《When worlds collide》


 Prologue

    Prologue


    [Years from now¡­]


    Pain.


    Unbearable, crushing pain. It swallowed everything.


    James lay sprawled on the cracked concrete, his body limp, his mind screaming at him to move. His breath came in ragged gasps, lungs struggling to pull in air. Blood ran down his face, stinging his eyes, blurring his vision. His entire body throbbed from being slammed through the floor.


    And before him, towering like a nightmare given form, stood the beast.The monster loomed before them, its massive frame heaving with anticipation. But it wasn¡¯t just its grotesque form that unsettled James¡ªit was the Crimson Brand etched onto its chest, a glowing mark shaped like a shattered sun. Something about it felt wrong, as if it pulsed with an unseen force, watching him just as intently as the creature¡¯s glowing eyes.


    The fight had started with hope. Now, only despair remained.


    It could kill him if it wished to.


    But it didn¡¯t.


    Instead, it watched, its predatory eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.


    James forced himself to his feet, a broken warrior grasping at hope. His legs trembled, his body swayed, but he lifted his blade¡ªhalf-shattered, barely more than scrap metal, but still his.


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    ¡°¡­Why?¡±


    The word was barely a whisper, carried by the wind that reeked of blood and death. His grip tightened on the hilt, knuckles turning white.


    "Why am I the last one left?" His voice cracked. "Why are you taking those I swore to protect away from me? Are you¡ª" his breath hitched, raw emotion bleeding into his words, "Are you mocking my resolve?!"


    The beast tilted its head, as if considering his words. Then, slowly, it smirked.


    James'' stomach twisted.


    It had played with them. It had given them hope, let them believe they had a chance¡ªonly to rip it away. One by one, his friends had fallen. Their screams still echoed in his mind.


    And now¡­


    He was alone.


    A deep, guttural chuckle rumbled from the creature¡¯s throat as it took a step forward. Blood dripped from its claws, pattering against the ruined floor. The sound was deafening in the silence.


    James clenched his sword with shaking hands. Not out of courage¡ªbut because he knew he couldn¡¯t run.


    He was too weak. Too weak to fight. Too weak to protect them.


    And now, too weak to survive.


    The monster moved again, its hulking form casting a shadow over him. It wanted him to understand. To feel the hopelessness. To drown in it.


    Its claws rose.


    James exhaled. This is it.


    He could see it, the instant his life would be snuffed out.


    A sharp gust of wind blew past, carrying the scent of death. The world seemed to slow¡ªhis heartbeat a distant echo in his ears. The monster¡¯s claws came down, slicing through the air toward him.


    And then¡ª


    BOOM.


    A shockwave erupted.


    James'' body seized, his muscles burning as something deep within him snapped¡ªno, shattered.


    Power flooded his veins. His mind drowned in white-hot energy. The world around him trembled as the ground beneath him cracked even further.


    And for the first time¡ªthe beast took a step back.


    His hidden potential had finally awakened.

 Chapter 1: The dimension shift

    Location: Victoria Island, Corona Academy, Lagos


    The classroom buzzed with frustrated groans. An equation glowed on the board¡ªcomplex, relentless, and utterly unsolvable, or so it seemed. This was a school for elites, yet even the brightest minds in the room struggled, cycling through different patterns like an AI stuck in an endless loop.


    "This is impossible to solve," a student muttered, throwing down his pen in frustration.


    "Mr. Chibuzo hasn¡¯t even given us a clue!" another boy added.


    "I know, but don¡¯t you realize what¡¯s at stake? If we get this right, we won¡¯t have to come to his class again, and we¡¯ll get a 50% boost in our CA. Who wouldn¡¯t want to cling to that tiny hope?"


    The equation was not just difficult¡ªit was an advanced theoretical formula dealing with infinite sequences, energy dispersion, and space-time anomalies. A puzzle meant to measure the limits of human understanding.


    "Do you think he gave us an impossible question on purpose?" a girl with glasses whispered to a classmate. A few students nodded, their skepticism spreading like wildfire. "It¡¯s a trick question," they murmured.


    Except for one person.


    James Kelechi Conor sat near the window, arms folded, head resting on his desk. While the rest of the class scrambled for answers, he was fast asleep, the rhythmic ticking of the clock the only sound that seemed to matter to him.


    Mr. Chibuzo¡¯s eye twitched in irritation. As a substitute teacher, he had been trying to connect with the class, but James wasn¡¯t even pretending to try.


    "James Kelechi Conor!" he bellowed, his voice laced with frustration.


    "He¡¯s sleeping again," Samantha, the class rep, whispered to her vice.


    "Bet he screws up this time. Even if he¡¯s the valedictorian, there¡¯s no way he can pull this off," another student snickered.


    THUD!


    A textbook slammed onto James'' desk, jolting him awake. His eyes fluttered open¡ªcalm, unbothered. A sharp voice cut through the murmurs.


    "If you have time to sleep, then you have time to show us how this question is solved, Mr. James."


    With an indifferent sigh, James stood, walked to the board, and picked up the marker. As he moved, a faint buzz ran through the air, like static electricity in the atmosphere. He barely registered it. The room was too tense, too focused on him.


