Wait, isn’t this the world of that game I used to love?

Honestly, I figured it out pretty quickly—probably within half a year of being reincarnated.

I mean, if something as occult as reincarnation could happen, then maybe this seemingly normal modern society was actually some kind of fantasy world, right? So I started paying attention. And sure enough, there were game enemy mobs just casually loitering in the park.

By the way, normal people couldn’t see them. I tried telling a kid from my elementary school once, and he screamed so hard he sounded like a beaver getting stepped on. Hilarious...

The game itself was a single-player action RPG. Light romance elements, multiple heroine routes—but nothing that strayed too far from the main story.

Behind the scenes of this modern society, countless otherworldly beings lurk, unseen by the masses.

To protect the peace, you and your companions must defeat these hidden threats—without the world ever knowing.

Classic urban fantasy, with a dash of sci-fi flair.

In my past life, it was a massive hit. New releases easily sold over 100,000 copies in their first week. Anime adaptations, mobile games, manga, light novels—you name it. It was a commercial juggernaut.

But despite its mainstream success, the world itself was pretty damn grim. People dropped dead in back alleys, went insane, or worse.

And to “protect the peace,” their memories were wiped, their existence erased—like Men in Black, but way darker. The game came with content warnings for violence, drugs, sexual content—you get the idea.

Yet, what made the game truly shine was its protagonists.

They tore through all that darkness like a raging storm.

No time for depression, no room for despair—just pure, unrelenting momentum.

Hopeless situations? Impossible odds? They bulldozed through it all with friendship, guts, and brute force.

Yeah, the story sometimes took ridiculous turns—stuff that made you go, There’s no way that would actually work—but the characters were so damn charming that you didn’t care. They made it work.

Especially my favorite heroine, Hoshizumi Misora.

Her popularity exploded so much that she got spin-offs of spin-offs, side stories, alternate timelines, prequels—you name it. I couldn’t even keep up with all of them.

But one prequel spin-off stood out.

There’s this arc where she single-handedly protects two hundred civilians, battered and bruised, clinging to life at the last possible moment. One of the best fights in the entire series. Just thinking about it makes me tear up.

Seriously. I’m crying as I type this. I’m so overwhelmed I could die.

…Or maybe I just want to.

So yeah, I love the series. But if you asked me whether I’d actually want to be reincarnated into its world?

That’s a solid 9:1 no.

Absolutely not.

This world is basically a daily apocalypse. The frequency of world-ending threats is insane.

And let’s not even get started on how disposable mob characters are. Human lives aren’t snacks for eldritch horrors, you know?

So, no. I didn’t want this.

I didn’t want this.

But—

—Well, you know, I’m a cheat-level reincarnator, right?

—I’m a TS-reincarnated, pink-haired, slender beauty, right?

—Everyone dotes on me in various ways, right?

—Even in the Military—the organization I belong to—I’m respected in various ways, right?

—I get to meet my favorite heroine from the original story twice a week, just the two of us, and chat, right?

—And, well… even if unintentionally, I’ve kinda stolen her spotlight and ended up being as active as a main character, right?

So yeah. With all that?

I’d say I’m not just reincarnated—I’m living the dream.

Right now, my specs aren’t quite on par with the endgame bosses, but since this is still before the main story kicks off, there’s no enemy in this world who can actually challenge me.

Unless a named character from the original game shows up, I’m basically unstoppable.

Hahhh… the satisfaction and superiority of wielding overwhelming power to effortlessly crush the weak… It’s intoxicating.

And it’s not just about battles—this job is so easy I can skip school without care. Thanks to the Military’s secret influence, I didn’t even have to take an entrance exam to get into the high school that becomes the main setting of the original story.

Oh, and today? I even skipped my own middle school graduation.

Like, come on—how many graduation certificates have I gotten, counting my past life? It’s ridiculous!! I am not about to start singing praises for my teachers now!

Anyway—work wrapped up early today, which means...

It’s time for a date.

