An hour later, a little way beyond the school, the day continued like any other. Senketsu High was situated on a fairly busy city street not too far away from Chiba’s central business district. Men, women and children—all engrossed in cultural solidarity—went about their lives in that same blissful ignorance. They had their problems: expectations of work, issues with family, the list went on. However, none were forced to live with the existential knowledge that the key to power beyond the facets of human comprehension lay in the hands of a seventeen-year-old boy.

  If they did, and knew the resulting consequences, they would all stay far away.

  No-one much looked to the skies anymore; a shame. Otherwise they might have spotted a tall shadow outlined against the pale winter sky. A man was seated precariously on the rounded edge of a rooftop, legs dangling over the edge with careless abandon. Clad in his signature black trench-coat and fedora, Hideyori Hakana couldn’t have looked any more out of place if he had tried. His grin cut through the tedium of the day like the knife he sought.

  This strange man held a strange orb in one palm, resting on his knee. Sparse rays of sun, droplets of heaven, broke the oppressive cloud cover. They hit the orb’s unblemished, convex glassy surface and bounced within the depths, glinting. If one looked carefully enough within its misty depths, one could see a near-perfect replica of the surrounding landscape, progressing in real time. The city-born birds flew over the man’s head, and the pedestrians walked by below, completely unaware.

  Everything that happened around Hakana also happened within his orb. The orb to a mirror to reality, the feed to a camera situated at a bird’s eye vantage: a perfect replica of the scene at hand. It captured a moment in time, a peaceful moment. One of the last for a long while, he thought.

  Raising the orb up to his eye level, Hakana nodded.

  “I’ve seen enough; I’m satisfied.”

  His tone was low, calm; the rasp of a smoker, a Kansai twang. He flourished his wrist, and the orb vanished into thin air. This performance was more than mere sleight of hand. The man stood, crossed his arms and surveyed the street below one last time. The wind seized his coattails, and they flapped out by his side.

  “Time to test out the new merchandise.”

  An actor performing to a rapturous applause, he threw his right arm out to his side, fingers splayed. In between his fingers appeared three more orbs. These were smaller. Where had they come from? The steady thrum of energy that flowed from man’s third eye might just give a clue. His hair flowed with the wind like his coat, lifting off his face to reveal a dark patch over his right eye, leaving only two of his eyes visible: the one where an eye should be, and the other, where an eye definitely should not.

  He tossed the orbs a foot up into the air, watching their ascent with fascination. Catching them, he pelted them out across the street. The orbs sailed over the heads of passers-by. They didn’t shatter on impact, but bounced once or twice before rolling to a halt. The clinks of glass attracted the attention of a few nearby. By the time their searching gazes swept by the rooftops, Hakana had disappeared. The orbs weren’t discarded, however. Each flashed with blinding light, before bursting open in a shattered glass symphony. Released from containment at last, six cyclopean gargantua suddenly made themselves known.

  The most painful part, was that they had once been human. The smallest among them was over two metres tall. Any expression of gender became null and void. Copious muscle bulged from every part of their bodies. Spiderwebs of blood vessels throbbed, thick like hosepipes. The skin was stretched so taut it split in places. Pus and viscera leaked from wounds of strain. Identical black jumpsuits had been stretched and torn around the grossly magnified bodies, exposing bare skin around the arms, chest and thighs. Compare the muscle mass of these creatures to the elite bodybuilders was like comparing the size of an ant to an elephant. A comparison so nonexistent, it was downright unfair.

  The next was their eye. There was only one.

  Placed square in the centre of the face, the optic nerve had taken root in the skull like parasite fungus, tendrils spreading across the face. The eye grew so vast it split the face itself clean open, exposing layers of raw, red muscle, and pushing all other parts of the face aside to make room. The eye was the face's sole feature. The rest was barely visible, crumpled up against the ears on either side along with layers of torn, bleeding skin. The eye was wide, staring and bulbous, the pupil flexing with the to-and-fro movement of industrial-sized sinews. They bulged out of the skull, threatening to pop off with a sickening squelch and give birth to an entirely new creature altogether.

