A/N
So for those of you who do want to get to the Eruption already, sorry but that isn't going to for another maybe three to five chapters. I'm sorry but I prefer to have a logical way to get from Point A to B to C and not skip immediately to G. Mei's Eruption was sometime between April and May canonically in 2014. We're currently still in December of 2013, it just wouldn't make sense to jump ahead by that much. I mean sure I could skip ahead a couple of weeks but other than that, it just doesn't feel right to me.
Anyways, try and find every reference I've shoved in, some are obvious while others are slightly less obvious
Location: St. Freya Academy, Soukai City - 1030 Hours
The muffled sound of explosions rattled the hallways of St. Freya's R lab, faint smoke creeping from the lab doors. Theresa Apocalypse, the diminutive but commanding principal of the academy, sighed heavily as she marched toward the source of the commotion. Murata Himeko followed close behind, her crimson hair tied neatly as she maintained an air of practiced calm—though her eyes betrayed a slight trepidation.
"This is the third time this month," Himeko muttered, brushing ash off the pristine white sleeve of her coat.
"Ruby and Winter must be at it again," Theresa remarked, stopping before the reinforced metal doors that bore scorch marks from prior incidents. With a swipe of her card, the doors hissed open, revealing utter chaos.
Inside, sparks flew, tools clattered to the floor, and smoke billowed from a scorched table where something vaguely resembling a cannon smoldered. Technicians darted back and forth, their panicked voices blending into an indecipherable cacophony.
In the middle of the mess, a young woman with short black hair and a red streak—Ruby Akaishi—was dangling in the air as Noelle Winter, her sharp blue eyes glinting like ice, strangled her with what seemed to be practiced ease. Winter's signature white uniform contrasted sharply with the chaos around her, its pristine state a testament to her unnerving precision.
"What were you thinking?!" Noelle's voice cut through the din, her grip tightening as Ruby's legs flailed. "You spent half our budget on a railgun that could light up the Pacific, and it doesn't even work! Its energy requirements would bankrupt a city if we tried to install it on the Hyperion!"
Ruby gasped, her fingers clawing at Winter's arm. "B-But think of the power! If we could—ack—just scale it down—"
"Scale it down?" Noelle hissed, her voice venomous. "By the time you finish scaling it down, it'll be a glorified slingshot!"
Theresa cleared her throat loudly. "Ladies."
Winter froze mid-rant, quickly depositing Ruby back onto the ground. Ruby coughed dramatically, clutching her neck but beaming as she stood. "Principal Theresa! Commander Himeko! Welcome to the lab! You're just in time to witness the future of Honkai combat!"
Himeko arched an eyebrow. "Does the future include setting our budget on fire?"
Ruby's enthusiastic grin faltered for a moment before she waved dismissively. "Details, details! It's all for the greater good."
Before Noelle could retort, one of the operators on the far side of the room piped up. "Uh, ma'am? While we're on the topic of future planning, we still need a Captain for the Hyperion."
A hush fell over the room. Every technician and researcher turned to stare directly at Himeko.
The crimson-haired woman blinked, sweat forming at her temple under their collective gaze. "Oh, no. I'm way too busy. Absolutely no time for that. None whatsoever," she said quickly, waving her hands as if to physically deflect their expectations.
The staff reluctantly returned to their work, though a few side-eyes lingered.
Theresa sighed, turning back to Ruby and Noelle. "What about the new prototype weapons? I've seen the reports on the penetrating rounds designed for larger Honkai beasts like the Templars and Chariots. How's that coming along?"
Ruby, having recovered her cheer, puffed out her chest. "They're almost ready for field testing! I've been running simulations, and they're perfect! The rounds can pierce even the densest Honkai plating, and the damage potential is incredible."
"Perfect? Incredible?" Noelle's icy tone cut in as she stepped forward, arms crossed. "The recoil could dislocate a soldier's shoulder, and we don't even have the material costs finalized. If we test them on the range now, we'll burn through resources faster than we can replace them."
Ruby's face twisted into a defiant smirk as she sauntered toward the testing range. "I'm telling you, the simulations don't lie! Let me show you—"
Before she could reach the door, Noelle grabbed her collar and yanked her back with a sigh. "You're not testing anything until we resolve these issues."
Ruby crossed her arms with a dramatic huff but didn't resist.
Theresa chuckled lightly, patting both women on the shoulders. "You two are the heart of this lab, even if you're always at each other's throats. Keep up the good work, but don't forget—we're running a school here, not a demolition site."
As the two bickered quietly, Himeko shook her head, muttering under her breath. "I swear, I'm retiring to a beach after this war is over."
Theresa smiled, the sound of the two researchers' squabbling fading into the background. Despite the chaos, the lab was making progress—progress that would be crucial in the battles to come.
-O-
Theresa and Himeko walked side by side through the open-air corridors of St. Freya Academy, the cool morning air nipping at their faces. The distant chatter of students filled the air, a symphony of youthful energy contrasted by the measured pace of the two women. Above, the sky was alive with birds, dozens of them perched on rooftops, trees, and railings, their occasional calls a reminder of nature's constant presence.
