Bungo Stray Dogs - Volume 5 - Chapter 5

CHAPTER V 

5—1 

Atsushi was all alone outside the iron mill covered in fog. Both Akutagawa and Kyouka had left him behind. Akutagawa had pelted him with insults while Kyouka expressed her concern, but regardless, they both went on ahead without him. 

Only Atsushi remained stagnant. Unlike the other two, there were no signs of his skill returning. The wounds left by the tiger still stung as blood trickled down his arms. 

What is it that I’m missing? 

A strong wind suddenly gusted by the moment Atsushi lowered his head, but when he curiously looked up to see what it was, he gasped. There, amid the fog, stood a familiar white door—sturdy, majestic, divine. The wind was coming from that door, which was eating away at Atsushi deep down. 

“Do not open that door!” 

“…!” 

Atsushi heard a familiar reprimanding voice from behind and jumped. He timidly turned around to find the orphanage director haughtily looking down at him. Perhaps Atsushi was dreaming again. Perhaps it was an illusion. Regardless, just seeing the man made Atsushi’s heart heavy with despair. How hurt the director’s malicious words made him. How lonely they made him feel. How many hardships had he faced because of him. 

Atsushi couldn’t contain his resentment. If it wasn’t for him…, he thought. The director’s commanding voice was exactly as it was when Atsushi was in the orphanage, and it bore a hole in his mind. 

“But no matter. You don’t have the power to open it now even if you wanted to… You still lack determination.” 

“You don’t know a single thing about me!” Atsushi wanted to scream. 

He used to be terrified about standing up for himself, but he wasn’t the same boy from the orphanage anymore. The child starving for a place to belong no longer existed. 

The wind grew stronger, sapping Atsushi’s strength as if to prevent him from so much as standing. Even the director was seemingly trying to hold him back as well. 

“You have finally lost the tiger’s power. Say your good-byes and move on with your life… Oh, don’t worry. Nobody expects anything from you.” 

He’s probably right. 

After all, neither Akutagawa nor Kyouka had asked him to go with them. To tell the truth, Atsushi was deadweight. He was terribly injured, and he couldn’t even use his skill. 

But…, Atsushi thought. 

He wasn’t about to let the director tell him what to do anymore. 

“…I won’t listen to you.” 

He turned his hate into anger and his anger into strength, then took a step forward. Even though he felt as though the gale was going to blow him away—even though his wounds still hurt, Atsushi didn’t stop. He was going to crawl to the door if he had to. Every step he took brought him farther out of the director’s control. 

I’m not afraid of him anymore…! 

Atsushi planted a hand on the door with unwavering determination. He heard the director’s grating voice call out to him, “There’s no going back once you learn the truth.” 

“…?!” 

Atsushi was suddenly overcome with fear. His legs almost gave out while his hand still rested on the door. 

Why? Is it because…this door must never be opened? 

Atsushi didn’t even understand himself, but his body cowered in fear. His eyes couldn’t focus. His fingers trembled as they reached for the door. 

“What’s wrong?” He could hear the director ridicule him in his head. “It isn’t locked, you know.” 

Sweat dripped down his body as he struggled to steady his breathing. His hand on the door twitched. 

5—2 

Skull Fortress pierced the skies of Yokohama, the city of demons. The owner of the tower, Shibusawa, was defenselessly opening his eyes wide on the top floor in Draconia. There was nothing left of his ruler-like behavior as he helplessly watched what was happening in mute dread. A hellish red light radiated as a violent wind gusted from the giant sphere. This wasn’t part of Shibusawa’s plan. He shuddered. That was when Fyodor began to speak up as if he were reciting a fairy tale. 

“The ability to fuse and the ability to nullify—two conflicting skills have become one, creating a singularity.” 

“…!” 

Shibusawa looked over at Fyodor, who sounded like he’d expected this to happen. Or perhaps…this was the outline of Fyodor’s story. 

Shibusawa was dumbfounded in mute amazement as Fyodor pulled out a skull. His heels clicked against the ground as he approached the Collector. 

“Even Dazai’s skill isn’t going to give you what you truly seek… Your lost memories won’t return.” 

“How do you know about that?!” 

Shibusawa turned pale, and he instinctively stood back up as Fyodor flashed him a sweet smile. 