Just me and my favorite heroine from the original story, Misora Miten—one-on-one.

“So, yeah! Another day, another big success! Lately, the threats have been dropping like crazy! Both in quantity and quality! Every time, it’s such an easy win that I’m like, ‘Ugh, my skills are gonna rust at this rate—seriously!!’”

“…………”

Silence. As usual.

Well, yeah. I know I’m being annoying. It’s not like I act like this all the time—just around Misora Miten.

“Oh, by the way, today was my middle school graduation ceremony! I skipped most of it because it was such a drag, but some of my juniors and friends who are going to different high schools were bawling their eyes out. I actually felt a little bad for them. Having too many friends is such a hassle, right?!”

“…………”

No response.

Hmm. This is sad. I’m sure my favorability points are tanking.

As a small consolation, I start massaging her feet, which she’s casually stretched out. I flex her knee joints. Squish, squish.

Wow. They’re so slender.

“Uh, right! Next time, I’ll bring some group photos! I’ve got a lot of free time during spring break, so I could even come every day if you want… Oh, no, that might be annoying, huh?! Actually, I just remembered I have plans too! Like a graduation trip, karaoke, stuff like that…”

“…………”

Still nothing.

Misora Miten is just staring blankly at the ceiling.

Lately, she hasn’t even made eye contact.

She’s probably already tired of me. Maybe even fed up.

Well, it can’t be helped. They say even beauty gets old after three days.

Sorry for being cute.

“Oh, no, don’t worry! I’ll still do my job properly, of course! I’m, uh, humbly serving as Misora Miten’s stand-in, after all! Ah, but lately, the danger level’s gone down, public safety’s improved, so it’s been super easy!! I’m talented, the Military treats me well, the pay’s great too!! Honestly, I could keep doing this as Misora Miten’s replacement forever, no problem—”

“…………”

No words come back.

…Hmm. What else can I talk about? There’s still time left…

“…Um, so, you know…”

“…………”

“There’s nothing to worry about…”

“…………”

“I’ve been having so much fun every day…”

“…………”

“Today too, I was really happy to see you, Misora Miten… because, well… you’re my lifesaver. And someone I’ve always admired.”

“…………”

“…So, really… my life is so happy…”

“…………”

I ran out of things to say.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound of the heart rate monitor, which had been drowned out by my voice, echoed softly in the room.

Why is it that hospital rooms always make your heart feel so heavy?

The air feels thinner here, like it’s harder to breathe.

I wonder how Misora Miten is feeling. Is she in pain? I hope not. What does it feel like to be unable to breathe on your own, relying on a ventilator to push air into your lungs? I can’t even begin to imagine.

Lately, her complexion has been worse than usual.

It’s probably not a circulation issue, but still, I gently massage her body to keep her joints and muscles from stiffening. Slowly, carefully—so it doesn’t hurt.

…They say she’s lost most of her sense of touch and pain by now.

I wanted the visiting hours to end.

The thought filled me with guilt so overwhelming, I almost cried.

“…You’ll get better soon…”

“…………”

“The story’s about to start… The hero, the protagonist, will come and save you…”

I can’t do this.

I can’t let the person who risked her life to save me see me like this.

If the one she saved isn’t happy… then what was the point of her sacrifice?

When visiting hours ended, I forced a smile, waved, and left the room.

But this hospital isn’t part of any public medical facility.

It exists within a secret military base, owned by a global organization dedicated to eliminating supernatural threats beyond human understanding—commonly known as the Military. A place that doesn’t appear on any map.

As I walked down the dimly lit hallway, my head bowed, my thoughts spiraled deeper.

Then, a tall woman in a black suit appeared in my path.

“Commander…”

“…You were visiting Misora Hoshizumi again, weren’t you, Arishirosai?”

I nodded slightly at the commander’s words.

My full name is Arishirosai Kizami.

My codename is Mass-Production Cutter.

That’s the name I go by in this life.

Even though I knew it was pointless, I asked the commander anyway—just like I always did.