"I don't know if it's just me," Himeko began, her sharp eyes tracking a small flock of sparrows fluttering by, "but has there been an uptick in birds lately? I don't remember seeing this many around campus."
Theresa nodded, hands clasped behind her back as she glanced upward. "You're not imagining it. The maintenance team mentioned it too. They've been finding nests in the most unusual places—ventilation ducts, inside the library's attic, even one in the Hyperion's hangar."
Himeko chuckled. "A Honkai outbreak we can handle, but birds taking over the Academy? That's a new one."
Theresa smiled faintly but didn't comment further. Instead, her gaze lingered on a group of students gathered near a bulletin board. Their animated whispers carried just enough to reach the two women.
"I heard someone saw a white-haired man near Nagazora last week," one student said, her tone conspiratorial.
"No way," another replied. "I thought he disappeared completely after… you know, that whole thing with Anti-Entropy."
"Well, someone claimed to see him leaving a bar, so maybe he's lying low."
Theresa's expression darkened slightly at the mention of her old friend, but she kept walking, her strides even.
Himeko, noticing her companion's change in demeanor, decided to steer the conversation. "Speaking of the Hyperion, we really do need to settle the Captain issue. The ship's sitting in drydock, fully armed, fully operational, and yet… no one to take the helm."
Theresa sighed. "I know. We've been combing through dossiers, looking for someone with the right mix of experience and temperament. But let's face it—being a Captain isn't just about piloting or barking orders. They'll need to command respect, inspire loyalty, and—"
"Be willing to live with the weight of impossible decisions," Himeko finished for her, her voice softer now.
"Exactly." Theresa glanced sideways at her old friend. "Which is why I've been thinking… You'd be perfect for the role."
Himeko groaned, rubbing the back of her neck. "You're not letting this go, are you?"
"Not until you say yes," Theresa replied cheerfully.
"Theresa, I'm flattered—really—but I've got my hands full already. Between training Valkyries, overseeing combat ops, and keeping Ruby from blowing up the school… I'm stretched thin as it is."
Theresa hummed thoughtfully but didn't press the issue further. As they turned a corner, they passed another group of students, this time deep in discussion about recent assignments.
"I swear, that new Honkai tactics professor is a nightmare," one student complained.
"Tell me about it," another groaned. "She made us write a twenty-page analysis on failed expeditions. Twenty pages!"
"I think she's just bitter because no one's figured out how to pronounce her name properly."
Himeko chuckled under her breath, while Theresa couldn't help but smile. The energy of the students was infectious, a reminder of why they fought so hard to protect them.
As they approached the steps leading up to the principal's office, a small group of pigeons suddenly scattered into the air, startled by something unseen. Theresa paused, watching the birds circle above before settling on a nearby rooftop.
"Strange," she murmured.
"What is?" Himeko asked.
Theresa shook her head. "It's probably nothing. Just… something about the way the birds are acting feels off."
Himeko smirked. "First railguns, now birds. You're not going to make me investigate them too, are you?"
Theresa grinned. "Not yet. But I'll keep it in mind."
The two women climbed the steps, their conversation drifting to other topics as they disappeared into the office building, the murmurs of the students and the occasional bird call fading behind them. Above, a lone crow perched on a weather vane, its sharp eyes watching their retreating figures.
-O-
Anti-Entropy American Branch - R Facility - 1301 Hours
The sterile air of the Anti-Entropy R lab was heavy with tension, the hum of diagnostic equipment and the occasional beep of consoles providing the only backdrop to an otherwise uneasy silence. Dr. Tesla tapped impatiently on her tablet, her fiery red hair tied into a loose ponytail as she skimmed through pages of encrypted data. Across from her, Dr. Einstein adjusted her glasses, her sharp blue eyes fixed on the holographic display before her.
Cocolia sat in the center of the room, various sensors and monitors connected to her as they ran a full suite of tests. Despite her composed demeanor, a bead of sweat formed at her temple. She had endured worse situations before, but the meticulous gaze of the two scientists made her feel as if they could see through her facade.
"You're surprisingly calm for someone who just lost the Gem of Conquest," Tesla said, breaking the silence. Her tone was more biting than usual, her eyes darting up to meet Cocolia's.
"I've been in this line of work long enough to know how to manage setbacks," Cocolia replied smoothly, her voice steady. "The loss is regrettable, but not irreparable."
Einstein raised an eyebrow, her fingers pausing over the holographic console. "Regrettable? It's more than that. The Gem was en route to a secure location—under your supervision, no less—and now it's gone. Entire teams were wiped out, and the transport was destroyed. 'Regrettable' doesn't quite cover it."
Cocolia's expression didn't falter. "I've already begun an investigation. From the initial reports, it seems the attack was carried out by an unknown group. Possibly mercenaries or rogue Valkyries. They left no survivors to interrogate, and the operation was surgical. But I'll uncover the truth."
Tesla crossed her arms, leaning back against a workstation. "Mercenaries? Rogue Valkyries? That's convenient. Almost too convenient."
Einstein tilted her head slightly, her tone more measured. "And yet, you've chosen to divert resources to Siberia, citing another incident. One where a base was annihilated. Care to explain how that connects to the loss of the Gem?"
