The night deepened.
Rain began to fall again—soft at first, then pounding, as if the city itself was trying to drown out what was coming.
Ryoji felt it before he saw it. The quiet. The unnatural silence that blanketed the backstreets like a storm was about to break. He looked up toward the rooftops, eyes scanning.
They were no longer alone.
Shhk.
A movement—too fast for the eye.
A shadow dropped from above.
Ryoji shoved Aiko behind him. "Down!"
The figure landed with inhuman grace. Black tactical armor. No insignia. No ID. Just a sleek, matte exosuit tailored for killing. The faceplate gleamed—a featureless void.
Then two more dropped beside the first.
Miura's breath caught. "Black Division…"
Ryoji's jaw clenched. "So he really sent them."
The first operative moved. No wasted motion. A blur of limbs and steel.
Ryoji met him head-on.
They clashed violently—blades drawn, fists striking with bone-shattering force. The Black Division wasn't like the other agents. These weren't soldiers. These were exterminators.
Silent. Perfect. Unrelenting.
Ryoji ducked under a sweeping strike, caught a kick mid-air, and twisted—snapping the operative's leg backward at an unnatural angle. The man didn't scream. Didn't even grunt. He just stood up again, realigning the broken joint with a hydraulic hiss.
"Damn," Ryoji muttered. "They're augmented."
Miura fired from cover—tight bursts into the second unit's chest. The rounds hit—nothing. Armor barely dented.
Aiko scrambled for cover, heart hammering.
The third operative moved for her.
But Ryoji was faster.
He shoulder-rammed the enemy mid-stride, pinning him to the wall, then drove a combat knife into the gap between his helmet and collarbone.
Sparks flew. The operative spasmed. Collapsed.
"That's one," Ryoji growled.
Miura launched a flashbang.
BOOM—
White light exploded across the alley, disorienting the second and first units.
Ryoji didn't hesitate—he used the flash to grab Aiko and sprint for the exit.
Miura backed out behind them, laying suppressing fire as the two remaining enemies recovered faster than humanly possible.
They vanished into smoke.
But they weren't gone.
Elsewhere — Agency Black Division HQ
Shirow stood before a glass chamber as another operative emerged—taller than the others. He bore the same armor, but crimson lines pulsed down his arms.
The technician at Shirow's side paled. "Are you really activating him?"
Shirow smiled. "Let's see if Ryoji can survive this."
Back on the Streets — Industrial District
Ryoji, Miura, and Aiko reached a crumbling warehouse on the far end of the docklands. Rain lashed the walls. The place was empty. For now.
Inside, Ryoji collapsed against a crate, blood dripping from a gash above his eye.
Miura checked her mag. "Two clips left."
Ryoji's voice was low. "We won't get another break like this."
Aiko looked between them. "What is the Black Division?"
Miura hesitated.
"They're the last step before the Agency sends a body bag. Silent kill squads. Cybernetic enhancements. No names. No mercy. Shirow only activates them when he wants something… erased."
Aiko's lips trembled. "And now they're after us."
Suddenly—silence fell again.
Too quiet.
Ryoji stood.
"They're here."
From the shadows of the warehouse, a slow mechanical echo grew louder.
Footsteps.
One figure walked forward.
The red lines down his arms pulsed like veins.
He wasn't like the others.
He wasn't human anymore.
Ryoji drew both knives. "Miura, get her out."
The figure cracked his neck.
Then charged.
To be continued in Chapter 23....