“Not to worry.” Fyodor’s eyes glowed cruelly. “I will fill those lost memories for you—” 

There wasn’t even a moment for Shibusawa to question him, for the smiling Conjurer pulled out a paring knife he’d been keeping hidden and slit Shibusawa’s throat with its silver blade. 

“Gah…!” 

Shibusawa’s eyes rolled back into his head. All he could see was the red blood spraying out of his neck. Like countless skill crystals shattering—like a beautiful flower blooming—the blood fell like rain. He went into shock due to the intense pain to the point that his nerves couldn’t feel a thing. The scenery before him gradually began to change. 

“—with death.” 

Shibusawa could see Fyodor smiling on the other side of the blood. “Do you remember anything?” Fyodor asked. 

Shibusawa heard a powerful wind roaring in his head. “…I see.” It finally made sense to him. As his body fell to the ground, he thought: 

I know…this feeling. 

The end of his life was also its brightest moment. It was an uninterrupted combination of hope and despair. 

This was death. 

The white light of death flooded his vision. The memories of a distant past sprang to life with his demise. 

Tatsuhiko Shibusawa saw an illusion in the white light. It was a vision of what really happened six years ago. He was forced to watch these lost memories replay before his eyes. He could hear the old Shibusawa in the vision speak in a soft voice: 

“The director appears to misunderstand your skill.” 

The Shibusawa of six years ago was standing in a stone-walled cellar. The sole light source came from the window so high up on the wall that only the blue sky was visible. It was as if he were in a prison, unable to set foot in the outside world, nor even be allowed to see it. 

Inside the old stone room was a suspicious-looking gauge and a large piece of medical equipment. However, what stood out the most was the boy sitting in the center of the room. His extremely frail arms and legs were bound to a metal chair with metal bands that appeared to be rather sturdy. They didn’t even budge, no matter how much the boy struggled. His filthy shoes miserably tapped against the floor. 

“The skill you possess is extraordinarily rare…,” continued the Shibusawa of six years ago while ignoring the boy’s suffering. He seemed to be in a trance. “It’s the only skill envied by skill users the world over. However…” His voice deepened. “Perhaps because of your youth, your skill is tucked deep inside of you—so deep that not even my fog can draw it out.” 

The ray of light peeking in through the window did not reach Shibusawa. 

“That is why…” His red eyes eerily glowed like a demon’s. “…I’m doing this for your sake.” 

His expression brimming with compassion, Shibusawa pressed the switch in his hands, sending a powerful electric shock to the boy’s chair. 

The boy screamed. His cries filled the room. His limbs convulsed as he thrashed about, but the metal constraints binding him to the chair didn’t break. The electric shock continued to surge through his body until the excessive voltage turned into violet bolts of electricity. This starving, malnourished twelve-year-old boy could not withstand the pain. His cranial nerves began to fry. His muscle fibers tore, and his blood vessels burst open. The boy’s chin quivered. 

“Now…” 

Shibusawa gazed at the boy’s face, making his satisfaction and delight no secret. 

“…surprise me.” 

5—3 

Atsushi hesitated in front of the door that had appeared amid the fog. 

What’s on the other side of this door? What am I so afraid of? 

There was no end to the questions. The fear wasn’t going away, either. That was when a boy shrieked from the other side. 

“…!” 

Atsushi knew that was no ordinary scream, and he summoned all his courage. In that moment, he noticed a dynamic tiger etched on the magnificent white door. 

He pried the heavy door open with everything he had. It creaked, and on the other side was a stone room. 

It was an unusual room. The ceiling was high, and while there was sunlight coming in from the window, it felt oddly confined for some reason. Numerous machines littered the space, and countless cables extended toward its center. 

In that room’s center stood a man with long hair and his back turned to Atsushi. Next to him was a child thrashing about in a chair. Atsushi’s heart froze. 

What is that? Who…is that? 

The buzzing sound of electricity echoed, followed by a bloodcurdling cry. 

A boy was being electrocuted while bound to the chair… 

The boy crying and screaming was Atsushi six years ago! 

What’s going on?! 

Atsushi stood at the doorway at a loss for words. 

Why? How? Atsushi couldn’t think straight. He felt dizzy. 