Cocolia hesitated for a fraction of a second—a moment too long for the likes of Einstein and Tesla, whose eyes sharpened like hawks sensing prey.
"The Siberia base was unrelated," Cocolia said, her tone even. "But it does highlight the increasing risks we face. The destruction of that lab—an older facility, mind you—suggests a pattern of coordinated strikes against Anti-Entropy. It's prudent to investigate and secure our remaining assets."
Tesla's eyes narrowed. "Unrelated. Right." She glanced at Einstein, who gave a subtle nod, signaling that the questioning wasn't over.
Unbeknownst to the two scientists, Cocolia's mind was racing. Operation Cascade had to proceed without interference. The destruction of the Siberia base had been a setback, but not a fatal one. She had made sure to pin the blame on an external force, carefully planting evidence to mislead Anti-Entropy's internal investigators.
'I can't let them dig too deep. Cascade is too important. Once it's complete, setbacks like these won't matter. But those scientists… they're too sharp for their own good.'
Einstein interrupted her thoughts. "The destruction in Siberia—an old lab, you said. I assume it wasn't of strategic importance?"
"Not particularly," Cocolia lied smoothly. "It was one of our older facilities used for minor research projects. Most of the data there was archived years ago."
Tesla shot her a skeptical look. "Funny, because the reports say it was reinforced like a bunker. You don't do that for 'minor research projects.'"
Cocolia's expression hardened. "Are you questioning my management of Anti-Entropy's assets, Dr. Tesla?"
"Oh, absolutely," Tesla shot back without missing a beat.
Einstein cleared her throat, diffusing the tension. "We're not accusing you of negligence, Cocolia. But the timing of these incidents is… suspicious. The Gem of Conquest is gone, one of our bases is destroyed, and the groups responsible remain unidentified. We can't overlook the possibility that these events are connected."
Cocolia gave a curt nod. "Your concerns are noted, and I assure you I will handle them appropriately. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."
Einstein and Tesla exchanged glances as Cocolia disconnected herself from the diagnostic equipment and left the lab.
As the doors closed behind Cocolia, Tesla let out an exasperated sigh. "I don't trust her. She's hiding something."
"She always is," Einstein replied, her voice quiet but firm. "But we need proof before we act. For now, we'll keep a closer eye on her movements. If there's more to this 'Operation Cascade' she's mentioned in passing, we'll find out."
Tesla smirked, her fiery energy returning. "Oh, we'll find out all right. And when we do, she won't know what hit her."
Einstein turned back to her console, her mind already calculating the next steps. Far away, hidden within encrypted communications and concealed plans, the gears of Operation Cascade continued to turn, their purpose shrouded in mystery for now.
-O-
Location: Northern Europe - Time 0231 Hours
The dense forest was eerily quiet, the stillness broken only by the sound of rushing footsteps and the occasional snap of a branch. A white-haired woman darted between the towering trees, her breath coming in ragged gasps as exhaustion threatened to take hold. Her light blue-tipped hair clung to her face, slick with sweat, and her mismatched boots squelched faintly against the damp forest floor.
Her sharp eyes scanned her surroundings with a mix of panic and desperation, darting left and right as she pushed herself there, she told herself, willing her legs to keep moving. The faint glow of a fire flickered in the distance, perched high on a cliff ledge, and the sight nearly brought tears of relief to her eyes.
She pressed forward, the last vestiges of her energy pulling her closer to her goal. However, her tunnel vision betrayed her.
The firelight illuminated three figures standing near the camp, their expressions shifting from calm relief to wide-eyed panic. They waved their arms, pointing behind her with frantic urgency.
The woman's breath hitched. She shifted her head slightly to glance back, but it was too late.
"ACK!" she yelped as something struck her square in the back with the force of a freight train. She tumbled forward, landing face-first in the dirt. Her exhaustion-addled mind barely registered the weight of her attacker sitting triumphantly on her back.
"Tunnel vision, huh?" came the smug voice of the older man perched atop her.
"G-Good evening…! Sir," she stammered, realizing belatedly that she'd nearly forgotten to include the honorific. Her breath was heavy, her body aching, but fear of her mentor's wrath kept her awake.
The man leaned forward, his face entering her peripheral vision. His sharp grin stretched wide, showing entirely too many teeth for her comfort. "At least you've still got your wits about you," he mused, giving a pointed glance toward the youngest member of the group. "Unlike Tree over there."
He gestured toward the youngest girl at the camp, who was sitting awkwardly by the fire. Her light brown hair, with its dark green tips, swayed as she looked away, her embarrassment clear.
The woman groaned into the dirt but forced herself to reply. "Sir, I… I made it back. Mission accomplished?"
"Good news and bad news," the man said, completely ignoring her question. "Which do you wanna hear first?"
She sighed, resignation in her voice. "G-Good news, please, sir."
The man gestured toward the campfire, where the three others stood in varying states of dread. "You made it back, which means you get to sleep in comfort and, shockingly, earn a full night's rest."
Relief flooded her, and she nearly melted into the dirt. But the ominous tone in his voice kept her from fully relaxing. "A-And… the bad news, sir?"
