Chapter 4 — The Beast of Nobunaga

The Resistance’s counteroffensive had begun. Convoys moved street by street, pushing into the ruins of Tokyo. Gunfire echoed between broken skyscrapers, and for a moment, the survivors believed they were winning back their city.

But belief often died faster than bullets.

The ground trembled. A shadow rose from the smoke, its armor grotesque, its presence overwhelming. Two crimson eyes glared at the Resistance soldiers, and in its clawed hand was a katana burning with malevolent energy.

The soldiers froze. Whispers filled the air.

“That’s… it.”
“The one they call… Nobunaga Beast.”

This was no ordinary Soul Beast. It had absorbed the soul of a legendary warlord, twisting history into horror.

“Form up!” Rika barked, her violet eyes sharp as she drew her blade. Her squad obeyed, opening fire. BRAKKA! BRAKKA! BRAKKA! Bullets struck the monster’s armor but only chipped it. Nobunaga raised his sword and charged.

CLANG! CLANG! Sparks rained as Rika met his strikes head-on. Katana against katana, her every move mimicking the style she had witnessed from the Revenant. She dodged, countered, her breath ragged but her eyes steady.

The two clashed like true duelists. Steel sang. The Resistance held their breath as the commander fought with all she had.

But Nobunaga was no ordinary foe. His blade came down with monstrous force, splintering stone. One strike nearly cleaved through her head—only for Nishimura to fire, the shot glancing off the beast’s shoulder.

“Commander, MOVE!” Nishimura shouted.

From the flank, Yanagi—a blonde woman clad in prototype Nanto-Tech armor—fired a charged rifle. ZZAAP! The blast hit Nobunaga square in the chest, sending the monster stumbling back in rage.

Rika collapsed to the ground, gasping, blood dripping from her arm. Her squad rushed to cover her, but the monster roared, shaking the ruins.

“He’s… furious,” Yanagi whispered, her hands trembling around her rifle.

Nobunaga’s crimson eyes locked onto Rika. He raised his katana again, ready to finish her where she lay.

And then it happened.

BOOM!

A single shot rang out from the ruins. Nobunaga staggered, his blade scraping against the ground. From the smoke, a figure appeared—black hood, crimson mask, katana gleaming in hand.

The Revenant had returned.

Gasps erupted among the Resistance. Brad’s camera zoomed in, his voice shaking. “Viewers… y-you’re seeing this live! The masked hunter—he’s real! He’s here!”

Koyomi’s voice followed, her usual cheer tempered by awe. “The Lone Wolf… he’s facing Nobunaga himself!”

The Revenant stepped forward, silent, his katana raised. Nobunaga roared, and the two clashed.

CLANG!
SHHHK!
Steel met steel in a storm of sparks. The duel mirrored legends of old—samurai against samurai, fighting amidst the ruins, their silhouettes framed by fire and falling ash.

Rika, half-conscious on the ground, watched through blurred eyes. Her heart pounded. This was no ordinary battle. This was something out of history, out of myth.

The Resistance dared not interfere. They could only watch as the Revenant and Nobunaga fought with such ferocity it seemed the earth itself would split.

Koyomi whispered into her mic, her hands trembling as she gripped it tighter. “This… this is not just survival anymore. This is history being written. For everyone watching… remember this moment. Because humanity is fighting back.”

The broadcast carried across the world. Survivors huddled in shelters, soldiers in bunkers, children in refugee camps—they all watched the battle between a beast wearing the soul of a warlord, and a masked revenant who refused to bow.

And though the outcome was yet unknown, one thing was certain:
Hope no longer belonged to whispers.
It had a face. A mask. A blade.