Kenji was back in Erhardt's lab — sorry, Evil Lair — with a nervous expression on his face. Erhardt, ever the showman, had positioned himself on a chair at the center of the room. Though, Kenji thought that a makeshift throne of spare robot parts would've been a far more apt comparison.
With a swivel down below so he could spin it, of course, he even had a hologram feed of the city skylines for added effect.
Erhardt was currently facing away from him, yellow eyes narrowing down onto the phantom skyline.
"Uhm, Mr. Schmidt." Kenji began, "Is any of this really necessary?"
Erhardt said nothing at first. The silence stretched long enough for Kenji to wonder if he'd somehow committed a crime by speaking.
Then— swivel.
Erhardt spun the chair a full three hundred and sixty degrees before stopping halfway, one leg crossed over the other, his lab coat flaring behind him like the cape of a particularly smug supervillain.
"Necessary?" he echoed, eyes wide with mock offense. "My dear Ken-dy, necessity is the language of cowards. Greatness is built upon the unnecessary!"
Kenji blinked. "I—I mean... is it really?"
The boy doubted that.
Erhardt stood, throwing his arms wide as if addressing an unseen audience. "Oh, it is! Do you think innovation comes from people who stop at the bare minimum? No! It is born from excess! From obsession! From madness!"
A drone floated by, handing him a mug labeled 'World's Most Humble Genius.' He sipped it with a satisfied hum, eyes gleaming.
Kenji sighed. "Right. Madness. Of course."
"Now!" Erhardt slammed the mug down onto the table, startling the drone into dropping it. "Let us begin your Psychic Calibration Review! Or as I like to call it—" He grinned, lowering his voice to a theatrical whisper. "—The Moment of Truth."
"Can we call it something less ominous?" Kenji muttered.
"No."
Kenji was unsure how to proceed. Erhardt cleared his throat and clapped his hands twice. Two drones flew over and refilled his coffee mug. He took a sip, then sat back down and crossed his legs.
"Tell me, what happened there?" Erhardt asked. "Your heart rate spiked, then flatlined as if you were dead. Your neural oscillations reached dangerously high levels. Your body convulsed and nearly snapped."
Kenji's mouth clamped shut. So they really did know. He wasn't sure how to respond.
"You left the containment field, didn't you?" Erhardt asked.
"I—" Kenji began, then looked away. "Yeah. I did."
There was no point in lying. Shame flooded him — not at being caught, but at how small and weak he'd felt. For falling for such a simple trick, for being such an idiot. Erhardt regarded him for a long moment, then sighed and slumped back into his seat. He took another casual sip of coffee.
For a few seconds, silence ruled the room. Then something changed.
Erhardt's posture shifted. His smile thinned. Most of all, his eyes went cold — less the mad glint of a showman and more the focused gaze of a scientist hungry for data. In that instant, the eccentric white-haired doctor became something else: a ravenous scholar.
"And yet you live," he said, voice flat and precise. "You stand here among the others, apparently uncorrupted by the Shroud — whole, intact — despite having been exposed to phenomena beyond our models."
Kenji recoiled at the clinical calmness in Erhardt's tone.
He was an anomaly. Not the sort you could file away neatly, but a true unknown — a variable outside their charts. Someone who could peer into the Shroud, who could be touched by its eldritch logic and still return unchanged.
Why? How?
Those questions hung in the air like carrion. Erhardt's expression sharpened; his curiosity went predatory. He paced the perimeter of the lab, circling Kenji like a raven testing the air, eager to pick apart every detail. But even as his hunger showed, he restrained himself: this appetite would be shared.
"The Coffins," Erhardt said at last, "are networked. Each pod streams telemetry to a central cloud. Heart rates, EEG oscillations, respiratory cadence, blood metrics—everything is logged." He tapped a datapad as if punctuating the point.
"And when the head of Ars Animus sees what you did," his voice dropped lower, "you will end up on an operating table. It's not if — it's when. He isn't merely thorough. He's paranoid. Nothing escapes his eye."
Kenji stared back, his red eyes narrowing. The head honcho of their organization would have him on an operating table? To be dissected and studied like a horrid science project. He knew not the depths of how this organization operated, nor how cruel they could be.
But the gravity Erhardt said sent a chill down his spine.
"As if Shō would allow that—" Kenji meekly tried to defend, but Erhardt's mouth thinned into a proper frown. For the first time, Kenji found the mad doctor's expression completely serious.
"Arzin would eat Shō Hakurou alive." He hissed, spat the name as if it were poison.
Kenji gritted his teeth. "So what? I'm just going to be a damned guinea pig now?! What should I do, run!? I don't have anywhere to go! Who the hell even is Arzin?"
