TBR CH88

John Cliff sat in an office prepared for the “C21 District Security Chief,” a place as bland as the name bestowed upon him. He despised the name “John,” but it was deliberately chosen by the Institute to blend in. Even if he refused, it would only be replaced with something even more common, like Tom or Jack.

He was the only one in the Special Armed Forces with a name. Having a public identity meant he could meddle in more affairs.

It also meant more trouble.

“The more projects ‘Son of God’ comes into contact with, the more we can deduce the patterns of this ability.”

A man holding a black umbrella sat on the guest sofa in the room. He was someone from the upper echelons. “I need you to overcome the lingering issues, Black Hawk. This work is crucial for the Institute right now.”

“Every project Hill has been involved in has shown signs of mania. While his presence doesn’t immediately trigger alarms, the frequency of controlling the monsters has increased.”

John raised his eyes. “Whether he’s a Son of God or an angel, there’s only one of him—no clones. The messes handed to the Special Armed Forces are piling up. Does the higher-up really think this is reasonable?”

“Oh my,” the man sighed, “I thought you’d like him. They say that boy has the power to influence all sentient beings. It seems you’re quite prejudiced against him, Captain John.”

“…Do you want to meet him?”

“Of course not.”

The man laughed as if it were obvious. “No matter how many fancy titles you slap on, the higher-ups feel the same. We guard against anyone claiming to be ‘divine’ as if they were S-class monsters. But we need him now, so you must keep him stable. By the way, I also came to deliver a message…”

He leaned forward slightly, his expression turning serious.

“The Dawn Project will definitely be restarted. Don’t let emotions cloud your judgment. The higher-ups hope you’ll provide a satisfactory answer this time.”

“…No,” John said. “I still disagree.”

The earlier casual banter did nothing to ease John’s mood. The Institute’s young and deadly weapon stared at the man, his gaze heavy as murderous steel. A chilling force made the man’s hand, gripping the umbrella, tremble. Only then did he fully realize he was speaking with one of humanity’s most elite members—a force even the higher-ups had to consider.

“Fine,” the man stood, his umbrella tapping the floor with a dull thud. “I think it’s time for me to leave.”

John didn’t stand, nor did he offer a farewell. He simply sat behind the large desk, watching coldly.

At the door, the man with the black umbrella couldn’t help but turn back. “You can’t defy the Institute’s decisions. This is about the fate of all humanity. Your stubbornness stems from the mistakes you made back then, pretending you can still make amends…”

“No one survived that incident.”

John cut him off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man gave John one last deep look before pushing the door open and leaving. John sighed. Playing the cold, unapproachable role didn’t exactly lift his spirits either. Out of habit, he lit up the computer screen he’d turned off earlier, only to notice a blinking notification icon in the top right corner of the webpage.

One message was from Hill. The beautiful boy had shown clear affection toward him.

Contact with him always brought influence: Maybe his abilities weren’t so bad? Maybe he was just an innocent boy who needed protection? Maybe he should accept his dinner invitation?

John tried to suppress the unusual emotions stirring within him. He decided to head to the Biochemical Department later to get some emotion suppressants.

Then he opened the second message.

In that moment, the captain of the Special Armed Forces, codenamed Black Hawk—a man tied to the Institute’s highest interests and humanity’s deepest secrets—felt his hands tremble uncontrollably.

It was an unexpected message.

—

The “World Salvation Squad” was holding its second-phase meeting. Attendees included a human with emerald-green pupils, a monster maintaining only half its form, and Black Book, caught between Isidor and the monster, feeling utterly out of place. When it realized neither was listening, the World Consciousness sulkily shut up.

In the slightly salty sea breeze, only the monster’s hissing voice remained, its words sharp and smooth like something polished yet dangerous. It paused occasionally, worried the human couldn’t keep up, waiting for a sign of understanding.