“Um… about the request to use the supernatural item—”

“Denied.”

Before I could even finish, the commander cut me off, cold and absolute.

“It’s true that we, the Military, possess what could be considered a panacea—an absolute supernatural healing item. It can completely restore any physical damage or condition, regardless of severity, even those caused by supernatural forces. We currently have twenty-nine of them, and each one is single-use.”

As she spoke, she gestured subtly with her chin toward the hallway wall.

More precisely, toward the endless row of hospital rooms.

Rooms filled with Military agents who had no hope of recovery.

“Seventy-four agents. All as valuable as Agent Hoshizumi—codename Star Chart Maker—and all in equal or worse condition.”

I knew. I knew she’d say that.

“—You understand what I’m getting at, don’t you?”

“…Yes.”

I’m sorry.

The words sat heavy in my throat. I turned to leave, my steps sluggish.

But the commander’s voice stopped me.

“Arishirosai.”

“…………”

“Hoshizumi may not be much older than you, but she’s still a Military agent. She knew the risks when she chose to protect those two hundred people—”

“Two hundred and one, Commander.”

That’s right.

It was supposed to be two hundred.

But because I was there… it became two hundred and one.

That’s why.

That’s why it happened.

“Hey, Arishi—”

I couldn’t take it anymore. Before I knew it, my feet were moving.

I was running away.

…I never meant to interfere with the story.

I really didn’t.

“Ugh… guh… uuuh…!”

I don’t want to remember. But I can’t forget.

That day—the day I must never forget. The day my own foolishness cost everything.

This second life of mine, where only my gender has changed, feels so eerily similar to my past life.

Even though it’s a second chance… it feels underwhelming. Empty.

I didn’t want to end up as just another background mob character.

I thought… I thought it’d be nice to have even a little connection with the main characters.

I’m truly trash.

I should just disappear.

My mind was a tangled mess. It always ended up like this on visiting days. I don’t even want to go anymore. I hate myself for thinking that.

By the time I returned to my cheap, one-room apartment, exhaustion had hollowed me out. I barely managed to kick off my shoes before collapsing onto the cold floor.

Something at my feet caught my eye.

A graduation yearbook.

Someone must have dropped it off—probably a classmate who got stuck with the task. I could almost hear them arguing over who had to deal with me.

I barely even went to school. I don’t have a single friend.

…Ah, right. I ended up spewing more nonsense to Misora Miten again.

Later, I’ll have to photoshop myself into a group photo to make it look convincing.

As I stared at my schedule, completely filled with work for the entire spring break, I let my head drop, my body sinking deeper into the floor.

---

The next day.

I was summoned to the Military’s operations base by the commander.

In the game, this place had served as the protagonist’s home base on multiple occasions. Now, it was mine.

Without a word, the commander handed me a document.

I flipped it open.

The target’s name. Identity.

Instinctively, I looked away.

Still, I could tell—human. Female.

“Naturally, she’s a powered individual,” the commander stated. “She’s also a mass murderer—over forty confirmed kills through the internet alone. Before she claims any more victims—terminate her.”

“…Understood.”

Not that I have room to judge. I’ve killed 168 people myself.

Of course, in the Military, we don’t call it killing when we’re dealing with supernatural entities. We terminate them.

Still… this one felt easier.

It was better than being assigned to innocent carriers—people immune to memory erasure—or worse, unaware mothers carrying something unnatural inside them. I wish they’d just let me deal with villains like this from now on.

“This target possesses an extremely malicious supernatural ability,” the commander continued. “If this curse-like power were to spread widely, it could potentially lead to the end of humanity. Take this seriously. Don’t brush it off like you usually do.”

That last part stung.

Lately, every mission had been like this. The closer we got to the main story, the stronger and more dangerous the enemies became.

Every job felt like another end-of-the-world scenario if I screwed up.

I was seriously starting to lose it.

“And for your swift and detailed reports on this threat, as well as your proposed countermeasures, you will receive appropriate recognition upon successful completion of this mission.”

