The clouds looked like everything and nothing.
Hajime leaned back on a worn bench in Shinjuku Gyoen, a quiet pocket of green tucked into the city's heart. He liked this spot. Few people came this early, and the clouds above always told stories. A dragon chasing its tail. A semi-truck sprouting wings. .
He blinked slowly, allowing himself to breathe.
Then came the soft chime of the ITA phone.
"Mandatory Workshop. 3:00 PM. Conference Wing – Gamma Hall."
He sighed, tucked the device into his coat, and rose.
By late afternoon, the massive Gamma Hall was filling with drivers. Hajime took a seat near the back. The place looked like an airport hangar married a space station — sleek chrome floors, soft neon glow, and layered seating. One by one, drivers from all over the world streamed in, some old, young , some chatted others gave slight nods and others kept to themselves. There was even a humanoid looking bot with gleaming blue DE filled eyes. 1 to 86, the drivers filled in their seats.
Once they had settled, the Manager appeared briefly on the central platform.
"Technical team," he called, voice clipped. "You're up."
From the left wing, a man trudged in — scruffy black hair, lab coat half-buttoned, glasses slightly fogged. Hajime blinked.
The guy looked like he hadn't slept in three days. But what stood out most was the sheer pressure of Dimensional Energy swirling around him — dense and turbulent like a storm waiting to break.
Dr. Kenshiro Aratani. Head of Research and Technical Department.
The man gave a tired wave, took the mic from its stand, and muttered, "I'll need coffee first."
One of his assistants rolled over a tray. He took a sip. And then, to Hajime's surprise, the DE surrounding him… lowered. Not disappeared — but became calmer, more controlled.
Another one like me? Hajime thought. But different…
Dr. Aratani exhaled and tapped the display pad. A holographic graph floated up.
"So, uh… here's where we are," he began, voice gaining strength. "Requests from off-world deities are spiking. We're looking into whether there's a link between that and the increasing DE levels on Earth."
He clicked again. Another chart.
"To explain simply — the gods and demon lords… from our end, they're more or less the same. Big corporate types, all looking to poach talent from Earth. Some want a hero. Some want chaos. Others just want entertainment. We don't really care why — we care how."
There was a chuckle from the drivers.
Dr. Aratani continued, "When a person on Earth is under enough emotional stress — grief, rage, hopelessness — DE builds up. Most people can't feel it. It's passive. Latent. But once it crosses a certain threshold, the energy activates. Think of it like steam building in a closed system."
He paused to let that settle.
"When a request comes in from a deity, we use our monitoring systems to match the request to someone whose DE has bloomed. That person becomes the target. We input coordinates into the truck's system, the driver makes the hit, and boom — a stable soul transfer is triggered."
As another slide — silhouettes of trucks mid-jump, glowing portals behind them, was on screen a driver chimmed in ,"so basically we... kill them?".
"We call it isekaing. The transfer keeps the dimensional membrane from tearing. Because when a god or demon lord forces open a portal without us…"
He trailed off and sipped again. His eyes looked haunted.
"…We get monsters. Towers. Stuff straight out of manga. Only it's real. And it's bad."
Silence.
"Using DE, we keep Earth's balance stable. The energy from each transfer fuels our systems, powers the trucks, and… prevents Earth from reaching the Void. You don't want to know what happens if Earth becomes Void-aligned."
No one asked.
He gave a nod to the Manager and stepped back, visibly lighter after sharing the burden.
Chatter resumed, with some drivers cracking jokes or asking casual questions.
Then the Manager returned.
"Reports?" he asked.
A few hands went up. Then a tall man near the middle — sharp jawline, black cap, bomber jacket — stood and took the mic.
"Park Jun-ho, Seoul Branch," he said casually.
"So I was doing a mid-tier cross-country job, standard stuff. But when I pulled in for a rest stop to get some beers for my return trip — I saw someone else in the place of the target."
The room stilled.
"Turns out someone swapped them out. Almost got me to send the wrong soul. Lucky I caught it. So, I loaded a DE bullet in the sniper, pinged the right guy from a distance while my co-driver took the wheel. Clean finish. But yeah — weird, yeah?"
Some murmurs of agreement followed.
A heavyset driver nodded. "Had something similar. I got guys meddling with the job too back in the Amazon"
Hajime's mind flicked back to his own first mission.
Then a sharp voice rang out from the front row.
Driver 5.
She wore a brown leather coat, boots dusted from long travel, and an expression that said she didn't joke often.
"…Are they back?"
Silence stretched like a rubber band.
All eyes turned to the Manager.
"It seems," he said, voice low, "our dirty laundry is surfacing again."
Driver 22 — a wiry teenager with bright orange headphones — frowned. "So what are we gonna do?"
The Manager looked out across the room.
Then smirked.
"That's where our new guy comes in."
Hajime blinked. "Huh? What do you need me for, you punk?"
The air went completely still.
Several drivers turned, jaws half-dropped, even Dr. Aratani spat out the cofee in his mouth. You didn't just talk to the Manager like that. Not unless you were tired of living.
But the Manager only chuckled. And he said in his mind
"Finally... things are getting interesting".
End of Chapter 5