PROLOGUE

No. 9 emerged from the rift with a low growl, his massive frame slamming into unfamiliar ground. Dust billowed around him as he staggered to his feet, his claws digging into the soil for support, his body trembling under the weight of his injuries.

His adaptive biology was working overtime as his body was a wreck—his energy reserves nearly depleted—patching together the damage from his battle with Kaiju No. 8 and the instability of the impromptu teleportation, yet his mind burned with questions.

Something was wrong.

The air was different—lighter, yet laced with unfamiliar particles. The ground beneath his claws felt softer, less sturdy than the concrete and steel of the cities he was accustomed to crushing. Even the sky above him, painted in shades of deep blue and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon, seemed almost… alien.

This wasn’t Japan. This wasn’t anywhere he recognized.

He scanned his surroundings, his senses extending outward in search of something familiar. The terrain stretched endlessly into flat savannahs, dotted with sparse clusters of trees and jagged rock formations. Creatures darted through the underbrush—some small and quick, others larger and lumbering. None of them were kaiju.

No. 9 let out a frustrated snarl. The rift had malfunctioned. Instead of delivering him to safety, it had sent him to an unknown place far from the battlefield. Far from Kaiju No. 8.

He needed answers.

Staggering forward, he pushed his senses further, searching for signs of life that matched his understanding of humans. Eventually, in the far distance, he found what he was looking for: a small settlement. The structures were laughably primitive compared to the cities he had once terrorized—simple houses made of clay, thatch, and wood. There were no skyscrapers, no massive steel constructs, no military bases teeming with soldiers.

No. 9 moved closer, his towering form hidden by the tall grass and the failing light of day. As he approached, he observed the creatures inhabiting the settlement. They looked human—but there was something off.

They moved with an ease and confidence he wasn’t used to seeing in humans. These creatures did not live in fear, huddling behind barriers or fleeing from imagined threats. Some carried crude weapons, others tended to livestock, and a few even seemed to be playing games as the sun dipped lower.

Were they truly human? Or something else?

He observed for hours, studying their movements and behaviors. None of them exhibited the desperation he had come to associate with humans in the face of kaiju. And yet, they were undeniably fragile—no different from the countless others he had crushed and consumed before.

No. 9’s patience wore thin. If he couldn’t understand them from observation, he would learn through other means.

As the moon climbed into the night sky, No. 9 made his move. His massive form crept toward the settlement, his body adapting to dampen the sound of his movements. The first human didn’t even have time to scream before his claws enveloped them.

When No. 9 absorbed them, he recoiled. Something unexpected coursed through him.

It wasn’t like his usual assimilation of kaiju. This was something different, deeper—a power that resisted him, pulsing with life and purpose. And with it came fragments of something he couldn’t understand: whispers, alien and incomprehensible, like echoes from an unknowable source.

Intrigued, he took another. And another.

As he consumed more, the whispers grew louder, the fragmented voices pulling at his mind. They were connected, he realized—threads of some larger web he couldn’t yet see. And he realised then, that these humans were unlike the ones he had known. Their lives were simpler, yet their thoughts hinted at forces far beyond their understanding. Forces that even No. 9 couldn’t quite beyond his own understanding.

He learned their language—bits and pieces, scattered words and ideas. “Triggers,” “powers,” and “capes” stood out among the confusion of their thoughts. There were others in this world, ones who could do things beyond what was natural. These humans spoke of them in awe and fear.

For the first time, No. 9 felt a flicker of genuine curiosity.

These “parahumans” might hold the key to his survival, his evolution. He didn’t yet know the source of their abilities, but he would find out. And when he did, he would claim it for himself.

For now, he would remain hidden. He would learn. This world was a mystery, but it was also an opportunity. His defeat at the hands of Kaiju No. 8 had left him broken and incomplete—but here, in this strange place, he could rebuild.

No. 9 let out a low, guttural chuckle as he retreated into the night.

This world would not be prepared for him.