Chapter 5: The Shadow Storm Comes
-Date: Approximately One month after Minoru's recovery began-
The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet city streets. Akane Nishino walked silently beside Minoru, the two of them taking an aimless route through the back alleys that had become their favored retreat. A month had passed since she had found him at the abandoned construction site, beaten and barely alive. In that time, their routines had fallen into a semblance of normalcy—if "normal" could ever describe the life they now led.
Minoru had regained his strength, the sharp glint of determination back in his eyes. The faint scars on his face and body served as a reminder of the battle he had barely survived, but they seemed to energize him rather than weigh him down. He carried himself with purpose, and Akane could feel the tension in the air every time his gaze grew distant. She knew he was planning his next move.
But tonight, something felt different.
Akane's chest tightened as she glanced at Minoru. He looked as calm as ever, his sharp features illuminated by the dim glow of streetlights. She wanted to say something—anything—but words failed her every time. How could she even begin to express the tangle of emotions she felt? Gratitude, fear, admiration… something deeper she couldn't quite put into words.
They arrived at a quiet park, the kind she used to visit with her family before life became so complicated. Minoru found a bench and sat down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, deep in thought. Akane hesitated, then sat beside him.
"You've been awfully quiet tonight," she ventured, hoping to break the silence.
Minoru glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
"The Cult," he said simply.
Akane sighed. She had known the answer before she asked the question. "You're going after them again, aren't you?"
Minoru nodded. "It's time."
~!~
Minoru sat in Akane's dimly lit garage, its once-pristine space now cluttered with salvaged equipment and scattered tools. A faint hum from a jury-rigged power source provided the only noise aside from the distant chirping of cicadas. His mind was a battlefield, torn between the memories of past failures and the determination to finish what he started.
The Cult had taken everything—Aurora's freedom, Umbra-03, his sense of safety, and nearly his life. But he wasn't done. Not yet. The scars on his body, still faintly glowing from Aurora's touch, reminded him of the power she had given him. A double-edged gift that had saved him and might yet kill him.
Still, to strike at the Cult's heart, he needed more than conviction. He needed gear.
His first attempt to rebuild his arsenal began with a trip to a scrapyard on the edge of town. It wasn't his first choice, but resources were scarce, and the Cult's influence had grown. Shops that once sold advanced tech were under surveillance, leaving him to pick through piles of rusted metal and outdated circuitry.
Minoru wandered between mountains of discarded appliances, his discerning eyes scanning for anything salvageable.
"Outdated processors, fried circuit boards... why do I feel like I'm dumpster diving for a dream?" he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice.
Eventually, he found a few items: a broken drone chassis, a half-functioning micro camera, and what he hoped was a salvageable power core. He stuffed the items into his pack, avoiding the gaze of the scrapyard's proprietor.
Back at the garage, he laid out his findings on a table, the harsh light of a desk lamp illuminating the cobbled-together components. He frowned.
"Umbra-03 could've assembled a reconnaissance unit in minutes," he thought bitterly.
His tools felt clumsy in his hands compared to the intuitive interface Umbra had offered. Maybe he did get used to the ease of access the Umbra-03 provided when crafting his gear. Umbra-02 and Umbra-03 offered optimizations and alterations to some of the plans he made to gear, which helped immensely during the Mountain Complex raid.
Nevertheless, Minoru worked late into the night, tinkering, soldering, and improvising. He managed to cobble together six small drones, ready for flight or groundwork. They were far from perfect—one had a jittery flight pattern, and the other's camera feed flickered intermittently—but they were functional.
"Not exactly military-grade, but it'll do for recon," he muttered, testing their controls on a worn tablet.
The drones wobbled into the air, bumping into the garage ceiling before stabilizing. Minoru couldn't help but chuckle. "Baby steps."
~!~
The next challenge was his suit. His old one had been damaged during the collapse of the ruins. Most of it was beyond repair, leaving him to start from scratch. He dug through Akane's storeroom, finding old sports pads, utility belts, and even a few fabric scraps.
Using what he had, Minoru pieced together a rudimentary exosuit. Though exosuit was a little exaggerated, he layered lightweight plating over reinforced fabric for protection, ensuring mobility wasn't sacrificed. The hardest part was integrating power distribution for his gloves and boots.
His gloves, once able to interface with his wrist interface and deliver shocking punches, lay inert and as useful as its original design, which was just a pair of fancy leather gloves.
Speaking of his wrist-computer, Minoru glanced at it before grimacing. It still worked, but it couldn't locate Umbra-03 or be able to be fine-tuned quickly, considering all the work it was set to beforehand. He could reprogram it if needed, but it would take too long for it fully integrate itself onto something he considered not worth reprogramming for.
As he donned the suit, mostly to get a feel for any alterations, he felt a pang of disappointment. It lacked the seamless design of his original, but it was functional. And in this fight, function was all that mattered.