"Arzin..." The name felt like bitter poison. Erhardt struggled to even say it. "Is a madman, a monster, a delusional fool."
He sighed, leaning back and crossing his arms. Erhardt looked to Kenji, his gaze serious for once.
"Under him, Ars Animus runs on a single mantra. A poison he fed into all its functions until it isolated itself from the rest of the Choir." He leaned in.
"Progress Requires Sacrifice."
"And the atrocities he committed in pursuit of ill-gained knowledge, the amount of damage he had done." He hissed, then sighed, dejected. "But he is brilliant, I have to begrudgingly admit that much. Ambitious, practical, cold, and unfeeling. He'd gain your trust only to rip it from your hands."
There was a personal edge to his tone, a story hinted at beneath the surface. Kenji watched him carefully; this was the first time Erhardt had said those names plainly, without show. For a moment, Kenji wondered if the doctor's earlier flippancy about names had been deliberate affectation.
"The point here is if he finds out— when he finds out. You can crawl to any corner of the world, you can isolate yourself in any forest, cut off from any form of contact. He will still find you, and he has the resources to take you."
Kenji looked to Erhardt, his own eyes narrowing. He wasn't stupid, if this was true, then there was only one reason why he was here.
"What do you want from me, then?" Kenji snapped.
Erhardt blinked, then a grin formed on his face. "You and Shō truly are alike, a lot smarter than how you present yourself."
"Cut the crap. You wouldn't be telling me all of this unless you have a way to stop the data from reaching Arzin." Kenji snapped.
"And you would be right. Arzin's cybersecurity is top-of-the-line, run by and managed by a team of some of the best software engineers this world has to offer. Running on a hyper-advanced artificial intelligence that would adapt to any attempts at hacking at a rate ten thousand times the speed of a thought." Erhardt began, then a signature mad smile formed.
"I can crack it in thirty minutes."
Kenji's brow twitched. "Did you just say all that just to brag?"
"Ken-dy! You wound me with such baseless accusations!" Erhardt clutched his chest like he'd been struck by a mortal blow. Theatrics and mock offense rippled through his every movement.
"I don't brag—" his grin sharpened, "I merely state fact."
Kenji rolled his eyes. Of course he did.
He didn't know the first thing about software engineering — hell, he barely knew how to operate half the gadgets Erhardt built. But even if he wanted to doubt him, he didn't have the luxury of choice.
'I don't really have a choice, do I?'
"Fine, then," Kenji finally said, voice low. "What do you want in exchange?"
Erhardt hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin. Then, with an unnecessary flourish, he snapped his fingers. His chair spun dramatically, coat flaring in the gust from nearby drones — which were very clearly blowing wind his way on purpose.
"There are secrets hidden within your soul," Erhardt declared, pointing at Kenji with a wild gleam in his eyes. "A hidden hand tugging at your strings. You spoke of an employer, yet you couldn't shake his influence, could you?"
Kenji's posture stiffened.
"Let me peer into that soul of yours," Erhardt continued, voice lowering to an almost reverent whisper. "Let me wring out every little secret until my eyes can witness the divine filth writhing within."
Kenji's stomach turned at the phrasing. Divine filth. Trust Erhardt to make it sound like a sermon delivered by a lunatic priest.
He took a step back, eyeing the man warily. "You make it sound like you're going to dissect me."
Erhardt's grin widened, all teeth and brilliance. "Only metaphorically."
"That doesn't make it better."
The scientist leaned forward in his seat, his mechanical throne creaking under the motion. His yellow eyes glimmered with something that might have been curiosity—or hunger. "You misunderstand, Kenji. I have no intention of harming you. I merely want to observe. To understand the anomaly that is you."
"Yeah," Kenji muttered. "That's exactly what people say right before they start slicing."
A beat of silence passed. Then Erhardt laughed—a sharp, manic burst that made the drones above jolt in surprise. "Ha! You truly are like Shō. Always assuming the worst. Always thinking the world's about to gut you open!"
Kenji said nothing. Maybe because, deep down, he knew he wasn't wrong.
Erhardt finally straightened, his tone shifting from theatrical to oddly sincere. "You've seen the Shroud. Stared into it, let it crawl into your head… and yet, you're still you. That shouldn't be possible." He clasped his hands together. "If I can understand why, perhaps I can stop what's coming."
Kenji blinked. "Stop what's coming?"
But Erhardt only smiled—thin, secretive, the kind of smile that promised no answers.
Kenji was about to question further—but Erhardt stopped him.
"Believe me, Kenta. This isn't something you should be yourself with," he said, his tone uncharacteristically sharp.
"You say that, but I'm apparently the key to stopping whatever the hell you're talking about. Why are you genius manic types always so cryptic?"
