Mornings in The Nexus usually start with the scent of energy coffee and the clacking of keyboards, but this morning, what greets me is an acute heart attack.

  Just as I plant my bottom on the beanbag chair, before it can even get warm, the Solak screen displays a crimson notification, flashing incessantly like a fire alarm.

  [Sender: Department Head Ariel]

  [Subject: URGENT DIRECTIVE : EXECUTE IMMEDIATELY]

  The fur on the back of my neck stands up, and my tail puffs out like a toilet brush. Receiving an email directly from the big boss at the start of work is never a good omen. It usually implies one of two things: Either I am about to be fired, or I am preparing to clean up a giant pile of trash someone else just dumped.

  "Itsuki. Suspend all projects in Southeast Asia and China. Transfer all files to the vice team leader for processing. From this moment, you must focus 100% of your resources and expertise on the cooperation with Takama-ga-hara. You must find and root out the bastard playing tricks in Japan. This is an absolute priority order."

  I stare wide-eyed at the screen, my long snout dropping in astonishment. "What is it this time?"

  I spin around to Zhen Shan's workspace. The Tiger God is cleaning his energy handgun, wearing a rare pensive expression.

  "Hey Boss Tiger," I call out, my voice full of bewilderment. "Did you get the mail? What is wrong with Boss Ariel? Even if we have a strategic partnership with Takama-ga-hara, asking me to neglect an entire vast market to play private detective for them is absurd. How will we calculate the faith KPI for this quarter? Are we doing business or charity here?"

  Zhen Shan does not look up; he only sighs softly, his heavy breath vibrating a few whiskers.

  "It is not charity, Itsuki. The situation has changed. Takama-ga-hara security has just sent a classified report."

  He pauses, setting the gun down on the table with a dry clack. His amber eyes look up at me, cold and dark.

  "The Sensitive we just rescued from World 4466... is dead. At his private residence."

  I am stunned. "Dead? How is that possible? He was just treated, his limbs fully regenerated, and his vitality was abundant. Was it an infection?"

  "He died in a very peaceful posture," Zhen Shan continues, his voice deepening like a growl in his throat. "Human forensics concluded sudden heart failure. The heart just stopped beating, like a clock running out of batteries. No signs of forced entry, no poison, no external force."

  "But..." He narrows his eyes. "When the spiritual forensics team of Takama-ga-hara scanned the corpse, they discovered the truth. It was Soul Destruction. A high-level technique that attacks the astral body directly, completely bypassing the physical shell."

  A shiver runs down my spine. Soul Destruction? This is a move used to execute gods. Using it on a mortal is like using a buffalo cleaver to kill a chicken.

  "Bullseye," I grit my teeth, my claws scratching the wooden table surface. "We did not even get to ask about the Kisaragi Station incident. This mole acts fast. Who exactly is the culprit, arrogant enough to kill someone right under the noses of two major corporations?"

  "Gakai," Zhen Shan replies curtly.

  The name makes me blink rapidly. "Huh? Ga... Gakai? Did you hear that wrong?"

  "You did not read this morning's paper, did you?"

  A calm female voice rings out right behind me, making me jump, my tail whipping hard against the chair. Alethea has been standing there for who knows how long, holding a steaming cup of coffee. She steps forward and places a tablet on the table.

  "This case is blowing up on all the news sites of The Nexus," she says, pushing up her glasses. "This morning, the Prison Administration Bureau issued a red notice. A small-scale but extremely serious prison break has just occurred at Tartarus."

  Tartarus is the supreme prison for gods, a place of eternal confinement for those who commit unforgivable, heinous crimes. In the past, The Nexus and the Inter-Corporate Labor Law had a framework for God Execution. However, under the tireless lobbying of The Compassion Collective, with their philosophy that "every life deserves a chance at repentance" (and perhaps to preserve manpower), the death penalty was abolished. It was replaced by life imprisonment in Tartarus, a prison dimension where time stops and hope does not exist.

  I grab the tablet, skimming through the headline sitting proudly on the GodBook homepage.

  [BREAKING NEWS: PRISON BREAK AT TARTARUS : CORPORATIONS RAISE SECURITY ALERT LEVEL]

  Below are the profile images of the escapees, and one familiar face strikes me, sending chills down my spine.

