Ever since arriving in this world, Haruki Aizawa had been preoccupied with climbing the IP Rankings and completing IISO missions to get closer to his ultimate target, Aldebaran.

  However, that wasn't the only thing he had been doing. He had been quietly observing the status of the "Cursed Children." Since learning about these special girls and how they were used as mere tools, he had been deeply unsettled. He had spent his spare time trying to understand their living conditions, but the Tokyo government's constant demands had kept him too busy to investigate thoroughly.

  He had heard that most Cursed Children were forced into the "Outer Districts," segregated from the "normal" citizens of Tokyo. Because of the public's intense prejudice, their living conditions weren't just bad—they were abysmal. They lived without basic infrastructure, struggling even to find clean water or food.

  Seeing this soot-covered girl in the middle of the city, wearing tattered, patched-up clothes that hadn't been washed in weeks, Haruki realized the reality was far grimmer than the reports suggested.

  Worst of all was the sheer, unbridled malice of the Tokyo citizens. Faced with a starving girl who had stolen a bit of food, they showed zero empathy. Instead, they pinned her to the asphalt with enough force that Haruki could hear the sickening sound of her joints straining.

  "Let me go!" the girl cried, her face pressed against the rough road, her features twisted in pain.

  No one in the crowd showed a shred of sympathy. Instead, they cheered.

  "Dirty thief! You're nothing but Tokyo's garbage!"

  "Kill the little Gastrea! Do it!"

  "Stop screaming, you little murderer!"

  "If your kind hadn't killed my family..."

  "Go to hell, Red-Eye!"

  The crowd's hatred was a physical weight. These "normal" people had projected all their trauma and fear of the Gastrea onto these innocent children.

  Rentaro Satomi stood nearby, his expression a mask of conflict and hesitation. But he did nothing. Even when the girl looked at him with pleading eyes, the boy looked away, pretending not to see.

  As the mob reached a fever pitch, preparing to escate the violence, Haruki finally reached his limit. He stepped forward to intervene.

  However, a small hand caught his sleeve. It was Kayo Senju.

  "Do you think I shouldn't help her?" Haruki asked, looking down at his Initiator.

  "No... I'm just worried they'll brand you a traitor," Kayo whispered, her eyes full of a complex pain. She hurt for her kin, but she feared the mob's hatred would turn on Haruki.

  Haruki reached out and ruffled Kayo's hair with a small, reassuring smile. "I told you, kid. Don't worry so much. Leave the 'adult' problems to me."

  With that, Haruki stepped into the center of the crowd.

  "Who do you think you are?" a man shouted, noticing the intruder.

  "Haruki Aizawa. Just a Promoter passing through."

  Haruki ignored the jeers and pulled out his Civil Security ID. He walked straight to the man pinning the girl down.

  "The Sword Ghost?" Rentaro gasped, recognizing him. He remembered Haruki's terrifying dispy at the government building, but he was baffled as to why a high-ranking elite would care about a street urchin.

  "Promoter? What do you want?" the man pinning the girl asked, looking confused.

  Haruki pulled out his wallet and tossed it onto the man's chest. "Whatever she stole, I'm paying for it. Triple. Now let her go."

  "What?" The man's face twisted with suspicion. "Don't you get it? This thing is a Cursed Child!"

  "I know. So what?"

  "You're a human! Why are you helping one of them?"

  "Is there a problem?"

  The man stood frozen, unable to process Haruki's indifference. The crowd, however, turned their fury on Haruki. They began screaming slurs: "Traitor to humanity!" "Sycophant!" "Monster-lover!"

  Haruki let the insults wash over him like rain. He didn't care about the opinions of ants. But when the insults turned back toward the girl, he reached back and drew Onikiri, driving the bck Varanium bde deep into the pavement between him and the crowd.

  "If anyone says another word against this child, I'll take your head off," Haruki said quietly.

  In that instant, he released a pulse of Killing Intent.

  The air grew heavy, almost suffocating. The sheer pressure of Haruki's bloodlust swept through the street like a cold wind.

  "..."

  The civilians, who had never faced true murderous intent, were paralyzed. Some went pale, others fell to their knees, and a few even lost control of their bdders. The silence was absolute.

  "Haruki..." Rentaro stood frozen, watching the man risk his reputation for a nameless child.

  Just then, two police officers—one fat, one thin—pushed through the crowd, attracted by the commotion.