“…!”

That means—

“To put it bluntly, a promotion. …If you rise one more rank, your request to use that item could, under certain circumstances, be considered.”

“Th—thank you!”

“It’s just a possibility,” she clarified. “And it’s solely based on your achievements so far. We haven’t overlooked your numerous problematic actions, nor have we underestimated your significant contributions.”

Her usual stern expression softened—just a little.

“…Don’t mess this up.”

I nodded deeply and bowed.

Well, this commander eventually betrays the protagonist’s side and starts a massive killing spree, but for now, she’s trustworthy in this timeline. I genuinely thanked her in my heart.

…Still, I wish I had someone I could rely on more openly.

After leaving the base, I took a bus to my destination.

Just because I’m an agent of a secret organization doesn’t mean I get some fancy method of transport. In fact, doing so would just draw attention. Cover-ups in this information-driven society are expensive. Memory erasure isn’t free, and even cognitive distortion tech can’t completely obscure your face.

I got off the bus and walked the rest of the way.

Along the path, I heard some commotion—not dangerous, just lively.

It seemed to be some kind of campaign or event. People in flashy costumes were handing out balloons to kids. This city has a lot of these costume-themed gatherings, most of them orchestrated by the Military and other organizations.

After all, no one would notice if a real monster mixed in during Halloween.

And just the same, no one would question a soldier in genuine occult gear blending in with cosplayers dressed as wizards.

Even my own ridiculous sleeveless combat dress has occult significance in its design and stitching. It’s enchanted to prevent fatal injuries—something like, “revives you if you take lethal damage while above a certain HP threshold” or “reduces damage from critical hits.”

That said, its actual defense is garbage. If I had to quantify it in stats, it probably wouldn’t even hit triple digits.

…Still, having this many people near the target’s location is a problem.

It’s in a regular residential area, meaning any large-scale fight would lead to a surge in witnesses. That would mean widespread memory erasure—or worse, civilians getting caught in the crossfire.

—And if that happens, it’ll affect my evaluation.

“…………”

I hate myself for thinking about that before considering human lives.

Misora Miten would never think like this. I could never replace her—not that I’m even trying. At my core, I’m trash. I act self-deprecating, but deep down, I haven’t changed. I haven’t grown. I haven’t made any effort to improve. I’m just filth with a polished surface.

The only thing I can confidently boast about is my face. If only that were useful. Probably not. I can’t even look people in the eye anymore. I have no social skills. I’m gloomy. I’m depressed.

…This is bad.

If I keep this up, my performance will suffer. I can’t afford to spiral into self-destruction. I can’t fail this time. Do you know how many mistakes I’ve made? How much time I’ve wasted trying to make up for them? If I mess this up, it’s all over.

Honestly, this was always a long shot.

In this world, besides the Military, there are other organizations—Corporations, Societies—each handling the supernatural in their own way. They’re all hostile to each other to some degree.

In the original story, the protagonist, unaffiliated with any faction, eventually unites them to face the final battle. I thought that since this was the past, before everything went downhill, maybe I could get them to cooperate earlier.

So I tried.

And ended up being treated as a traitor by all of them.

My standing in the Military hit rock bottom. I used to be part of a team—now, I work alone. Some higher-ups probably think it’d be easier if I just failed and died already.

Honestly, someone as socially inept as me was never going to pull that off. But at least trying was better than nothing.

…Or maybe not. Maybe I just wanted to feel like I tried, like I was some kind of hero for making the effort.

I’m doing it again.

This is exactly what I mean.

Really.

Stop thinking. Just become a mindless combat machine. That’s the best I can hope for.

Because in the end, I’m not the real deal. I can’t be a hero. Misora Miten is still suffering. Her absence is warping the story, destabilizing the world. How much longer am I going to force everyone to endure my pointless, hypocritical attempts?

I should just focus on fighting—

“Ah.”