  A god in human form, but his eyes are pitch black with no whites. The smile on his lips exudes an intellectual madness.

  Name: Gakai.

  Species: Neo Deity.

  Former Employee: Research & Development Department, Takama-ga-hara Ventures.

  Crime: Mastermind of the Great Extinction in World 112.

  Sentence: Permanent Confinement.

  "Gakai..." I mutter as I read the details. "Forty fiscal years ago, he conducted an illegal experiment on 'Reality Fusion.' The result was that a human nation in World 112 was completely wiped off the map, millions of souls crushed into raw material."

  "Mm," Alethea nods, her expression grave. "And what is more serious is that the Tartarus management only realized the break-out this morning, while the perpetrator has been at large outside the law for a long time."

  So here I am, trudging down to the Mundane Realm alone.

  Zhen Shan has "abandoned" me to chase the call of global security duty. The moment the name Gakai was revealed, a Level 1 alarm was activated across the entire major corporate system. Our Security Team, as well as those of Takama-ga-hara, Asgard, Olympus, Heaven Inc., and countless other corporations, are currently busy turning every corner of World 1031 upside down to find traces of that dangerous criminal. They are too busy to breathe, let alone escort a fox to investigate a silly rumor about a ghost station.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I glide through the Tokyo sky, my white fur blending into the thin clouds. My mind still lingers on thoughts of Tartarus.

  "That damned prison..." I snort, a stream of cold air escaping through my teeth. "What a waste of resources."

  According to basic economics (and necessary cruelty), the best way to handle types like Gakai is to cut the supply. A god without Faith Power is like a light bulb without electricity; leave them in the dark, and they will slowly weaken, fade, and dissolve into nothingness. Economical, clean, and thorough.

  But no. The hypocritical moralists over at The Compassion Collective (and the Heaven Inc. faction) kept insisting on "divinitarian" rights. They lobbied to maintain a massive budget, just to pump FP into Tartarus drop by drop. The goal is to keep the prisoners there existing in a vegetative state, neither fully alive nor dead, with the delusional hope that one day they will "reform" and become useful citizens.

  "Useful my ass," I mutter, my tail whipping the air. "Now look at this mess. Prisoners escaping, killing people, causing chaos. My FP tax money is just being used to fatten these monsters so they can come back and bite their masters."

  I lower my altitude, landing on the roof of a building near the rendezvous point. Out of habit, I reach for my phone to call Kaito. Having a Vessel makes everything much easier.

  But my finger freezes right over the name "Kiddo."

  "Forget it," I withdraw the phone. "This case is too dangerous. The kid nearly died twice in one week. If I drag him along this time and we actually encounter Gakai, ten lives would not be enough for him. Anyway, this is just a scouting mission; this fox body can take care of itself."

  I open the attachment that Takama-ga-hara just sent.

  [Cooperative Investigation Location: Hasunuma Station, Ikegami Line, Tokyo.]

  According to anomaly statistics, this is the place with the highest frequency of passengers "boarding but never disembarking" in the past month. The door leading to Kisaragi Station seems to be widening in this area.

  I glide through the thick concrete walls of the station, passing straight through the ticket gates without needing to swipe a Suica card.

  The rush hour crowd is packed tight. Tired faces, eyes glued to phones, the thumping of footsteps, and the sound of train announcements increase the suffocating atmosphere of this densely populated metropolis.

  I weave through the crowd, stepping into Car Number 4, the carriage reported to have the most strange phenomena.

  In the corner at the end of the car, leaning against the connecting door, is his unmistakable silhouette.

  Long black hair tied loosely, an outfit of pitch black mixed with midnight purple, and large Tengu wings that pass through the train ceiling, folded neatly behind his back.

  Karasu has been standing here for a while.

  Of course. This is Takama-ga-hara's territory. It is understandable that he is present to investigate with me. But understanding is one thing; facing it is another.

  Karasu looks up at me. His glowing red eyes meet mine for a split second, then immediately turn away, staring at the subway route map on the wall as if it were the most interesting work of art in the world.

  I also pretend not to see him, walking over to lean against the door on the opposite side. I pull out my phone, pretending to scroll through GodBook, but the corner of my eye still glances toward my former colleague.

