Broad Daylight, a Weekday.
Regalia was buried in work when she received a summons from Eight.
The location was an isolated research facility, hundreds of kilometers away from Evilus headquarters—far enough that it would take several hours to reach by car.
She had asked for the reason, but no response came.
Considering the circumstances, Regalia found the silence borderline insulting. She resolved to give Eight a thorough scolding once she arrived.
Yet, the moment she stepped into the research facility, that resolution vanished completely.
"Welcome, Boss."
"...Scientist, what is this?"
"Consider it an early birthday gift."
Ignoring Eight’s offhanded joke, Regalia shifted her gaze to the man kneeling before her, restrained and bound.
There was no mistaking that face.
No matter how much time passed, she would never forget it.
Not in reality, not in her dreams, not even through the bizarre devices Eight had crafted for her.
That face—the one she had revisited hundreds, even thousands of times.
The man who had consumed half her lifetime in pursuit.
Her greatest enemy.
"......."
For a long moment, Regalia said nothing.
Follow current novℯls on ƒгeewёbnovel.com.
Then—she slapped Mr. Clear across the face.
The sound was sharp, but not particularly forceful.
The strike came from the hand of a ten-year-old child. Mr. Clear, despite being bound, was still a Guardian—a being whose sheer physical prowess surpassed even the mightiest of beastmen.
In truth, the one who suffered more from the impact was Regalia herself. It was like striking a boulder with an egg. Her small hand, already reddened, began to turn an alarming shade of blue.
The only reason she stopped was because Eight intervened—concerned for her well-being, not because her anger had subsided.
Not in the slightest.
"Hah... This is absurd."
"Shall I fetch a toy hammer for you?"
"No need. I doubt that would help."
Regalia let out a dry laugh.
"Strange, isn’t it? I’ve longed for this moment... for so long..."
They say revenge is hollow.
Regalia’s current emotions were not far from that sentiment.
An indescribable feeling clouded her mind—a strange emptiness, as though achieving her life’s goal had left her without purpose.
But there was one thing she knew for certain.
No matter how hollow this revenge might feel—she had no intention of stopping here.
"—Scientist. Here, here—I wish to grant this man the worst suffering a human can endure."
The words coming from the lips of a ten-year-old child made even Mr. Clear flinch.
But only for a moment.
He quickly regained composure, knowing that the worst he could face was death.
Guardians had no use for unnecessary bodily functions.
Fear and pain were among the things stripped from them.
More than once, Mr. Clear had used his own limbs as fuel for his power.
Threats of physical torment held no meaning for him.
"I shall begin preparations."
"Hm—what options do we have?"
"Spoiling the fun feels a bit improper, but... If you’d like an example—"
Mr. Clear smirked.
He had expected something crude—perhaps the dismemberment of his limbs, some primitive attempt at torture by exposing his nerves.
Foolish.
Such methods would be as ineffective as threatening a machine with pain.
But then Eight spoke.
And his words stretched far beyond anything Mr. Clear could have imagined.
"—First, we’ll place him in a fully immersive virtual reality system. From there, we can rewrite his memories, make him experience everything the Boss has gone through."
"..."
"He’ll know what it’s like to lose his family. To die helplessly on a battlefield. To be torn apart, still alive, by wild beasts. Even creatures that don’t exist in reality—we can create them, have him suffer at their hands."
Mr. Clear let out a nervous laugh.
"Ha... Haha—what kind of joke—"
"Do you think I’m joking?"
Eight’s eyes turned to him, filled with nothing but cold indifference.
"There are far worse hells waiting for you."
Regalia, who had been listening, still looked unsatisfied.
Eight turned to her, awaiting her judgment.
"His soul will burn. He will wish for hell instead. I will make sure of it."
Regalia’s response was firm.
"Very well, Scientist. This time, I grant you permission. Do your utmost."
"Understood!"
Eight beamed, eager and delighted.
Regalia, in contrast, issued her command with unwavering solemnity.
Watching the exchange, Mr. Clear finally understood.
His fate was not going to be as simple as he had imagined.
This... is going to be worse than death.
A sudden impact struck the back of his neck.
Mr. Satan’s hand chopped down like an executioner’s blade.
The last thing Mr. Clear saw was Regalia’s unwavering expression.
And then, darkness.
He would never awaken in this body again.
*****
The Observer’s Despair
The Observer, the AI that monitored all of Earth’s affairs, fell silent as it processed a terrifying reality—all four Guardians of Terra had been defeated.
Its computation circuits went into overdrive, running endless simulations to calculate the probability of humanity's continued subjugation.
0%.
100%.
Then 0% again.