  Shocked silence was followed by the most horrific, guttural screams.

  The creatures all stumbled about blind like infant demons, letting out visceral roars that shook the ground—a unholy combination of high tones, low tones, and everything else in between. The anguished cries of the damned rung from within one horribly mutated prison of flesh. Bystanders recoiled and yelled in surprise, followed by disgust, then terror. Any and all prior intention was abandoned immediately as primordial fear took root in their hearts. Some bolted immediately. Others weren’t so lucky, and could only stand there, cemented in place, their faces and bodies paralysed in abject horror.

  These rejected creations, abominations never supposed to see the light of day, attacked with no rhyme, reason, or mercy for the living. One man only had time to open his mouth before one of the horrifying creatures let loose a blow that caved his chest inwards. Another wasn’t quick enough to evade, let alone escape. Seized by a large fist, the man’s face was slammed into the tarmac, leaving behind a small crater. His skull crushed like a cantaloupe, blood and grey matter painting the pavement.

  Many more unfortunate victims followed but soon, all was still. Traffic had ceased. The cars closest to the epicentre had been smashed to smithereens in the initial rampage. Anyone with sense had abandoned their vehicles once the carnage began. Police sirens wailed their haunting song in the distance.

  All six of the Rejected turned in eerie unison towards the school gate. A beacon of power lay ahead of them, a pulsing psychic presence resonated with each of the eyes. That was where they were headed, following a single track towards their target, no matter who might get in their way.

  The voice of the Queen spoke in their heads, compelling them onwards. They had no choice but to listen to her. They would do as she said. The tortured screaming of their mangled souls would not stop, nor would their march, until they had laid their hands on that blade, and met their end.

  * * *

  The anger had faded into monotony. For once, class had actually managed to do Rin a bit of good. He spent most of the next period asleep, idly scratching the same few lines into his notebook with a blunt pencil. He slouched onto his desk, head propped up by his elbows, his eyes closed. Not bothering to move, barely bothering to breathe, Rin let Mr Uchino’s gravelly tones wash over him like pebbles caught in tide, and the vile scritching of chalk on the blackboard filled his mind with an inane static that drowned out any and all wayward thought.

  Bliss—before the screams shattered it like glass.

  “What on earth?!” Masaru Uchino, a man as wide as he was tall, stopped in the middle of his sentence. No-one interrupted him in the middle of the lecture and got away with it. The rest of the class snapped back to reality. Dentaku Bango’s pen froze mid-stroke, eyes narrowed. Dasha instinctively gripped the desk, knuckles whitening. All, including Rin, stared at the glass pane in the door. The fleeting heads of panicked students flashed by. The thunder of heavy footsteps heralded further screams of terror, echoing through the classroom walls.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  Mr. Uchino looked around the class with narrowed eyes as though trying to pick up traces of misdemeanour. He got no response. Striding over to the door, he opened it, only to be hit by a wave of terrified noise from the students on the third floor. He stood there for a moment, perplexed. This didn’t seem like the usual excitable rabble of a teacher letting go of their class early. When that was the case, you seldom heard people screaming.

  “You!” He seized one boy by the collar. “What’s going on?!”

  “Monsters! They’re attacking everyone! You’ve got to get out of here!”

  Uchino released the boy after he wouldn’t stop struggling. Everyone else cascading towards the stairs at the other end. Rin’s class had already gathered themselves together, and were all silently packed near the classroom’s doorway, trying to heed the warning.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Let me through!” Rin, once again painfully reminded of his smaller stature, attempted to squeeze past everyone in front of him for a better look.

  Uchino peered down the corridor, only to find his gaze reflected in the eyes of the three Rejected charging down the corridor. Time elapsed a little slower. The man’s bullfrog face contorted in a seismic wave of irreducible horror that rippled through his jowls, but only for a moment.

  A sickening crunch, and Mr Uchino’s head was reduced to little more than a bloody splatter on the wall. One reject had lunged the force of a bullet train, driving a crater into the wall.

  It didn’t even take a moment.

  The entire class stood stock still.

  The shock didn’t have time to even register on their faces.