Black Book was held in Isidor’s hands. He absentmindedly stroked its smooth black cover, listening to the monster with an air of warmth and patience. He’d smile faintly, signaling he had no issues.

…He wasn’t like this in front of *me*, Black Book thought, frustrated.

Then the monster mentioned “Flower.” The S-class anomaly “Flower” was recorded by the Institute as highly aggressive physically. Humans were oblivious to its scent and unaware of the pollen that transmitted messages, leaving a significant gap in research. The monster laid bare these secret gaps before Isidor, seemingly without reservation, while Isidor sat there, his expression unchanging.

His emerald pupils remained bright, flickering only slightly when a thought struck him:

“You’re saying we can use its abilities to send messages to every monster?”

“Exactly,” the monster said. “But we need to contact it. Flower sent me a message yesterday—a chance we might be able to use.”

It extended a hand, its long, pale fingers looking as if they’d been soaked in seawater for ages.

Though Isidor couldn’t see it, he could guess the monster held Flower’s residual pollen or something similar. The monster lightly flicked its fingertips, and a small gray vortex seemed to appear. The vortex spun, countless cryptic symbols flashing within, before solidifying into a tiny fragment.

“I tried replicating it based on the pollen’s structure,” it tilted its head. “If this fragment is brought into Flower’s room, it’ll know what I want to say.”

This implied countless possibilities and showcased the terrifying mimicry of an SSS-class monster. Though Black Book remained silent out of frustration, it began rapidly calculating how to successfully bring the fragment into the Institute’s sealed room.

The fragment danced lightly in the monster’s hand, refracting iridescent colors from every angle.

At some point, the monster fixed its gaze on Isidor, its pure black pupils unwavering, like a predator sizing up its prey, waiting for an anticipated response.

Black Book instinctively sensed danger.

Isidor could undoubtedly fulfill the monster’s request perfectly, but… his image here was that of a gentle, fragile civilian researcher. Had the monster begun to suspect him? Though he was far harder to deal with than the monster, the World Consciousness needed his help and absolutely didn’t want him to lose the monster’s trust.

“Wow,” the researcher’s eyes sparkled as he softly exclaimed, “It’s beautiful.”

Without a hint of caution, he reached out to take the fragment from the monster’s hand. His warm human fingers brushed against its cold skin, utterly unafraid of the inhuman, terrifying gaze. The monster loosened its grip, letting the fragment fall into Isidor’s palm. A flicker of something akin to satisfaction flashed in its eyes, softening for a moment.

Black Book was dumbfounded. Wait, so the monster’s earlier behavior… was it seeking *praise*? It was like a large animal soothed by petting. Extending its tendrils from the water, it wrapped them around Isidor’s arm, the eyes on its tentacles opening to gaze at the fragment alongside him.

Isidor was besieged by a chaotic mess of tentacles. The tendrils gently clung to his arm, encircling him and severely limiting his movement. The human seemed accustomed to such situations, wearing a helpless smile:

“Actually,” he tried to make his words sound convincing while subtly stroking the nearest tendril, “I can probably handle this. The tendrils it uses to approach me are soft and harmless, cool with the touch of seawater.”

“I know someone who works there. It shouldn’t be a problem to arrange a shift swap. After that, I just need to carefully approach the room. I won’t go in—just linger at the door for a bit. It’ll be perfectly safe.”

“No.”

As expected, his proposal was rejected. The tendrils recoiled in reproach, dodging his fingers, swaying lightly before tightening around his wrist, immobilizing him. It was definitely a bit upset.

“‘Flower’ is far more dangerous than you humans imagine, and it always seems unhinged.”

It paused, recalling the message delivered alongside that intense floral scent. It wouldn’t overlook clues it cared about, but doubting a friend over mere words would be utterly deplorable.

“You have no means of self-defense, and you’re not cautious enough. Even if you carry my scent, it can’t fully convey how important you are to me. Isidor, unless you can find a way to deliver the fragment without approaching the room, I won’t agree.”