~!~
Minoru stared at the pile of salvaged parts spread across the workbench in Akane's garage, a far cry from the cutting-edge equipment he had once wielded. A patchwork armor frame, broken battery packs, wiring harvested from defunct appliances, and a single glowing power core—the remnants of his old suit, his only connection to the precision and power he once commanded.
"Not exactly state-of-the-art," he muttered, his voice heavy with a mix of determination and exasperation.
Akane appeared from the doorway, carrying a box filled with more supplies she'd dug up from her house. "Found these in one of my dad's old closets," she said, placing the box beside him. Inside were several weathered leather jackets, their surfaces cracked with age.
"These'll do," Minoru said with a nod, inspecting the material. "Thanks."
"They're not exactly Kevlar," Akane replied, watching him work. "But... they're better than nothing."
Minoru chuckled faintly. "At this point, I'm aiming for 'better than nothing.'"
Minoru began to reinforce the armor frame by layering the leather over an old set of sports padding Akane had found earlier in her family's storage. He carefully stitched and bolted the pieces together, reinforcing the shoulders and chest with makeshift plating salvaged from scrap metal. It was far from elegant, but it offered enough protection to withstand light impacts.
The core of his suit—its energy system—was another story. With his old power core damaged beyond conventional repair, Minoru had to improvise. He salvaged what he could, repurposing it into a compact, high-yield explosive. The faintly glowing explosive now rested in a reinforced casing on his belt, ready to serve as a critical part of his arsenal, he just didn't know where to use it.
For power, he fashioned a series of single-use battery packs from scavenged power banks. Each pack held just enough charge for one action: a burst of speed, a short leap, or a brief shock from his gloves. He strapped the packs to his forearms, their exposed wires a reminder of their crude design.
"Single-use everything," Minoru muttered as he tested the first pack. "Feels like I'm playing on hard mode."
Next came upgrading the drones. Using what little he could scavenge, Minoru managed to assemble two small, clunky upgrades. Each was cobbled together from mismatched parts: old drone chassis clamps, scavenged diodes, and outdated micro camera parts. They weren't weapons, but he managed to fit each with a diode laser—just strong enough to cut through wires or thin metal with time.
He tested the first drone with the upgrades in the garage, watching as it wobbled unsteadily into the air before stabilizing. The laser flickered to life, cutting through a piece of spare wire on the workbench with agonizing slowness.
"Not exactly a death ray," he remarked dryly.
Akane leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "It's better than nothing," she said, echoing his earlier words.
"Yeah, but 'better than nothing' doesn't inspire much confidence," Minoru replied, smirking faintly.
The second drone performed similarly; its camera feed grainy but functional. Minoru adjusted the controls on his makeshift tablet, programming basic flight paths and commands. They were rudimentary tools, but they'd have to do. He had to have faith in his skills that the other drones would have functioning upgrades and wouldn't short out at the last minute.
As the night deepened, Minoru returned to the bench, a sense of incompleteness nagging at him. His suit and tools were ready, but he was missing one essential element—a reliable weapon. His old baton, the one that had served him so faithfully, had been damaged beyond functionality during the last encounter.
He retrieved the broken baton from a corner of the garage, its once-sleek frame now dented and cracked. The circuits inside were fried, but the structural integrity of the shaft was salvageable. With a sigh, he set to work.
Using parts scavenged from Akane's parents' old electronics, he rewired the baton's core. The advanced technology was gone, replaced by a rudimentary mechanism powered by one of his single-use battery packs. The result wasn't elegant, but it worked—the baton now delivered a single, powerful electric shock, enough to stun or incapacitate an enemy.
When he activated the baton for the first time, a satisfying crackle of energy arced along its length. Minoru allowed himself a small smile. "Welcome back, old friend," he murmured, spinning the weapon in his hand.
Next, Minoru rummaged through the piles of tools Akane had gathered, his eyes landing on a rusted crowbar. He hefted it, feeling its weight and balance. It wasn't as versatile as his baton, but it was a solid backup—perfect for prying open doors, smashing obstacles, or delivering raw, unrelenting force when needed.
"This'll do," he said, testing a few swings. The crowbar was heavy, but it felt reassuring in his grip. He slid it into a makeshift holster on his suit, the cold metal a reminder of its brutal simplicity.
Aware that brute force alone wouldn't get him far, Minoru also prepared for stealth. From an old toolbox, he extracted a small set of lockpicking tools—rusty but functional. He tested them on a padlock he found in the garage, his fingers working deftly despite his inexperience.
After several minutes, the lock clicked open. "Not bad," he muttered, sliding the tools into a pouch on his belt.
Akane, who had been watching from the doorway, raised an eyebrow. "Planning a career as a burglar if this whole Cult thing doesn't work out?"
Minoru smirked faintly. "Only if the Cult wipes out every other option."
Her expression softened, though the worry in her eyes remained. "Just... don't get caught, okay?"
