The End of Vacation

I sent a message to my companions the moment I got in the taxi, letting them know I was heading to Fujigasaki Rinka’s mansion, then immediately began reviewing the fight with Famine.

Sure enough, since it was his first appearance, he seemed weaker than he had been in the game. He was still strong enough to slaughter twenty thousand people in the blink of an eye, but he didn’t quite radiate the final-boss aura I remembered from Megacorp’s Youngest Son. Not that I’d fought him particularly well. Without the ability to fly, there wasn’t much I could do.

Next, I used my newly heightened intelligence to dredge up a few scattered memories about Famine. I recalled how, before my possession, players on the community forums had pieced together theories about him. According to their reasoning, because Famine grew by absorbing human life force, he had deliberately targeted a crowded stadium.

If that was the case, then in the original timeline forty thousand people should have died. Now the death toll had dropped to twenty-five thousand. Would that mean Famine had grown weaker too? Or would the insufficient harvest drive him into an even greater frenzy…?

Twenty-five thousand people. It was by no means a small number. When you included their families, the total number of lives shattered by this tragedy was unimaginable. Even someone with mental fortitude as abnormal as mine felt a faint pang of guilt at the sheer scale.

I briefly wondered if I could have done a little better and saved a few more lives, but in the end I chose to think of it as having rescued fifteen thousand people who were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠supposed to die. Yes. If not for me, it wouldn’t have been twenty-five thousand—it would have been forty thousand.

Framing it that way lightened the weight on my chest, if only a little.

“We’ve arrived.”

I pulled my smartphone from my pocket, paid the fare, and stepped out of the taxi. My clothes hadn’t torn during the battle thanks to the armor, so the phone I’d left in my pocket was still intact.

Come to think of it, I’d left my bag in the bathroom. It had only been carrying the statue of the Daughter of the Abyss, but still.

“Junior!”

Mimata Chieri had been waiting at the entrance. The moment she saw me she came running. Her loud voice drew Alice, Kiyohira, and Hanasaki Sayaka outside to greet me as well.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Alice ran her hands over various parts of my body as she asked. I nodded and told her I was really okay.

“U-um… Ryuta, are you… a superhuman?”

Hanasaki Sayaka asked hesitantly. A perfectly natural question. She had watched me transform into a man in black armor right in front of her. Still, there was no need to be completely honest.

“It’s a secret.”

“Ah… right now every news channel is going crazy saying a superhuman carried out a terrorist attack.”

Of course they were. Twenty-five thousand people had died. The United States—and the entire world—was in an uproar. I followed everyone inside, turned on the massive living-room TV, and began flipping through channels.

Every station was in chaos. After cycling through a few, I settled on a news broadcast that had just started and focused on what they were saying.

The screen was plastered with sensational headlines: “Breaking News! Superhuman Terror at Soccer Stadium!” and “26,200 Dead!” Below that, footage of Aitana clashing with Famine and me leaping forward in armor played on repeat.

I’d thought it was around twenty-five thousand, but apparently a thousand more had died than I estimated.

Forty thousand people had been inside that stadium and survived to witness it firsthand. Since the match had been broadcast globally on sports channels, no matter how desperately the U.S. or other governments wanted to hide the existence of superhumans, they wouldn’t be able to suppress this.

Countless people had seen Famine rampaging and Aitana and me fighting against him. Tens of millions had watched it live, then spread the footage across every community and platform they belonged to. The truth could no longer be buried.

A Latina beauty with reddish-brown hair—Aitana—was giving an interview. Even though she was speaking to the camera, soldiers in uniform could be seen moving in the background. It looked like her predetermined future of compulsory military enlistment was already beginning.

Still, in a way it might be good for her. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠If she didn’t have the massive shield of the U.S. military behind her, she would likely face endless temptation, kidnapping attempts, and worse.

Besides, serving in the military would let her raise her level by resolving various conflicts, narrowing the considerable gap between her and Famine.

The next shot showed Famine himself. A man of indeterminate race with gray hair, brown skin, and blue eyes. His image ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lingered on screen while the anchor continued speaking.

Ten million dollars for a terrorist who killed twenty-six thousand people? Wasn’t that a little cheap? The bounty would probably rise the longer Famine continued his atrocities, but right now it was hard to imagine anyone risking their life for such a sum.

Well… maybe there were a few. To me it felt like pocket change for fighting Famine, but for ordinary people ten million dollars was still an enormous fortune.

