Kaiju No.8: Monarch of Shadows

The cockpit of the JDF stealth jet, the Karasu, was a bubble of quiet, high-tech efficiency against the screaming wind. Kikoru Shinomiya sat in the co-pilot's seat, fully clad in her custom-designed, golden-hued battle suit. The armor felt less like a shield and more like a second skin, a familiar comfort in a deeply unfamiliar situation.

Across from her, Sung Jin-Woo sat in the pilot's seat, his hands resting calmly on the controls. He had downloaded the jet's operational manual directly into his brain in the five minutes it took for Kikoru to get her gear. He flew the multi-billion-yen aircraft with the bored competence of a man driving a familiar car. He hadn't asked for a co-pilot. He didn't need one. Kikoru was just… there. A passenger with a very large axe strapped to the seat behind her.

The silence between them was thick and charged. Kikoru kept replaying his conditions in her head. If you get in my way, you will die. It was the most terrifying and exhilarating thing anyone had ever said to her. It was a challenge, and she was determined to meet it.

"You're nervous," Jin-Woo stated, not looking at her. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, but his senses were attuned to everything in the cockpit, including the frantic, elevated rhythm of her heart.

"I am not," Kikoru lied instantly, her back straightening. "I'm assessing tactical parameters."

"Your heart is beating at 130 beats per minute. Your body temperature is elevated by half a degree. You're leaking adrenaline into your bloodstream," he recited, the data flowing from him as if he were reading a medical monitor. "You are nervous. Or excited. The physiological responses are nearly identical. Which is it?"

Kikoru's jaw clenched. Being read so easily, so clinically, was infuriating. "Maybe I'm just excited to see what a so-called Monarch looks like when she's wiped from existence," she retorted.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Jin-Woo's lips. "Good. Excitement is better than fear. Fear makes you hesitate. Excitement makes you reckless. I can work with reckless."

They flew on in silence for a time, crossing over the Japanese coastline and heading south. Below them, the world was a patchwork of green mountains and blue sea. It was peaceful, beautiful, and utterly oblivious to the cosmic war being waged in its shadows.

As they approached the island of Kyushu, the atmosphere began to change. The sky, once a clear, brilliant blue, took on a hazy, orange-red tint. A fine layer of ash, invisible from a distance, began to whisper against the jet's canopy.

"We're getting close," Kikoru said, her voice low. The instruments on her console began to flicker. "Energy readings are off the charts. It's distorting our sensors."

"I don't need sensors," Jin-Woo said. He could feel it. The Monarchess's power was a palpable presence now, a wave of heat and intoxicating perfume that washed over his senses. It was a siren's call that grew louder and more insistent with every mile. He could feel the land itself humming with her energy, the magma chambers deep beneath the earth stirring in response to her will.

They crested the final mountain range, and the view that unfolded before them was a scene from a primal apocalypse.

Mount Aso was no longer just a volcano. It was a throne.

The central caldera, miles wide, was filled not with rock and steam, but with a roiling, living sea of lava. The heat was so intense it warped the air, creating shimmering mirages. But this was not a natural eruption. The lava glowed with a fierce, intelligent light, pulsing in time with a slow, cosmic heartbeat. At the very center of the caldera, a spire of obsidian, impossibly smooth and black, rose from the molten depths, reaching a thousand feet into the ash-choked sky.

And on the pinnacle of that spire, a figure sat.

Even from miles away, she was unmistakable. The Karasu's enhanced optics zoomed in, displaying her image on the main screen.

She was a being of fire and flesh. Her form was that of a statuesque woman with skin the color of cooling embers, cracked with veins of pure, molten gold. Her hair was a cascade of living flame, flowing and dancing in a wind that didn't exist. She wore no clothes, only intricate jewelry forged from obsidian and pulsating rubies that clung to her divine form. Her beauty was terrifying, absolute, and utterly inhuman. She was the Monarchess of Lust and Flame, and she was waiting for them.

As the jet approached, the air grew thick and heavy, as if they were flying through honey. The jet's engines began to whine in protest.

"The engines are overheating! The air density is increasing!" Kikoru yelled over the alarms.

"She's flexing," Jin-Woo said calmly, his hands steady on the controls. "Testing our resolve."

With a casual flick of his wrist, he pushed the throttles forward. He coated the jet's exterior with a thin, invisible layer of his own shadow mana, protecting it from the oppressive heat and pressure. The alarms quieted. The jet stabilized.

He had just answered her test with a flex of his own.

He brought the Karasu to a hover a mile from the obsidian spire. The heat radiating from the lava sea below was immense, yet inside their mana-infused bubble, it was perfectly calm.

[You came,] the Monarchess's voice echoed in Jin-Woo's mind, a sultry purr that vibrated with satisfaction. [And you brought a toy with you. How quaint.]

Her gaze, like two molten suns, shifted from Jin-Woo to Kikoru. Kikoru felt the psychic touch like a physical brand, an invasive presence that saw every insecurity, every fear, and every secret desire she possessed. She shuddered, her grip tightening on her controls.

"I am NOT a toy," Kikoru snarled, speaking aloud to the being in Jin-Woo's head.

The Monarchess's laughter boomed through the psychic space. [Oh, it speaks! Adorable. Tell me, little soldier, do you desire him? Do you burn for the cold king? I can smell the wanting on you. It's a delicious scent.]

Kikoru's face went white, then crimson. The Monarchess had just seen into the deepest, most confusing corner of her heart and broadcast it like a weather report.

Before Kikoru could react, Jin-Woo's own mental voice cut through the air like a shard of ice. "Enough games. I am here. State your terms."

The Monarchess's fiery gaze shifted back to him. Her expression turned from playful to serious. The air grew heavy once more.

[My terms are simple, Shadow King,] she purred. [The Architects want to unmake this world. I want to rule it. I have an army. You have an army. Our powers are complementary. Shadow and Flame. Death and Desire. We would be unstoppable.]

She uncoiled from her throne, rising to her full, magnificent height.

[Land your little ship. Come down to my throne. Kneel with me, not before me. Accept my offer, and we will seal our alliance. Refuse… and I will melt that pretty little toy of yours and add your shadows to my collection.]

She extended a hand, her palm open in invitation. From the sea of lava below, a solid bridge of black basalt rose, connecting the caldera's edge to the base of her spire.

It was an invitation. And a threat. The choice was his.

Jin-Woo looked at the bridge, then at the waiting goddess of flame. He turned to Kikoru, whose face was a mask of fury and humiliation.

"Stay with the jet," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Do not leave it for any reason. If that bridge retracts, you get out of here. That's an order."

Without waiting for a reply, he stood up, opened the rear ramp of the jet, and stepped out into the blistering, ash-filled air. He stood on the edge of the caldera, a lone, black figure against a backdrop of hellfire, and began his long walk toward the burning throne.