Aboard the deck of a military patrol vessel, the commanding officer barked an order, his voice laced with tension. "What!? He just slipped past us—full speed ahead! Pursue him now!" Chaos erupted over the open sea—radars spun frantically, engines roared into chase mode, and every crew member gripped their control stations with hearts pounding in unison.
In the operations room, the elite crew focused hard on their monitors—Fujisawa was mere hundreds of meters from escape. The elite squad’s commander slammed his fist down. "Don’t let him cross the maritime border!"
The vessel accelerated, waves crashing violently against the hull.
A jolt rocked the ship—something clamped onto the side with a surge of electricity. Navigation systems blinked, then cut out completely. Lights flickered... then darkness.
Control chairs rattled. Waves lapped at the deck. The only sound remaining was the dying hum of disabled engines—followed by a soft, chilling laugh from an unknown source.
The commander stared down at the blank monitor. "What... was that?" he muttered, horror dawning in his voice. Around him, the crew exchanged panicked looks—like the whole world had suddenly stopped turning.
At the far end of a remote island dock, Fujisawa slowed his steps, breath caught tight in his chest. In the distance, beneath the pale moonlight stretching across the lonely runway, a small aircraft sat silently—his one chance at escape tonight. His heart pounded faster. Was that the plane his contact sent?
He ran, sea wind lashing his face, boots thudding against the rough concrete. But as the distance closed, his pace faltered.
What he saw next shocked him like a live wire.
Standing in front of the aircraft was a figure clad in futuristic metallic armor—nothing like any military gear Fujisawa had seen. A faint blue glow pulsed from the seams of its plates. More terrifying, the man in the suit was electrocuting someone—the pilot. The victim collapsed to the ground in a limp heap.
Fujisawa whipped out his pistol from beneath his jacket, aiming without hesitation.
"Hey! Who the hell are you!?" he shouted, voice hoarse with adrenaline.
The armored figure slowly turned. A hiss of hydraulics released as the helmet opened—and from beneath the steel emerged a familiar face: young, calm... and completely out of place.
"Yo, Fujisawa-san," said Ren—Rentaro Takamura—his voice light, like they were meeting at a summer festival and not on a tension-soaked runway in the middle of nowhere.
Fujisawa’s eyes widened, finger still on the trigger. "Ren...? What the—What are you doing here!? And what the hell are you wearing!?"
Ren raised his hand slowly, palm tilted sideways. "Relax. Lower your gun. I’m not your enemy. And this—this isn’t a costume. It’s the ’Techno Suit Mark I.’"
"Wait... you’re telling me this is like—what, some kind of Iron Man armor?" Fujisawa asked, uncertain whether to laugh or pull the trigger.
Ren gave a small, confident smile. "Something like that. But this one’s real."
To prove it, he lifted a hand and aimed at a tree lining the edge of the runway. A soft hum lit the palm in blue plasma—and in an instant, a burst of concentrated energy exploded outward, blasting the tree apart. Bark and embers scattered into the night.
Fujisawa froze, eyes wide in disbelief. "Holy shit... that’s real?"
Ren nodded, blue eyes calm in the glow of the dim runway lights. "It took years... but yeah, it’s real. And I’m here... to save you."
Fujisawa paused for a moment, then slowly lowered his pistol, though the doubt in his eyes hadn’t vanished. "Save me? What do you mean? From who?"
"From the trap that’s already been laid out for you," Ren said firmly. "Didn’t you think it was odd? Your identity—so well hidden—suddenly shows up on a national military operation’s desk?"
Fujisawa narrowed his eyes. "You mean... someone leaked my location to them? But who could’ve—"
"Senjō no Akuma," Ren cut in. "The most brutal mercenary in the Middle East. A legend from Sparta Ares. That’s you, right?"
Fujisawa let out a long sigh. "Please... don’t call me that. It’s embarrassing."
Ren raised an eyebrow, half-laughing. "Embarrassing? Your enemies gave you that name. Sounds pretty badass to me."
"Badass, huh? It makes me sound like some cringe edge-lord from a bargain-bin manga."
Ren held back a smirk, but then Fujisawa’s face shifted to something more serious. "Wait... was it David who leaked it? Because of... that?"
"That?" Ren tilted his head, confused.
Fujisawa looked away. "Kids shouldn’t get involved in adult affairs."
Ren gave him a look that said, You can’t be serious.
