Chapter 0: The Mission That Was Never Meant to Be Won

The courtroom was crowded that day.

Judges and jurors filled the chamber, their voices overlapping before the session even began. Every seat was occupied. Every face carried expectation, suspicion, or indifference. At the center of it all stood Kiryu Masuda, brought to trial for negligence during the Antarctic extermination mission known as “Hive Pulse.”

A mission that was supposed to be easy.

A routine operation.

Instead, it became a suicide mission.

Every member of his unit was killed.
Kiryu alone was found alive—floating unconscious among shattered ice, rescued by local fishermen hours later.

The trial began.

Kiryu was asked to recount everything he experienced.

He closed his eyes briefly, then spoke.

“At first,” he said, “the mission proceeded normally.”

“Observer to Field Command. Scan complete,” an operator muttered from behind the console.
“Report status,” came the reply over the command channel.
“No high-level entities detected. Ground Wave activity remains below the danger threshold. Hostile objects identified are limited to low-class monsters.”

Kiryu stared at the endless stretch of ice ahead of them.

Too wide.
Too quiet.

“Focus the scan on the deepest ice layers,” he said shortly.

“Negative,” the operator replied at once. “Sensors are not detecting massive biomass. If there were a major threat, the system would’ve issued a warning.”

A local guide slowly turned toward them.

“In this place,” he said quietly, “the ice has a name.”

“Identify,” Command ordered.

The Antarctic wind howled sharply as the radio crackled again.

“Observer to Field Command. Scan complete.”
“Report.”
“No high-level entities detected. No Hive Pulse. Hostile objects limited to low-class monsters. Area confirmed safe for charge deployment.”

Several soldiers laughed in relief.
One officer even smirked.

The local guide stepped forward, his face pale.

“Don’t blow up that ice,” he said, his voice trembling. “Whatever is beneath it… let it sleep.”

“Sleep?” a soldier scoffed. “We’re not fairy-tale hunters.”

“If there was something down there,” the operator added, “Hive Pulse would’ve gone off already.”

Brief laughter filled the comm channel.

Kiryu didn’t laugh.

He stared at the massive ice formation before them. The cracks formed a circular pattern—too precise to be natural.
It didn’t look buried.

It looked sealed.

“Abort the operation,” Kiryu said into the HQ channel. “I’m requesting a delay.”

Silence followed.

“Request denied,” HQ replied without hesitation. “There is no supporting data. Do not disrupt the mission.”

“This isn’t a hunch,” Kiryu said, keeping his voice steady. “The local guide—”

“We do not conduct operations based on folklore,” HQ cut in. “Proceed as planned.”

The detonation order was issued.

The first explosion struck the ice.

No reaction.

“See?” someone laughed. “Sleeping nice and deep.”

The second explosion followed. The ground trembled slightly.

“Still stable,” the operator reported. “All parameters normal.”

The third explosion detonated.

The local guide screamed in panic. “STOP! YOU’RE WAKING IT—!”

The ground shook violently. New alarms blared—too late.

“Energy spike detected!” the operator shouted. “Source from below—too late—!”

The ice didn’t collapse.

It moved.

Glowing cracks spread like veins. The massive ice sheet lifted as something too large to be called a living creature surfaced.

Its body stretched like a dragon’s—formed of white bone, dark steel, and ice that hadn’t fully melted. Its wings unfurled, each movement shattering ice like glass. From within its skull cavity burned a pale light—cold and emotionless.

The creature exhaled.

The air froze.

“Massive object detected!” the operator screamed. “Size exceeds all classifications!”

“FIRE!”

Bullets struck its body and bounced off without leaving a mark. Kiryu unleashed magic—its energy froze midair and shattered before touching the creature’s scales.

The dragon roared.

One soldier was crushed beneath its step, the sound of snapping bones echoing clearly. Another was swept by freezing breath, his body locked in ice before collapsing into fragments.

The radio filled with screams.

“WE WERE WRONG—!”
“IT’S IMPERVIOUS—!”
“HELP—!”

Kiryu stood frozen.

There was no strategy.
No escape.

He stepped forward alone.

The magic pistol rose in his hand. The creature lowered its head, staring directly at him. There was no rage in its eyes—only an ancient, boundless hatred.

The massive foot came down.

The ice beneath Kiryu shattered first. He fell with the breaking ice, dragged into the cold, dark ocean. The sounds of battle faded away. His consciousness vanished before his body reached the depths.

Four hours later, a small fishing boat moved slowly between drifting ice fragments.

“There,” someone muttered.

They pulled a body in military uniform onto the deck. His heartbeat was weak—but present. Kiryu coughed violently as salty air filled his lungs, then slipped back into unconsciousness.

He woke up in a small coastal fishing outpost. The smell of diesel and salt filled the room.

“Easy,” someone said softly. “You’re alive.”

Kiryu tried to sit up and failed.

“The others…?” he asked faintly.

No one answered.
The fisherman’s expression was enough.

He was the only one who came back.

Weeks later, Kiryu stood in a military courtroom.

“That wasn’t a low-class monster,” he said flatly. “It was an ancient dragon. The locals call it VORAGH.”

The judge leaned forward. The Grand Commander stood with a cold expression.

“This testimony is highly irregular,” the commander said. “There was no Hive Pulse. No physical evidence. Only the fabricated story of a commander who lost his entire unit.”

“You weren’t there,” Kiryu’s voice trembled. “You didn’t hear them screaming.”

Kiryu stepped forward, emotion finally breaking through. Guards restrained him before he could strike.

The gavel slammed.

“Kiryu Masuda is hereby found negligent in field command leadership. Rank demoted. Salary revoked. Active military access terminated.”

A low murmur spread through the chamber.

“Objection,” a woman’s voice rang out.

A woman with short black hair and yellow eyes stood from the observer’s seat.

“Ayumu Kurosaki. Field analyst and navigation supervisor for the Antarctic mission.”

“Your Honor,” she continued calmly, “Kiryu issued warnings. HQ ignored them. I have the recorded communications.”

Whispers rippled across the room.

One juror leaned toward the judge and whispered rapidly. The judge nodded slowly.

He struck the gavel once.

“After additional consideration,” the judge said at last,
“and under directive from central government, the punishment against Kiryu Masuda will be reduced.”

Kiryu lifted his head.

“On the condition,” the judge continued,
“that he be assigned as an instructor at Horizon Gakuen.”

“I refuse,” Kiryu said without hesitation.

Ayumu looked at him quietly.

“If you can’t fight them on the battlefield,” she said,
“then protect those who haven’t been sent there yet.”

Kiryu fell silent.

The gavel struck three times.

The trial was adjourned.

Later, inside a black government vehicle, Kiryu and Ayumu sat facing each other.

“I can’t teach amateurs,” Kiryu said. “I’m not a babysitter. I’m not suited for this. I should’ve just accepted the original punishment. I deserved it.”

Ayumu opened her tablet and turned it toward him.

“They’re not ordinary kids,” she said. “They’re already trained. They’re just… difficult to control.”

Kiryu looked away.

“This isn’t your fault,” Ayumu continued quietly. “It’s mine. I ignored the warning of someone who knew that land better than anyone else.”

Silence filled the car.

“…When do I start?” Kiryu finally asked.

Ayumu smiled—relieved.

“Monday.”

The car continued forward, disappearing into the city lights.

And somewhere beneath the Antarctic ice, something ancient had fully awakened.