The man's shark-like grin widened as he gestured toward the oldest of the group, a girl with black hair streaked with red at the tips. Her eyes widened, her expression a mix of guilt and apprehension.
"Twinkle-toes over there," he said, pointing, "beat your time by a solid second."
The white-haired woman froze in horror. She knew what was coming.
"And unfortunately," the man continued, drawing out his words with theatrical flair, "you were carrying the most important piece. You were taken out a mere step from the finish line." He paused for dramatic effect before delivering the final blow.
"Which means… your next few meals will be my special meals."
Her mind went blank with terror, the ominous phrase invoking memories of indescribable horrors served on steaming plates. She let out a faint squeak before her body finally gave in, and she fainted.
The instructor blinked, then stood, dusting snow off his jacket. "Huh. Looks like we still need to work on her fear tolerance."
The oldest girl, 'Twinkle-toes', groaned and covered her face with her hands. "Do you have to traumatize her like this, sir?"
The instructor smirked at her but didn't reply. Instead, he turned to the youngest of the group, a boy with messy black hair, who was doing his best to stifle laughter, covering it with coughing when the man turned in his direction.
"Well," the man said, clapping his hands together. "Who's dragging this one back to base?"
'Tree', the youngest girl, immediately raised her hand. "Not it!" she said, scooting closer to the fire.
The boy grinned mischievously. "I'll do it—if 'Twinkle-toes' here carries her stuff the rest of the way."
'Twinkle-toes' glared at him, but before an argument could break out, the instructor raised a hand. "You all can figure it out. Just make sure you're back before sunrise."
As the group bickered about who would take on the unpleasant task, the instructor turned his attention to the darkness beyond the firelight. His sharp eyes scanned the shadows, lingering on the path the white-haired woman had taken. For a moment, his grin faded, replaced by a look of quiet contemplation.
Something had been following her. He was sure of it.
He let out a sigh, his breath visible in the cold air. "Another day on the job," he muttered to himself, turning back to the camp as the group began to lift their unconscious comrade.
Above them, the wind howled through the trees, carrying with it the faintest hint of a growl.
-O-
Schicksal HQ – Above the Mediterranean Sea, 0733 Hours
The serene sound of the Mediterranean breeze drifted through the open windows of Otto Apocalypse's office, carrying the scent of salt and sunlight. The room itself was pristine, the white marble floors and gold-trimmed walls gleaming under the soft morning light. Otto sat behind his ornate desk, his golden hair immaculate, his sharp amber eyes scanning the reports in his hands.
Amber, his ever-dutiful assistant, stood at attention beside him, her gaze fixed ahead. She had delivered the latest updates, and Otto's silence as he read was far more ominous than any outburst could have been.
The first report detailed the theft of the Gem of Conquest. The gem, a fragment of immeasurable power, had been stolen in transit. Anti-Entropy's security forces had been overwhelmed in the attack. Witness testimonies were scarce, but those that survived described shadowy figures striking with surgical precision.
Another report highlighted a disturbing trend: multiple Anti-Entropy bases, both ethical research facilities and their darker counterparts, had been destroyed. The nature of the attacks was unclear. Some reports claimed the perpetrators were unknown beasts, their descriptions inconsistent and chaotic. Others suggested a more organized force at play.
Then there were mentions of World Serpent. Raven, one of their agents, was on the move, her intentions opaque. Jackal, another of their operatives, had suffered significant losses in the form of stolen assets. Otto privately suspected these attacks weren't random.
Perhaps…them.
Otto allowed a faint smirk to curl his lips at the thought of a certain sourpuss of an old man interfering yet again.
As he finished reading, Otto set the papers down gently, his expression betraying no emotion. His mind, however, was already moving at lightning speed, piecing together fragments of information, seeing the web of connections forming in the chaos.
"Amber," he said finally, his voice calm yet commanding.
"Yes, Overseer?" Amber's voice was perfectly measured, her tone respectful.
"Send for Rita," Otto instructed, leaning back in his chair. "Inform her that the Maid has a new mission. I want her to investigate these disruptions… thoroughly."
"As you wish." Amber gave a precise nod and began to exit the room, her heels clicking softly against the marble.
Before she could leave, Otto added, "And Amber… have her be discreet. These events are more than they appear. I want answers, not interference."
Amber paused for a moment, then nodded once more before departing.
Otto leaned back further in his chair, steepling his fingers as he stared out the window. The azure waters of the Mediterranean sparkled in the sunlight, a tranquil backdrop to the storm brewing in his mind.
The theft of the Gem of Conquest. The destruction of Anti-Entropy's facilities. World Serpent's movements. Unseen hands were playing their parts, moving pieces across the board. He didn't know all the players yet, but that didn't matter.
It never mattered.
Otto Apocalypse was always three steps ahead. The future was a game of chess, and he was its grandmaster. The stage was set, the pieces in motion.
"Let the players make their moves," he whispered, his green eyes gleaming with quiet confidence. "The stage is set… and the pieces will be mine to control."
His gaze drifted to a framed portrait on his desk. The image of Kallen Kaslana, her serene smile frozen in time, stared back at him.
He reached out and brushed his fingers against the frame, a rare softness breaking through his usual facade.
