This week, people's emotions all over the world have been on a rollercoaster, unable to calm down.
This week, a Level 3 Kaiju codenamed "Blade Head" crashed into everyone's attention.
This week, Blade Head led two other Level 3 Kaiju—Raging Shark and Giant Elephant—stirring up chaos worldwide. People were terrified by Blade Head's presence, because it seemed to show a certain degree of intelligence. Everyone was alarmed, unsure if this meant all Level 3 Kaiju had evolved to a much higher stage. If monsters gained intelligence and cunning, combined with their unmatched strength, humanity might as well bow out of this war for survival.
Blade Head led its two underlings to attack major cities everywhere. But it never lingered long—its real target seemed to be the Mecha Hunters. One after another, Mecha Hunters that were supposed to be the hunters ended up as the hunted, and the number of usable mechas plummeted. Blade Head seemed to know it couldn't mess with the fifth-generation mechas, so whenever a Gen Five showed up to save the day, it would turn tail and run without a second thought.
If the Kaiju fought to the death, Blade Head wouldn't be much to worry about—any of the active Gen Five mechas could take it down. But if it just keeps running away, it's almost impossible to chase down. It can fight, it can run, it advances and retreats—just like that, Blade Head has humanity backed into a corner.
TV channels are running Blade Head coverage twenty-four seven—some programs try to debunk rumors and calm people down, others just hype up the panic. But most of the news isn’t good. Today, which country got attacked; tomorrow, which Mecha Hunter got destroyed. The public is getting anxious and restless.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the research institute has just released the latest update. Based on preliminary observations, the other two Level 3 Kaiju don’t show signs of intelligence, so the top priority is to capture Blade Head. Professor, how do you think we can catch Blade Head?"
"In my opinion, no matter how fast the Kaiju evolve, there’s no way they can catch up to millions of years of human progress. We need a plan: lure Blade Head out, catch it alive, and then slice it up for research!"
"Professor, Blade Head has already shown strong escape skills, and right now the Kaiju monitoring network can barely track its movements. Given its intelligence, if this operation fails, won’t it just get smarter and never fall for our tricks again?"
"That’s possible. So to be absolutely sure, we need the Berserker to step in. If Berserker joins the hunt, our chances of catching Blade Head go up by fifty percent."
“I’m with you on that, but where’s Berserker? It’s been more than six days and Berserker hasn’t made a single appearance. Its pilot seems to be tangled up in some mess, but whatever that is, I’m speaking for millions when I say: let that drama go to hell! We need Berserker, and we need it now!”
The global cry for Berserker just keeps getting louder. Folks are hitting up every possible channel to pressure the Hunter Organization. Petitions, protests, mobs with signs—some hotheads even brought Molotovs to the government’s front door, threatening to go down with the so-called useless officials if Blade Head isn’t stopped.
People’s nerves have been stretched to the breaking point in this madhouse of a world, and Blade Head showing up was the final straw. The Hunter Organization is getting slammed by tidal waves of pressure, and every staffer is running around like their hair’s on fire. Even the main office at Hunter Academy has sent a flood of folks out to the branch bases.
Even the old, retired mechas in the hangar got dragged out and rushed into action. Everyone who could pilot—even the retirees—got suited up. Cost laid down the law: every base must have at least three mechas ready. Doesn’t matter if they’re any good—if they can just stand there and look tough, that’s enough. At least don’t let the monsters outnumber us.
When those three Kaiju show up together, the plan is simple: stall! Stall for every minute, every second—just keep dragging it out until backup rolls in. If the timing’s right, maybe we can gang up on them. Three Level 3 Kaiju have basically turned into prickly porcupines—no one knows how to bite them.
Hunter Academy is practically a ghost town now; most of the staff have scattered to other places.
But some folks are still hanging around, doing something the public can’t wrap their heads around—holding meetings. Same conference room, same screens, same faces. Cost is giving a stern speech. After just six days, the guy who used to look unshakable now has cheeks so hollow you could store spare change in them—classic burnout.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the board, we’re ready, the plan’s set. As soon as Blade Head shows up, we’re confident we can take it down. But I urge you to put the controversy over the pilot, ‘The Teacher,’ on ice for now,” Cost said, eyes glued to the screens. “Berserker is absolutely essential. We can…”
“No, Cost, you’ve already blown it.” The skinny old man jumped in. “Ever since the Level 3 Kaiju popped up, we’ve been losing ground left and right. Instead of dumping truckloads of cash on your useless crew, we should pull out of the Mecha Hunter program and put our money into the next big thing. Feast your eyes—Ring Sea Wall! That’s our new defense.” With that, the old man started his demo, leaving Cost in the dust.