  Dasha was first in line. The girl’s jaw hung slack, as her father’s blood dripped sickly trails down her face. Her front was stained with crimson. She raised quivering hands, as the stench of death drifted back through the crowd like miasma.

  Screams. Awful, bone-chilling screams.

  Those closest to the front recoiled in horror, colliding with those standing behind. Everyone shuffled back. Desks were knocked over and people fell, desperately trying to put space between themselves and the horrifying monster standing square in the door frame.

  Bango seized the stunned Dasha by the back of her shirt and leapt backwards, eyes wide. They and several others collided with desks and chairs, sending them scrabbling to the floor. Repulsive to look, yet impossible to look away. Bile singed the back of his throat. The stampede didn’t relent, everyone heading for the fire exit. They had no way out: trapped in their classroom, faced with these horrific creature beyond death.

  A heavy hand from the second reject caved the wall in with an ear-splitting crash. Brick, plaster, and other debris shot across the room.

  One girl shoved another out of harm's way, only for a shard of brick to shatter the skull on impact. She died before she hit the floor. The room shook again, as more of the wall was destroyed. The screaming continued. The students retreated further, many now cowering as far into the corners as they could. They clutched at one another, wracked with uncontrollable sobbing.

  Whatever they wanted was clearly inside this room. What on earth was their goal? Did they even have a goal? There were too many questions, his survival the most important among them. Bango looked down. Strewn across the floor were some of his classmates. Were they dead? Just unconscious? By the time he taken his eyes off those creatures to check, they would atomise him just as they had Mr. Uchino. He had never cared to learn their names. Would he ever get the chance to again?

  Some tried to rescue the bodies, dragging them to the back half of the classroom. It was no use. The creatures had blocked off all escape routes. Bango looked behind. The only alternative was a drop from a third story window. Whichever way they chose was tantamount to suicide.

  * * *

  Only streets away, the screams—so many of them echoing into the distance—seized the attention of everyone in the cafe. Nagora Ibuse stopped mid-sip of his coffee, and set down his cup. Nothing good warranted screaming.

  The screams continued. The sheer number of them, not to mention the intensity, sent a chill down his spine. Immediately, he feared for the worst.

  Slapping down enough payment for his coffee and then some on the table, the man gulped down the rest of the drink. Soon, he was gone. It seemed he wasn’t able to get a break from work, even on his day off. Back on the streets now, and not a moment too late. Traffic was starting to build on the adjacent road leading towards Senketsu high school, a lone line of agitated drivers voicing their annoyance through their car horns at the delay. As if the screams weren’t enough of an indication that something was afoot, the mass of people running towards him on the street definitely was.

  He grabbed one man by the lapel of his jacket. “What’s going on?”

  The man stared at Ibuse wide-eyed, panting heavily. His eyes shook, lips gummed formless syllables.

  “Oi!” Ibuse shook him by the shoulders. “What’s all this about?”

  The man stammered, trembling all over. He then wrenched his head back and yelled again. Breaking free of the detective’s grip, the man bolted down the street, as Ibuse could only look on, perplexed.

  “Monsters!” Another voice called out, this one female. “Somebody, please help!”

  She was on the other side of the road, stumbling with every other step as she tried to both run away and look over her shoulder at the same time. Vaulting over a car sitting at a standstill, Ibuse caught and steadied her by the shoulders, snapping his fingers in front of her face to get her attention. “I’m with the police.” He unfurled his badge. “What’s going on?”

  The woman looked straight through him. “Monsters—they appeared in the middle of the street. They were so horrible, they started to attack everyone nearby!” She broke down in tears, her knees giving out. Ibuse supported her by the shoulders. “The only thing I could do was run!”

  “It’s alright.” He did his best to soothe. “The situation will be taken care of, I promise. Where was this?”

  “Outside Senketsu High!” She gasped, choking on her own tears.

  Ibuse let her rejoin the fleeing crowd. He had to investigate further, identify the danger himself. He waded forth against the sea of frightened pedestrians. What the hell did she mean by monsters?

  Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a phone. Within seconds of dialling, he made it through.

  “Control? This is Ibuse. I’ve got a situation.”

