Bungo Stray Dogs - Volume 4 Chapter 2 Part 1

Chapter 2 Part 1

In the center was a tower that could be seen from anywhere on the island. The edifice served as an observatory, a landmark, and a clock tower. It was the tallest building on the island, with the exception of the windmills. The tower slowly tapered into a triangle. Each of the three sides was pointing at a different territory: England, France, and Germany. The walls were each uniquely designed to replicate the style of their country. Spread around the tower was a meticulously maintained artificial forest with radially paved cobblestones that led to each territory.
Atsushi walked down the cobblestone path until he was right in front of the tower. While it was a big island, it didn’t take him more than a few minutes to arrive thanks to his tiger legs. This was the place where Dazai had set his trap. Atsushi looked up at the clock—11:54.
All of a sudden, the thought Shouldn’t I save the other detectives? crossed Atsushi’s mind. Tanizaki, Kenji, and the others were apparently being confined somewhere on the island just like Kunikida and he had been. The idea of fighting a legendary terrorist alone was horrifying. But Atsushi’s train of thought was suddenly cut short. He felt a shock as if he had just been slapped—it was him.
He was briskly walking down the cobblestone path on British territory, heading toward the tower. There was no mistaking it. He had his back turned to Atsushi; it looked as if he didn’t even notice him.
Atsushi swiftly hid in the shadows under the cluster of trees. What was going on? They were over fifty feet away from each other, but Atsushi’s tiger eyes possessed far greater sight and visual range than an ordinary person. That was perhaps one of the reasons he found his target first. There was no time to save his friends now. He had to do this alone.

In pursuit of the enemy, Atsushi stepped foot into the clock tower. The first floor to the tower was a museum open to the public. The ceiling was high, and the floors were waxed. Displays hung on the walls, such as the history of the island and the building’s internal structures. A few tourists leisurely enjoyed their sightseeing as they walked around the clock tower.
Atsushi blended in with the tourists and pretended to look at the exhibits
while keeping tabs on the target out of the corner of his eye. The terrorist rushed into the staff elevator at the end of the exhibition room and went straight up to the top floor. He seemed to be in a hurry. That’s a good sign, thought Atsushi. The fake briefcase probably tricked the terrorist, so he was panicking. He was probably rushing to get the briefcase before anyone could steal it.
After checking the exact floor the terrorist got off on, Atsushi entered the elevator to go after him. He decided to get off one floor below the top floor just in case and use the stairs the rest of the way. Atsushi exited the elevator and quieted his footsteps. It was an empty, unmanned radar processing chamber, and the floor bristled with gray nautical instruments. Atsushi thought back to how Dazai said this tower played the same role as flying bridges do on ships. It appeared that the equipment for observing and detecting radar to steer the ship was all in this room. Atsushi carefully walked among the equipment before climbing the staircase and looking for the terrorist.
There he was on the top floor—wearing a felt bowler hat and suit with a camera hanging around his neck. But from where he was standing, Atsushi couldn’t see those blue eyes the terrorist showed when he killed the captain. The terrorist briskly walked around the room, scanning it with his eyes as if he was looking for something.
It was an observation deck overlooking the entire island. The walls were made of glass, giving a clear view of the island and the skyline in the distance. Yokohama was visible to the north, seemingly clinging to the horizon. It wasn’t long before the man in the suit found the black briefcase on the desk.
Atsushi peeked his head out from the stairwell and observed the man’s next move. There was no reason for Atsushi to do anything. The trap was made to go off once the terrorist touched the briefcase. All Atsushi had to do was wait. Nevertheless, the suited man didn’t even attempt to approach it. He stood slightly away from it as if only observing. Atsushi panicked. What happened? The terrorist should have been eager to pick up the briefcase. Was he growing suspicious?
In that case, Atsushi had no other choice—he had to attack. He focused his powers into his legs.

The terrorist suddenly pulled out a gun and shot the briefcase.
He filled it full of lead one shot after another as if he was shooting somebody he despised. The briefcase burst open and let out a dull, metallic sound as if something had broken inside.
“What?!” Atsushi’s surprise escaped him.
“…! Who’s there?!” yelled the terrorist, turning around. His voice was like a young boy’s, much higher than Atsushi had imagined. Atsushi swiftly leaped forward but couldn’t stick the landing and rolled on the ground. The terrorist then aimed the muzzle of his gun at Atsushi.
There was no way he could dodge. It was a mistake that would cost him his life. But the terrorist didn’t shoot. Instead, he immediately pointed his gun up.
“What are you doing here?!” he screamed. “Are you the one who put the Shell here?! Do you even know how dangerous this—”
The entire island suddenly began to shake.

The briefcase was resting in a dimly lit room. The lid was open, revealing the inside. The interior was nothing more than a simple machine—an old- fashioned camera surrounded by shock-absorbent resin. A few electrical wires were sticking out of the camera and into a piece of parchment with ancient script written on it.
A white finger touched the briefcase, tracing its outer shell before checking the circuits inside, then switching a few of the wires. Finally, after a few moments went by, the finger slowly pressed the shutter button. The briefcase began to faintly vibrate. A crimson magic circle appeared around it as if it were slowly being painted into existence. Several other magic circles stacked over one another until the only person in the room was lifted into the air.
“…”
The person started to mumble something, but their voice was drowned out by another sound. The room itself—the island itself—was shaking at the grating sound.
The ocean trembled—almost as if something were frightening it. The sky was dyed red.
“What…?!” Atsushi gazed at the scenery outside and shouted.
Red. Everything was red—the ocean, the island, even Yokohama at the other end of the horizon.
Atsushi immediately knew why.
It was the sky. The sky was disappearing. The sky, which was here just moments ago, was now covered by a vermilion film-like membrane. The sky was hidden—or more specifically, a colossal bright-red shell was blocking out part of it.
“No…!” howled the terrorist. “So this was a fake! Then that means the real one…”
“What? What’s going on?!” Atsushi still couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“That’s the Shell.” The terrorist briskly walked over to Atsushi. “The crimson celestial sphere of annihilation. Come with me—if you value your life, that is.”
Only when the terrorist grabbed Atsushi by the wrist did he finally come back to his senses.
“Wh-who are you?”
“I came to stop that weapon.”
The terrorist then dug his finger into his cheek and pulled his entire face right off.
“…!”
What looked like skin was actually artificial, exquisitely designed. After completely removing the material from his cheeks, nose, and brows, he took off his bowler hat—revealing a blond woman underneath.
“My name is H. G. Wells. I came here to prevent this catastrophe,” claimed the woman with a shake of her long hair. “You, boy—are you prepared to carry the future on your shoulders?”
The Shell covered the ocean. Centered around Standard Island in the sea, it swallowed the majority of Yokohama with its radius of twenty-two miles. The crimson dome burned like a small star that had fallen upon the earth with an extraordinary amount of heat locked inside. The fiery enclosure rapidly imploded, the heat rushing toward its core.
Simply touching the blazing fireball instantly vaporized a building. A skyscraper and an elevated highway melted like butter and vanished. Half a million people carbonized and perished in the first five seconds. The mountains and forests instantly turned into white ash before even catching fire. Even the crust of the earth went beyond its melting point, transforming into boiling, crimson sludge. It could no longer be called “burning” at this point. Similar to when molecules turn into plasma, all that was left was white smoke as if they were remnants of the lost souls. Not even a single puff of heat escaped from within the Shell. However, the city inside had been transformed into a literal hellscape, like something out of an ancient legend.