The new safehouse was colder than the last, all concrete and exposed pipes. The silence was a fragile thing, broken only by the drip of water and the low hum of Kaito's portable server. The data drive was plugged in, its contents spilling across the screen in lines of cruel, clinical text.
Ren stood apart from the others, leaning against the wall. He could feel it. A new kind of hum in his blood, an echo of the facility's scan. It was subtle, a ghost vibration, but it was there. The Hunger was quiet, sated by the night's violence, but this was different. This was a signature. A tag.
Rain found him there. He didn't speak at first, just stood beside him, following his gaze to the flickering screen.
"It's worse than we thought," Rain said, his voice low, stripped of its usual command. It was just a statement. A fact.
Ren didn't look at him. "How much worse?"
"They didn't just map your genome. They mapped your Yuno Organ's resonant frequency. Its… emotional signature. How it reacts to stress, to pain, to fear." Rain paused. "Silas isn't just building a monster that looks like you. He's building one that thinks it's you. That has your instincts. Your drive to protect. Twisted, of course. Weaponized."
Ren's knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of a metal shelf. The shadow at his feet pulsed, a single, dark heartbeat. "My drive to protect?"
"It's your core impulse, Ren. It's what kept you human when the mask formed. It's what Silas and Rei see as your greatest weakness. And the perfect lever for control." Rain finally turned to him. "The next hybrid they send won't just be strong. It will be designed to emotionally manipulate everyone around you. It will know how to hurt you, by hurting them."
The truth landed, cold and heavy. This wasn't a fight against power. It was a fight against a perverted reflection of his own soul.
"I can feel it," Ren confessed, the admission torn from him. "The scan… it left a mark. Like an open door. I can feel him… listening."
That was the real horror. It wasn't just data on a screen. It was a live connection. A thread pulled taut between him and the architect of his nightmare.
"Then we cut the thread," Rain said, his voice hardening. "But you need to be ready. This is the rift, Ren. This is where Rei fell. Not in a battle, but in a slow, quiet corrosion. The belief that you are alone in this. Don't make his mistake."
As if on cue, a sharp, pained gasp cut through the room.
They both turned.
Aoi was staring at the main screen, her hand over her mouth. Kaito had pulled up a sub-file labeled PROJECT: SERENITY WISP. SUBJECT TEMPLATE: MIHARA, AOI.
Her file was there too. Her genetic potential, her spore density, her suppression thresholds—all laid bare. Silas hadn't just been preparing for Ren. He'd been preparing for them.
"He knows," Aoi whispered, her voice trembling with a new kind of fear. "He knows about me. He knows how to… unmake me."
The boundary between Ren and the Hunger didn't just fray in that moment.
It screamed.
A silent, psychic shriek of pure, protective fury tore through Ren. The lights flickered. The shadows in the room didn't just move; they congealed, the temperature plummeting. The Oni mask didn't form, but its ghostly pressure filled the air, a promise of violence.
"No."
The word wasn't entirely his. It was layered, deeper, older. It was the shadow's voice.
Kaito was on his feet, a knife in his hand, his eyes wide for the first time. Not with fear, but with a shocking, brutal clarity. "Soji. Stand down."
But Ren wasn't looking at him. He was looking at Aoi, at the terror in her eyes—a terror he had just caused.
The echo in his blood was no longer a whisper. It was a roar. And for the first time, he wasn't afraid of it.
He was listening.