​Phoenix Wraith: Broken Bond のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

Lionel paused just long enough for the words to hang heavy in the air, leaning closer to deliver the blow with absolute relish. “And now that the bond is shattered… he wants you out. Effective immediately. You’re being evicted to the outer abandoned sector.” Phoenix froze mid-stride. “…Wait.” Her dark brown eyes narrowed immediately, a look of profound, unadulterated disbelief flashing across her sharp Asian features. Lionel’s chest puffed out, thoroughly satisfied with the reaction. He crossed his arms, waiting for the inevitable dam to burst—the dramatic gasps, the pathetic tears, the desperate begging on her knees for Travis to reconsider. Surrounding them in the grand, high-arched marble corridor, a mob of noble heirs and top-tier Sentinels leaned in, phones out, ready to record the fallen heiress’s ultimate rock-bottom breakdown. Instead, Phoenix slowly brought her hand up to her jaw, staring at Lionel as if he had just handed her a winning lottery ticket written in s

Phoenix snapped the heavy leather-and-iron weights around her wrists and ankles, testing the fit with a light, rhythmic ankle bounce. Forty pounds of lead plates? Please. In her previous life, she’d sprinted six miles through flooded subway ruins in pitch-black darkness, carrying fifty pounds of wet ammunition and a screaming rookie on her back while dodging mutated quad-peds. This felt less like a brutal military punishment and more like wearing fluffy bedroom slippers on a lazy Sunday morning. Instructor Dan blew his silver whistle with enough force to nearly burst a lung, the screech echoing off the stone walls of the amphitheater. “Begin! One hundred laps! Let’s see how long that big mouth keeps running, Wraith!” While the surrounding Sentinels—built like brick outhouses and oozing physical confidence—puffed out their chests and paced themselves like high-bred racehorses, Phoenix took off like a low-flight missile. Lap 1. She breezed past the first pack of mid-tier Sentinels wi

Without waiting for him to reply, she turned back to her plate, calmly cutting another piece of steak as if nothing had happened. Travis stood there for three agonizing seconds, utterly humiliated, before turning on his heel and retreating to the far side of the hall, his entourage scurrying behind him like startled mice. Across the booth, Instructor Dan sat frozen, staring at the small, deep slit in the mahogany table, then up at Phoenix, who was happily chewing her food with a contented smile. Dan slowly reached out, grabbed his glass of water, and took a massive gulp. ​"Miss Wraith," Dan muttered, his voice trembling slightly. ​"Yes, Dan?" ​"I think I'm going to need a stronger drink." -- The next morning, Phoenix stood in the center of the outer sector’s abandoned courtyard, staring up at her new residence with a slow, appreciative nod. It was a crumbling, four-story concrete relic with shattered windows, rusty iron fire escapes, and a roof that looked like it had

The perimeter gate of Sector 4 hummed with heavy containment energy, casting a pale blue haze over the gathered cadets. Hundreds of students stood in high-tech tactical suits, gleaming armor plates, and custom weapons, looking like a heavily funded military vanguard. At the front stood Travis, radiating S-class confidence in bespoke composite armor. Lionel hovered beside him, adjusting a polished silver rifle while chuckling with the rest of Class A’s elite squad. “Remember,” Travis announced, his voice carrying over the crowd, “we clear the upper ridge, secure the C-rank Dire Wolves, and lock down first place by noon. Don’t waste time on lower-grade trash.” Suddenly, a loud, metallic CLANG-CLACK echoed from the deployment line. The crowd parted as Phoenix strolled up, shoulder-slinging a makeshift spear crafted from a sharpened iron fence post and heavy duct tape. Trailing behind her was Toby, practically hidden beneath a massive, clanking backpack filled with improvised traps, w