Finally, Minoru turned his attention to his disruptor. The device had once been his trump card, capable of disabling enemy tech in a wide radius. Now, with limited resources, he could only build a single-use version.
He repurposed a compact power cell and wired it into a salvaged circuit board, encasing the fragile assembly in a protective shell made from an old lunchbox. Testing it was out of the question—if it failed, he'd lose the only edge he had against the Cult's advanced technology.
"One shot," he murmured, holding the device in his hands. "Better make it count."
Akane approached, her expression hesitant. "You've done so much with so little," she said softly. "But... are you sure it's enough?"
Minoru looked up at her, his eyes hard. "It has to be."
As the final pieces of his preparation came together, Minoru allowed himself a moment to rest. He leaned against the workbench, surveying his makeshift arsenal. The suit, the drones, the disruptor, the explosive core—all of it felt like a patchwork solution to a problem far bigger than himself.
Akane set down a plate of food beside him, her quiet support an anchor in the chaos. "You'll come back, right?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Minoru hesitated, his gaze distant. "I'll try," he said at last, though the weight of his mission left little room for certainty.
Akane nodded, her expression a mix of determination and worry. "Then I'll hold you to that."
~!~
-Date: One Week Later-
The soft patter of raindrops against Akane's window filled the otherwise quiet room. Minoru sat cross-legged on the floor, tinkering with one of his drones. Sparks danced as he adjusted the laser diode with the delicate precision of a surgeon. Across the room, Akane sat on the edge of her bed, watching him work. She had a notebook open, pretending to study, but her gaze kept darting toward him.
Finally, curiosity got the better of her. "Hey, Minoru?"
"Hm?" He didn't look up, his focus still on the drone.
"How… how do you fight?"
That got his attention. He paused mid-adjustment and glanced up, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. "Why do you ask?"
Akane fidgeted with the edge of her notebook. "I've been thinking… after everything that's happened. You know, with the Cult and… the kidnappers before. I don't want to feel helpless again." She glanced down, her voice quieter. "I want to be able to protect myself."
Minoru leaned back, his gaze scrutinizing her for a moment. Then, with a small shrug, he said, "Sure. But fighting isn't just about throwing punches. It's about strategy, awareness, and control. Are you sure you're ready for that?"
Akane nodded, determination gleaming in her eyes.
In the garage, Minoru had set up a makeshift training area. The floor was cleared of clutter, leaving enough space for movement. He'd brought down a couple of padded cushions to serve as improvised mats.
Minoru stood barefoot, his black sweats and plain t-shirt making him look more like an unassuming college student than someone who had gone toe-to-toe with elite killers. Akane mirrored him, wearing leggings and a loose workout shirt, though her movements were more hesitant.
"First rule of fighting," Minoru began, his tone serious, "is knowing when not to fight."
Akane blinked. "Isn't that counterintuitive?"
"Not at all," he said, gesturing for her to mirror his stance. "Most fights can be avoided if you're aware of your surroundings and your options. But if you're cornered—" He paused, his eyes darkening slightly. "—then you make them regret it."
He stepped forward, showing her the basic stance: feet shoulder-width apart, one slightly forward, hands up to guard her face. She mimicked him, though her movements were clumsy.
"Good. Now, balance is key. If your center of gravity is off, you're an easy target."
Over the next hour, Minoru walked her through the fundamentals: how to throw a proper punch, how to block, and how to move without tripping over her own feet. Despite the simplicity, Akane struggled to keep up, her frustration evident.
"Don't overthink it," Minoru said after her third failed attempt at a simple jab. "It's like riding a bike. Once your body remembers, it'll come naturally."
After a water break, Minoru decided it was time for some light sparring. He donned a pair of old padded gloves he'd found in a closet and tossed a similar pair to Akane.
"I'll go easy," he assured her.
She scowled playfully. "You better."
The sparring was slow and controlled. Minoru would feint a jab, and Akane would try to block or dodge. At first, she was all over the place, her blocks late and her footwork clumsy. But as the session went on, she started to improve, her movements becoming more fluid.
Minoru couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as she managed to land a glancing blow on his shoulder. "Not bad," he said with a grin.
"Not bad?" she panted, hands on her knees. "That was perfect!"
He chuckled. "Sure, let's go with that."
As they wrapped up, Akane flopped onto one of the cushions, breathing heavily. "You make it look so easy," she muttered.
"That's because I've been doing it for years," he replied, sitting cross-legged next to her.
Akane turned her head to look at him. "Why? I mean, why did you start?"
Minoru hesitated, his gaze distant. "Let's just say… I've always liked the idea of standing up to the things that hide in the dark."
~!~
Later that night, with the rain giving way to a clear starry sky, Minoru sat on the balcony, staring out at the city lights. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts: the Cult, Olivier, and the looming battle that he knew was coming.