What is this? I don’t remember any of this. 

He started to recall something, but he shook his head. 

…Did I simply forget? 

No. This memory had just been locked away behind a door deep within my mind, hadn’t it? Because I wanted to forget that part of my past. 

The Atsushi of six years ago screamed in agony as if forcing his present self to face his past. Atsushi slowly came to a realization as he watched. 

Six years ago, I met a man named Tatsuhiko Shibusawa. I’d forgotten about him for a long time, but that was why I felt like something was bothering me whenever I heard his name and saw his picture. 

Shibusawa had visited Atsushi when he was in the orphanage. He’d locked him in a room, hooked him up to various instruments after tying him to a chair, and ran an electric current through his body. What Atsushi was watching now was a vision of his past. His memories showed Shibusawa watching as he writhed in agony. Before long, a crystal-like gem emerged from the young Atsushi’s chest. The crystal was pale and glittered like the moon. 

“Wow…,” uttered Shibusawa. 

Atsushi could see a strange grin appear on the man’s face…but then something unusual happened. The screaming suddenly stopped, and the young Atsushi’s eyes flew open to reveal the eyes of a savage tiger. His black pupils shook within his golden irises. His slender arms transformed into forelegs with claws, and his filthy shoes burst open as his feet became muscular hind legs. After the sturdy metal constraints around his arms and legs instantly shattered like glass, he devoured the pale crystal that had separated from his body, and his ferocious fangs meshed. 

Shibusawa began to panic, but it was too late. The young Atsushi had already completed his transformation. He mowed down the chair that once constrained him, destroyed every major piece of equipment in the room, and then—his tiger claws slashed clean through Shibusawa’s face. 

His skin peeled straight off as the claws carved through his skull. The white room was painted with blood. Like countless skill crystals shattering—like a beautiful flower blooming—the blood fell like rain. 

“I remember now.” 

In the room of memories created by the fog, the eighteen-year-old Atsushi suddenly found himself facing Tatsuhiko Shibusawa—not the man killed by the tiger six years ago but a dim shadow of a man who had lost the light in his eyes. He didn’t know why he was watching the same memory as Atsushi. He was too focused on himself to care. 

“Oh…,” Atsushi mumbled after recalling the memories once sealed in the depths of his mind. 

“I sank my claws into his face. I sank my claws into his face. I sank my claws into his face. I sank my claws into his face. I sank my claws into his face…” 

Atsushi tormented himself with those words over and over. 

Tatsuhiko Shibusawa began similarly muttering to himself: 

“I pressed the switch…” 

Deep scars from the tiger’s giant claws appeared on his face just like they had six years ago. The memories once lost had now returned. He even remembered being killed after the tortured boy fought back. But why did Shibusawa target Atsushi six years ago in the first place? The reason was simple. 

“Because I heard that your skill was the one that guided the envy of all skill users.” 

Atsushi was clearly startled. “Who did you hear that from?” 

“A Russian man named Fyodor,” Shibusawa replied. “And that was also the day I—” 

“Yes,” Fyodor muttered to himself as Tatsuhiko Shibusawa journeyed his lost memories. Fyodor was now the only living person in Draconia. Dazai’s body lay on the floor while Shibusawa had vanished into thin air. 

Under the colossal red photosphere, Fyodor expressed no concern about the other two people as he lowered his gaze to the skull in his hand. It was the skull that was always put on display with the apples on the top floor of Skull Fortress. 

Crack. The paint began to peel off the skull. 

Rattle. Crack. Crack. Rattle, rattle, rattle! 

It was like listening to countless insects hatch from their eggs. Across the white skull’s forehead were deep gashes from an animal’s claws—the claws of a tiger. The skull, which had been on display in the fortress all this time, belonged to Shibusawa. 

“That was the day you died,” whispered Fyodor to Shibusawa’s skull as if he took pity on him. “And the one who inherited your collection was…” He cast a glance at the spot where Tatsuhiko Shibusawa had been standing moments ago. “…your skill itself after it separated from your corpse.” 

There must have been a red crystal somewhere on Shibusawa’s body, for in the end, he was nothing more than a puppet who believed he was human. He was a real-life Coppélia. 