A little boy in front of me reached for a balloon, but it slipped through his fingers, floating away in the wind.

Without thinking, I moved.

One jump wasn’t enough. I kicked off a utility pole, using the momentum to propel myself higher.

I caught the string, landed, and handed the balloon back to the boy.

“—Here you go.”

“Wow.”

A murmur of awe spread through the crowd.

Crap. I stood out again. Just after everything I was thinking earlier… am I an idiot?

Drowning in self-loathing, I forced a smile and ran off.

“Thank you, big sis!” The boy’s voice stung my back.

…Still, I felt just a little lighter.

---

I arrived at the scene.

An ordinary residential area. A typical single-family home.

A man in a suit was waiting nearby—just another salaryman at first glance. But in reality, he was a Military investigator. No combat abilities, but fully capable when it came to investigations, detailed preparations, and civilian negotiations.

I gave him a nod in greeting.

“Where’s the target?”

“South-facing room on the second floor. However, there’s a civilian in the living room downstairs—the mother. We haven’t been able to conduct a thorough investigation, so there’s a chance she’s hiding something. But it’s almost certain she has no idea her daughter is a supernatural entity.”

“…I see.”

So I’ll have to kill the daughter right in front of her mother, who knows nothing.

It can’t be helped.

It really can’t.

She’s a mass murderer—at least forty confirmed victims. If this were a regular court case, no defense in the world could save her from the death penalty.

Once the memory erasure is done, the mother will never know her daughter was a killer. And the daughter will never know her mother found out.

In a way, it’s merciful.

I have to think of it that way. Otherwise, I won’t be able to do it.

“Should we evacuate her?”

“No… I don’t want to alert the target. Sniper shots or forced entry are out of the question due to her detection abilities.” I paused, thinking. “Can you get the mother to call her out? Something casual. A convenient excuse. If so, I can finish it in under a second. If necessary, request HQ for additional mind-affecting items.”

One second. That’s how long it takes a human—powered or not—to register a sudden threat. No matter how strong their ability is, if I take them down within that one-second window, it’s over.

Even if they’re immortal, highly defensive, or have some last-ditch countermeasure, a perfectly executed surprise attack guarantees a stun—enough to finish the job cleanly.

Of course, if the target were boss-level, above a certain rank, that wouldn’t be an option. Those kinds emit massive energy signatures that would’ve given them away long before now.

But this one isn’t like that.

At first glance, traps or sniping might seem effective, but things get complicated if the target has detection abilities.

Earlier, I mentioned that combat begins within one second—but detection abilities change that. The moment you start preparing—whether it’s setting a trap or lining up a sniper shot—the target perceives it as the start of battle.

In other words, if you reach the point where you've already decided to kill them, detection abilities become meaningless. Like any other powered individual, you just need to take them down within that first second of engagement.

Of course, there are times when we fight head-on. But when initiating combat against a powered individual, surprise attacks are the standard—faster, cleaner, and with less collateral damage.

The field operative pressed the intercom.

A woman answered. Just an ordinary middle-aged woman.

Not particularly good, not particularly evil—just your typical, everyday auntie.

Her gaze flickered between us, puzzled by the sight of a suited man standing next to a girl in a sailor uniform. The field operative smoothed over the awkwardness with subtle suggestion, steering the conversation in a bizarre direction. Somehow, it turned into me being a former shut-in sharing life experiences.

…Whatever.

“I see, so your daughter has no work experience, not even part-time jobs—”

“Yes, it’s really embarrassing… My husband and I did everything we could for her, but… why did she turn out so hopeless—”

I don’t want to hear this.

Every little detail, every passing moment—this world keeps proving that it’s not some illusion or game. It’s a real, breathing reality.

Even in the gaps between the game’s story, there must have been these kinds of bleak conversations.

Sure, the system aspect is there, but how do the protagonists just go to karaoke after hearing things like this? They must have nerves of steel.

I tried to tune them out, but then something caught my attention.

“When you say problematic behavior at school, could you be more specific?”

