The buzz of whispering followed the girl down the corridor. It had shadowed her for months now. Hands over mouths in a mock attempt to mask the words. Sibilant comments. Harsh glares.

"Why doesn't she just leave?"

"It's not like she can afford to be here."

"She likely paid with stolen money."

"Thieves and worse. She needs to go."

"Their company cost us everything."

The worst part is that none of them had the courage to use the girl's name. They were content referring to her as 'She' or 'that girl.' Their actions always dehumanised. They disempowered. They humiliated.

That's just what children are like.

The lonely middle school girl clutched the books close to her chest. She knew what her peers could be like. How fickle they were. Only months ago, she had been the cool Senpai. The one that they all relied upon. Even her seniors had looked up to her. Graced with natural athletic talents, academic acumen and a warm inviting personality, everyone had looked up to her.

But now she was less than dirt.

"Hey. You."

The girl couldn't help but look over her should toward whoever had called out. The students moving up and down the school corridor gave nothing away. They simultaneously refused to acknowledge her existence and yet spoke about her constantly.

A boy slammed into her. Perhaps accidental. Unlikely. Books went flying. The boy paid no heed, stepping on them and the pencil case as he walked away. Small snickers and giggles echoed all around. Taking a deep breath, the girl centred herself and focused on the here and now. She picked up her belongings and strode toward her classroom. Pulling the door open, she was met with cold stares and more whispers.

Fortunately, her desk was unsullied for a change. Trying to be strong she walked over to the desk, pulled out the chair and sat down. Her pencil case she set down first. A cute HOMU brand that had fallen out of popularity years ago. There were more recent styles and colours. But the girl liked this pencil case. It had been the one her Father had given her. It was all she had left of him. The girl put away her study books and readied herself for the days' lessons.

The whispers picked up in volume. They were an incessant buzz. One that needled the girl. It was like her body was surrounded by static. Numb fingers and toes. A painless agony that never ceased. The girl did her best to remain calm. The same breathing exercises her Father had taught her. The same words he had instilled in her.

"Are you going to stare at that pencil case all day or are you going to answer the question?"

The girl looked up startled. Everyone else was seated. Notes from the morning lessons were on the board. Standing before her was the teacher. The man had a cold expression. Not the man that had proudly thanked her for all the extra effort she did as the class rep. Not the man who acknowledged his classes would not have run so smoothly without her assistance. Not the man who had said he would give a personal recommendation for her choice of High School.

This man hated her perhaps more than anybody else in the room. He blamed the corruption in her Father's company for all the world's ills.

The teacher picked up the girl's pencil case

"You think it okay to fall asleep in my class?" he muttered. "Don't get above yourself. You have to work just as hard as everyone else."

And response the girl had died on her lips. She couldn't answer. She would not answer. She had no answers.

The muttering started anew.

"My father lost his job because of her."

"I heard they aren't building those apartments anymore. Where am I supposed to live now?"

"Probably thinks she can just buy her way into college."

The girl dug fingers into palms. Short but neatly manicured nails pierced flesh, blood slowly oozing out. The teacher cleared his voice. A cold silence fell upon the room.

"You can have this back after class," the teacher said as he carried the pencil case back to his desk.

Setting it down, the teacher sat in his chair and gestured toward another of the students to give the answer. The student stood up and began carefully reciting her own notes. The girl slowly unclenched her hands. The sight of the bloody palms had her lips quivering. She just wanted it to end. She wanted to disappear.

The girl could feel the bubbling in her chest. The crackle of something ominous. All that pent-up emotion ready to burst. Lifting her eyes, the girl met that of the teacher's. There was nothing but hate in his. He rested his hand on the pencil case and pushed it aside. The simple, worn out and very childish object fell off the desk. It landed in the rubbish bin with a final thump.

It wasn't a slow, calm exhalation. The girl's breath was a rumbling hiss. A storm that had just broken. She stood up, chair scraping against the floor, interrupting the student giving the answer.

"Hey! Just what are…"

The student slammed into wall of the classroom. Crimson splashed against pale white paint. Everyone froze. Second tickled by. They finally realised that the girl had grabbed her desk and flung it in the direction of the mouthy student. Or at least they believed that was the student. The desk had been flung with enough force to severe limb and torso.

Shrieks and screams echoed around the room. The girl liked that sound. Something booming and noisy was better than the constant background susurrus. People scrambled out of their chairs and ran towards the classroom door. With a dismissive gesture the girl felt the metal in the door, in the lock and the rollers. With the barest pinprick of power she held the metal in place. Students desperately rattled at the door. With languid movements the girl picked up her chair and felt the metal in its legs. Electricity crackled over her hands. Winding up for an overarm pitch, she flung the chair at the door, accelerating the metal with her burgeoning electrical powers.