Fyodor raised the skull into the air. Countless red trails of light soared through Draconia, revealing a hidden room under the floor where myriads of other crystals were stored. The red sphere of light would grow exponentially if it absorbed these, for there were far more hidden crystals than all the ones on display. Fyodor sinisterly grinned as he stared into space. 

“You’d forgotten your own death and became a crystal—a crystal who managed the collection that he himself was part of. The tiger’s claws sank into your skull and killed you.” 

“I sank my claws into his face. I sank my claws into his face. I sank my claws into his face. I sank my claws into his face. I sank my claws into his face…” 

Atsushi continued to blame himself as if time had stopped six years ago in that stone room. 

I thought my skill had finally awakened after I got away from the orphanage and was left for dead in the street…but I was wrong. 

Atsushi’s skill had actually awakened long before that. He’d wielded the tiger’s power once prior. 

It all started…when he killed Shibusawa. 

The guilt suffocated him, and he continued to torment himself. Tatsuhiko Shibusawa—or rather, the skill who looked identical to him—grumbled, “Yes, you killed me that day…” 

“…!” 

Shibusawa’s accusatory tone rubbed Atsushi the wrong way. It stoked his swelling, almost overflowing, feelings of guilt until his emotions burst out of him. 

This is my fault?! No, that can’t be right! 

He didn’t want to believe it. Atsushi turned on Shibusawa and screamed in spite of himself, “Of course I did!” 

The cries of his heart turned into a roar. 

I didn’t do anything wrong! I…! 

“I just wanted to live!” he yelled with every fiber of his being. He thought he would break down if he didn’t. 

Atsushi had always fought to protect himself. He would turn anything into a weapon to do so. 

What’s wrong with an insatiable hunger for survival?! 

“A boy will always use his claws in order to live!!” 

He felt the heavy deadbolt snap on the white door. 

Countless red spirals flashed in the collection room as the red sphere of light glistened with greater intensity. It was as if Draconia itself had come to life and was wielding its overflowing power. Hundreds—thousands—of skills were devoured by the ever-growing light until it started to even suck in Osamu Dazai’s corpse. His body floated into the air before being slowly swallowed by the light. Fyodor, who had been mirthfully observing the rampaging orb, expressed some surprise. 

“…You’re a greedy man, Dazai.” He squinted as he saw Dazai merge with the light. “Even in death, you still plan to see this city’s demise.” 

Dazai’s body melted into the red photosphere. Immediately, the light expanded throughout the room like an explosion, shattering the glass windows. Fyodor watched as the whirlpool of light-headed toward the outer world, then said to the skull in his hand: 

“Allow me to enlighten you, since I’m your first friend ever. Did you ever stop to consider why my skill doesn’t separate from me within this fog?” 

Skills would separate from their users and try to kill them if they ever came into contact with the fog. Nothing could change that. That was why the Armed Detective Agency was forced to battle against their own skills and why Dazai’s skill finally separated from him when he died. Nevertheless, Fyodor wasn’t killed by his skill. But why? 

Fyodor’s footsteps echoed throughout Draconia while he slowly walked across the room as if that were his answer. He stopped to pick up an apple, but when he reached for it, there was a glittering red crystal on “his” hand—a man who looked identical to Fyodor. “He” picked up the apple while Fyodor held the skull. They raised their spherical objects into the air with their backs to each other and whispered: 

“I am crime.” 

“I am punishment.” 

Their identical voices shook Draconia. It was as if the cold, rigid echoes ridiculed and toyed with the entire situation. 

“Did you know?” said Fyodor with a laugh as he held the skull aloft. 

“Crime and punishment are very close friends,” continued the other Fyodor, smiling as he held the apple. 

They faced opposite directions but felt the same thing. They could sense the red light surrounding Skull Fortress. They recited their lines alternatingly: 

“The boundaries will vanish.” 

“The room will awaken.” 

The red light swelled before their eyes, and they enticed it with their honeyed words. 

“Incarnation of death—lord of the skill-consuming fog.” 

“Ravage, devour, and unleash your fury as your instinct and heart desire.” 

Their violet eyes creased as their lips curled into a smile. 