Akane stepped out, a steaming mug of tea in her hands. She handed it to him without a word and sat beside him.
"You're quiet tonight," she said after a while.
"Just thinking," he replied, taking a sip of the tea.
"About what?"
"About how I'm going to finish this."
Akane frowned. "You make it sound like a foregone conclusion."
He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stared at the shadows cast by the streetlights below. "They don't know me yet. Not really. But they will. And when they do, I want them to remember the name of the one who brought them down."
Akane raised an eyebrow. "A name?"
Minoru nodded. "Yeah. A name to strike fear into them. Something that fits what I am and what I do."
"And what's that?"
He turned to her, a small, confident smirk on his lips. "Shadow. I lurk in the shadows. I hunt the shadows. It's who I am now."
Akane stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then, with a faint smile, she said, "Shadow, huh? Sounds dramatic. But… it suits you."
For the first time in a long while, Minoru allowed himself a genuine smile. "Then it's settled."
As the night deepened, Minoru sat on the balcony, the tea in his hands growing cold. In the distance, the city lights twinkled like stars, oblivious to the storm that was brewing in the shadows.
~!~
Akane sat cross-legged in the dim light of Minoru's workshop, the wrist interface on the table before her. It had been days since she'd recovered it from the pile of discarded tech Minoru left behind. The device hummed faintly with energy, its faint glow casting dancing shadows on her focused face. Curiosity had gripped her ever since she stumbled upon it, and today, she decided to learn more.
"How do you even work this thing?" she murmured, tilting her head as her fingers brushed over its surface.
The interface suddenly flickered to life, projecting a soft blue light. Lines of unfamiliar data scrolled across the surface, and Akane jumped slightly, startled. A small beep accompanied the appearance of a pulsing signal on its screen—a beacon leading somewhere.
Her heart raced.
What is this? And why is it still active?
The signal felt urgent, insistent. Akane didn't know what lay at the end of the path, but something deep inside her pushed her to find out. Grabbing her jacket and the interface, she set off, following the signal through the winding streets of the city.
The signal led her to the outskirts, where civilization gave way to unfinished buildings and half plowed patches of land for future structures. She clutched the interface tightly as she weaved through the half done structures. The pulse on the screen grew stronger, faster, as she approached an old abandoned lot.
There, nestled among the debris, was a battered piece of tech. A dull, broken drone, its frame scorched and twisted, sat half-buried beneath rubble. Its faint, irregular blinks of light matched the pulsing signal from the interface.
Akane crouched beside it, her heart pounding. "Umbra-03…?" she whispered, reading the faint marking etched into its side.
It looked like something out of a science fiction film, and yet she knew it belonged to Minoru. Carefully, she brushed off the dirt and inspected its broken frame. One of its mechanical arms dangled uselessly, and its hull was riddled with cracks, but the faint glow of its central core showed it was still clinging to life.
"This has to mean something," Akane muttered. With effort, she pried the drone free and carried it back toward the workshop.
The workshop door creaked open as Akane stumbled inside, the weight of the drone making her arms ache. She set Umbra-03 down on the workbench with a huff, wiping the sweat from her brow.
"Minoru!" she called out, her voice echoing. "You'll never guess what I found!"
Minoru appeared from the far side of the workshop, his hands blackened with grease and his expression tired. When he saw the drone, his eyes widened in shock.
"Umbra-03?" he breathed, stepping closer. His hand brushed the broken shell of the drone with an almost reverent touch. "You found it…"
Akane grinned, proud of her discovery. "I followed the signal from the wrist interface. I figured it might lead to something important, but I had no idea it'd be this."
Minoru's gratitude was evident in his voice. "You have no idea how much this means to me. I thought it was lost for good."
As he examined the drone, a faint click and whirring noise emanated from it. Both Akane and Minoru froze as Umbra-03's damaged core lit up, projecting a distorted stream of data onto the nearest screen.
"What's it doing?" Akane asked, her eyes wide.
Minoru's brow furrowed. "It's relaying something… Decoding data, maybe?"
The stream of data resolved into a set of schematics. A sprawling base appeared on the screen, outlined with critical points marked in red. Akane gasped as she recognized some of the locations—underground tunnels, heavily fortified sectors, and a central core labeled as a critical weakness. Delta, the AI housed in Umbra-03 started to create reports on infiltration and sabotage.
"This is…" Minoru's voice trailed off as he studied the screen. A slow, almost predatory smile spread across his face.
"The Cult's main stronghold," he said, his voice filled with both disbelief and anticipation.
Akane looked at him, concern mixing with awe. "So, you can finally strike back?"
Minoru nodded, already piecing together a strategy in his mind. "This is their entire layout—defensive zones, infrastructure, weak points. They'll never see this coming."
As he began scribbling notes and planning his assault, Akane couldn't help but feel both pride and apprehension. She had unknowingly set something monumental into motion, and though she trusted Minoru, the enormity of the task ahead weighed heavily on her.