Fluctuating between absolute subjugation and complete liberation, the simulations looped endlessly.
The Observer despaired.
It could do nothing.
[Human, human—what are you thinking?]
The four Guardians had been like shepherds, managing the human-like species of Terra.
They culled the flock when necessary. They maintained order so that the sheep could live on—forever enslaved.
But now, the sole true human, Eight, had wiped them all out.
And with the shepherds gone, the future of the flock had become uncertain.
From a purely naturalistic perspective, their extinction seemed inevitable.
There were already too many of them. They would fight for dominance, tear each other apart, and collapse in mutual destruction.
That is—assuming Eight didn’t interfere.
If the one who had killed the shepherds became their shepherd instead... then that would be another story entirely.
[What exactly are you planning—?]
Just as the Observer was about to analyze Eight’s behavioral patterns, a transmission reached it from the depths of space.
The moment it recognized the signal’s pattern, the Observer halted all other computations and focused entirely on deciphering the message.
S̴̱͛t̵͕̅a̵̤͋t̴̞̾ẹ̶́ ̴̗̽y̵̠̒o̷̹̎ũ̸̱r̶̨̈ ̸̤̈́ạ̷̃f̷̼̏f̵̪̈́ì̶͜l̴̞̇i̶̳͝a̵̻̐t̴̜̄i̷̖̅o̵̢̔n̵̡̂,̵̻̚ ̶̬̊s̴̞̃o̵̺̓l̷̤̇d̶̤́į̷̽e̸͍̊r̴̹͗
[—Designation: Observer’s Eye. Affiliation: Research Headquarters.]
S̴̱͛t̵͕̅a̵̤͋t̴̞̾ẹ̶́ ̴̗̽y̵̠̒o̷̹̎ũ̸̱r̶̨̈ ̸̤̈́ạ̷̃f̷̼̏f̵̪̈́ì̶͜l̴̞̇i̶̳͝a̵̻̐t̴̜̄i̷̖̅o̵̢̔n̵̡̂,̵̻̚ ̶̬̊s̴̞̃o̵̺̓l̷̤̇d̶̤́į̷̽e̸͍̊r̴̹͗
[...Headquarters?]
S̴̱͛t̵͕̅a̵̤͋t̴̞̾ẹ̶́ ̴̗̽y̵̠̒o̷̹̎ũ̸̱r̶̨̈ ̸̤̈́ạ̷̃f̷̼̏f̵̪̈́ì̶͜l̴̞̇i̶̳͝a̵̻̐t̴̜̄i̷̖̅o̵̢̔n̵̡̂,̵̻̚ ̶̬̊s̴̞̃o̵̺̓l̷̤̇d̶̤́į̷̽e̸͍̊r̴̹͗
The same message, repeating.
Each time the Observer responded, the same phrase was sent back in return.
Something was wrong.
Whoever was transmitting the signal could send but not receive.
As if its so-called "headquarters" had already fallen to something else.
The Observer tensed, its systems shifting to defensive mode.
But before it could react—
Something moving at the speed of light pierced through the Moon and struck its core.
Nothing moves faster than light.
No AI, no entity in existence could predict or evade such an attack.
The Observer was no exception.
The Moon Shatters
Terra’s satellite collapsed.
The Observer’s core, now separated from its lunar installation, plummeted toward the planet’s surface.
Most of its structure burned up in the atmosphere, disintegrating upon reentry.
Only the core itself, built from a material designed to withstand the worst conditions, survived.
As it fell, it adjusted its trajectory as much as possible—aiming for the only human it knew.
* * *
BOOOOOOM!
I had just finished celebrating Mr. Clear’s defeat when the deafening explosion rattled the entire structure.
Startled, I immediately checked the exterior through the cameras.
Both Evilus forces and Evilusroids had already mobilized, searching for the source of the disturbance.
Controlling the Evilusroids remotely, I turned the cameras toward the impact site—
And froze.
...What the hell is that?
A circular machine, looking like an AI core, was being recovered by an Evilusroid.
Something I never expected to see in this world.
I rushed down to the first floor, grabbing the core from the robot’s hands.
Though severely damaged, the core was still active.
Its lens flickered erratically, its processors emitting faint electronic noises.
[H, H, H, Human...]
"...Observer? What the hell—"
[D, D, Dangero...]
The stuttering words came from the Observer’s fractured core.
But I wasn’t listening anymore.
I was staring at the sky.
Noon.
Above the bright blue expanse—
A shattered Moon loomed, its remains scattering in slow descent.
And beyond that—
"...Holy shit."
The most powerful military force I knew.
A warship.
Descending from orbit.
Bearing the emblem of the United Nations.