  “What’s the problem?” A woman on the other end answered.

  Ibuse paused. He didn’t want to say the word ‘monsters’ over the phone. He’d only look like an idiot.

  “I’m next to Gakuen-mae station. Something’s caused a major panic in the direction of Senketsu High, cause unknown.” He sifted through the panicked crowds, slipping between stopped cars. “Mass hysteria, as well as a traffic pile-up outside the nearby intersection. Requesting backup squads to my location immediately.”

  “Understood. Police deployment should be with you shortly.”

  Ibuse ended the call and jammed the phone back into his pocket. He kept running, until he spotted something distinctive. The man in the black fedora stood atop a building nearby. Ibuse blinked. That silver hair, that grin; he recognised it. It was longer than he remembered, but it was absolutely the same. How long had it been? Stepping back into the middle of the road, he tried to get second glance. The man had disappeared. He blinked again. Was it just a trick of the light? Ibuse shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted.

  The crowd had thinned. The cars and streets were empty, not a soul in sight. What the hell was going on? Had there been a terrorist attack? Given the location, he dreaded to think whether or not some Senketsu student was armed. The poor woman likely didn’t know what she was saying. Shock tended to do that to a person. Ibuse had seen too many people that had needed weeks if not months in recovery after witnessing traumatic events. Some never got over that trauma. Still, what did she mean by those monsters?

  Rounding the corner, what Ibuse saw next answered his question immediately.

  * * *

  Only one had yet to move a muscle.

  All three Rejected stood still and silent. Their grotesque eyes trained intently on the boy.

  “Harigane!” Bango yelled. “Get away from those things!”

  Rinkaku Harigane stood alone at the front of the classroom. He didn’t respond, but wasn’t frozen in fear either—rather, transfixed in meditative focus. The book had spoken about these creatures—the Rejected—not to mention the only way to survive.

  Bango noticed the knife in Rin’s hand. It had a strange curved blade, detailed like a relic you'd find behind glass. Rin and the three monsters were locked in a stalemate. They twitched in place, in equal parts eager to destroy Rin as they were in fear of what he wielded. The infernal aura emanating from that knife made muscles all over Bango’s body tense. Pulses of errant sensation dashing through his arms and legs, nerves firing on all cylinders. Again, he was forced to question everything he knew, and just how little that was.

  Rin raised his hand, slowly, deliberately. The blade glinted as it caught the light of the fixtures overhead. The boy started chuckling. If Rin didn’t move now, he’d be killed! Why hadn’t the monsters attacked him yet? They must be after that blade, he reasoned. Perhaps they didn’t want to harm what they were after. Every instinct he had told him to run up to Rin and yank him out of harm’s way, but his body wouldn’t move. He could only watch in horror as Rin’s laughter grew louder still. He was the only one in the room making any noise. Everyone else watched, terrified. Some reached out, some murmured his name, confused. They didn’t know what to fear more: those three terrifying monsters, or their classmate holding a knife, cackling maniacally.

  Suddenly, all three of the monsters made a frightened noise and stepped back. Rin now had the knife raised in front of his face, the tip pointed towards him. With a jolt, Bango realised what Rin was about to do.

  “Harigane! Don’t!”

  Too late.

  With a swift motion, Rin plunged the ascension blade into his own forehead up to the hilt. The knife pierced through his skull like paper, embedding the blade deep in his brain.

  For a second, everything was still. For a moment, Rin could see everything all at once. The entire world was laid before him, stretching a million miles into the distance. More information than he could handle flooded his mind, paralysing him completely. Images, colourful and perplexing, flashed before his eyes. A cube of perfect proportions, an infinitely diverging pattern, a tower reaching up to the heavens, and an insurmountable staircase. He could see it all.

  But that was only for a moment. Rin’s vision tunnelled. Violently thrown back, he tumbled through the endless realm of the subconscious, and into the void.

  Nagora Ibuse; originally an intelligence operative in the secret service, Nagora stepped down from his position to pursue a slightly quieter life in Chiba. I was thinking of putting together some more visual-oriented profiles for the characters introduced so far. Would that be popular? Please do let me know in the comments.