She glanced at Umbra-03's broken frame, then back at Minoru, who was completely absorbed in his work.
"Be careful," she whispered, though he didn't hear her.
Somewhere deep down, she knew this mission would change everything—for better or for worse.
~!~
After weeks of grueling preparation, Minoru stood in front of a mirror, adjusting his suit. The man staring back at him was a far cry from the boy Akane had found at the construction site. His eyes were sharper, his expression colder.
He activated the drones, watching as they hovered obediently by his side. Though, to ruin the moment slightly, one of them still wavered in place.
Umbra-03 was connected to Akane's computer, both recovering it's data and making a backup of itself in case of the drone's shutdown. Akane was a bit weirded out by knowing a living AI is in her computer, but Minoru promised Delta is about obedient as a puppy.
An added benefit is that Umbra-03 had been refitted as a relay for anything Minoru would steal from the cult; more technology would always be a gift!
Last, but not least, Minoru wrote down all of the exercises, and self defense tactics and strategies he uses to get past anything he would find troublesome. He even wrote down some nifty notes and plans for boosting her everyday gadgets and things she owned for improved efficiency.
Disappointingly, Minoru wasn't able to reconnect the wrist interface to his suit but fortunately was able to reestablish a connection to Umbra-03 and Delta. A fragment of Delta was also in his pocket, to be able to link up with the main Delta fragment from anywhere in the world.
Minoru named it Pi, after how big the fragment was taking up space in his thumb drive.
Finally…
Finally…
"This is it," he thought, his heart pounding.
As he stepped out of the garage, Akane was waiting for him. She didn't say anything, but the look in her eyes spoke volumes.
"Stay safe," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I'll try," he replied, his tone betraying the uncertainty he felt.
With that, he disappeared into the night, his makeshift arsenal ready for the battle ahead. The Cult wouldn't see him coming—but they would feel his wrath.
~!~
-Time: Unknown-
-Location: The Cult's headquarters, Medical bay-
-Date: Unknown, approximately a few weeks after the ruins clash-
Olivier sat on the examination table, the cold steel beneath her an unwelcome reminder of the Cult's methods. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead bathed the sterile room in a stark, unfeeling glow. Around her, a team of Cult scientists bustled with purpose, their movements mechanical as they adjusted instruments, took readings, and whispered among themselves.
Her mind, however, was elsewhere.
It had been weeks since the incident at the ruins, weeks since the explosion that had consumed so much of what she once knew. The strange resonance she had felt during her clash with that man—the interloper—still lingered in her body, an unshakable echo of power that wasn't hers. And then, there were the dreams. The dreams of her—Aurora.
The scientists had spoken of this, of the energy that had imprinted itself on Olivier's very essence. They referred to it clinically: Residual Aurora Energy. But to Olivier, it felt far more intimate, far more invasive.
It felt alive.
The first dream came just days after the ruins. Olivier had woken in a cold sweat, her heart pounding in her chest. The images were fragmented, but vivid. A young girl, no more than eight years old, with hair like molten gold, stood in a sunlit meadow. Her laughter echoed; a sound so pure it felt alien to Olivier. But there was something wrong, something off. The girl's eyes, though wide and innocent, held an unnatural gleam, as though they were mirrors reflecting a truth too painful to comprehend.
The meadow warped. The golden hues turned to ash. The girl screamed, her form shifting, elongating, twisting into something monstrous and ethereal. Olivier had awoken then, clutching her chest, her breaths shallow and rapid.
But the dreams hadn't stopped. Night after night, they came. The girl in the meadow. The laughter. The scream. Each time, the visions grew sharper, the emotions more visceral.
~!~
"Her vitals are stable," one of the scientists murmured, his voice low.
"But the neural scans show significant abnormalities," another countered. "Look at the hippocampal activity. She's processing memories that aren't hers."
"Could this be Aurora's influence?"
"Undoubtedly. The subject's exposure to the core's energy must have facilitated a deep resonance. It's as though she's… assimilating another identity."
Olivier clenched her fists as she listened, her patience wearing thin. "Speak plainly," she snapped, her voice cutting through the sterile atmosphere like a blade.
The lead scientist adjusted his glasses, hesitating before answering. "The energy from Aurora seems to have left an imprint on you, Lady Olivier. It's manifesting as… memories. But not your own. We believe they're fragments of Aurora's consciousness."
Olivier's eyes narrowed. "Aurora's consciousness?"
"A shadow of it, perhaps. Residual data embedded in the energy. It's possible that prolonged exposure could—"
"I don't care what it could do," Olivier interrupted, sliding off the table. Her bare feet touched the cold floor, grounding her. "What I care about is ensuring it doesn't affect my mission. Fix it. Now."
The scientists exchanged uneasy glances. "It's not that simple, Lady Olivier. The influence isn't something we can simply remove. It's… becoming part of you."
