Canus Miles had always used power as a way to fill the void of loneliness. His Informationist parents had been worn down by harsh frontline deployments and had passed away when he was very young.
Having never received parental love in a world where Informationists were treated like objects, Canus bore witness to society’s cruelty.
Even as a young child, adults showed him no mercy. Thrown into the fires of war, he was forced to watch countless comrades die before his eyes.
The weak were discarded, while the strong claimed glory. In this easily understood microcosm, the boy began hating the world. And then he realized there was only one thing one needed in order to survive—strength.
From then on, Canus pursued strength more purely than anyone else. He eliminated weaklings who approached him and aligned himself with the powerful, exploiting them for his own benefit. He lived by turning anything and everything into fuel for his might, no matter the method.
Naturally, his warped thirst for strength drove people away from him. Constant isolation and betrayal followed. Losing trust in both Informationists and ordinary people alike, Canus eventually came to resent and distance himself from everyone. There was no one who hated the world as deeply as he did. And so he chose a solitary path.
That loneliness, however, became the driving force that propelled him to greater heights. As if seeking to fill the void left by his lost parents’ love—and to mend the chasm of his own solitude—Canus honed his expertise into the creation of life.
This pushed his life-form creation Codes to an exceptional level of mastery. Canus rose to such prominence that he became known as the “one-man army” and finally achieved the pinnacle he had once sought—becoming one of the Six Imperial Swords.
However, the thirst and hunger born from his lingering loneliness never disappeared. No matter how many he killed or how high his fame soared, only pain remained.
Why was that? For the moment, at least, his suffering seemed to have abated slightly.
The answer had to be the man in front of him. His consciousness hazy, Canus looked up at the figure covered in dust.
Tsushima Rindou. Gazing down at him with indifference, the Informationist clearly possessed extraordinary strength. He was an embodiment of overwhelming power and unlike any Informationist Canus had ever encountered before.
“Utter defeat. Who…are you…?”
With the shattering of his ultimate shield, Canus had been left in a terrible state. His entire body was burned to a crisp, his arms and legs stumps. His once handsome face was horribly scorched, and his beautiful blue hair had been completely incinerated.
Even in this awful condition, he still clung to life—proof of the formidable power of the Six Imperial Swords.
But he wouldn’t last much longer.
Looking down at the dying boy, Tsushima put a cigarette in his mouth. Without responding to Canus’s question, he quietly lit it and took a puff before giving a shrug.
“I’m just a level-seven Informationist.”
“Fuck… Damn adults… Always…spouting nonsense…right to the end…”
“Sorry. I’ve got my own circumstances, too.”
With Tsushima looking down at him, Canus grimaced in frustration, then coughed painfully.
The boy repeatedly sucked in shallow streams of air, his breathing growing labored.
“Am I…going to…die now?”
“Yeah. You’re going to die.”
At those words, Canus clicked his tongue faintly before his breathing went shallow.
His consciousness seemed to be fading.
As his pupils dilated and his eyes wandered into the void, tears began streaming down his face.
“Ah, Mom, Dad. You’ve been there all along? You’ve been waiting all this time, haven’t you? I’m sorry.”
In his final moments, Canus gave a smile befitting his age and weakly raised the remains of an arm.
Perhaps someone took his hand. With a satisfied smile, Canus quietly left this world.
Tsushima exhaled smoke toward the sky and awkwardly brushed aside his bangs.
“Those were some bitter last words, kid. They sure did hit.”
After witnessing Canus’s final moments, Tsushima knelt beside the boy and gently closed his lifeless eyes, which were staring into the void—a small gesture of respect for the fallen.
Many Informationists had died, caught up in conflicts over rights and status. Canus was one of them. Hoping that, at the very least, the lost could go to a peaceful world free of strife after they died, Tsushima offered flowers to his defeated opponent.
For a few seconds, he bowed his head in prayer before standing up. The next moment, he felt a presence that nearly bowled him over.
“Talk about the worst possible timing,” Tsushima muttered, spitting the words toward the ground before raising his heavy head.
Without his knowing, a second sun had appeared above him. The celestial light illuminated the wastelands of Jabar, blending several colors as it gazed down upon Tsushima. Within the surreal, dazzling shimmer floated an Informationist.
It was the last person Tsushima wanted run into right now. Descending from the sky like a messenger from the heavens was none other than Finé Primus of the Six Imperial Swords.