Chapter 3: When Instinct Fails

Ursavore did not give chase.

It moved like a brown bear in the wild—heavy, patient, deliberate. Every swing of its massive arms was not meant to strike, but to force its opponents to move exactly where it wanted them.

“Don’t face it head-on!” Akane shouted as she pulled one of the students away.

Ursavore slammed the ground.

Concrete shattered. A shockwave tore across the courtyard. Akane evaded at the last second, her body nearly thrown aside.

Milena moved laterally, maintaining distance. The magic pistol in her hand did not fire recklessly. She waited—like a hunter who knew every bullet meant the difference between life and death.

“Agnes,” she said quickly. “Analyze the target. Now.”

Her tactical watch lit up. A thin hologram appeared.

“GWE-B unit identified,” the female voice replied, calm and cold.
“Ursavore Groundbreak. Movement pattern resembles a territorial predator. Recommendation: avoid direct confrontation.”

“There’s no evacuation route,” Milena replied. “The buildings have collapsed.”

Ursavore struck the side of the structure.

The building did not collapse gradually.

It fell all at once.

“—WAIT!”

Akane turned.

One of the students stumbled. Her hand reached out in panic, grasping for anything. Their eyes met—only a few steps apart.

Akane moved.

Too late.

The wall collapsed between them, severing the distance in a single violent impact.

“SENSEI—!”

The voice was cut off.

Dust swallowed everything.

Akane stood frozen, her hand still reaching toward a space that no longer existed.

Milena stared at her sensor display.

Two signals blinked… then vanished.

“…Buried,” she whispered. Not a conclusion. A denial.

Ursavore released a low roar. Not victory—warning.

It turned, its massive body now facing the two of them.

There were no options left.

“Agnes,” Milena said, her jaw tightening. “Tactics.”

The hologram flickered.

“Warning,” Agnes replied.
“Target displays active tactical adaptation. Intelligence level exceeds that of standard GWE entities.”

Akane snapped her head toward Milena.
“Monsters… can think?”

“The target is reading attack patterns,” Agnes continued.
“Repeated strategies will fail.”

Ursavore took one step forward.

The stamina sensors on their wrists lit up yellow. Then orange.

“Then,” Akane said, her voice trembling but firm, “we don’t give it time to think.”

They attacked.

Not head-on—baiting. Akane moved aggressively, drawing its attention. Milena circled through the rubble, firing at armor joints.

Ursavore waited.

Then struck.

The ground split apart. Akane was flung back, slamming hard into a wall. Her breath was knocked out of her. Her sensor turned red.

Milena fired again—her last round.

No effect.

“Stamina critical,” Agnes reported.
“Survival probability: below ten percent.”

Akane let out a small, bitter laugh.

“Looks like… we failed.”

Milena slowly lowered her pistol. Her hands trembled, but her eyes never left Ursavore.

“If this is where it ends,” she said, “at least we didn’t run.”

Ursavore raised its arm.

A massive shadow swallowed the light.

Then—

SHOOOOT.

A single shot.

The sound was not loud.
Not dramatic.

Yet Ursavore stopped.

Cracks of light spread from the impact point—then the giant body shattered into fragments of light and vanished.

Akane froze.

Milena’s eyes widened.

A man stood beyond the fading smoke.

Kiryu Masuda.

“Y-you?!” Milena shouted. “What are you doing here?! Get away! You know what you’re facing—!”

Kiryu gave a small smile.

“I know.”

Akane stared at the empty space where the rubble had been.

“…Those two students,” she said quietly. “We failed…”

Kiryu exhaled slowly.

Akane looked up, her anger erupting.

“HOW CAN YOU BE THIS CALM?!”
“THIS IS A BATTLEFIELD! THEY DIED!”

Kiryu met her gaze head-on.

“Precisely because this is a battlefield,” he said flatly,
“there is no room for comfort.”

He stepped forward once.

“The battlefield does not care about good intentions.
It does not care about popularity.
It does not care about talent.”

Silence fell.

“If you think this is a game,” Kiryu continued,
“you’ll die before you even have time to regret it.”

He snapped his fingers.

The world faded.

Smoke vanished. Rubble returned to its original state. The alarms stopped.

Two students stood several meters away—unharmed, alive, confused.

“…A hologram?” Milena whispered.

“A simulation,” Kiryu replied.
“Virtual holograms. Including Ursavore.”

Akane stood frozen. Her knees nearly gave out, relief and anger crashing together.

“The principal ordered all staff and students to act,” Kiryu continued.
“You weren’t tested to win.”

He looked at both of them.

“You were tested to not leave anyone behind.”

Akane bowed deeply.

“…Please forgive us, Sensei.”

Milena followed, lowering her head.
“We misjudged.”

“We entered Horizon Gakuen,” Akane said,
“not for fame or recognition.”

“But to protect others,” Milena continued.
“From monsters.”

Kiryu fell silent.

“Protecting…” he murmured.
“Make sure you understand what that truly means.”

He turned away.

“Lesson over for today.”

Akane and Milena exchanged glances.
Then, together—

“Thank you, Sensei.”

The door opened.

The principal entered, clapping his hands.

“Impressive. You still have three students left to face, Kiryu.”

He smiled faintly.

“The problem is… their wounds run far deeper.”

Kiryu stopped walking.

“…Understood.”

And within Horizon Gakuen, the real trial had only just begun.

Later that night, after showering in his quarters, Kiryu reviewed the remaining student profiles on his tablet. He remained calm—until one name made him freeze.

“…This child… could it be?”

The screen glowed softly in the darkness.