Cost finally snapped and yelled, “You heartless lunatic, you moron! Do you even get what we’re up against? There’s a wormhole at the bottom of the Pacific spewing monsters nonstop—nobody knows when the next Kaiju will show! Right now, Blade Head’s only got two underlings, but if we don’t shut this down, it’ll have three, four—an army! Even if you build a wall ten kilometers thick, you won’t stop them!”
The meeting broke up in a huff. Cost glared at the special agent like he was staring down his arch-nemesis. The agent just shrugged with a ‘what are you gonna do?’ look, flashed a grin, and strolled off.
As soon as he ducked into a hidden corner, the young man whipped out his phone, slapped on a chip, set up anti-eavesdropping gear, and answered the call with a respectful, "Hello, sir, it’s me."
The skinny old man’s voice blasted through the phone, practically foaming at the mouth: "What’s wrong with you? Can’t even handle a simple job! Five hours? I want Berserker out of commission—permanently! In those five hours, who knows what Cost and that fatso will cook up behind closed doors—maybe the big guy will flip again! If you don’t do what you’re supposed to, can you handle the fallout?"
The young man instantly switched from panic to cocky. "Don’t worry, sir, I’ve got a plan. The five-hour line is just smoke and mirrors. Berserker won’t see the battlefield. Whether it’s The Teacher or The Queen, neither of them is slipping past my trap."
"Hmph, you’d better have your act together, or else…"
"Relax, sir, my plan’s foolproof. Whatever you and the big shots want, it’ll go off without a hitch!"
"Don’t mention those people! Remember—they don’t exist, at least not right now, capisce?"
"Got it, got it!"
Beep—the call ended. The young man wiped sweat from his forehead and stashed his phone. Ha, things are about to go my way: Cost, that sucker, is totally tangled up in my web of political drama and still hasn’t figured it out. If I nail this today, I’ll be living large—power, money, status, the whole shebang!
But just as he was lost in his daydreams, he spun around and nearly jumped out of his skin—someone was standing right behind him. For all his ‘secret agent’ skills, he hadn’t noticed her at all.
It was none other than Jill Young.
“Cost, you!” The old man was fuming. “Every screw-up is on you, you blockhead, and now you’re blaming me?”
The two kept at it, interrupting each other—neither letting the other get a word in edgewise. Soon enough, the board meeting turned into a yelling match over the screens. The rest of the board just stared at each other, not knowing whose side to take. Not that the little guys’ opinions mattered—the big bosses always called the shots.
“Enough! All of you, zip it!” roared the fat old man in the middle, instantly reining in the mess. As Chairman, his word was law. He took a couple of breaths and finally said, “Cost, Berserker’s pilot is up for murder. That’s huge. If we screw this up, the whole organization’s image tanks. More importantly, we don’t know if he’ll lose it again. Honestly, I’m worried about the pilot’s mental state. If Berserker goes haywire in a critical fight, we’re toast.”
Cost shook his head, about to jump in, but the Chairman raised a hand to stop him. “But this is a crisis, so we have to roll the dice. Is Berserker a hero or the apocalypse? Before we bet, I want to hear from our special agent.”
A young guy who’d been lurking in the corner stepped up and gave a respectful bow.
The Chairman’s stare was so intense it could flatten a regular person. “Now, give us the rundown on The Teacher’s mental state.”
Under the Chairman’s glare, the young man nearly forgot how to breathe, but after a second he managed a professional smile. “Chairman, the preliminary assessment is… we got nothing. The subject doesn’t react to any outside info, so we can’t judge yet. But the experts are on it—we’ll have a result in five hours.”
“Five hours…” The Chairman looked at Cost. “Can we wait that long?”
Cost’s answer was blunt: “Not even a minute!”
“Come on, Cost. Give the experts a shot, give me a shot, heck, give the world a shot.” The Chairman made the call: “That’s it—five hours from now, I want the results. Meeting adjourned.”