A light thereupon shot out of the fortress as if it were following their commands. The boundless glow began swallowing the world in a red fog that grew exponentially by the second until it eventually took the form of a giant beast. It curled around Skull Fortress under the pale moonlight and came to life. The imposing creature consumed the moon, shrouded itself among the clouds, and scattered the fog. Even Skull Fortress appeared to be nothing more than a child’s toy in the presence of the dignified beast. 

Its serpentine body was covered in glittering scales and a long, majestic mane. It could surely crush a building with its reptilian-like hands. Each one of its sadistic fangs was much larger than any human. It was a rare creature equally wicked and divine. 

A dragon. 

Fyodor watched with an almost chillingly beautiful smile as the creature, which wasn’t even supposed to exist in the world of man, appeared before him. 

“This is neither a loss of control nor a singularity,” he said as if he were reciting an oracle. “The dragon is the true form of the chaos within each and every skill.” 

The dragon descended upon Yokohama and roared, making its presence known to the world. 

5—4 

“A dragon…?!” 

Akutagawa’s eyes bulged as he sprinted toward Skull Fortress. Just up ahead was a massive dragon that looked as if it was guarding the tower. 

“…” Kyouka, who was running close by Akutagawa’s side, bit her lip when she caught sight of the creature as well. 

An extraordinarily gargantuan enemy stood in their way. They could see it with their eyes, feel it on their skin. The dragon’s ferocious power felt almost crushing. 

Even the Special Division for Unusual Powers, watching Skull Fortress from a satellite, instantaneously became aware of the dragon. 

“Abnormal values for singularity are increasing!” shrieked a staff member from the Division’s operations room. The values displayed on the operator’s screen rose as he was overcome with fear and panic. 

“They’re twice—no, 2.5 times higher than they were six years ago!” 

Ango Sakaguchi’s expression tensed at the red light that represented the risk level. The Special Division had already taken every measure available. There was nothing left they could do, but they couldn’t just sit back and watch, either. Ango was sweating bullets from fretting and praying. He slammed his fist against the desk and asked, “Where is A5158?” 

Before the operator could even answer, a voice yelled over the radio: “Calm down, ya damn pansy!” 

“…!” 

“It’s startin’ to feel nice and warm out here.” 

Code name A5158—Chuuya Nakahara, the man who had just yelled at Ango over the radio, smiled with evident satisfaction. 

Hovering in the sky over the fog and clouds of Yokohama was the Swan, the aircraft used by the Special Division for Unusual Powers for sensitive operations. Its rotary wings kicked up wind as they roared. The room shook, and the hatch slowly opened. The round moon came into Chuuya’s sight along with the chilly nighttime air. The moon was especially beautiful as it hung in the cloudless sky. 

Its brilliant shine illuminated the fog-covered Yokohama and the colossal dragon that looked like it could consume the city in the blink of an eye. It was like something out of a dream, and yet, both the fog and the dragon were real, and there was no denying that both brought destruction. 

“Chuuya,” came Ango’s subdued voice over the radio while Chuuya squinted and looked down at Yokohama. “Dazai has most likely been disposed of by now. Do you understand what I’m getting at?” 

Chuuya removed his gloves and replied, “I don’t care.” 

“Are you sure?” asked Ango. “You won’t be able to accept your reward. You won’t be able to take my life if—” 

“Don’t get cocky,” jeered Chuuya, cutting Ango off. Nobody could see Chuuya’s expression as he prepared to jump from the aircraft over Yokohama. Only his calm voice reached Ango. “You were a nobody six years ago—a low-level undercover agent,” continued Chuuya as if he understood it all. “Not a single soul lent you an ear even when you opposed getting Shibusawa involved. Am I wrong?” 

“…” Ango fell silent. 

“I’m probably just talkin’ outta my ass here, but…,” Chuuya muttered, almost to himself, “I’m willin’ to bet that idiot Dazai’s in there.” 

He was watching the dragon wreaking havoc on Yokohama, and his gut was telling him that Dazai was inside the creature. 

“And I’m not gonna be satisfied until I punch him in his stupid face,” he declared before briefly adding “Later” and promptly hanging up. 

“…I’m counting on you.” 

Ango reflected on the fact that he was powerless, and all he had was the bitter grief in his heart. He didn’t know whether his words—his prayer—reached Chuuya. 