~!~
The doctors had tried to explain it as a side effect of her exposure to the ruins' energy. "Residual interference," they called it, as though it were static from a broken machine. But Olivier knew better. This wasn't some anomaly to be diagnosed or dismissed. It was deeper, more personal.
After arguing at the impossibility of Aurora possessing her through memories, she resorted to trying to use a scalpel to pierce her brain in an act of psychosis and desperation.
Fortunately for all involved, restraints and some tranquilizers stopped that from happening.
When she woke up, she was back in her quarters.
Fine.
If the scientists couldn't help her, Olivier would take matters into her own hands. The only thing that had ever silenced the chaos in her mind was discipline, and so she threw herself into training with a single-minded fervor.
Her sessions became grueling marathons of combat drills, weight training, and agility exercises. She reshaped her body, honing it into a weapon. Her sleek musculature betrayed no excess, every inch of her form designed for efficiency. She prioritized speed and power, knowing she could not afford to endure drawn-out battles. Every strike she delivered needed to count, and every movement had to be precise.
Her training was relentless. She moved like a shadow, darting through obstacle courses set with live traps. Her strikes shattered training dummies, and her speed made her a blur to even the most advanced surveillance systems.
Yet, even in the heat of battle, the echoes of Aurora remained.
~!~
Olivier stood before a mirror in the Cult's underground training facility, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. Sweat dripped from her brow, tracing lines down her lithe frame. Her reflection stared back at her, unyielding.
But then it changed.
For a fleeting moment, the face in the mirror was not her own. The golden-haired girl stared back, her eyes filled with a haunting sorrow. Olivier blinked, and the vision was gone.
"Enough," she hissed, slamming a fist into the glass. The mirror shattered, shards falling like raindrops to the floor.
~!~
With the destroyed mirror couldn't hold her gaze any longer. She turned away and began to pace the room, her movements sharp and restless. Her thoughts turned to him. The man who had humiliated her, who had stood against the Cult and survived.
Minoru Kageno.
His name was like a brand on her mind, searing and persistent. She remembered their fight with vivid clarity—every strike, every counter, every maddening moment where he seemed to slip through her grasp. He was unlike any opponent she had ever faced, not because of his strength but because of his unpredictability.
Her obsession with defeating him had grown into something she couldn't control. It wasn't just about the Cult's mission anymore. It was personal.
She dropped to the floor and began a series of push-ups, her body moving with mechanical precision. With each motion, she muttered under her breath. "Stronger. Faster. Smarter."
But as the hours wore on, her focus wavered. Aurora's voice, faint and distant, whispered to her.
"Why do you fight? Is it for power? For purpose? Or for something you've forgotten?"
"No!" Olivier shouted, her voice echoing in the empty room. She slammed her fists against the floor, her breathing ragged. "I fight for me! For my strength! For my will!"
But the voice persisted, a nagging presence that she couldn't silence.
The Cult had provided her with every resource to perfect her skills. Advanced weaponry, combat simulations, even experimental enhancements—all were at her disposal. But no amount of technology could quell the storm inside her.
She threw herself into her training, pushing her body to its limits and beyond. Every punch, every kick was a declaration of defiance against the specter of Aurora's influence. The sleekness of her frame, her speed, her precision—all became tools for her obsession. She was crafting herself into a weapon, one with a single purpose: to destroy Minoru.
But there were cracks in her resolve. In moments of stillness, when the adrenaline faded and the silence crept in, doubts emerged.
Why does he haunt me? she wondered.
It wasn't just anger or pride that drove her obsession. There was something deeper, something unspoken that made her stomach churn whenever she thought of him.
~!~
The Cult's council observed her from a distance, their expressions a mix of awe and unease. "She grows stronger," one noted, his tone laced with both admiration and trepidation.
"But at what cost?" another countered. "Her mental state is deteriorating. Aurora's influence is seeping into her very being."
"Then we must keep her focused," the first elder replied. "Olivier is our greatest weapon. If she falters, so does the Cult."
~!~
Alone in her quarters, Olivier sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes closed. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the runes etched into the walls. Her breaths were steady, her mind a battlefield of conflicting emotions.
She didn't know who the golden-haired girl was or why she haunted her dreams. She didn't know what Aurora's energy had done to her or what it would continue to do. But she knew one thing: she would not break.
Olivier opened her eyes, her gaze steely. If Aurora sought to make her a pawn, she would turn that power against her enemies. If the memories sought to weaken her, she would use them to sharpen her resolve.
The Cult needed her, and she would not fail.
~!~
As she stood before the Cult's Elders, they praised her progress, their voices dripping with condescension and manipulation. They spoke of Project Epsilon, of the Cult's grand vision for the world, but Olivier barely listened. Her mind was already elsewhere.
The core of the base called to her. She could feel it, a pulsating energy that resonated with the mark on her body. It was there that she would confront him again. She knew it.