“Well, when she was in high school, the school called to say she was playing with fire behind the building. That alone was bad enough, but she even burned one of her classmates—”

“That’s—”

“And that classmate happened to be the daughter of the company president I mentioned earlier. Do you have any idea how much my husband and I struggled because of that? She has no idea…! I can’t believe my own child could be so—”

“I understand how you feel, but—”

“It’s not something you can just brush off—!”

“Ma’am, please calm down—”

………….

…Something felt familiar.

What is it? I don’t know this neurotic-looking mother. I don’t know anyone like her.

The déjà vu wasn’t about the person—it was about the conversation. No… the situation.

The field operative kept his composure, calmly reassuring the mother before sending her to fetch the target.

Should we really let her go?

The thought flashed through my mind. My gut screamed at me that something was wrong. But I was the one who said we shouldn’t alert the target. I couldn’t afford to act recklessly.

Still…

A gnawing unease settled in my chest. I stood frozen, unable to act—only able to listen.

A knock echoed from the second floor.

Then another.

Louder.

The mother’s angry voice followed, sharp and relentless.

“How long are you going to laze around?”
“Get it together already.”
“If you’re going to end up like this, then—”

No. No, no, no.

I didn’t know what to do, but this was definitely bad.

A loud bang—the sound of a door being forced open.

And then, finally, I moved.

I ran up the stairs and peered into the dimly lit room, where only the computer monitor cast a faint glow.

A young woman sat on the floor in worn-out pajamas.

Her mother loomed over her, gripping her shoulders, holding her down.

Her face was twisted—not just with fear, but something deeper. Regret. Guilt. Resignation.

It was the same face I saw in the mirror every day.

“I didn’t… want to burn them.”

My stomach twisted. A sickening understanding washed over me.

“I didn’t… want to get angry. I didn’t mean to… But you didn’t help me… Dad… Mom…”

A faint spark.

The lights flickered.

“I… I told you about the bullying… I wanted to go to school too… It’s all my fault, isn’t it?”

She exhaled shakily, voice small.

“Fine. It’s fine…”

The computer screen glitched. A burst of static. White sparks crackled outside the room.

The mother didn’t notice.

She was still yelling—her voice too shrill to make out. Probably something like, “What are you talking about?”

A sharp, choked sob.

“Hic—”

The woman squeezed her eyes shut.

“I don’t want to—I don’t want to kill—”

A vortex of electric charge swirled, crackling violently between them—

"—Gah!"

She slammed into me as I jumped in.

The impact itself wasn’t much—it wouldn’t even kill an ordinary person.

But it was enough.

A surge of electricity coursed through me, leaving my entire body numb. I couldn’t move. I crashed into her, the two of us tangling together in a mess of limbs.

More than a second passed.

Too long.

Lightning erupted from her body.

And in the center of the room, a massive thunder beast materialized—so large, its crackling form nearly brushed the ceiling.

It let out a roar laced with electromagnetic waves. A sandstorm-like distortion rippled across its surface, and the mother’s voice fractured into unintelligible fragments, as if bleeding out in broken text.

The monster turned its glowing eyes toward her.

And the mother screamed.

“Mag, magne—”

"Get down!!"

I forced my hand to move.

A shockwave blasted from my palm.

The bandages wrapped around my arm tore apart, revealing unblemished skin beneath.

I didn’t have the luxury of adjusting the force.

The walls and ceiling ripped apart. The floor collapsed.

The field operative and the mother were unharmed—but the girl and I plummeted from the second floor.

If this keeps up, we’ll—

I reached for her.

But the same hand that had just unleashed a shockwave powerful enough to punch through a house wall was now outstretched toward her.

Her eyes widened in terror.

A crackling burst of purple lightning struck me midair.

"Gah… hyu…!"

My whole body seized up. I couldn’t even scream—only a strangled, guttural gasp escaped me.

The impact of the fall followed.

I couldn’t brace myself. I hit the ground hard.