    In smooth, effortless strokes, he simplified the equation. The room fell silent as he worked with unshakable precision. The method he used shouldn¡¯t have worked¡ªyet somehow, it did. The numbers aligned in a pattern almost too perfect, as if the solution had always been waiting for someone to find it.


    Finally, he capped the marker, placed it down, and turned away from the board.


    "Done."


    Gasps filled the air.


    "How did you do that?! Using those formulas together should be impossible!" someone shouted.


    Mr. Chibuzo stood frozen, staring at the board, then flipping frantically through his textbook. His lips parted in shock.


    "P-p-perfect..." he stammered.


    The principal had just walked in and witnessed the entire event. He stepped forward, handing James an envelope.


    "This just arrived for you. Congratulations, James. You¡¯ve been awarded a Rhodes Scholarship¡ªa full ride."


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    The class erupted again.


    "A Rhodes Scholarship?! That¡¯s one of the most prestigious awards in Europe! We still have a long way until graduation!"


    James finally showed a flicker of interest. He took the letter, scanned it briefly, then muttered, "Mom¡¯s gonna make a big deal out of this."


    The principal sighed. "You don¡¯t even look surprised."


    "I knew I¡¯d pass," James replied, slipping the letter into his pocket.


    Samantha clenched her fists. "You act like this doesn¡¯t even matter! Some of us have to work twice as hard, and you just¡ªsleep through it!"


    James glanced at her, but his expression remained unreadable. "Good thing I don¡¯t. If it¡¯s already this easy, school would just be boring."


    The bell rang, signaling the end of the day. As James shouldered his backpack and left the classroom, his classmates swarmed him.


    "James, you got a Rhodes Scholarship¡ªthat¡¯s insane!"


    "James, wanna be my study partner?"


    "James, how about a sleepover sometime?"


    Ignoring them all, James walked outside, but something felt¡­ off. A strange unease settled in his chest. The world around him seemed distorted, almost wrong.


    Birds flocked across the sky in chaotic patterns, circling unnaturally. A lone crow sat atop a streetlight, staring directly at him with an unsettling intensity. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves in sharp, unnatural bursts. A dog whimpered under a car, ears pressed flat in fear, and the air felt heavier, charged with something unseen.


    James frowned, a cold chill running up his spine. His instincts screamed at him, but he dismissed it. "Probably just tired," he muttered under his breath, trying to shake off the discomfort.


    As he reached for his bike¡ª


    A whisper brushed against his mind.


    Not words, but something deeper¡ªa presence, a pulse of energy that sent shivers through his spine. His shadow flickered for a split second, distorting unnaturally before returning to normal. His breath caught in his throat, and for the briefest moment, everything around him felt wrong, as if the world was holding its breath.


    He shook his head, thinking he was just exhausted. His eyes narrowed, and he pushed forward, determined to ignore the gnawing sensation.


    BOOM!


    A deafening explosion tore through the air, sending James crashing onto the pavement. A shockwave rippled through his body, rattling his bones, and his vision blurred as the ground trembled beneath him. Screams filled the air, but they felt distant, as if the world was suddenly submerged in a thick fog.


    Dust and debris clouded his vision, the scent of burning metal and scorched earth assaulting his senses. James groaned, blinking through the haze. His ears rang, his body unsteady as he staggered to his feet.


    "Damn... that hurt. Where the hell did that come from?"


    As he struggled upright, his gaze lifted toward the sky¡ªand his breath caught in his throat.


    The sky had cracked.


    Jagged fissures spread like shattered glass, pulsating with eerie, otherworldly energy. A dark void yawned behind them, flickering with an ominous glow, swirling in patterns that defied understanding. A sickening sensation twisted in James'' gut.


    Fear flickered across his face for the first time.


    But what truly terrified him wasn¡¯t just the fractured sky.


    The explosion had come from the direction of his house.


    And for a brief moment, as he steadied himself, he felt something unsettling deep within.


    Recognition.!


    THE WORLD HAD CHANGED¡­


    It wasn¡¯t sudden. It wasn¡¯t an era of chaos. But it all began when two moons appeared in the sky.


    There was no warning. No system event. Just two moons hovering in the night, as natural as the one that had always been there. And yet, that was what made it eerie. There was no fanfare, no announcement¡ªjust an anomaly that defied reason.


    Social media erupted.


    Posts flooded the internet:


    ¡°We¡¯re in a fairy tale!¡±


    ¡°An isekai fantasy come to life!¡±


    ¡°The gods have returned!¡±


    ¡°Aliens. It has to be aliens.¡±


    Theories spread like wildfire, a mix of excitement, fear, and absurdity. But while the public drowned in speculation, scientists were silent. Not because they had no answer, but because the truth was worse than speculation.


    The moons¡ªstrange as they were¡ªcould still be explained. Orbital anomalies, reflections, celestial bodies previously hidden. Theories were crafted, dissected, and fed to the media. People were skeptical at first, but science had a way of comforting the masses. Eventually, the panic settled.


    But what couldn¡¯t be explained were the stars.


    At first, no one noticed. The moons had stolen the world''s attention. But soon, astronomers and hobbyists began to raise the alarm.