  The atmosphere between the two gods is so awkward it could be sliced into pieces.

  Around us, the mortals continue to jostle, completely unaware that they are standing in the middle of a cold war between two supernatural entities. The train speaker crackles:

  "Next stop... Kamata... Doors open on the right..."

  The sound of train wheels grinding against the rails mixes with the rhythmic breathing of hundreds of passengers to create a maddeningly monotonous soundtrack. The silence between Karasu and me thickens, heavy as if the air in the carriage has been replaced by liquid lead.

  For someone whose mouth operates more productively than his brain like me, this "cold war" style is nothing short of mental torture. I would rather be dipped in a hot pot than stand next to an old acquaintance without saying a word.

  "Damn it, my ego cannot win against my mouth," I curse silently, then decide to break the suffocating atmosphere.

  "Hey crow," I speak up, deliberately keeping my tone as indifferent as possible, eyes still glued to the phone. "You are the main force of the Security Team over there, right? Why aren't you hauling your wings to hunt down Gakai and his gang instead of standing here rooted to the spot acting like a subway security guard?"

  Karasu slowly lifts his head. His glowing red eyes shine with a rare fatigue, quite different from his usual arrogance.

  "So what do you think Ogawa died for?" He asks back, his voice hoarse. "Otherwise, we would not have to waste effort guarding these trivial train cars."

  Right. Ogawa's death was not simple at all. Gakai, for some reason, likely did not want those who knew too much about Kisaragi Station to remain alive.

  Karasu suddenly smirks, a half-smile full of provocation. "By the way, where is that big tiger? Do you not love tailing that mobile ATM? Did your 'aid' get cut off today?"

  My tail fur bristles instantly. "Mobile ATM my ass! Zhen Shan is busy hunting Gakai! He is a responsible leader who rushes into hot spots, unlike someone who is idle enough to loiter on the subway."

  "I am on a mission!" Karasu snaps.

  "A mission to ogle girls?"

  "You..."

  The two of us start bickering again, sarcastic remarks flying back and forth like daggers, making the atmosphere less tense... in a negative way. But the verbal war of the two gods is abruptly interrupted.

  A large, looming black shadow steps in.

  An Anomaly with a pitch-black body, lanky and tall, having to bend almost double to fit through the train door. But strangely, it does not emit the frenzied killing intent like the Executioners in Hell. It just drags its feet heavily, carrying a tattered, spectral briefcase. It squeezes through the crowd of mortals to find an empty corner, then leans against it, exhaling a puff of black mist in exhaustion.

  It looks... pathetic. Just like an office worker getting off after a 14-hour shift, wanting nothing more than to go home and sleep for an eternity.

  "What is this thing?" I narrow my eyes, skeptical. An Anomaly that does not attack people? Or is it camouflaging itself?

  I raise my hand, intending to stealthily cast a small reconnaissance Law to "poke" it and see its reaction.

  ZAP!

  But Karasu is a step faster than me.

  Without a word, the Tengu raises his hand. A bolt of Black Lightning, dark and sharp as an arrow, shoots straight from his finger through the crowd, embedding itself directly into the monster's chest.

  The Anomaly howls a miserable sound, a cry of extreme pain and despair. It shows absolutely no intention of resisting. It simply collapses onto the train floor, writhing for a moment before dissolving into black dust particles, leaving behind the spectral briefcase which also fades and vanishes.

  I stand stunned, my hand still forming the unfinished seal.

  "Hey..." I turn to Karasu. "Was it necessary to be that fast? It hadn't done anything yet, right? At least we should have interrogated it to see where it came from?"

  Karasu does not answer. He stands there frozen, the arm that just launched the attack still raised in mid-air, trembling slightly. His glowing red eyes stare blankly at the empty space where the monster just vanished.

  On the usually cold, arrogant face of the Tengu, I catch a glimpse of a strange expression passing by, a confusion mixed with a bit of... guilt.

  "Karasu?" I call softly.

  He startles, hurriedly lowering his hand and turning his face away, avoiding my gaze.

  "It... was an Anomaly," he says, his voice dry and forced. "Anomalies must obviously be destroyed."

  But the way he says it does not sound like he is persuading me; it sounds more like he is trying to persuade himself.