"I have waited over five centuries for you, Kallen," he murmured. "I can wait a bit longer if it means bringing you back."
The Mediterranean breeze carried his whispered words into the open air, but the weight of his resolve remained heavy within the room.
-O-
Kuroshima, Southwest of Ishigaki Port – 1400 Hours
The gentle rocking of the boat was accompanied by the rhythmic slap of waves against its hull. A salty breeze carried the faint scent of the ocean, blending with the occasional call of seagulls overhead. Manta rays glided gracefully beneath the surface, their smooth movements cutting through the crystalline water as though performing an underwater ballet.
Leaning against the rail of the boat, a man observed the scene with quiet appreciation. He appeared to be in his early 50s, though the lines on his weathered face and the intensity of his murky green eyes hinted at a lifetime of wear and tear that far exceeded his years. He sneezed suddenly, his entire body jerking forward.
"Dammit," he muttered, pulling out a tissue to wipe his face. "Someone better not be talking about me."
He rubbed the back of his neck and straightened, stretching as his joints gave a faint pop. The man glanced down at the sea life below. For a moment, the sight of the manta rays soothed him, their serene glide offering a sense of peace. But the tranquility was short-lived.
A soft, insistent chime came from inside the boat, interrupting his reverie.
His brow furrowed. That particular tone came from his work phone—the device he used for more serious matters. The man let out a resigned sigh, running a hand through his graying hair. He turned away from the rail, ducking into the boat's interior.
The inside of the boat was minimalistic, with a focus on practicality rather than luxury. The furniture was sparse but sturdy, arranged in a way that made the small space feel larger. A few personal touches were scattered about: a photo of a younger version of himself with a group of people, their faces half-covered by shadows, a stack of neatly folded clothes, and a worn mug with the words "World's Okayest Fisherman" printed on it.
His work phone sat on the counter, still chiming. He picked it up, inspecting its rugged design. The device had seen its fair share of abuse—being dropped, burned, shot, submerged, even tossed across a room in frustration—and yet it remained functional, a testament to its durability. He'd had the phone for as long as he could remember, and it had been with him through some of the most dangerous moments of his life.
He pressed the screen, and an image appeared.
The man frowned as he studied it. The photo showed something monstrous—a creature that seemed more beast than anything else. Its bulky frame was grotesque, like some unholy amalgamation of a wendigo and a hippo. Its body was a blend of pale, leathery skin and coarse black hair, its limbs grotesquely muscled. This wasn't a random Honkai Beast, nor was it some experimental abomination from an amateur lab.
This thing was designed. Built for brute force, to smash through whatever stood in its way.
The man exhaled deeply through his nose. "Well, shit."
His lips pressed into a thin line. He tapped at the screen, zooming in on the beast's face. Something about the photo made his stomach churn—not in fear, but in recognition. He had seen the handiwork of such things before, and it never led to anything good.
He clicked his tongue, pocketing the phone as he moved toward the bow of the boat. Gripping the anchor's hoist, he began cranking it up, the sound of metal against metal mingling with the splash of water as the anchor emerged. The manta rays below scattered at the disturbance, disappearing into the blue depths.
"Sorry, guys," the man muttered, glancing down at the rays as the anchor was secured in place. "Didn't mean to ruin lunch."
He turned toward the helm, whistling sharply as he started the boat's engine.
"Come on, Admiral," he called, his voice cutting through the hum of the motor. "We've got shit to do."
There was no response at first, only the faint sound of something stirring near the stern of the boat. The man sighed, a mixture of irritation and fondness coloring his expression.
"And an old man to deliver a message to," he added under his breath.
The water near the boat rippled, and a shadow passed under the surface before vanishing. Wherever Admiral was, it clearly understood his words. The man glanced toward the stern, smirking faintly.
"Well, don't keep me waiting," he muttered, turning the boat toward the shore.
As the island grew closer in the distance, the man's thoughts drifted. He had hoped this trip would be a chance to escape his past, a chance to live quietly and leave the chaos behind. But as always, the world had other plans.
"Just another day," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
-O-
[Encrypted Radio Line - Secure Frequency]
Unknown Location – 0640 Hours
"Raptor has engaged the transport. Send in Train and Fielder to aid."
-O-
0650 Hours
"Mission complete: We have the Gem of Conquest, beginning closing acts."
-O-
0655 Hours
"Emergency situation! A third-party group has assaulted us! Fielder and Train have been killed! Raptor holds the package and was sent around to act as a false decoy. We're pinn—"(Gunfire and chaotic shouting erupt over the transmission before the line abruptly cuts off.)
-O-
0700 Hours
"This is Vanguard B-1. A-1 has been killed. We've lost track of Raptor—assumed KIA judging by the attacker's feed. The attackers were 'The Hunters,' as we've designated them in the past. One of their stronger hit squads was present, and an actual 'Wolf' was spotted tearing through our convoy. We're retreating now. Anti-Entropy forces have been mobilized and are approximately five klicks out.
This is Vanguard B-1 repeating: we have lost the Gem of Conquest to The Hunters."
-O-
0703 Hours
(A deep exhale is heard before a calm voice speaks over the line.)
