Prologue

The execution was over, and so was the world.

Enoshima was dead. They, her faithful warriors of Ultimate Despair, had watched with disbelief and denial as that boy – Naegi –drove her right into the grave. Even after the block slammed down for the final time, they hadn't believed it. They'd expected Enoshima to pop right back up, and laugh at the despair on her classmates' faces.

But she hadn't. Enoshima was dead and with her, the world had broken.

Tsumiki screamed the loudest. Her cry, the shrill wail of someone who'd lost both their heart and soul in an instant, bounced off the walls and shook the ground. Other howls rose to join her. Of them, only Kuzuryu's seemed to be actual words. The rest of the cries were simple, animalistic shrieks of pain. They knew their behaviour was echoed in their other bases, where their comrades would have been watching the same broadcast. The very thought, the overwhelming despair it caused, brought then both anguish and delirious joy.

But while most of Ultimate Despair was revelling in their agony, there were a few exceptions. Pekoyama, white-knuckled and pale-faced, was silent, more focused on her young master than what she had just seen. Kamukura watched the others with mild interest. And Komaeda . . . Komaeda had crawled up to the television, and laid his hand lovingly against its screen.

The television's camera was locked onto the trial room, where the six survivors were regrouping after their victory. Komaeda only had eyes for one of them and with unhealthy focus, he watched that small, brown-haired figure as he spoke to his classmates. What the figure said, he didn't know for certain as the broadcast audio had cut out when Enoshima died; but he could make an educated guess. And so, Komaeda nearly pressed his face flat against the glass to better lip-read Hope's inaudible words.

Hope. Ultimate Hope. His wheeze shivered with quiet laughter. This had been the reason he'd joined Enoshima (because how could one create hope without despair?) and it had finally come to fruition. The Ultimate Despair had fallen, and from her ashes, the Ultimate Hope rose!

He felt so many things. Grief. Anger. Joy. Rapture. He had loved and hated Enoshima, just as he loved and maybe hated these students for killing her (but not Hope. Never Hope). It all swirled and clashed together in a medley that made him ill. But that was okay, because that fusion of euphoria and misery was one of the prices of creating great hope.

The six survivors began walking off-screen and Komaeda watched them greedily. Part of him was ashamed – what right he have to spy on these talented people? – but he couldn't help it. His soul roared with yearning. Oh, how he wished Enoshima had brought him along inside of her sister! He could have breathed the same air as the Ultimate Hope, laid his eyes upon the Ultimate Hope . . . why, he could have died for the Ultimate Hope. How delightful would that be?

He followed the Ultimate Hope with his finger until he could no longer be seen. The boy (Naegi Makoto, purred the voice in his mind) had been the last of his classmates to leave, leaving the room lifeless. Komaeda kept staring. Now that Hope was gone, he felt empty inside.

"What are you doing?"

Komaeda's head nearly rolled backwards to see who was speaking. Kamukura was looming above his crouched form, frowning.

Komaeda bit back a giggle. "Did you see that? The birth of Hope? I wonder what he'll do now."

Kamukura sighed. "That's your only question? Obviously, a rescue team from The Future Foundation is already on their way. The survivors will join them."

"The Future Foundation," Komaeda muttered to himself. His insides curled with disgust. The Future Foundation. . . They'd nearly broken into the academy a few times. Why, if allowed, they would have interfered with the mutual killing game before the Ultimate Hope could have been born!

Komaeda's nails dug into his arms as he clung to himself. He couldn't . . . how could he . . . he wouldn't let such remarkable hope fall into their unworthy hands! It was his duty to hope, to the world, (to the master who'd died for this ending). He, the unworthy servant, could finally find his proper place.

"Hey, Kamukura-kun . . . I think I just came up with another plan."

"Good. These past weeks have been extremely boring."

Komaeda smiled dreamily. Ah, his path was clearly laid out in front of him. He knew what he had to do.

After all, no one else in the world understood hope as well as him.