Regardless, Chuuya had made this choice for himself and was now standing at the rear hatch of the Swan, gazing down at the world below. 

“We’ll be reaching the destination shortly,” came a voice. 

He glanced in the direction it came from and saw a suited woman with almond-shaped eyes and her long hair in a bun. Chuuya looked at her and briefly pondered something before raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh, I remember you. You’re—” 

“Tsujimura.” She introduced herself and stared hard at Chuuya. “…Are you sure you want to do this?” 

“Yeah.” 

“There’s no point!” Tsujimura shot him a piercing glare. “It’s hell down there!” 

In her mind, the dragon below was clearly a monster that exceeded human comprehension. Fighting it would be no different from suicide. 

“There’s no way you can defeat that thing. Skill users are still human. Your overconfidence is going to get you killed,” she declared. But Chuuya merely snorted. 

“That still doesn’t mean it’s okay to chicken out and run away,” he replied bluntly before taking an audible step forward. “Know when it’s okay to chicken out and run away?” 

Chuuya’s overcoat flapped wildly in the wind. Puzzled by what he meant by his question, Tsujimura shook her head. “No. When?” 

“Never.” 

“…!” 

Chuuya ridded her of her bewilderment and sprinted forward assuredly. He then jumped off the hatch and into the sky, fully confident in the path he had chosen. The wind pressure pushed against his body, and the rush of air sliced at his skin. The next moment, he felt the dragon haunting Yokohama lock eyes with him. 

“O grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again!” Chuuya quietly muttered. 

The marks of Chuuya’s skill began to crawl up his arms and emit a glow that grew brighter until his entire body was covered. He was filled with immense power. The corruption had begun. Not even Chuuya himself could stop it now. 

By manipulating gravity, he pushed the fog away so he wouldn’t touch it before landing on a building’s rooftop, which he simultaneously destroyed. Concrete cracked under his feet, sending gravel flying into the air. He then dashed up the slabs of broken concrete toward the dragon. 

“Wow…,” Tsujimura couldn’t help but mutter as she watched Chuuya from the airship. “He’s getting higher and higher.” 

Ango came in through the radio while monitoring the satellite imagery and measuring apparatuses. “His skill is gravity manipulation.” 

Chuuya Nakahara’s skill, Upon the Tainted Sorrow, was extremely powerful. 

“However…,” continued Ango in a grave tone, “in this state of corruption, having turned himself into gravitons, he can no longer control nor disable the skill.” 

“Are you saying he’s just going to rampage until he dies?!” Tsujimura turned pale. 

“Only Dazai’s nullification skill can stop it,” Ango quietly confessed. “Without that, Chuuya is already…” 

“No…!” 

Neither Ango nor Tsujimura said anything after that. All they could do was watch over Chuuya as he dispersed the fog with incredible force. 

Tsujimura, Ango, and the rest of the Special Division saw Chuuya hop from one floating slab of concrete to another, heading toward the dragon. But the dragon eventually sensed Chuuya’s presence and launched dozens of light beams from its tail. Each trail of light took the form of a dragon before attacking and restraining Chuuya. Chuuya, however, immediately tore through the dragons and broke free from its cage. He then created a massive graviton bullet with his right hand and launched it directly at the dragon’s nose. In that same moment, the creature opened its mouth and shot a beam of light at Chuuya. 

Their attacks clashed. The explosion buried the sky in light and sent Chuuya flying backward. He was shot straight down without even a moment to manipulate gravity before slamming into the ground. The stone pavement shattered wildly, burying Chuuya underneath rubble. He couldn’t move. 

The dragon closed its mouth, and the light began to dim. The battle appeared to be over in a matter of seconds. But at the very next moment… 

Chuuya rose from the fog with something massive in his hands—a building. 

An entire building was defying gravity and floating in the air. Chuuya lifted the structure, which was over three stories tall, and hurled it at the dragon. 

One hit. Two hits. 

Chuuya roared like a beast as he slammed the building into his foe. It was hard to imagine someone so small fighting a battle of this scale. After taking a few blows from the enormous building, the dragon opened his mouth once more to unleash another beam of light. 

Three hits. 