"Well... fuck."
[End Transmission]
-O-
Unknown Location: Archive Room - 1149 Hours
The rhythmic clatter of boots against polished metal floors accompanied the faint hum of the archive room's fluorescent lights. A younger operative, her jacket still crisp and unblemished by wear, followed closely behind a senior figure. The older operative moved with a purpose, his every step deliberate. He carried an air of authority that demanded attention without effort.
"Eyes sharp, rookie," the senior operative barked, glancing over his shoulder. "You're about to get a crash course on one of our most persistent thorns. Pay attention."
The rookie straightened her posture, nodding quickly. "Yes, sir."
The room they entered was vast, its walls lined with sleek, black filing cabinets and screens displaying rotating dossiers. At the center stood a circular table, its surface illuminated with holographic displays. The senior operative stepped forward, tapping a sequence on the console embedded in the table.
The room dimmed, and the holographic interface came to life, projecting an emblem above the table—a stylized predator's claw etched over a globe. Beneath it, bold letters spelled out:
The Hunters
"Who are they?" the rookie asked, squinting at the emblem.
"Tier 1 threat," the senior operative replied curtly. "They're not just a group—they're a legacy. Been around since the late 1400s. They've been dismantling operations like ours for generations."
The console projected a timeline littered with red markers, each denoting a major event.
"They specialize in surgical eliminations, asset seizures, and hit-and-run tactics. Their targets? Anyone involved in Honkai research, military experiments, or… well, anything unethical." His voice dripped with disdain at the last word, though it was clear he'd made peace with the moral ambiguities of his job.
The rookie leaned closer. "But… why? What's their endgame?"
"Nobody knows," the senior operative admitted, zooming in on a red marker labeled 1903: Siberian Facility Dismantled. "They operate as an autonomous cell. No nation, no faction backing them. They're ghosts, rookie. And they're damn good at staying that way."
The hologram shifted, displaying profiles of notable individuals. The first was a shadowy figure labeled The Predator.
"This is where it all started. The First Hunter appeared in 1478. He's the one who established their modus operandi—move fast, hit hard, leave no trace. The current Predator? No less terrifying. They've picked up the name and the legacy. The 28th Predator is a damned ghost that leaves devastation in their wake. Whenever this one shows up, we lose entire facilities. Personnel, data, assets… gone."
A second profile appeared, showing a man with sharp eyes and a rugged demeanor.
The Groundkeeper
"The first Groundkeeper appeared in the early 1500s. Think of him as their logistics expert and their… animal handler." He tapped a button, and images of animals appeared—hawks, wolves, even massive bears. "These aren't just pets. They're trained to assist in recon, combat, and early warning systems. Smart as hell, too. If you see one of his 'pets,' you're already in trouble."
The rookie's eyes widened. "They train animals to fight?"
"Fight, scout, protect. You name it," the senior operative said. "And don't think for a second they're limited to just dogs and birds. The Groundkeeper's been known to use… exotic species. The current one? 30th in the line. And they've only gotten better at their craft."
The display shifted again, showing squad names: Raven Squad, Condor Squad, Wolf Squad, and Honey Badger Squad.
"Raven Squad," the senior operative began. "They're the hit team. Four-man cell—two males, two females. Experts in frontal assaults and support. Their identities remain unknown."
"Condor Squad specializes in recon and pursuit," he continued. "Their intel network is massive. In the mid-1900s, they dismantled nine experimental sites in less than a year. We still don't know how they got that intel."
The hologram shifted to a menacing logo of a wolf's head.
"Wolf Squad," the senior operative said with a grimace. "These are solo operators. No squad cohesion needed. Each one is a one-person army. If more than three Wolves target a facility, it's effectively a death sentence."
Finally, the display transitioned to a honey badger emblem.
"Honey Badger Squad isn't really a squad," he explained. "It's more a collective of retired Hunters. Most of them take care of rescued kids, either raising them or protecting them. But make no mistake—if you mess with their charges, you'll provoke the wrath of every active Hunter. There's a reason nobody goes near their wards."
The hologram shifted to display another figure, this time with a calculating expression: The Jackal.
"The Jackal," the senior operative said, his tone sharp. "The first Jackal appeared in the early 1500s, and the role has passed down since. The current Jackal is the 27th. They're a tracking master, adept at finding anything—or anyone—we try to hide. Assets, personnel, you name it. If the Jackal is on your trail, you might as well start running. They have a particular grudge against Jackal of World Serpent for their experiments. That rivalry has led to some… brutal encounters."
The rookie frowned. "They sound unstoppable."
"They're persistent," the senior operative corrected. "And dangerous. But they're not invincible. Still, under very few circumstances do we engage Honey Badgers or their charges. Let me give you two examples why."
He tapped the console, and the hologram displayed an event labeled The Six Children Incident, Late 1800s.
"An injured Honey Badger called for support to rescue six kids. We sent a twelve-man squad to intercept and retrieve the assets. The Honey Badger, despite their injuries, took out three of our men and heavily injured the fourth before succumbing to their wounds. The Hunters retaliated by sending the 10th Predator. That Predator's kill count soared into the triple digits. We lost almost everything after the aftermath."