"Oh? Have you met another cryptic manic genius?" Erhardt raised a brow, feigning offense. "I fear you must be mistaken — the only true genius in this world is me."
Kenji exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "Just as arrogant and up their own ass, too. Holy shit."
The two continued to converse, discussing terms. Kenji would meet Erhardt at least once a week for testing. It wasn't as if the boy was fully against it, Kenji wanted to know what exactly was going on with him, too. His thoughts shifted to Corswain, to that man, that thing that granted him his power.
'Why me? What did I offer?' Kenji could only ponder.
When the discussions ended, Kenji left. Erhardt stared at the shut door, letting out a sigh.
"Maybe I should look into their bloodline to see if being irregular is a part of their genetics..." He murmured to himself.
It was the only reasonable explanation as to how both Hakurous are freaks of nature.
"Now that I think about it, isn't there a third?"
**********
Walking through the halls alone was an experience.
The quiet hum of neon lights, the distant chatter of both machines and men — it was the first time Kenji explored the place with aimless intent. A wandering cat in a new facility, Kenji peered, gazed, and looked around with quiet wonder.
The soul of misfortune had nowhere to go, no destination in mind. He simply familiarized himself with his surroundings.
'I should figure out my STCT.' Kenji thought to himself.
He already had a few ideas, all of them could be chalked down to some version of a super powered baseball bat. Don't fix what isn't broken, and being able to hit anomalies harder is the natural next-step in his progression.
As he passed by the corridors, he stopped when he noticed a faint noise of cheers.
Curious, he walked towards the source, finding himself on an observation desk high-above the noise. Looking down the balcony, he spotted the source down below.
A spacious room presented itself to him, the lights dimmed while all focus was placed on two individuals. Crowds gathered, numbering in the hundreds, spaced out and seeming so small from his position, yet their voices and cheers reached him still.
His gaze turned to the source of their cheers, and all he saw was a blur. Sparks flew, violet and blue respectively. Kenji struggled to look, struggled to watch.
'Maybe I can use my abilities to help me out?' Kenji thought to himself.
It only ever appeared whenever he had to face an anomaly. Considering their speed, could he consider this an anomaly? He mentally willed his mind to obey, for his orange eye to manifest.
'Go! System! Activate! Henshin!'
He tried different keywords, nothing worked. Sighing, he leaned onto the railing. Only for his orange eye to flash into place. The splitting pain ached for just a second before subsiding.
'Don't tell me Henshin's the activation word.' Kenji grumbled.
He willed it to go away, the system obeyed. He willed it to return, the system obeyed. He's never been able to do that before...
'Was it that cat?'
Kenji's eyes narrowed. It did something to his mind, something Erhardt couldn't have noticed. If the coffins did act as a sort of MRI, then the cat managed to evade the deep scan of his own soul.
Regardless, he pushed the thought aside. He could ponder on and on about what to do, but being able to activate his gift without issue wasn't at all unwelcomed.
He activated the system, orange eye flaring once more, then turned to look at the two duelists.
————————
[Unnatural Speed Detected]
[Calibrating Senses...]
————————
He looked back down at the duel, and finally he made out the two figures. They still moved blindingly fast, faster than what normal human muscle would allow, yet now Kenji's senses could keep up.
His brain processed the information at a similar rate, the two now looked as if they were moving at normal speeds to him.
An iron-masked swordsman engaged a red eyed, light blue haired young man. The iron-masked soul swung a black blade towards the blue-haired man, air splitting causing a thundercrack to bounce off the metal walls.
The red-eyed young man tilted his head aside, the blade missing him by a hair's breadth. His red scarf whipped in the air, and he swung at the man's throat with a metal dagger.
Faster than even his newfound senses could process, the iron-masked man's blade met the dagger, parrying it away. Sparks flew, and the blue-haired youth stumbled. The iron-masked man stepped forward, and used the opportunity to slam the pommel against the youth's head.
He crashed down, the ground shook at the impact. Yet the youth tried to get up, only for a black blade to kiss his scarf-wrapped throat.
"Winner! Anselm Grimmel!" The adjudicator for the match cried out.
Kenji blinked from high up above. He could hear them, too?
'Could it always do that?'
"Tough luck, Yuri." The iron-masked man said with a raspy voice. The red-eyed young man sighed, but took the hand with a smile.
"It was a bad match-up." Anselm said.
"If we allowed our coffin abilities I'd be saying that to you." Yuri said with a smile.
"The youth can still dream? I'm truly shocked."
The two exchanged laughs, then bowed. As they turned to leave, the adjudicator looked up at Kenji. The boy blinked and averted his gaze out of habit. They saw him? Hopefully not. They said nothing to him, however, simply moving on to the next duel.
He quietly continued to explore, being careful not to linger too hard.