Chapter 4: The Miracle of Modern Medicine

That night, Yuki persuaded his senior, Ayu, to go home and get some rest. His condition had stabilized; there was no need for someone to stay by his side all night. If he needed anything, he could always press the call button by his bed.

The patient in the next bed had already been discharged. Though the room was meant for six, Yuki was now its sole occupant.

He had asked the others at Aegis to keep the shooting incident a secret from his mother. There were too few clues in the original story, and he wasn’t ready to face the mother who, throughout the entire show, had been little more than a background presence. He even refused the suggestion of a video call, putting it off with the excuse that he’d call home once he’d recovered a bit more, not wanting his mother to worry at the sight of his wounded, haggard face.

Since there was no solution for this problem yet, he decided to put it off for now. The next issue, then, was the silver light key hidden beneath his pillow.

He had held that silver light key more than once, calling out Taiga’s name again and again in his heart, but there had been no response, no sound at all.

On the key, there was a round, crystal-like bead. He vaguely remembered that the bead had once been colorful, and now it was a semi-transparent, faintly glowing white.

What was going on?

He could guess, though. Looking at the wound that had pierced clean through his chest—just seeing it was enough to imagine its severity. The window from being shot to dying could not have been more than three minutes.

So how had he survived?

Someone must have saved him.

It could only have been—Taiga saving him once more.

The thought made Yuki’s heart ache. Even though the one fighting alongside Taiga at the time hadn’t really been “himself,” he couldn’t help but feel a trace of sorrow deep inside.

Twelve years together, and after just reuniting and defeating a monster together, before they’d even had time to celebrate their first victory, they were separated once again.

Would it be another twelve years this time?

But that only explained how he’d survived the most dangerous moment. The other question remained—how had he gotten from the scene of the shooting to the hospital?

Even the Foreign Affairs Department for Unidentified Matters was completely baffled. From the moment Yuki disappeared from camera at the scene, every surveillance camera along the way failed to capture anything useful.

Based on the last sighting and his walking speed, they estimated the time he was shot, and from there to when he was found at the hospital entrance, it was no more than two minutes—likely less. The two locations were over thirty kilometers apart, meaning he had moved at near-supersonic speed.

Was that Taiga’s doing as well?

He doubted it.

Yuki now had another answer, and he was almost certain of it. This wasn’t high-speed movement—it was instantaneous teleportation, through a portal.

Yuki fervently hoped that the one who had saved him was “him.”

Because the reason he’d been shot was likely half due to revenge by an alien and half because his identity as an Ultra Warrior’s human host had been exposed.

Either way, if the news got out… there was a high chance that another alien would come to finish him off.

If “he” had saved him, then, regardless of the motive—even something as simple as “it would be a shame for you to die here”—it didn’t matter. As long as he was the savior, at least he wouldn’t be the one to come and finish the job.

From what Yuki knew of the universe’s aliens, some possessed incredible supernatural abilities, but most were not so different from humans and not particularly threatening.

If another alien came to finish him, he might still have a chance to negotiate.

But if “that guy” came for his life… there would be no chance at all—he’d be dead before he could blink.

Yuki turned over in bed, retrieved Taiga’s light key from under his pillow, and held it in his palm.

—Taiga, listen to me.

—This world is in serious trouble. The monster invasion was actually orchestrated by the organizers of a monster weapon auction—they used Earth as a demonstration ground, unleashing monster weapons here just to showcase their destructive power.

—In other words, our battle was broadcast across the cosmos.

—Now, the biggest names in the universe’s underworld have probably all learned that you’re on Earth. Some will stay away for a while, wary of Ultra Warriors and the Land of Light, but others will be intrigued.

—We can’t transform into Ultra Warriors to fight anymore.

—Earth has been forced to reveal itself to the universe’s darkness. When Seigan was dropped here, Earth’s response was utterly inadequate. Those with ambition have surely taken note and may be considering invasion.

—A lone Ultra Warrior is, in their eyes, just a manageable risk—after all, even Ultras aren’t gods.

—I don’t think this Earth is ready.

Hiding under his blanket, Yuki held the light key in both hands and repeated these words in his heart.

He didn’t know Taiga’s current situation, nor whether he could even hear him.

All Yuki could do was pour his worries and fears into the void, speaking to Taiga, who might or might not be listening.

Now, the only connection between him and Taiga was likely this key. The Taiga Spark had always been in Taiga’s possession, appearing on Yuki’s right arm only just before transformation. But the light key could stay with him permanently.

At that moment, a faint ringing sounded in Yuki’s ears, reminiscent of tinnitus.

Instantly, in the darkness of the hospital room, a blue light screen appeared out of thin air, about a foot in front of Yuki’s face.

The light screen resembled those used by the Ultra Warriors of the Land of Light, except theirs always had a generator below—ring-shaped for the finger, bracelet-shaped for the wrist, or fixed to the ground, like the more powerful ones in the Hikari Laboratory that could open much larger screens.

But this one—Yuki was certain—had no visible generator of any kind. If there was a generator, it was probably his own brain, because as he turned his head left or right, the screen followed, always staying within his field of vision.

What was this?

He set the light key down, and the screen vanished the instant it left his hand.

…

He picked the key up again, and the screen reappeared.

So it was triggered by the light key? Yuki looked at it with surprise. In the original story, it never had a function like this. Had Tregear, the developer, secretly added some hidden feature that Yuki had accidentally activated?

Puzzled, Yuki hesitated for a few seconds, then, holding the key, reached out to tap the screen in midair.

The image flickered, then opened to a user interface that Yuki found all too familiar.

…

At that moment, Yuki truly wanted to ask Tregear a question.

Have you ever played Diablo III?