“But…”

Isidor swallowed the rest of his words. He tried gently twisting his wrist, but the tendrils tightened vengefully. The fragile, careless human researcher accepted the reasoning without further objection.

He pondered slowly:

“I promise I won’t do anything dangerous.”

The tentacles loosened slightly, revealing his wrist. They’d gauged their strength perfectly, leaving no marks. Isidor smiled faintly and continued, “So, how should we do this?”

Black Book, lurking sneakily to the side, suddenly felt eyes on it. Startled, it nearly stammered, like a student caught daydreaming in class.

“I… I can’t either. My existence isn’t in the same dimension as your world. This book is the only physical entity I can control—I can’t carry anything else in or out.”

The monster turned its gaze back, understandingly. It was remarkably tolerant. The World Consciousness, in a fleeting moment, was struck by countless thoughts about how great this so-called villain was. Normally, such thoughts would be overshadowed by visions of world-ending calamity, but this time was different. Before it could dwell on that, Isidor’s icy emerald gaze sent a shiver through it.

Fortunately, Isidor soon looked away, and the monster didn’t notice its momentary freeze.

“You can’t go,” it said. “And the World Consciousness can’t interfere with reality either. So…”

The researcher’s eyes widened suddenly, realizing something. He murmured in disbelief, finishing the monster’s sentence:

“You want to leave this place and go out there yourself?”

*Leave*. For the monster, this was an unthinkable concept. The Institute guarded Project α with impenetrable security. Its room was equipped with cutting-edge technology, capable of withstanding medium-scale explosions. The defenses were so tight that, aside from Isidor, nothing visible to humans could bypass the security system. Previous tests on α, even when it was enraged or in pain, had never breached this cage.

“Of course, not my true body,” the monster said, rising from the chair. The tendrils of its lower half melted with a sizzle, transforming into human legs. Its clothing mimicked Isidor’s Institute uniform: black dress pants, a white shirt, and the standard white lab coat worn by all researchers. The ordinary attire somewhat concealed its abnormality.

It smiled politely at Isidor, exuding the charm of a refined gentleman, its movements fluid and elegant.

…Yet, as before, there was an uncanny, inhuman quality to it.

This inhuman aura was much fainter than before. The monster explained that by severing its connection to its true body and using a portion of its tendrils to form this human guise, the oppressive feeling it gave off was reduced. Still, a lingering trace of its presence couldn’t withstand prolonged scrutiny.

To an ordinary person, it would feel slightly off at first. That unease would deepen over time, and if unchecked, by the time they realized something was truly wrong, they’d have stared into the abyss for too long.

“—So I need your help,” its voice pulled Isidor’s wandering thoughts back. He instinctively followed its line of reasoning, a perfectly attuned friend.

“Personnel turnover at the Institute is frequent, and information between sectors doesn’t always sync. A couple of unfamiliar faces won’t raise suspicion. I need you to craft a believable identity for me and keep others from getting too close. Just follow me, and I’ll take you where you need to go.”

“Can you do that?”

It asked, lowering its eyes with a hint of anticipation. Isidor took a breath, momentarily at a loss.

“No—no problem. As long as you can leave looking like this, leave the rest to me. I’ll get you a mask from the lab, maybe glasses—they might help. I’m starting to feel like I shouldn’t be saying this, but who cares? This is for the fate of the world. I’m willing to do anything.”

The emerald-eyed researcher tossed out a flimsy excuse about humanity’s fate, quietly swallowing the “for you” at the end of his sentence. He wondered: Had the star been trapped in its cage for so long that it longed to escape and see the world?

Or perhaps, was it truly looking forward to the “escape” they’d discussed the day before?

“Then, step one, Isidor. I’ve had many names.”

Noticing his distraction, the monster, disguised as a human, waved a hand in front of his eyes.

“But I think I should have a name like a human’s.”