But from this height, my body wasn’t significantly damaged.

She wasn’t so lucky.

Blood seeped through her clothes. Her small, pained cries cut through the night air.

Not life-threatening. But bad. Probably broken bones.

And finally—it clicked.

I knew her.

She was a character.

A character from the novelization of Misora Miten’s past arc. The story had been painfully cliché. There weren’t even illustrations, so I hadn’t remembered her face or profile clearly. But the broad strokes—the important details—I remembered those.

Aside from the fact that I had taken Misora Miten’s place, the flow of events had followed the same path.

A girl with the ability to control lightning, awakened in childhood.

A power tied directly to her emotions. Unstable. Unpredictable. Dangerous.

She had tried to suppress it. Tried to isolate herself to keep others safe. But one day, during a bullying incident at school, her abilities had lashed out—and she had given up on living in society.

Her parents, already on the verge of falling apart, never tried to understand her.

She locked herself away, finding solace in the online world.

But even there… she wasn’t safe.

Words thrown carelessly at her. Malicious responses. Cruelty, unfiltered and relentless.

Her unstable mind, shaken by them—triggered her abilities.

And the most terrifying part?

She didn’t even realize.

She had no idea her powers could reach through the screen.

She had no idea she had killed someone.

But in the end, through Misora Miten’s earnest persuasion—through her unwavering words that reached the girl’s heart—she had awakened.

She had gained full control of her ability.

She had turned her curse into power.

And she had become one of the Military’s agents, working alongside them in various ways.

That was how the story was supposed to go.

And yet—

"No… I don’t want to… it hurts…! Don’t come near me… help…!"

“…………”

What was I supposed to say?

Blood dripped down my forehead.

I wasn’t even moving much, but my breaths came shallow and ragged. My vision blurred.

What was it? What did Misora say to her?

Remember, remember, remember.

This is bad.

Why am I here?

To calm her down. To persuade her. To save her heart.

Hurry.

If I don’t—

"Yes, send reinforcements immediately! Immediate termination has failed! Agent Arishirosai is handling it, but her movements are unusually sluggish—possibly due to the target’s supernatural ability—send additional personnel to terminate Electrocution Hound—!"

Hurry.

Hurry.

Hurry!

I opened my mouth—

Only a dry, broken gasp came out.

“…Haah, haah, haah, haah…!”

I couldn’t breathe.

My mind wasn’t working.

Whether it was fear or something else, it didn’t matter.

Two more thunder beasts surged into existence.

My body, trained to react in life-or-death situations, moved on its own. I sliced through them with shockwaves from both hands, their forms dissipating into crackling energy.

"It’s… it’s not—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…! Please… no, this isn’t, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t…!"

She stumbled backward, eyes wide with terror.

No.

Don’t go.

Say it.

Say it.

Help her.

Do it right.

You have to.

She dragged her feet, edging toward the door of her crumbling house.

"Someone… help… Mom…!"

The door creaked open.

Her mother stepped out.

And then—

She stabbed.

A kitchen knife.

Straight into her daughter’s stomach.

"You… you monster…!!"

“—Ah.”

A blinding white consumed my vision.

A thunderclap roared at point-blank range, shattering the air.

A sharp ringing filled my ears, drowning out everything else. The world, once swallowed by light, slowly faded back into view.

A charred, blackened figure—still gripping the kitchen knife—collapsed onto the ground.

The woman, bleeding from a deep wound in her abdomen, lay motionless, her lifeless eyes staring into nothing.

And then—

A massive thunder beast, nearly twenty meters long, took form.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!!!!”

A wail tore through the chaos.

I couldn’t tell whose voice it was.

Maybe it was mine.

I switched to combat mode.

Lightning lashed out wildly, crackling toward the innocent bystanders beyond the ruins of the house.

I moved first.

Throwing myself into the storm, I took the brunt of the strikes. My skin seared, nerves burning, before everything went numb.

Another surge.

I couldn't dodge in time.

