CHAPTER 0: THE FIRE AT TOKYO HARBOR

The morning was unnaturally dark. Cold wind crawled across the abandoned docks of old Tokyo Harbor, carrying fog thick enough to swallow sound itself. For a moment, the world felt frozen… until the silence shattered.

Dozens of helicopters roared across the sky.

SSFA — Saint Special Forces Army — descended on the harbor like a steel storm. Their searchlights cut through the fog as pilots barked updates through their comms.

“Crossbow-1, target area in sight. You are cleared to land.”

One by one, the aircraft touched down on the cracked concrete. Black-armored soldiers leapt out, rifles raised, helmets reflecting faint light. They fanned out with practiced precision, sweeping the perimeter.

“This is Crossbow-2. No visuals. Sector clear.”
“Crossbow-3 reporting nothing suspicious in Sector One.”

The reports kept coming, feeding into the headset of the SSFA field commander — a tall man in ash-gray armor who had just arrived.

He spoke into his comm calmly.

“Command, no signs of Resistance weapon stockpiles. Area appears vacant.”

A soldier approached him quickly.

“Sir, we’re not picking up anything unusual. No crates, no movement—nothing.”

The commander narrowed his eyes.

“Keep searching. Don’t let the silence fool you.”

Above them, more helicopters circled back — this time gunships, their cannons ready, scanning from the air. The fog swirled beneath their rotors.

Then—

“Captain! I found something!”

The commander rushed over.

“Report, Corporal.”

The younger soldier swallowed hard and pointed.
A warehouse door had been forced open, revealing rows of rifles, ammunition crates, and several IED-type explosives hidden beneath tarps.

“F—… Get the bomb disposal team here now before the terrorists detonate—”

A single gunshot cracked through the air.

The corporal collapsed instantly — shot clean through the neck.

Chaos erupted.

Automatic fire from an AK echoed across the harbor.

“Resistance! Contact! All units return fire!”

But the SSFA weren’t fighting amateurs.

The Resistance fighters moved like shadows.

Inside the warehouse, a towering man with rough black hair and scars across his face finished arming an explosive trigger.

“Saitou! Get the boat ready! I’ve set every trap we need.”

Saitou, younger and trembling, hesitated.

“A-Asumu… are you sure this plan will work? Are you sure he… will hear us?”

Asumu smirked despite the gunfire shaking the walls.

“He’ll know. ARK always knows.”

“But—”

“Just get ready to leave!”

More shots rang out. Resistance fighters fell back toward the docks as Asumu continued covering them. But luck didn’t last. A stray bullet tore into his leg — another hit his stomach.

He grunted.

“Damn… I’m too old for this.”

“Asumu-san!” Saitou cried.

“Go! I’ll hold them off!”

“I won’t leave you—”

“Idiot! This is an order!”

Renji — the android — grabbed Saitou’s arm.

“We need to move. Now.”

Asumu limped toward the center of the warehouse. SSFA soldiers surrounded him, rifles raised.

He lit a cigarette.

“Asumu Misato. By the authority of the SSFA, you are under arrest for treason and for attacks against Crossai—”

Asumu flicked the cigarette.

It bounced once.

Twice.

The metal pin of a grenade clattered onto the floor.

“For the Saintless,” he whispered.

BOOM.

The explosion ripped through the IED stockpile.

A massive fireball consumed the entire harbor.

Shockwaves blew out windows across Tokyo.

From their hidden island base, Resistance members watched the rising smoke. Those sheltered underground felt the ground tremble beneath them.

Saitou, eyes red, collapsed to his knees.

To him, Asumu wasn’t just a fighter.
He was father, teacher, protector of every “Impure” child abandoned by the system.

Renji placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Commander Saitou… your orders?”

Saitou wiped his tears.

“Listen, all of you. We will not let Asumu-san’s sacrifice be in vain.”

He rose to his feet.

“Starting today, I will lead you. We fight for freedom — and we fight so ARK will see the truth of our struggle.”

The bunker erupted in shouts of determination.

A lone woman whispered a prayer.

“May ARK-sama hear us.”

And he did.

In the center of Tokyo, hidden beneath a tattered black cloak, ARK stared at the giant videotron broadcasting the “official news.”

The regime claimed it was merely a demolition operation.
A scheduled clearing of old land.
No casualties.
No Resistance.
No truth.

ARK clicked his tongue.

“Tch.”

His golden eyes reflected the lies on the screen — and the promise of what was to come.