Chuuya forcibly crammed the entire building inside the dragon’s mouth. The ground quaked as the building crushed the dragon, which then destroyed the building. The extremely high concentration of energy—the dragon—clashed with the structure’s enormous mass, distorting the space around it. The energy ball shining in the back of the dragon’s throat had lost its only exit point and exploded inside its body. Chuuya then used this opening to raise his fist into the air and pelt the dragon with countless graviton bullets, harnessing every last bit of strength he had. 

“Dazai!” 

His scream shook the air as another bullet pierced the dragon. The creature writhed, and its entire body lit up as if it couldn’t take any more. 

There was a flash of light. 

The dragon suddenly disappeared, leaving only a crimson glow in its wake. The fog was blown away, disintegrated by scorching flames, and the glowing light enveloped Skull Fortress. The dark, looming tower broke into pieces that slowly began to crumble under the silent, blinding light until it was no more. 

Meanwhile, at the center of that light, Chuuya was closing in on Dazai’s floating corpse. As blood trickled down his body, Chuuya clenched his fist and punched Dazai right across the cheek. The violent blow forced the knife out of Dazai’s back, and Chuuya heard something burst—as if the pill in Dazai’s mouth had been crushed from the impact. 

The capsule with its venomous-red-and-pure-white coloring broke open in Dazai’s mouth, releasing the medicinal solution inside. The viscous liquid slid down Dazai’s throat until eventually, long, slender fingers touched Chuuya’s ghastly, corrupted face. When they made contact, it instantly nullified his skill. 

“…Did you use Corruption because you believed in me? You’re gonna make me cry…,” came a calm voice. It was the voice of a man who was supposed to be dead. 

Without even showing a hint of surprise, Chuuya responded, “Yeah, I trusted you were too damn crafty and far too stubborn to just die.” 

The corruption in Chuuya’s body had already disappeared. Dazai had nullified it. He placed a hand on Chuuya’s cheek where it had been punched and smirked slightly. “So this is how you wake Snow White? Kinda violent, don’t you think?” 

“Hey, you’re the one who hid that antidote in yer mouth knowin’ you were gonna get punched in the face,” griped Chuuya, making his disgust no secret. 

Everything had gone according to Dazai’s plan. 

Fyodor pretending to work with him while secretly conspiring with Shibusawa; their plot to poison Dazai; the Special Division for Unusual Powers dispatching Chuuya; and finally, Chuuya punching Dazai’s dead body—it was all as Dazai had anticipated. 

The light—a remnant of the dragon—slowly faded, and the countless pieces, small and large, that made Skull Fortress collapsed. Dazai dropped into the wreckage, followed by Chuuya, who landed right on top of him. Chuuya scowled. He desperately tried to get up, but he could hardly move a muscle. 

“Get off me,” he demanded, but Dazai kept him still. 

“Don’t move.” 

“The hell?” 

Chuuya grimaced as Dazai held his head down. While glancing around, Dazai admitted, “Looks like the fog hasn’t completely cleared yet, and I’d rather not have to protect you from your skill right now.” 

Chuuya’s eyebrow twitched. “It’s still not over…?” 

“…It’s probably just getting started,” replied Dazai with a serious expression. 

“Damn it…,” groaned Chuuya in frustration as he tried to sit up. But he couldn’t manage to do that much, especially with Dazai holding him down. “I can’t even…move my fingers…” 

His every last drop of energy sapped, Chuuya immediately fainted. Dazai glanced at him, then turned his gaze at the wreckage of Skull Fortress. The tip of the crumbling tower still remained as it stood tall among the ruins. Dazai stared at the fortress as if he were focusing on someone inside, then mumbled: 

“This much I expected, but the rest…is in their hands.” 

The tip of the tower began to shine with a suspicious light. 

The night was still young, and the party had only begun. 

The dragon quietly changed form. 

5—5 

“You act as though you know everything, yet you actually know nothing.” 

A serene voice echoed within the partially destroyed hall. Standing in the center of the room, which was once the highest floor of Skull Fortress, was Fyodor. He was still holding Tatsuhiko Shibusawa’s skull, unfazed by neither the dragon nor the destruction. He gently let go of the skull, but it continued to float in the air. Fyodor smiled as he appeared to talk to the hovering cranium. 