"Hah," Fujisawa groaned, seeing Ren’s expression—and the ridiculously advanced tech wrapped around his body. Maybe it was time to stop pretending. "Fine. But promise me you won’t tell anyone."
"Hm, not sure I can do that. You know there’s one other person I’d have to tell if this turns out huge," Ren replied coolly.
"Mmph... If that other brat shows up, I might just shoot him," Fujisawa muttered, imagining Kiriya’s face. Then he nodded. "Alright, if you really wanna talk—I’ll keep it short. We don’t have much time. They could catch up any moment."
Ren nodded quickly. "Don’t worry. I’ve shut down all their systems. Every patrol vessel within three kilometers is blind—no sensors, no radar, not even satellite comms. My disruptor will hold for five hours tops. So spill it—what the hell really happened in Iraq?"
Fujisawa took a long breath. His eyes sharpened, as though digging up a buried war memory. "The issue wasn’t just Iraq. Back then, my job was simple—escort a UN delegation. But during the mission, I overheard the secretariat discussing something way bigger... something even elite forces didn’t have clearance for."
Ren leaned in slightly, focused.
"They called it: Project Ultro. An advanced military AI. Built to become an ’Absolute Defense System.’ But their methods—were insane. They planned to test Ultro’s effectiveness in Sudan. That country’s already a mess, and that’s exactly why they chose it. They wanted to see if an AI could neutralize threats in under an hour... even if it meant sacrificing hundreds of civilian lives."
Ren’s eyes widened. "You’re saying... they staged a massacre to test an AI!?"
Fujisawa nodded slowly, his jaw tight with the weight of it. "That wasn’t war, Ren. That was a blood-soaked experiment. And me... I only did what I thought I had to."
Ren frowned, voice low but piercing. "But killing that UN secretariat didn’t solve anything. And I know the other reason you’re back in Japan. You got suspended from Sparta Ares. Your team leader—David—even though he tried to defend you, he was pissed. You broke protocol. And now you’re back through a black channel, wanted. For all we know, your boss might’ve been the one who sold you out."
Fujisawa glared, then let out a bitter chuckle. "You’re too sharp for a kid. But let me set the record straight: I didn’t kill the secretariat. He was hit by a stray bullet during a shootout inside the conference room. Chaos broke out, and while we were trying to protect the targets—he got caught. But because I was the only non-official present, they made me the scapegoat. That’s the adult world, Ren—politics and sacrifices that never get recorded in history books."
Ren clenched his teeth, then muttered, "TAE Industries... Are they involved?"
That name weighed heavy—TAE Industries, a global tech giant known for its dominance in AI, robotics, and cutting-edge weapons systems. A shadowy behemoth behind countless classified conflicts.
"I suspected as much," Fujisawa answered grimly. "This frustrates me too... Ren, I hate saying this to a kid, but what the hell am I supposed to do to stop that AI from massacring civilians in Sudan? If my guess is right, the test was delayed by three weeks after the secretariat’s death. I’ve got just one week left to do something. So tell me... how do I beat an AI like that?"
Ren exhaled, glancing down at the holographic data floating from his wrist console. "I wanna say I can help—honestly. But look at you. You’re a wanted man, and if I get involved directly, I become a target too. Besides... I’ve got midterms tomorrow." He cracked a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood, but his eyes stayed serious.
Then he continued, calmly. "Let’s be realistic. If Ultro really was made by TAE, then you’re up against next-gen kill-tech. This AI doesn’t just calculate—it controls entire battlefields. It scans for the smallest signs of aggression and counteracts with lethal precision... in milliseconds. You’re not fighting a soldier. You’re fighting a digital god. You can’t win alone."
Fujisawa clenched a fist. "So you’re saying... give up?"
Ren shook his head. "Not give up. Strategy. My best advice? Evacuate the people. Save whoever you can. Don’t play hero alone, Fujisawa-san. That’s suicide. You’ll win nothing. Just end up dead."
Fujisawa gave a thin smile, eyes narrowing against the dim glow of night. "Heh... Kid. You really don’t know who I am."
Ren said nothing, just met his gaze.
"I knew from the start I couldn’t fight that AI with guns and grenades. But I also knew... there’s one thing I can do before they push the launch button—move the people in the crosshairs. That’s always been the plan—evacuate the civilians before Ultro drops from the sky as a merciless executioner."