Naturally, the next segment was about me. They spent several minutes discussing the “mysterious hero” while the people watching beside me kept stealing glances in my direction. It was a little embarrassing; I wished they’d move on already.

Fortunately, there wasn’t much information about me, so the topic changed quickly. The next subject was whether the government had known about the existence of superhumans. Of course they had. Even Dixon, the former soldier currently serving as Han Yuhyeon’s bodyguard, had said he’d seen superhumans on the battlefield. There was no way they didn’t know.

While we were absorbed in the news, the sound of an engine came from outside. It was the distinctive rumble of a gasoline engine—something you rarely heard anymore. I glanced out the window. The source was a camper van.

Vehicles that traveled to remote areas couldn’t always rely on electric charging stations, so some still used gasoline. The engine noise confirmed it.

“Ryuuuta!!!”

The rare beauty with purple hair and red eyes—Fujigasaki Rinka—leaped from the camper van and shouted my name at the top of her lungs. She was wearing a black short-sleeve shirt and green cargo pants. The outfit suited her surprisingly well.

“It’s Rinka-sama…!”

“Rinka-san…”

Hanasaki Sayaka, Fujigasaki Rinka’s ultimate fan, and Kiyohira, who practically worshipped her, both sprinted for the door the moment they heard her voice. Before they could reach it, the front door burst open with a bang and Fujigasaki Rinka strode in, bag slung over her shoulder.

“I’m back!”

Fujigasaki Rinka greeted Kiyohira with a casual “Yo!” before immediately turning to me. Since the only people she knew here were Kiyohira and me, it made sense she’d look for a familiar face first.

“You little rascal!”

She strode straight up to me and pulled me into a tight hug. It felt like she was praising me for a job well done.

“My disciple, Ryuta. You’ve become quite the celebrity, haven’t you? You’re all over the TV! Right?”

“You recognized me right away?”

She must have watched the news on the way here. Since she’d seen the Shinkaiyatsude techniques used by the man in black armor, she would have known instantly it was me.

“Of course I did! Every single move! Those are the techniques your master taught you. It’d be weird if I didn’t recognize them, wouldn’t it?”

“I figured you would. Anyway, let me introduce you to my companions.”

I calmed the excited Fujigasaki Rinka down and introduced everyone except Kiyohira, whom she already knew.

“This cute person with orange hair is my senior from East Weapon and now my personal secretary, Mimata Chieri. This blonde beauty is my cousin, Alice Fitzgerald. And this is Hanasaki Sayaka, a very famous Japanese actress—though I’m not sure if you’d know her, Master.”

“I got so excited to see my disciple that I forgot my manners! Since you’re in my house, I assume you already know who I am. Nice to meet you all!”

After I finished the introductions, Fujigasaki Rinka laughed heartily and shook hands with each of them in turn.

Hanasaki Sayaka looked like she might faint from the handshake. Fujigasaki Rinka, clearly used to that kind of reaction, simply smiled and moved on. Being a global superstar, she probably saw fans pass out on a regular basis.

“By the way, is Kazuhiro doing okay?”

Fujigasaki Rinka suddenly asked, as if the thought had just occurred to her. He had been fine when I last saw him, so unless he’d somehow gotten caught in a shootout, he should still be all right.

“Will he be able to come to the house party tonight…? No, I guess a party wouldn’t be appropriate, would it?”

In a national disaster that had claimed twenty-five thousand lives, throwing a house party would draw massive backlash and savage criticism from the public.

“Let’s just invite Kazuhiro over and have a quiet meal together. Nothing too festive.”

When I suggested canceling the party out of consideration for my master’s public image and simply sharing a meal, Fujigasaki Rinka nodded silently, then suddenly called out to Kiyohira.

“Hey, Kiyohira. Call Kazuhiro and see if he can make it. I have something to discuss with my disciple in private.”

She grabbed me by the back of the neck and dragged me toward the training hall where she had sparred with Kiyohira. Since everyone had heard her say we needed to talk alone, no one followed.

Once we were inside the training hall, Fujigasaki Rinka closed the door and looked at me with serious eyes before speaking.

Her traits and skills are ridiculously flashy, lol.

Rinkatang!

Rinkatang holding a switch and supervising ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠training.

Rinkatang proudly showing off her lats.

Rinkatang suddenly starts dancing.