One of them, a man with silver-rimmed glasses, smiled.
“Exceptional.”
Sasha blinked. “What does it say?”
The woman ignored her, flipping through her clipboard.
“We’ll need to move her to the main facility for further analysis,” she said. “There’s potential here.”
Sasha tensed.
“What does that mean?” she asked, louder this time.
The woman barely looked up. “It means you’ll be given an opportunity.”
Sasha glanced at Luka. Her grip tightened on the chair’s armrests.
She was afraid.
Luka could tell.
Even if he didn’t understand emotions, he understood that.
“Release her,” the tall soldier ordered.
The restraints unlocked with a soft hiss.
Sasha immediately stood up, rubbing her wrists.
But the woman was already looking at Luka.
“And the boy?”
“He’s untested,” the soldier replied.
The woman nodded to one of the assistants. “Put him in.”
Sasha moved first.
She stepped in front of Luka, shaking her head. “Wait—”
Too late.
Luka sat motionless.
A cold metal examination table beneath him.
Doctors and scientists bustled around him, attaching electrodes to his skin, wires trailing from his arms like black veins.
Luka didn’t flinch.
He didn’t feel fear.
He didn’t feel anything.
His test results had confused them.
“0.0?” One scientist murmured, staring at the holographic display. “That’s… impossible. Even non-awakened individuals have at least a 0.5 Jōki presence. But this kid—nothing. It’s like he’s a void.”
A man in a military uniform, his chest lined with medals, crossed his arms.
“Run it again.”
The machine hummed. Another scan passed over Luka’s body.
Silence.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Then—
“Still zero.”
Murmurs spread through the room.
Luka sat in the center of it all. Unbothered. Detached.
A different doctor frowned. “If he has no Jōki at all, then how is he even alive?”
“Forget that—look at this.” One of the assistants tapped furiously at the screen. “His cells are regenerating at an inhuman speed. We tried to draw blood twice, and each time, his body closed the wound before we could extract a proper sample. His body… it’s adapting.”
The general exhaled sharply. He stepped forward, his voice carrying a firm authority.
“Enough. Stop the tests.”
The scientists hesitated.
“But, sir, we still don’t understand—”
“I said stop.”
The murmurs grew louder, but the general turned away.
His gaze shifted past the glass window overlooking the rest of the survivors. The orphans of the island.
His eyes settled on Sasha.
She sat amongst them, her small hands gripping the sleeves of her borrowed jacket, her face pale from exhaustion and grief.
“Check the others,” he ordered. “See if there are any other potential Jōki users.”
Then, without looking back—
“As for the boy… separate them.”
Luka didn’t react.
But Sasha did.
The moment the soldiers came for him, she knew.
“NO!”
Her voice ripped through the sterile halls as she shoved past the officers. “Luka! LUKA!”
Luka turned.
She was fighting them.
Tears streaked her face, her hands trembling as she reached for him.
“You can’t take him! You can’t!”
A soldier held her back.
She thrashed wildly.
“Luka!”
Luka only stood there.
Staring.
His mind processed the situation logically—
Sasha was upset.
Sasha was in distress.
But he still… felt nothing.
No sadness.
No anger.
Not even fear.
The only thing he focused on was her hands reaching for him.
She had always reached for him.
She had always been there.
And now—
A final, desperate cry tore from Sasha’s throat.
“I WON’T GO WITHOUT HIM!”
Luka saw it before it happened.
The panic in the soldiers’ eyes.
The sudden burst of blue energy.
The air vibrated. Lights flickered.
The force sent the soldiers stumbling backward as the very ground beneath them cracked.
Jōki.
It lashed out uncontrollably.
Sasha’s breath was ragged.
Her body trembled violently from the overwhelming force surging through her.
The soldiers reacted immediately.
“Get her under control!”
A tranquilizer dart shot through the air.
It struck her in the neck.
She gasped.
Luka watched as her body collapsed.
The soldiers caught her before she hit the ground, her unconscious form limp in their arms.
“SASHA!”
Luka’s voice came out instinctively.
But he didn’t feel panic.
He didn’t feel grief.
He just knew—
She was slipping away from him.
A cold voice echoed through the hall.
“Get the girl on the second room. Now.”
Luka’s body dragged across the ground.
His head lolled to the side, vision blurry, limbs too heavy to resist. He felt the rough grip of soldiers hauling him forward—boots crunching over shattered glass, the low murmur of voices discussing his fate.
Then—he saw it.
The orphanage.
A depressed, crumbling building standing against the foggy skyline, its once-white walls now stained with grime and neglect.
Luka knew.
They were about to throw him in there.
A place for the forgotten.
The unwanted.
He tried to move. To turn his head. To call for Sasha.
But the words wouldn’t come.
His mouth felt dry. His throat burned.
His vision darkened.
The last thing he heard was the distant, muffled hum of the military airship ascending into the sky—
Taking Sasha away.
Then—
Everything went black.
*******
Luka woke up gasping.
His body jerked, his breath ragged and uneven. His head pounded, cold sweat clinging to his skin.
The dream—no, the memory—was already fading.
Slipping through his mind like sand through fingers.
He tried to sit up.
Rough concrete beneath his palms.
The air was damp, thick with the scent of oil, metal, and something burnt.
The dim glow of neon lights flickered above him, casting eerie shadows along the walls.
Luka exhaled slowly.
This… wasn’t the orphanage.
Right.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to push away the grogginess.
He had been adopted.
By that strange man.
Luka’s fingers twitched as he pushed himself upright, his legs weak beneath him.
He felt… heavier.
Like he had been asleep for days.
Before he could process it, a voice broke the silence.
“Bad dreams?”
Luka turned sharply.
A man stood in the dim light, face obscured by a metallic mask.
His new master.
Sun.
Luka didn’t answer immediately. He just stared at the man—the one who had taken him from the orphanage.
The one who somehow already knew his name.
And Sasha’s.
Luka had tried asking him before, but Sun always dodged the question.
His only answer?
“Because we’re the same. I don’t feel emotions either, and I don’t have Jōki.”
Luka had been confused.
He still was.
Sun tilted his head. “Well? You gonna sit there all day?”
Luka exhaled and stood. His body felt stiff. Unfamiliar.
Like he wasn’t used to it anymore.
Sun gestured lazily toward a nearby doorway. “Go wash up. Breakfast is ready.”
Luka nodded and made his way toward the bathroom.
As he brushed his teeth, he paused.
His reflection stared back at him.
Tired. Pale.
He hadn’t slept properly in a week.
The incident still haunted him.
And he needed answers.
After washing up, Luka walked to the small, cramped dining area.
A plate of fried eggs and bread sat in front of him.
Luka stared at it. “Eggs again?”
“Survival, kid,” Sun said simply. “You don’t get a say in it.”
Luka sighed and started eating.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then—
“Master Sun… why did you adopt me?”
Sun leaned back in his chair. “I already told you.
We’re the same.”
Luka frowned. “That’s all? What do you see in me? I don’t have Jōki. I can’t even perceive it.”
Sun was quiet for a moment.
Then, finally—he spoke.
“Jōki is powered by emotion.”
He reached for his fork, tapping it lightly against the plate.
“But I erased that.
I made it Null.”
Luka’s eyes widened.
A new Jōki?
Named Null?
His heart thudded.
For the first time in his life—
He felt like he was standing on the edge of something.
Something unknown.
And then—
Sun’s voice broke the silence once more.
“Eat fast, kid. Training starts today.”