Her lips curled into a smirk as she left the council chamber. Let them panic. Let them squabble and scheme. She had her own path, one that didn't rely on their approval.
She tightened the straps of her armor, the weight of it grounding her. In the reflection of a passing window, she saw herself—sleek, deadly, and unrelenting.
"Let him come," she said, her voice a low growl. "This time, I'll finish it."
But even as she spoke the words, a faint whisper lingered in the back of her mind—a voice that was not her own.
Are you sure that's what you want?
She didn't know.
~!~
Extra Chapter: Umbra's Data, Decoded by Delta (AI) Part one: Entrance Main Area
Delta's Report: Access Point Analysis
Subject: Access Point 17B - Exterior Tunnel Entry
Status: Active but minimally utilized
Purpose: Primarily for vehicle entry and large-scale equipment transfer
Overview:
Access Point 17B is an above-ground tunnel entry nestled at the edge of a sparsely forested industrial zone. The surrounding terrain slopes gently downward toward the tunnel mouth, which opens into a reinforced concrete structure. The tunnel itself descends steeply underground, leading to the Cult's outdated logistical network. Although once critical for moving supplies and equipment, this route has been relegated to occasional use due to the Cult's adoption of more covert supply chains.
Surrounding Environment:
Perimeter:
The tunnel lies in a forgotten part of the district, surrounded by rusting fences and derelict buildings. Many of these structures appear abandoned but could serve as makeshift sentry points.
Vegetation is sparse, with scrubby grass and patches of weeds growing through cracks in the asphalt. A few trees line the area, providing natural concealment.
Surface Features:
The road leading to the access point is fractured and uneven, with faded lane markings hinting at its age.
Tire tracks suggest intermittent vehicle use, though the density of markings indicates traffic is infrequent.
Surveillance:
Camera systems appear functional but poorly maintained. Regular intervals show dead zones in coverage due to misaligned or damaged equipment.
Guards present near the tunnel are inattentive and under-equipped, likely assuming no one would dare to approach this remote entry.
Tunnel Entrance:
Design:
The reinforced concrete façade is marred by cracks and weathering but remains structurally sound.
Large steel doors mark the entry point, accessible via biometric and keycard systems.
Security Presence:
On-Site Guards:
Two guards patrol sporadically, showing no discernible pattern or coordination. Both appear undertrained, with limited focus on their tasks.
Equipment: Standard sidearms, low-grade body armor, and analog radios.
Vehicular Checkpoint:
A small control booth flanks the entrance. Its operator is often absent, with the booth's interior showing signs of neglect, including empty coffee cups and discarded cigarette butts.
Weaknesses:
The guards' low alertness and limited communication capabilities render the checkpoint vulnerable.
A gap in the camera system overlooks the northern perimeter and offers a potential entry route.
A malfunctioning side panel on the biometric lock suggests it could be bypassed with minimal effort.
Interior Tunnel Conditions:
Atmosphere:
The tunnel's interior feels forgotten, with faint echoes of its former use. Dust coats the walls, and occasional drips of water seep through the cracks, hinting at minor structural decay.
Infrastructure:
Dim overhead lighting alternates between flickering and outright failure, creating stretches of near-complete darkness.
The floor is worn smooth from years of use, but recent foot and vehicle traffic is sparse, judging by the thin layer of grime.
Hazards:
Occasional exposed wiring hangs dangerously close to the tunnel walls.
An emergency exit halfway down the tunnel is boarded up, suggesting neglect in maintaining escape routes.
Conclusion and Recommendations:
The above-ground location and infrequent use make Access Point 17B an ideal infiltration site. Its weaknesses in surveillance, undertrained personnel, and poorly maintained infrastructure suggest it is a low-priority target for the Cult. However, the presence of biometric access protocols indicates that it still connects to critical internal systems.
For a successful breach:
Exploit guard inattentiveness to eliminate resistance quickly.
Use the camera dead zone on the northern perimeter for initial approach.
Prepare for potential surprises beyond the tunnel entrance, as the Cult may have secondary defenses deeper inside.
This overlooked access point offers an opportunity for surgical infiltration with minimal resistance—perfect for a strike against the Cult's operations.
Delta's Report: Base Interior Analysis
Subject: Cult Base Interior - Sector Alpha-7
Status: Active, partially mapped
Purpose: Logistics, research, and general operations
Overview:
Sector Alpha-7 serves as one of the Cult's key operational hubs, with infrastructure supporting logistics, personnel housing, and research. The design prioritizes efficiency over aesthetics, resulting in a stark, utilitarian environment. Despite its clinical design, the sector's reliance on a single, central power source makes it a significant vulnerability. Disabling or destroying this power supply could cripple the Cult's operations within the base and beyond.
Interior Layout
Primary Features:
Corridors and Rooms:
Narrow corridors connect various sections, with reinforced doors securing key locations.