Not much was left of the students after the chair sliced through them and several walls behind. The tang of copper and smoke filled the air. The girl thought she smelt urine too. She was warmed by the fact that they now knew the fear she once had.

"YOU MONSTER!"

A boy dashed in from one side. He was the star of the kendo team. The girl recalled when he had come to her for pointers. He'd wanted to learn as much about her family's branch of Itto-ryu. Now he brandished a chair in much the same fashion. She took her eyes off the complete lack of threat. Her destination was the front of the classroom. The girl raised a hand and gestured dismissively. Lightning snapped out from the hand, arcing toward the boy and striking. The blow sent him flying out the window, his last moments that of fearful screaming and agony that slowly faded as he sailed into the distance. The girl thought she heard a distant thump as he finally hit the ground far below.

The rest of the students were too stunned to act. All they could do was slowly back away, pressing against the walls of the claustrophobic classroom. The girl didn't walk between the desks and chairs. Instead the furniture was sent flying by crackling electrical bolts. Each discharge launched a lethal projectile toward one of the students at random. The girl calmly arrived at her destination. She knelt and reached for the pencil case where it lay in the rubbish bin. The moment she made contact it sizzled before turning black and crackling into nothingness. With that gesture the girl had disintegrated the one thing in this classroom that she valued enough not to kill.

The girl knew she should have felt pain. But that girl wasn't the same anymore. She wasn't human anymore. The memories in her head were not her own. They were borrowed. That girl was no more. She slumbered somewhere safely within. She needed protection.

The entity that wore the girl's body smiled. It was the sort of smile that cut glass.

"What… what have you done?" the Teacher asked. "You have to stop."

"Why?" the girl asked

"Please, Iinchou, spare my students."

"I'm not your Iinchou."

"But—"

"Call me, Herrscher."

The Teacher was clearly in shock. That didn't bother the Herrscher. She delighted at how the vile worm writhed in fear. She also hated him. Even here and now he was trying to negotiate for the safety of students. The Teacher was protecting his students when he had done nothing to protect her. Or at the least the girl before the Herrscher took control.

"Then please, Herrscher, don't kill them."

"If you insist."

The Herrscher took a step forward, the Teacher retreating until his back was against the blackboard. With another step the Herrscher stood face-to-face with the man. She raised a hand and clamped it against the side of her Teacher's head. Much like the pencil case his body crackled and turned black before flaking into nothingness. Those students with their faculties still about them let out small whimpers and moans. Sneering at the pathetic worms, the Herrscher raised her hand imperiously toward the heavens. The sky responded in kind, rumbling as pitch-black clouds coalesced out of nowhere. The Herrscher lowered her hand in a quick chop. Everyone in the room screamed and dropped to their knees. Boy and girl alike clutched at chest, neck or head. Their final moments were agony. Honkai energy radiated outward, soaking the entire school in its lethal radiance. Everyone in the school collapsed, body convulsing as the Honkai energy corrupted them.

Silence reigned. The first truly blissful silence the Herrscher could recall in a long time. Though that wasn't true. Such recollections belonged to the memories of the one before her. The original had lingered a corner of their mind now. With a proud smirk the Herrscher jumped out the window, pushing against the electromagnetism of the planet to slow their descent to a gentle flutter. In confident strides the Herrscher left the school.

"I didn't kill them," the Herrscher said to no-one. "Blame the Honkai energy."

It was minutes later when every student and teacher twitched and shivered. Slowly their corpses rose. Skin now chalky white, crimson veins streaked over the unnatural flesh, yellow eyes hungry. Most began to leave the school in twisting droves, seeking out warm flesh, ready to add to their number as they spread the Honkai corruption. Some remained, their bodies and minds markedly more powerful, drawing on arms and armour from Imaginary Space. These would form the vanguard of the Honkai zombie hoard.

The Herrscher continued on her casual march down the street. Above her head clouds rumbled. Magenta lightning crackled within the coalescing storm high above. As the stormcell spread outward lightning fell in an angry torrent. Where the magenta lightning struck, Honkai energy radiated in toxic waves, killing all life, corrupting humans into zombies and animals into far worse.

[This is the moment when you embraced your power. This might just be what we both are looking for]

The Herrscher walked in no particular direction with no particular haste. She merely knew that it was her purpose to obliterate all human life. And Nagazora City was a good enough place to start.