The display shifted again, now showing The Eastern Branch Incident, Early 2000s.
"The Eastern Branch decided to test their luck by attempting to reclaim assets near a Honey Badger's territory. They never made it back. Not three, not four, but ten Wolves showed up and slaughtered the entire Section. The operation was a disaster. We had to cover our tracks for months to avoid exposure."
The rookie's face paled. "So… we just avoid them?"
"Exactly," the senior operative said firmly. "Provoking a Honey Badger is like poking a hornet's nest with a flamethrower. You don't win. You survive—if you're lucky."
The rookie swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling on her shoulders. The senior operative placed a firm hand on her back, guiding her toward the exit.
"Remember this, rookie: they're not invincible, but they're not far from it. And if you ever hear the Predator's name whispered in the field… pray it's not your turn to run."
The archive room's doors slid shut behind them, leaving the holograms to flicker and fade into darkness.
-O-
The hum of subdued conversation and the clatter of trays filled the cafeteria as the new operative, still shaken from the archive room briefing, shuffled in. She glanced around and spotted a table of familiar faces near the corner. Among them was a blonde-haired woman in her early twenties, her sharp eyes immediately locking onto the rookie.
"Uh-oh," the blonde said with a knowing smirk, setting down her drink. "Looks like someone just got the crash course."
The new operative approached hesitantly, her hazel hair slightly disheveled, and placed her tray down. "You mean on the Hunters?"
"The very same," the blonde replied, gesturing for her to sit. "Take a seat. You look like you've seen a ghost."
Sliding into the seat, the new operative exhaled deeply. "I'm not sure if it's the briefing itself or the fact that we have no way to handle them if they come for us. It's like they're... untouchable."
A dark-haired man at the table chuckled. "Ah, fresh meat. Don't worry, you're not the first to feel that way. Won't be the last either."
The blonde ignored him, leaning forward. "So, did you ask the big question yet?"
"What's that?" the rookie asked.
"Why?" The blonde's tone grew more serious. "Why do they do it? Why go to such lengths to hunt us down? It's not like we're the only group dabbling in… morally ambiguous research."
"I... sort of did," the rookie said, her voice uncertain. "Are we really their only target?"
The blonde shrugged, stirring her coffee idly. "From what I've heard, the Hunters' actions appear to be driven more by their principles than allegiance to any faction. They target anyone they see as stepping out of line—especially when it comes to Honkai research or unethical experiments. Unfortunately for us, Transport's experiments... well, they tend to draw their ire."
The rookie frowned. "But why are they so aggressive? It's not just dismantling bases; it's like they take pleasure in it."
"Maybe they do," the blonde replied, her expression neutral. "Or maybe their moral code, warped as it might be, gives them cause to see us as the ultimate quarry."
"Quarry?"
The blonde nodded, leaning back in her chair. "Think about it. We're hunters in our own right, aren't we? We track, we experiment, we exploit to survive and advance. The Hunters might just see themselves as the only ones capable of putting us in our place. And let's not forget the obvious reason..."
The rookie raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
The blonde's voice turned sharp, her words cutting through the cafeteria's noise. "Most of Transport's scientific advancements? They come from children. Experimentation, manipulation, whatever you want to call it—there's no hiding what we do. That alone is probably why they hunt us with glee. To them, we're monsters."
A silence settled over the table. The rookie looked down at her tray, her appetite suddenly gone.
The dark-haired man spoke again, his voice quieter this time. "She's right. Whatever their reasons, the Hunters have one thing we'll never understand: conviction. We play games with morality; they don't. That's why they're so dangerous."
The blonde took a sip of her coffee, her gaze distant. "So, rookie, here's the takeaway. Don't get caught by them, and pray you never cross paths with one of their squads. Because when the Hunters come knocking..." She set her mug down with a soft clink. "...they don't leave survivors."
The rookie nodded slowly, the weight of the conversation sinking in as the table lapsed into uneasy silence.
The tension at the table lingered in the air, the rookie's unease still palpable. The blonde leaned back in her chair, folding her arms as she watched the rookie stew in her thoughts. Just then, a man who appeared to be in his late 30s approached the group, his steps casual yet deliberate.
He wore a weathered hat, the badge of a flying ark pinned proudly to its side—a symbol marking him as part of Transport's elite Forerunner Team. Without waiting for an invitation, he pulled out a chair and sat down with a heavy sigh, setting a steaming mug of tea on the table.
"Talking about the Hunters, are we?" he said, his voice carrying the weight of years in the field.
The blonde quirked an eyebrow. "Got something to add, old man?"
The Vanguard operative smirked at the jab, shaking his head. "Old, huh? You should show more respect to your elders."
Despite his youthful appearance, the lines around his eyes and the slight weariness in his tone suggested he'd seen far more than his share of battles. He took a long sip of his tea before continuing.
"The Hunters do enjoy dismantling our operations," he admitted, setting the mug down with a soft clink. "But that isn't the only thing they do."
The rookie leaned forward, curiosity overcoming her trepidation. "What do you mean?"
The operative shrugged, his expression unreadable. "What, you think they just stumbled across us one day and decided to wipe us off the map? No. The Hunters do exactly what their name suggests. They hunt."
