Chapter 27: The Cub Bares its Fangs

Mio

Segawa let the question hang.

“Of course.”

Nana’s grip on Mio’s hand tightened.

“Nonetheless.” Segawa straightened his coat. “Becoming an Agent means you follow Bureau rules. We choose your incursions. You travel in pairs. You get wages, housing, facilities. The usual.”

He was talking about housing while her ribs knit. She wondered if he’d scheduled this meeting before or after he knew she’d survive.

“What’s the catch?”

“You are Marked, so you’ll be assigned to a personalized unit. Your handler will be Agent Mori.” He watched her face. “Your partner—you’ll meet him soon enough.”

Mori. The woman who’d just tried to kill her was now her handler.

Mio didn’t have the energy to react.

“What about my sister—”

“We’re not monsters, Mio. I’ve given her access to the facility. The safe ones, of course.”

He took out a cigarette. Patted his pocket. Forgot his lighter again. “Kagami.”

The boy raised a finger.

[Will-o’-Wisp]

A darting bright flame zipped across the room, landing square on the tip.

“Thanks.” Segawa held it between two fingers. “Now. About that debt.”

“The debt.” Mio’s voice was flat. “How am I supposed to—”

“The obelisk.” He gestured to the humming pillar. “Incursion core. It’s keeping you stable, but it’s not paying down the debt. Wrong type of energy.” Ash fell from the cigarette. “Biomancers need life. Real life.”

“So I have to kill.”

“You have to clear.” He shrugged. “Same thing, different paperwork.”

Nana’s hand was still in hers. Small. Warm. Real.

“What happens if I fail?”

Segawa’s cigarette burned down a quarter inch before he answered.

“Nobody knows. You’re Gaian’s fourth champion. The furthest any of them have gotten. The other three died before we could test the Engine’s patience.”

Yellow light pulsed through her veins. The obelisk searching.

“The question mark isn’t poetry. It’s literal. We don’t know what Failure means for a Marked champion.” He let that sit. “The people upstairs are gambling on your success. Don’t disappoint them.”

“And the Vestiges?”

Kagami’s shoulders tensed. Just slightly.

“They claim champions. Then they let go.” The cigarette had burned halfway down. He hadn’t taken a single drag. “Their priorities align with ours. That’s enough.”

He studied her.

“Level thirty. That’s still the goal.” He flicked ash. “Did the Engine bump you during all that?”

“No. Still ten.”

It didn’t surprise him.

“At least some things are staying consistent.”

Mio’s mind raced. Looking for exits.

“I can’t take her with me.”

“Obviously.”

“And I can’t leave her alone.”

“She won’t be alone.” Segawa’s voice softened. Just a fraction. “She has facility access. Cafeteria, common areas, the garden on Sublevel One. Kagami will be nearby.”

Nana’s grip tightened.

“The tongue guy?” she whispered.

“He won’t hurt you.” Segawa glanced at Kagami. “Will you?”

Kagami’s head turned. Slow. His eyes found Nana’s.

“No.”

“I owe a debt to the landlord. I can’t just—”

“Already taken care of.”

“Nana has school—”

“Homeschooling is better anyway.”

“Our things. The apartment—”

“Kagami will take her to collect whatever she needs.” Segawa glanced at the boy. “Clothes. Books. Whatever else.”

“The moonpetals,” Nana said quietly.

Kagami’s head tilted.

“The moonpetals too,” Segawa said.

Mio stared at him. Every objection handled before she’d finished speaking.

“You planned this.”

“I planned for every outcome.” He dropped the cigarette. Ground it under his heel. “This was the good one.”

“Fuck you.”

Segawa’s expression didn’t change.

Mio’s jaw worked. The words she wanted to say piled up behind her teeth. She swallowed them.

“Mio—” Nana tugged her hand.

“I’ll be back.” Mio squeezed. “Before the timer runs out. I promise.”

“You promised last time too.”

Mio didn’t have an answer. Didn’t have time to find one.

“Your partner’s waiting at the east garage,” Segawa said. “Sublevel Two. He’s been briefed on your condition.”

“Who is he?”

“Someone who owes me a favor.” Segawa moved toward the door. “And someone who won’t slow you down.”

He paused at the threshold.

“What’s the Engine demanding now?”

Mio checked.

[ENGINE: OBJECTIVE]

Clear C-grade Incursion: 0/2

Time Remaining: 4:21:17

Failure: ???

“Four hours. Two C-grade incursions.”

He saw Mio make a face.

“Luckily for you, tonight’s incursions are running hot. Plenty to kill.”

He moved toward the door. “A healer will see you before you leave. Fresh clothes waiting. Bureau field suit. Mori’s size.” He shrugged. “Should fit you fine.”

He left.

Kagami remained. Statue-still. Eyes forward.

Mio looked at Nana. At the tubes in her arm. At the obelisk that was the only thing keeping her from whatever ??? meant.

She pulled the tubes out.

[HP: 340/1,420]

[Reservoir: -98,000/125,000]

The hunger stirred. Weak, starving.

Feed me.

“I’m trying,” she muttered.

Nana had stopped crying.

Mio kissed her forehead.

“Water the moonpetals,” she said. “I’ll be back to see them bloom.”

Nana’s grip tightened. Then released.

Mio looked at Kagami. “Take care of her.”

He didn’t answer. Just watched.

Nana stood. Walked to him without looking back. The boy glanced at Mio once, unreadable, then followed Nana out.

The door clicked shut.

Mio was alone.

The obelisk hummed. The silence pressed in.

The Bureau suit was folded on the chair by the door. Black. Fitted. She changed without looking at her arm.

The fabric was heavier than her hoodie. Stiffer. It fit like a uniform that expected her to die in it.

She raised her palm.

“Can.”

The gauntlet materialized first. Black glass crawling over her fingers, her knuckles, her wrist. The knight’s grip, restored.

Yesterday she’d been dying when she called him. Screaming. Burning through everything she had.

This felt like breathing.

[Active Form: Chimera]

[Select Mode]

[Offense / Defense]

The Putrid Knight had a hilt without its blade. It had let go. Poured everything into one last attack. Failed.

Get up one more time.

“Can, become my blade.”

[Active Form: Blade]

[Trait: Ironblood — Attacks inflict Necrotic Blight]

Black glass and green-white veins. The blade materialized in her grip, pulsing once, twice, settling into her palm. The obsidian caught the infirmary light. Held it. Refused to let it go.

A mourning blade.

The sword retracted. The gauntlet stayed. Black glass resting against her knuckles. Comfortable.

Let’s go hunting.

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