“There’s no stopping the fog now,” he whispered. “The earth will become a fruit of death—a dead apple…” 

He then implanted a crystal fragment into the skull’s forehead. A red light flickered. It was but a modest gift from him—a fragment of the crystal that summoned skills together. Fyodor had taken the crystal he’d offered Dazai and secretly hidden a piece of it. 

“And with this, you will become a singularity,” he boasted. 

A singularity occurred when multiple skills interacted to produce a new result. Nobody exactly knew what skills could be combined to create a singularity, much less what effect said singularity would have. And yet, Fyodor intentionally created one and continued to steer the situation in his favor. 

The skull shook as it began to absorb the remnants of the dragon Chuuya had destroyed. 

The singularity began. 

Venomous red bands born from the skull twisted space and time until the skull was given a new flesh-and-blood body. Fyodor watched it shine as the red bands curled around it, creating a single form. Pale fingers slowly took shape, and long white hair fluttered in the wind. 

Atsushi was still standing in the room frozen in time while Chuuya was defeating the dragon and Fyodor was creating the singularity. On the other side of the door that had appeared amid the fog was a memory of what happened six years ago. It was the room where Atsushi had sinned. The victim, Tatsuhiko Shibusawa, suddenly declared: 

“I remember everything now.” 

Shibusawa clearly recalled the events from six years ago. 

Fyodor had enticed him to go to the orphanage where he tortured a young Atsushi…until Atsushi fought back and killed him. Everything made sense to him now. Shibusawa had always been searching for something. He had been searching for the missing piece—the memories he lost six years prior. 

He’d believed that Dazai’s skill was the key to solving the mystery, and he knew if he released such a grandiose amount of fog within Yokohama, he would be able to catch him. Just as he expected, Dazai approached him, pretending to be on his side so he could get rid of the fog. Shibusawa saw right through Dazai’s scheme, but he welcomed him with open arms and feigned ignorance, then waited for his chance to strike. Dazai danced in the palm of his hand, just as he expected. Little did Dazai know that Fyodor was actually working with Shibusawa, and he let his guard down. That was the moment Shibusawa had been waiting for. 

And so Shibusawa killed him. 

But he was mistaken. 

Dazai’s skill wasn’t what Shibusawa was after. The key to filling in the gaps in his memories was not Dazai’s but Atsushi’s skill. And most importantly… 

“What I was really after all this time was not skills, but the spark of life that resists one’s own skill and prevails over one’s own fate… Like the spark you showed me.” 

A spark with a thirst for life. That was what Shibusawa had been searching for, and nothing brought him greater joy than experiencing that spark. Even six years ago, he tested countless hypotheses in pursuit of it. 

Shibusawa was overcome with bliss. It was his first taste of happiness. And now, the owner of the spark had appeared once again before him. Atsushi was the only one who could grant him light. 

Shibusawa fixed his fiery gaze on Atsushi. He wanted to experience that joy once more, and he made his desire clear. 

“Your soul demonstrated that will to live when you killed me… So show me your soul—your spark!” 

Shibusawa’s pale fingers crumbled away, and his white hair began to vanish. 

As Shibusawa slowly disappeared from the room of memories past, his body simultaneously took shape around his skull in Draconia. The red bands of light formed into his flesh like a lizard regenerating its tail. A new dragon was born from the singularity using the skull and red crystal as its vessel. The young man’s white overcoat cloaked his smooth, pale skin, and his long, white hair fluttered in the wind. He could only be described as beautiful if not for the large claw-shaped scars marring his visage. On his forehead was a red crystal reminiscent of a dragon’s horn. His crimson eyes creased with a vacant, sadistic smile. Tatsuhiko Shibusawa had been reborn as a skill-like life-form—a divine being that wielded the power of the dragon. 

But his wish was still the same. He wanted to drive Atsushi into a corner so he could experience that spark once more. He wanted Atsushi to experience even more pain and torture than he did six years ago. This was a natural conclusion for Shibusawa to reach, for he believed that life was at its strongest and most beautiful when it was being pushed over the edge. Therefore, he was going to muster every bit of strength he possessed. He was going to cover the world in the red fog he had newly acquired. 

The red fog began swallowing the earth. 

“…” 

Nobody would ever see the smile on Fyodor’s face.