He let the word hang in the air for a moment, watching their reactions.
"They've got cells and personnel scattered across the globe," he continued. "Their main goal has always been destroying Honkai swarms and nests before they can become a problem. That's been their mission since the very beginning."
The rookie blinked in surprise. "They hunt Honkai? Then why—"
"Do they target us?" the operative interrupted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Because we've given them plenty of reasons. But that's a secondary priority. Their real purpose has always been about containing the Honkai threat, and they've been doing it longer than any of us care to admit."
The blonde tilted her head, her interest piqued. "Go on."
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as if recalling old, painful memories. "Back in the mid-1700s, maybe early 1800s, the Hunters started targeting the stronger Honkai nests. They'd destroy the big ones outright, the kind that could've leveled entire cities in sheer numbers back then. But they wouldn't wipe out everything."
The rookie frowned. "Why not? Why leave anything behind?"
The operative gave her a knowing look. "Think about it. What happens if you eliminate every Honkai threat out there?"
There was a pause as the group exchanged glances, but it was the blonde who caught on first. "Schicksal and the Honkai themselves."
The operative nodded. "Exactly. Schicksal's Eastern Branch—the Valkyrie Academy, St. Freya—needs those weaker nests to train their students. You think Schicksal doesn't know about the Hunters? They allow them to get away with what they do because the arrangement works. The Hunters destroy the real threats, the ones Schicksal couldn't handle in time or find. In return, they leave just enough for the Valkyries to train against and gain experience."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle on the table. "The Hunters understand the bigger picture. They know you can't just wipe the slate clean. You have to let the next generation be ready for what's coming."
The rookie's brow furrowed as she processed this new perspective. "So… they're not just mindless destroyers?"
The operative let out a dry snort. "Far from it. They're methodical. Strategic. They have a soft spot for children, too. Always have. That's why you'll hear about them rescuing kids from Honkai zones or experimental facilities like ours. It's part of their creed—protect the innocent, especially the young."
His voice grew quieter, tinged with a hint of admiration. "They don't just see the fight in front of them; they're playing the long game. And for better or worse, they're damn good at it."
The blonde snorted, though there was no malice in her tone. "So, they're heroes now?"
The operative shook his head. "Don't mistake them for saints. They'll kill without hesitation if it serves their purpose. But if you're wondering why they've lasted this long, it's because they've found a balance—destroy what's necessary, preserve what matters."
He leaned forward, his expression serious. "That's why we don't engage them unless we have no choice. The moment you mess with their mission—or worse, their charges—you're signing your death warrant. Trust me on that one."
The table fell silent again, the weight of his words leaving no room for argument.
The rookie finally broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. "So, what do we do?"
The operative finished his tea, standing up and adjusting his hat. "You do your job. And if you're lucky, you'll never have to deal with them directly. Just remember: they're not invincible, but they're not far from it. And the one thing you can count on? They never stop hunting."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the group to ponder the chilling reality of the Hunters' existence.
-O-
Archived Addendum: Interaction with Schicksal and Anti-Entropy
Schicksal's Awareness
It remains unconfirmed that Schicksal as a whole is aware of The Hunters' existence. Otto Apocalypse, Overseer of Schicksal, has personal knowledge of The Hunters due to several chance encounters with the First Hunter. These encounters involved his childhood friend Kallen Kaslana, suggesting a level of mutual respect or curiosity, but there is no evidence of active collaboration. Otto's meticulous nature implies he has likely kept this knowledge to himself, potentially using it for his own undisclosed objectives.
Anti-Entropy's Awareness
Anti-Entropy appears to have minimal awareness of The Hunters, with only vague suspicions regarding their operations. Reports from their facilities suggest an unknown third party interfering with experimental sites, but they lack concrete evidence to attribute these disruptions directly to The Hunters.
Schicksal's Far East Branch (St. Freya)
The Far East Branch, known as a training ground for Valkyries, has reported a notable uptick in bird activity. Whether this increase is a natural phenomenon or the indirect result of the current Groundkeeper's operations is unknown. The birds may serve as scouts or early-warning mechanisms, though this remains speculative.
Behavioural Observations
Soft Spot for Children
Across generations, The Hunters consistently exhibit a soft spot for children, often going out of their way to protect or assist them. Speculation exists that this empathy stems from their roots or core philosophy, which may involve safeguarding innocence or targeting entities that exploit the vulnerable.
Unintentional Assistance
Instances have been reported where Hunters have unknowingly assisted Schicksal students during field missions. This includes providing distractions for Honkai beasts, neutralizing hidden threats, or even leaving supplies that aided Valkyries in their objectives. Such actions appear coincidental rather than coordinated, but they raise questions about The Hunters' objectives and motivations.
Side Note:
The Hunters' actions appear to be driven more by their principles than by allegiance to any faction. Their apparent enjoyment in dismantling our operations—especially those deemed unethical—might explain their almost gleeful aggression toward us. Perhaps their moral code, warped as it might be, gives them cause to see us as the ultimate enemy. Whatever the case, their unpredictability and effectiveness remain a persistent threat.
End of File One.