I forced my half-paralyzed arm up and muttered through clenched teeth—

“Damage Bullet—Lightning Shot.”

As if rewinding time itself, the exact same lightning strike erupted from my arm, colliding head-on with the beast’s attack.

At the same moment, my electric burns vanished—completely erased, as if they had never existed.

That was the gimmick of my supernatural ability.

"Replication Rate 65%—Cutter Knife Manifestation."

A meter-long cutter knife materialized in my grip, the blade glinting like a guillotine.

I flipped it beneath my feet and leapt onto it like a skateboard.

Then, I floated the cutter knife beneath me and shot toward the monster.

I soared through the air, angling my approach to direct the fight upward—away from the ground, away from collateral damage.

“Damage Bullet—Slash Shot.”

Shockwaves erupted from my hands, one after another. Each blast tore through the air, stripping away the bandages on my arms.

Before, I could take these creatures down in a single hit. But this one—this one was too big. It took the damage, its form flickering and fraying, but I didn’t have enough left to finish it off.

It didn’t matter.

I shifted my aim and shredded a fire hydrant on the roadside.

Water burst forth, drenching the pavement.

Lightning leapt to the flood, discharging wildly. The monster's body flickered—its form destabilizing, breaking apart piece by piece.

Now.

I closed the distance in a flash.

Out of shockwaves, I leapt off my floating blade and materialized a new one—a longsword-sized cutter knife flashing in my grip.

I drove forward.

“—Gah!”

A bolt of lightning struck me square in the chest.

I crashed into the roadside wall, vision spinning. The combat dress held up, but my military jacket burned away in an instant.

Even now. Even after all that. After being stabbed, after everything—she still had strength left.

The final lightning surge continued, a raw, instinct-driven attack. She was barely conscious, her body running on sheer survival instinct.

Electricity doesn’t have weight, doesn’t have pressure—yet it pinned me in place, searing through my body.

I fought back, forcing my ability to return the lightning, but it wasn’t enough.

Her power was stronger.

And it was still growing.

The only way this would end… was if one of us died.

The thought barely had time to settle before—

A small stone flew through the air—

And struck her temple.

Her attack faltered.

I seized the opening, broke free—and drove my fist into her as she staggered.

The storm stopped.

Silence.

I turned toward the direction of the thrown stone.

“…Me…”

It was the little boy. The one I’d helped earlier. The one I’d given the balloon to.

The others—the people I had saved from the monster—stood there, watching, whispering words of thanks.

“But…”

She collapsed.

And in that moment, all I wanted—was to Die.

---

—Disciplinary Action Notice—

To: Arishirosai Kizami

Regarding the recent mission to eliminate Electrocution Hound, you not only failed to complete the termination order but also unlawfully transferred the target to an external supernatural research organization—The Corporation.

The target is now under The Corporation’s custody, where it is being studied and protected. The potential risks it may pose in the future remain incalculable.

This action constitutes a severe breach of protocol, an act of betrayal against both the Military—the organization responsible for handling supernatural threats—and the civilians we are sworn to protect.

In accordance with Military Regulation Article 32, the following disciplinary action will be enacted—

---

My rank was demoted, and I was thrown into solitary confinement.

“…Ah…”

That said, the Military is always short on personnel, and I’m still a useful asset. They’ll probably let me out soon enough.

How many months of salary will I lose? …Eh, whatever. With my ability, I don’t even need food to survive.

Still, wow. Look at me—sacrificing my own position to save an innocent woman who was supposed to die. I’m like a character straight out of a story.

Not that The Corporation is any better. To them, supernatural beings are just lab rats. And with someone as dangerous as her… I don’t even want to imagine the containment measures they’ll use.

But in the end, the protagonist will probably come and save her. That’s how these things go.

“Ugh… ah…”

Yeah. I did my best.

I did my best.

I’m doing my best.

“Someone…”

…Then why?

Why won’t anyone praise me?

“Someone… praise me…”

Lying on the cold floor, I cried alone.