A Vengeful Retribution

Chapter 30: What It Means To Be Weak

3rd POV

The battlefield lay quiet.
What once echoed with the clash of ultra-performance IS weaponry now faded into the soft wind drifting through the Kyoto hills.

High above, SoVR let out a low, mechanical hum before its form broke apart, dispersing into shimmering particles of light that quickly refracted and folded back into Yap's form—his armor fading, leaving only the battered boy standing, his school jacket torn and stained with blood.

His hands trembled slightly as he touched a gash along his ribs.
Crimson smeared his fingertips. He brought them up to his lips, tasting the metallic tang.

"Mmm. Salt and iron..."

Then he laughed.
A quiet, tired, but somehow content laugh.

"This is her win."
"She wanted to end it. And I gave her that."

He coughed once—wet and sharp—but still kept that grin, the one that sat somewhere between pride and self-loathing.

He limped over to a nearby stone marker at the edge of the shrine garden—far enough from prying eyes—and sat down, exhaling.

Meanwhile, Velzar Ultima hovered just enough to stay afloat under emergency repulsors, its sleek frame scorched and sparking.

Inside, Rei groaned as she hit the emergency retraction switch. The IS clunked and hissed, pulling away as panels locked back into containment, revealing her battered form, one eye bruised, lip split, her breathing shallow and ragged.

"He let me win." She scowled, hitting the nearest console in frustration.

"That bastard let me win..."

But even as she said it, she knew.

He didn't let her win.
He let her live.

Elsewhere, the IS Academy staff had taken control of the monorail and evacuated the students, ensuring no lives were lost during the ambush. Instructors regrouped, damage control underway, and the official story being drafted for the public.

But for Chifuyu, it wasn't the near disaster that left her breathless—it was the fact that Yap Haruto survived all that... and laughed. Like a man who had peeked over the edge of oblivion—and found comfort in it.

Back at the stone marker, Yap tilted his head back, staring up at the sky now shifting into amber twilight.

"You know, SoVR," he whispered, "you and Yalter both talk about strength, domination, evolution..."

He tapped his bloodied knuckles against the stone.

"But it's funny. Every time I get back up, broken ribs and all... it's not either of you keeping me alive."

A pause.

"It's me."

And though SoVR didn't respond with words, there was a stillness within the shared mind.
A quiet acknowledgment.

For tonight, the monsters would sleep.

And the bogeyman of IS Academy—bloodied, bruised, and grinning like a lunatic—remained unbeaten, even in what he called defeat.

In the half-lit crevices of Yap Haruto's psyche, where the mental plane blurred between consciousness and the twisted network that connected him to SoVR, a figure stood in the shadows—Yalter.

Not chained, not shackled—merely watching.

His form was smoke-like, constantly shifting between regal menace and barely-contained chaos. Crimson eyes glowed with faint embers as they locked onto the formless projection of Yap, flickering like a dying candle in the subconscious.