  "What's going on here?" the fat one asked. He didn't need an answer. One look at the girl and the scattered food told him everything he thought he needed to know.

  Without a word, they approached the girl and pulled out a pair of heavy iron handcuffs.

  "No... please, no..." the girl whimpered, her eyes wide with a primal terror. She struggled, but the officers were rough, forcing her arms behind her back.

  As they went to lock the cuffs, Haruki's hand shot out, gripping the officer's wrist with a crushing strength.

  "On what grounds are you arresting her?" Haruki asked coldly.

  "What?" The fat officer looked annoyed at the interference. But when he met Haruki's gaze—eyes as cold and pitiless as a demon's—his arrogance vanished. He instinctively recoiled, stumbling back two steps before he could regain his breath.

  "Who... who the hell are you?" the fat officer stammered, his hand shaking so much he couldn't even reach for his holster.

  "Haruki Aizawa, Civil Security. I'm asking you a question, Officer," Haruki said, his tone ft. "Why are you arresting this girl?"

  "Girl? Oh, you mean this thing..." The officer spat on the ground. "Who cares? These vermin shouldn't even be in the city limits. Even if she didn't steal, we have to 'clean up' any Gastrea-carriers that wander into the civilian zones. We can't have monsters living among the people."

  The officer spoke as if he were discussing pest control. The crowd nodded in agreement. It was clear that the dehumanization of Cursed Children was a universal truth in this world.

  Haruki took a deep breath, forcing down the white-hot rage bubbling in his chest. Pointless venting wouldn't change anything. To fix this rot, he needed to know where they took them and how the system worked.

  "Fine," Haruki said, calming his voice. "How do you intend to 'process' her?"

  The two officers looked at each other and shared a sickening, knowing smirk.

  "Processing involves... special procedures," the thin one said, his eyes gleaming with a dark, perverse light. "It's actually quite interesting. Why don't you come along and watch?"

  "Lead the way," Haruki replied.

  The officers led Haruki and the terrified girl to a police cruiser. They drove out of the bustling district and toward the outskirts, eventually stopping at a desote, abandoned construction site.

  "W-What are you going to do to me?" the girl whispered, her voice trembling. She looked at the world with total distrust—to her, every adult, including Haruki, was a predator.

  "You'll find out soon enough," the fat officer grunted, dragging her out of the car and into the skeletal remains of a building.

  The thin officer stayed by the car for a moment, pulling out his service pistol and flicking the safety off with a casual click.

  Haruki followed them in silence. He had guessed what they were pnning, but a part of him—the part that remembered the ideals of justice from his old life—hoped he was wrong. He didn't want to believe humans could be this vile.

  The fat officer pinned the girl against a concrete pilr, holding her like a piece of meat. The thin officer walked up and pressed the muzzle of the gun against her forehead.

  "Wait," Haruki said, stepping forward.

  "What? You want a turn first?" the fat officer ughed, a greasy, disgusting sound. "I get it. Some guys have a thing for these monsters before we put 'em down. We get a few Promoters like you in the precinct. Go ahead, have your fun while she's still warm. Just be careful—this one's a carrier. Don't want the virus getting in your fluids, right?"

  Shing.

  The officer never finished his sentence.

  Thud.

  A head, eyes wide with a dull, confused shock, hit the dusty floor.

  Haruki had no more patience. The fire in his soul had finally overflowed, and only the blood of these monsters could quench it.

  "You... you bastard! You killed him! That's murder of a w enforcement officer!" the thin one screamed. He tried to raise his gun, but his hands were shaking so violently it slipped from his grip.

  "In my eyes," Haruki said, his voice a chilling whisper, "you don't deserve the title of an officer. You don't even deserve the title of human."

  His bde blurred again. A second life was snuffed out before it could even let out a final plea.

  In Haruki's original world, he had grown up with a natural respect for those who protected the peace. He had looked up to the police as symbols of order and safety. But the creatures in front of him made him want to vomit.

  This incident confirmed it: the Tokyo Government and its people were beyond saving. The hatred for Cursed Children wasn't just a few bad apples; it was the foundation of their society. The world itself was the source of the evil.

  "T-Thank you..."

  The girl in tattered clothes looked at the two corpses and then up at Haruki. She didn't look shocked by the death—it seemed she had seen plenty of it in the Outer Districts. To her, the only thing that mattered was that the man in front of her had stood between her and the abyss.

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