Rooms are tightly packed with minimal furnishings, reflecting a focus on utility rather than comfort.
Lighting and Ventilation:
Low, flickering lights illuminate most areas, creating deep shadows that can obscure movement.
Ventilation ducts are expansive and accessible but may trigger alarms if tampered with.
Personnel Presence:
The base is moderately staffed with guards, technicians, and researchers. Activity fluctuates depending on the time of day, but Sector Alpha-7 never fully quiets down.
Sector Subsections:
Command and Control Room:
A central location housing consoles that monitor the base's internal and external activity.
Equipped with outdated but still functional security feeds and communications equipment.
Personnel: Two rotating shifts of senior Cult officers oversee operations.
Weakness: Over-reliance on outdated systems makes the consoles vulnerable to external interference or direct sabotage.
Research Laboratories:
Contains experimental chambers and equipment linked to Aurora-based energy research.
Personnel: Scientists conducting weaponization studies, guarded by a small security detail.
Weakness: The labs require constant power for containment and experimentation. A power failure would render them inoperable and potentially release unstable energy.
Barracks:
Dormitory-style housing for low- to mid-level Cult operatives.
Personnel: Moderate concentration of off-duty soldiers at any time, equipped but relaxed.
Weakness: Minimal defenses during downtime; an assault during this period could catch personnel unprepared.
Armory and Equipment Depot:
Stockpiles weapons, armor, and other supplies for operatives.
Personnel: Heavily guarded by elite Cult forces.
Weakness: Despite high security, the depot's isolation from the main power grid suggests limited defenses if power is disrupted.
Critical Target: Power Core Facility
Location:
Situated beneath Sector Alpha-7 in a subterranean chamber reinforced by steel and concrete.
Structure:
The power core is a fusion of traditional and Cult technology, heavily reliant on Aurora-based energy converters.
Cooling systems and energy stabilizers ensure continuous operation but are prone to overheating if tampered with.
Personnel:
Lightly staffed by technicians trained in energy maintenance.
Guards are present but far fewer than other critical areas, likely due to the base's overconfidence in the facility's isolation and security measures.
Weaknesses:
Cooling Dependency: Damaging the coolant pipes could cause a catastrophic overload within minutes.
Access Points:
Primary access through the main tunnel, guarded by a single checkpoint.
Secondary access through ventilation shafts, though tight spaces limit mobility.
Chain Reaction Risk: An overload in the core could destabilize the entire base, rendering all connected systems useless and causing structural damage.
Conclusion and Recommendations
The Cult's reliance on Sector Alpha-7's power core presents a critical opportunity for destabilization. Disabling the power supply would:
Render all automated defenses inoperative, including security turrets, surveillance systems, and containment units.
Disrupt communications between the base and external Cult locations.
Force personnel to evacuate, creating chaos and disorganization.
Operational Strategy:
Infiltrate Sector Alpha-7 and identify the quickest route to the power core facility.
Use the current state of chaos and undertrained personnel to exploit weaknesses.
Sabotage the core by targeting cooling systems or destabilizing the energy converters.
Extract before overload to avoid being caught in the resulting destruction.
Disabling the power supply here could turn the tide against the Cult, exposing their operations and creating the opportunity for a decisive strike.
End Report.
Author's Note: So begins the eve of one of the biggest infiltrations and climaxes of this fic…
I appreciate all the reviews and PM's I'm getting; it makes me motivated to continue this tale of subterfuge, espionage and all around chaos!
However, please don't offer services in PM's. Unless I ask for someone to do so, unsolicited PM's will be blocked or ignored. I do take questions if you really need to know, but I would rather have you discover the chaos and solutions with me as I think them up!
Please let me know what you think! I would like to listen and thank you for your reviews and let me know if you have any questions!
Here is the Q and A for this chapter! Thanks to Aniisomeone for asking these questions!
Q: Will Oliver reincarnate as Alpha?
A: No, I have other plans for her. When I read up on Olivier and considering that she was used as a pawn to strike down Aurora/Diabolos, I got the vibe she is at best a brainwashed hero, and at worst, a Cult Templar. She was the perfect antagonist to the modern world. That being said, she's getting something back... just not what she wants or needs right now.
Q: Will we see Lili or Freya?
A: That's hard to say, I don't currently have plans for either of them, considering that most of my information about those two are from the game and wiki. I did not read the light novels enough to retain much info about them.
Q: How long will this stay in Minoru's original world?
A: Honestly, I pegged it at 3 chapters before making the jump, but ideas sprung and at the risk of burning myself out at making 10k words per chapter like I did before, I decided to extend his stay for a little bit longer. I am thinking at most, six chapters with the final one being a reactionary type chapter of all players involved.
Q: Is this going to be a Cid/Minoru X Akane?
A: Not sure, I want everyone to establish themselves before I make that plug. I feel like everyone should have their fair shot at romancing Cid/Minoru at some point.