The Unexplored Summon Blood Sign:Volume2 Chapter3

Status: Incomplete

2/12 parts completed

   

Stage 03: A World Void of Death, but Not a World of Happiness

“Let’s get started.”

“Get started? …From here!?”

(Stage 03 Open 05/01 00:10)

A World Void of Death, but Not a World of Happiness

Part ?

An archived file stored on analog microfilm for fear of a cyberattack.

From a Government report on enemy forces.

There is an organization known as Killer Intent Antenna.

It is rumored to have between one and two hundred members, but the details are unknown.

They are all specialists taken from the front lines: former police officers, former soldiers, former white hat hackers, former doctors, former firefighters, former reporters, former politicians, former scientists, former pilots, former bankers, former spies, etc. By sharing and teaching their skills within the organization, they thoroughly analyze the actions of those who protect the public order. They are also said to use that to freely slip through the holes of the net, but it is unknown whether that is true or a legend.

Their objective is extremely simple: to search out and eliminate people who deserve to die.

In other words, they are an elite organization of intelligence agents who gather information and assassins who slaughter the people they identify.

Their basis for who “deserves to die” surpasses the interests of a specific religion, nation, corporation, or other such framework and it cannot be changed by external pressure. It may be similar to the concept of “changing history” seen in discussions of time travel. It is entirely unknown what sort of “ideal world” they are attempting to create by killing the people on their list. The construction and maintenance of the organization must require vast amounts of money, so it can at least be assumed they have a reason warranting that sort of investment.

So on the surface they are less of a criminal organization seeking dirty money and more of an ideological group whose actions are based on twisted dogma.

The reason they have not been eliminated – no, have been impossible to eliminate – is simple. They just have that much “power”.

A certain man stood at the top.

The founder’s name was Yasuzumi Reiji.

He was also a skilled summoner known as Illegal Award 910, Telomere’s End, but his life met an unexpectedly simple end.

He committed suicide.

He left an extremely short suicide note, but its authenticity is unknown. There are even many doubts as to whether or not his death was really a suicide.

Regardless, his two-sentence suicide note said the following:

I failed to kill someone who deserved to die. The least I can do is pay for that crime with my life.

Part 2

The sort of van used by foreign delivery companies had the back windows covered with plates. Its mustard yellow coloring stood out like a sore thumb and it was currently stopped in an industrial district on the outskirts of Toy Dream 35 late at night.

All of the seats had been removed from the back and replaced by a stretcher and fluorescent lights.

It resembled an ambulance, but it was not one.

Student Council President Benikomichi Fuuki lay face-down on the stretcher. She only wore the paper underwear used at beauty salons, her long black hair was tied up, and her white back was fully exposed in the light.

Someone whistled lightly.

It was the young male technician who had been grinning inside the van even as she “changed clothes”.

“Now that’s impressive. Not the design I’d expect from a student council president.”

“I would like some maintenance done on it. Just fill in the pattern’s faded colors like this is a coloring book. You can easily make a bit of money that way, right?”

“Well, the age of doing tattoos by hand is over. The machine does all the work, so it’ll be over in no time. But the quicker you want it done, the more it’ll hurt.”

The young male technician readily answered her while moving a hydraulic metal arm and pressing what looked like a sewing machine to the girl’s back.

Yes, this was a mobile tattoo shop.

When Toy Dream’s international revived cities arrived, the local country’s culture and ethics were overwritten by the Western norms. Japanese-style tattoos were still strongly associated with organized crime, but Western tribal tattoos were a common sight.

Benikomichi Fuuki had an angular tribal pattern carved across her back, covering both shoulder blades. Overall, it looked something like drawing out wings with the printed circuits of an electronic circuit board.

However, this was not for fashion.

Just like a collar or handcuffs, it was her symbol of bondage as a vessel.

“Should I use anesthetic?”

“It would be meaningless if you did.”

“Wow, you’re hardcore.”

With the sounds of motors, gears, cranks, and other mechanical parts coming from the box, a burning rather than stabbing pain covered Benikomichi Fuuki’s back.

Even that expert vessel could not deny the pain itself.

But she clenched her teeth. She delighted in finding meaning in this.

“Kids these days (ha ha) always ask me to make it as painless as possible, like this is the dentist or something. I wouldn’t have thought a school’s star pupil would have a personal opinion on how to do tattoos.”

“It’s because I’m a star pupil and from a well-known family that this functions so well as a symbol of bondage.”

“Bondage?”

Yes. Tattoos themselves were not uncommon, but there was a time and a place for them.

This girl was from a well-known family, she was the student council president, and she was close to receiving an important position at the global Toy Dream Company. Her position in society suggested she lived and breathed tea, cakes, pianos, violins, horseback riding, tea ceremonies, and flower arrangements, so this tribal tattoo on her back was truly disastrous.

It was a secret utterly at odds with the impression she gave people.

She could never let anyone see her skin.

That feeling of rejection worked perfectly as a symbol of bondage.

“When your symbol of bondage is reliant on an object, there is a risk of having it stolen or destroyed. So carve it into your body. It can even be a small scar or burn.”

A summoner man had told her of this method long ago. That man was no longer with her, but she smiled at the fact that she continued to follow that rule so faithfully even now.

Summoners were those who accepted their own weakness and then reached for greater heights.

Vessels were those who entrusted their independence to another and then reached for honor.

At least, that was the way she saw it.

That was why she could not escape her dependence on that summoner who was now gone.

The cellphone sitting next to her vibrated.

Even with lasers and ultrasonic waves constantly scanning her skin, she could not move her arms while the work was being done to her back. Doing so would move her shoulder blades. She ignored the phone and it vibrated a second and third time after short breaks of silence.

It was most likely from Hayato. He was clearly waiting for further instructions. He was like a puppy who, after being brought to an unfamiliar land on a trip, looked fearfully over to his family while hiding his usual mischievous personality.

Benikomichi Fuuki gently narrowed her eyes as she looked to the cellphone.

“Your boyfriend?” asked the young technician.

“No. But he is my support.”

She had taken everything of that dead summoner and shoved it onto Hayato, her current partner.

Reaching this point had not been easy. When a vessel’s contract with their summoner was broken, they returned to being a normal person. They forgot everything about the world of the summoning ceremony. That was true even if the summoner died, so if she had not been coincidentally picked up by another summoner, she would never have remembered.

She had deceived that summoner and pretended to obey to keep those memories.

And then she had found the greatest potential.

After achieving some success in educating him for his talent, she had gotten rid of her “temporary home” and made a new contract with that “greatest potential”.

And so this student council president drifted within the warmth of a man who was already dead.

It did not matter if that warmth was artificially created.

It was like transferring over the original flame.

It did not matter if she had to manipulate everything around her.

“But, young lady, are you sure you should be doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Letting some random guy on the street see this shocking secret of yours.”

“You have a mobile shop so you don’t end up with ‘regulars’, right?”

“Ha ha. But a beauty like you will stick in my memory whether I like it or not! How do you know I’m not a bad guy who will order you do to all sorts of nasty things?”

“Oh, there’s no chance of that.”

“Oh, dear. Do I look that harmless?”

“No. Whatever kind of person you are, you’ll forget all about me soon enough.”

“?”

Facts

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