Chapter One: The Story Begins

Civil unrest erupted throughout the Land of Light, but this was not a matter that could be explained in mere words. In the midst of this turmoil, there was no clear distinction between right and wrong, nor between justice and evil. It was simply that Father Kane of the Ultras and Jek, leader of the Blue Tribe, stood on opposing sides, each striving to secure the interests of their own people. As the internal conflict intensified, in a certain corner of the universe, within a black hole in the Milky Way galaxy, countless blue sparks began to escape. These sparks, as if possessing their own will, spontaneously gathered together, converging into a beam of blue light that shot off toward a distant direction. Not long after the blue light departed, silver sparks also began to drift out from the black hole. Much like the blue sparks, these countless silver points merged into a silvery beam, chasing after the path of the blue light.

Milky Way Galaxy, Earth.

"Scramble! I want confirmation on what that thing is!" With the commanding officer's order, pilots in flight suits hurried across the military airfield of the Maritime Self-Defense Force, clutching their flight helmets as they swiftly climbed into their fighter jets. After donning their helmets, the cockpits closed with practiced speed.

Takafumi Yudo gave a thumbs-up to the ground crew—a standard gesture of communication between pilot and staff—before soaring into the sky in his fighter. As a pinnacle of advanced technology, the F-15 fighter jet's wings were designed with sharply cut tips, enhancing structural integrity and increasing internal volume. This design also allowed the aircraft's drag increase in transonic regions to be more gradual, and minimized the shift of the aerodynamic focus during transonic flight, reducing balancing drag. Developed by the United States, the F-15 was the world's first mature fourth-generation fighter jet and remains the mainstay air superiority fighter of the US Air Force. Since its introduction, the F-15 has seen action in hundreds of conflicts, downing over a hundred enemy aircraft, yet never being shot down itself—a testament to its formidable reputation as Earth's most powerful fighter.

Feeling the persistent sensation of weightlessness, Takafumi Yudo smiled to himself. He knew the jet was climbing higher and higher, and he relished this feeling. Every pilot harbored the dream of soaring freely, and what seemed thrilling to ordinary people—the sensation of weightlessness—was as commonplace to them as eating and drinking.

"Target confirmed... What is that?" Takafumi's expression twisted in confusion as he gazed at the object they pursued, which appeared to be a mass of deep blue light—so dark it was almost black—racing through the sky at an extraordinary speed, strange and uncanny.

"What the hell is that thing!" Just as Takafumi prepared to maneuver his fighter to match the light's velocity, the blue mass abruptly halted, then veered directly toward his aircraft.

"What on earth..." Takafumi stared in shock as the deep blue light surged toward him in an instant. With no time to evade, he steeled himself and plunged directly into the luminous mass.

"It's just a ball of blue light..." Takafumi began to report to his comrades, but suddenly felt something amiss—a powerful urge to vomit overtook him. The deep blue light, visible to the naked eye, penetrated the cockpit, filling the small space with its intense glow. The luminescence seeped through his clothes, invading his pores, with a pain akin to being bitten by ants. Takafumi let out a harrowing scream.

"Takafumi! Takafumi! Are you alright?" his comrades called out frantically, forgetting even his call sign. In their view, Takafumi's fighter had plunged into the blue mass, never to emerge. The blue light enveloped the jet, carrying it off at speed.

Dizzy and disoriented, Takafumi gripped the controls tightly as the fighter began to descend.

Shinjuku. A female reporter at the television station hurriedly grabbed her microphone, pushing through the crowd. She signaled the cameraman and began her live broadcast with professional composure.

"At noon today, a Maritime Self-Defense Force F-15 fighter crashed in a residential area of Shinjuku..."

Before she could finish, military vehicles pulled up nearby. At the officer's command, soldiers disembarked en masse, uniforms immaculate, weapons at the ready, steel helmets gleaming with discipline and vigor. As they spread out to restore order, the crowd was gradually dispersed. The reporter hastened her speech—this was explosive news, and the military would surely demand she vacate the scene. She needed to make the most of the moment before being forced to leave.

