With the constraints of Orario's "Great Compromise" temporarily bypassed by the System's reach, Genji did not merely arrive; he manifested.
He descended from the rift as if the air itself were carved into a grand, invisible staircase. Each step sent a silent, crystalline ripple through the void—not the flashy discharge of a mage, but the sheer, agonizing weight of divine authority pressing against the fragile physics of a mortal world. Below, the academy had fallen into a tomb-like silence. The "armed girls" stood like statues, their bamboo and steel heavy in their hands, paralyzed by the sight of a man walking on the sky.
Genji came to a halt ten meters from the principal's office. His gaze, dark and piercing, cut through the reinforced, bulletproof glass as if it were parchment, locking onto the girl within.
Their eyes met: the God of War and the Empress of a small, bored world.
Genji spoke. His voice didn't travel through the air; it resonated within the very marrow of those who heard it, a frequency that demanded attention.
"Do you wish to understand the meaning of life?" he asked, the classic invitation of the divine transformed into a heavy, soul-striking decree. "Do you wish to know what it truly means to be alive?"
Inside the office, Amaha Kirukiru didn't flinch. She didn't panic. Instead, a slow, predatory smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. The suffocating boredom that had been her constant companion for years vanished, replaced by a white-hot spark of absolute exhilaration.
"Interesting," she whispered, her eyes burning. "If you can truly make me feel something, then do with me what you will."
The moment her words trailed off, the frame of reality seemed to skip.
There was no sound, no rush of wind, and no afterimage. One millisecond, Genji was outside in the sky; the next, he stood less than half a meter from her, his reflection clear in her widened pupils.
"I sense a challenge in your heart," Genji noted, his voice a low hum. "A mortal daring to test a God... such ambition is rare even in the world I call home."
He didn't resent her spirit. In Orario, the Level 6 and 7 monsters of the Loki and Freya Familias shared that same madness—the desire to touch the sun. He looked down at her, watching her muscles coil and tense like high-tension wires.
"Then come," he invited. "Show me your 'Life'."
Whoosh—
The air exploded.
Kirukiru Amou moved with a speed that transcended biology. Her center of gravity plummeted, her lead foot shattering the floor tiles beneath her as she transformed her entire body into a catapult of raw, concentrated violence. Her hands became Nukite—spear-hands—their tips shimmering with the hardened, metallic luster of years of macabre conditioning.
Ryukyu Ancient Martial Arts: Uechi-ryu.
In Genji's mind, the attack didn't just happen; it was dissected. The authority of the [Lord of War] laid bare every muscular rhythm, every ounce of torque, and every lethal trajectory as if he were reading a blueprint. He saw the secrets of her style more clearly than the masters who had birthed it centuries ago.
"Too slow," he whispered.
BANG!
A dull, heavy shockwave erupted between them. Kirukiru's hand-knife, a strike capable of shearing through structural steel, was repelled by an invisible, irresistible wall of force inches from Genji's chest. The divine pressure didn't just stop her; it tore her stance apart.
The force bypassed her "iron-bone" defense and surged directly into her nervous system. It was a strike calculated to humble a seasoned Level 1 adventurer.
"Pfft—"
A fine mist of crimson bloomed from her fingertips as the capillaries burst under the sheer atmospheric pressure of his defense. Kirukiru was launched backward, her body a blur as she slammed into the massive oak desk behind her. The heavy wood disintegrated into splinters.
She sprawled amidst the wreckage, clutching her hand as bright red blood began to patter against the floor. Drip. Drip.
Pain.
It was an agonizing, searing sensation she hadn't felt since her rise to the top. It felt as if her soul were being flayed. And yet, as she looked at her trembling, blood-slicked hands, the smile on her face grew wider—distorted by a manic, fanatical joy.
"Is this... blood?" she hissed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Is this what it feels like to be outmatched?"
She looked up at Genji, her eyes reflecting a terrifying devotion.
Genji watched her, a genuine glimmer of respect in his eyes. The strike he'd used would have shattered the ribs of most mortals, but she had absorbed it with her flesh alone, emerging with nothing but burst vessels and a few cracks. Her physical floor was already equivalent to a low-level adventurer in plate armor. With a Falna, she would be a catastrophe.
Before he could offer her his hand, however, the Empress made a move that surprised even a God.
She didn't lung again. She didn't reach for a weapon.
Without hesitation, she dropped to one knee amidst the splinters of her office. She lowered the head that had never bowed to any human, pressing her forehead toward the ground in a gesture of absolute, terrifying submission.
"God," she rasped, her voice trembling with the thrill of the hunt. "Take me with you. Take me to the place where I can truly live... and truly die."
Genji looked down at his first recruit. The Empress only respected the strong, and he had just shown her the strength of the Heavens.
"Very well," Genji said, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "But know this, Kirukiru: In my world, you are no longer the apex. You are the challenger. Are you prepared to be the underdog again?"