"Hey... they're coming!" A man in his twenties winked mischievously at her.

The broadcast was abruptly interrupted. The reporter, annoyed, glanced at the man, but upon seeing him, she quickly changed her attitude, flashing a beautiful smile and nodding shyly. When he responded, she turned to the cameraman, saying,

"Hurry, let's go." Tugging him along, she hurried away, glancing back for the man who had spoken. But he was nowhere to be seen.

"So handsome... I should have asked for his contact information..." the reporter murmured, lost in infatuation.

"What?" The cameraman leaned in.

"Let's go!" she snapped, slapping his shoulder. The pair hurried off amid the chaos.

"Please leave the area. This is classified," a soldier said to the man, gesturing to the dispersing crowd.

The man smiled, producing his military ID from his breast pocket. "Tetsuya Naie, Air Self-Defense Force member. Might I have the right to know what's happened here?"

The soldier, eyeing Tetsuya's youthful appearance with uncertainty, reached for the ID. Just then, a woman in a white lab coat approached. Beneath it, she wore a crisp white blouse and a black tie, her professional attire accentuating rather than diminishing her mature beauty. Her high heels clicked sharply on the pavement, her long hair neatly pulled into a ponytail, her unadorned face strikingly attractive, delicate brows furrowed in an expression of charm.

She snatched Tetsuya's ID, glanced at it carelessly, then tossed it back, her expression as cold as ever.

"Remove him!"

Tetsuya was taken aback, protesting, "Who are you? I'm also a soldier—why can't I participate in the operation here?"

The woman glanced at him, lifting her lab coat to reveal a badge clipped to her shirt.

"BCST, Chief of Chemistry, Saro Mizuhara."

After a pause, she pointed at Tetsuya. "Get him out of here!"

Tetsuya stepped back and shrugged. "Okay, I'll leave. But Miss Mizuhara, you really should smile—you'd be even more beautiful."

Saro Mizuhara glared at him, drawing a black handgun from her coat and leveling it at him.

"......"

Are women so quick to draw their guns now? Tetsuya raised his hands in surrender. "I'm leaving... you crazy woman..."

He paused, suddenly catching a foul odor—like countless rotten eggs filling the air. Everyone covered their noses and mouths. Tetsuya tiptoed to peer at the crash site, where he glimpsed a pilot, his body oozing pus, being carried from the cockpit.

"Let's get out of here... ugh, that stinks!" the soldier muttered, brow furrowed.

Tetsuya nodded compliantly. Just as he was about to leave, he shouted, "Mizuhara... Saro, we'll meet again!"

Saro Mizuhara shifted her gaze from Takafumi Yudo to Tetsuya in the distance, her eyes full of disdain. Tetsuya met her gaze, pressed two fingers to his lips, then flung his hand in her direction, blowing her a kiss.

"Hey, I think there's some mysterious chemistry between us!"

Saro Mizuhara, who had been unfazed by the stench or the sight of Takafumi's festering body, suddenly felt disgusted at his words.

"Hey, man, you really... dare to hit on her!" The soldier gave him a thumbs-up, excitedly adding,

"She's the least feminine yet most captivating woman in all of BCST!"

Tetsuya was confused by the repeated use of 'woman', but nonetheless played along, patting the soldier's chest as if they were old friends.

"Hey, next time there's a chance, I'll buy you a drink."

Tetsuya smiled and nodded, heading off in the distance. As he turned away, his playful expression gave way to thoughtful contemplation.

"The fallen F-15, Saro Mizuhara... and my new buddy, Shunichi Maki..."

He glanced back at the wreckage. "So that must be Takafumi Yudo..."

"Nexter, is it..."

Explanation for this chapter:

1. Regarding Takafumi Yudo's accident, it's a bit awkward; according to Baidu Encyclopedia, he crashed while chasing a blue luminous object. Yet, when I actually watched 'Nexter', it turned out he met his fate underwater. It's embarrassing—I had already written this chapter and didn't change it, but fortunately it doesn't affect the plot.

2. Revised on 10/23