    Our constellations were gone.


    No Big Dipper. No Orion¡¯s Belt. No North Star. The sky still glittered with countless stars, but they were unfamiliar¡ªalien.


    It was as if the entire Milky Way had been moved.


    If the public found out, civilization itself might collapse under the weight of the unknown. The government acted immediately, mobilizing the world¡¯s leading scientists and space agencies. NASA, award-winning physicists, and government spokespersons took to the news, crafting a narrative the world could accept. They spoke of time warping, gravitational distortions, white holes and black holes.


    It sounded ridiculous.


    But people needed answers. And when authority spoke with enough conviction, the world listened. The fear was contained.


    At least, for a while.


    On the seventh day of the phenomenon¡ª


    After seven days of unease, of quiet dread lurking beneath society¡¯s surface¡­


    The sky broke.

 Chapter 2: Panic

    James was riding as fast as he could. The acrid scent of burning metal clawed at his throat as he pedaled harder, weaving through the chaos of Victoria Island. Sirens screamed in the distance, blending with the panicked shouts of thousands. Smoke billowed from shattered buildings, and the distant roar of collapsing structures sent tremors through the ground. Cars were overturned, some still ablaze, their metal frames twisting in the heat. Within just five minutes of the sky ripping open, the city had descended into total chaos.


    People ran in every direction, eyes wild with terror, some pushing past others in desperation. But James kept going¡ªfaster, harder. He had one focus: getting home. His mind clung desperately to hope, searching for ways to calm himself. Maybe his home hadn¡¯t been caught in the explosions. Maybe the people running were just panicking over the sky. Maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªhis family had already made it out.


    But his gut twisted with fear.


    Memories crashed into his mind like waves, vivid and relentless.


    Sarah giggling as she climbed onto his back, her tiny arms wrapping around his shoulders.


    ¡°James, you¡¯re my horse now!¡± she had declared, her voice bright with mischief.


    Amara rolling her eyes from the doorway. ¡°You spoil her too much. She¡¯s already six.¡±


    His mother¡¯s warm hands smoothing down his collar before school. ¡°Be back home early, okay? We¡¯re making your favorite¡ªJollof rice for dinner.¡±


    His father¡¯s firm voice. ¡°No matter what happens, take care of them when I¡¯m not around. That is your job as their big brother.¡±


    James never said much in those moments. When Sarah clung to his back, he slowed down to make the ride last longer. When his sisters argued over who got to sit next to him at dinner, he pretended not to care but always let them win. When his mother scolded him for staying out late, he simply nodded, mumbled an apology, and promised to do better.


    He had never been good at saying how much he cared.


    But now, he was about to lose them all.


    Meanwhile¡­


    The United Nations was assembling in a frenzy, their emergency channels buzzing across the globe. Paris, Washington D.C., Cairo, New Delhi, Abuja¡ªevery major city with a UN branch was pulling together its top officials. The urgency was undeniable. The balance of the world was shifting, and no one knew what side it would fall on.


    Inside the main UN headquarters, the largest emergency conference in history was beginning.


    Satellite images flickered on massive screens, showing the impossible¡ªtears in the sky, monstrous figures emerging, entire cities in ruins. Reports flooded in, some claiming the anomalies were attacks, others insisting they were natural phenomena beyond human comprehension.


    Tensions flared as leaders clashed.


    ¡°We need immediate military action,¡± a U.S. representative barked, slamming a fist onto the table. ¡°If this is an invasion, hesitation will cost us everything.¡±


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    ¡°This is bigger than warfare,¡± a scientist from Geneva countered. ¡°We don¡¯t even understand what we¡¯re dealing with yet!¡±


    The Secretary-General raised a hand, his face grim. ¡°This is not just a crisis. This is the moment that will define the future of humanity. We are not just fighting for survival¡ªwe are deciding how the world will be rebuilt.¡±


    The debate would shape the fate of the world. The question was¡ªwould they make the right choice?


    As James turned the final corner, he froze at the sight before him¡ªhouses lay in ruins, reduced to rubble. His heart pounded as his gaze fell upon his home. Unlike the others, it had only been partially damaged. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, his tension easing slightly. But as he stepped through the front door, that relief shattered.


    Inside, devastation awaited him. Furniture was broken beyond repair, the walls bore deep scratches, and blood was splattered across the room. His breath hitched. It wasn¡¯t just a little blood¡ªit was far too much for minor injuries.


    Panic surged through him as he called out, his voice trembling.


    "Mom? Sarah? Dad? Amara? Is anyone home? It¡¯s me, James! Please, answer me! I¡¯m getting really worried¡ªthere¡¯s blood everywhere! Mom? Sarah¡ª!"


    His frantic calls carried him to his parents¡¯ bedroom. A pool of blood seeped from under the door. Dread settled deep in his gut as he pushed it open. The scene before him broke him.


    His mother lay lifeless on the floor, her once vibrant black skin pale, her Ankara dress drenched in blood. His sisters, Sarah and Amara, lay beside her, their hands still clasped tightly in death, as if they had left this world together.


    "Mom¡ªMom!" James dropped to his knees, shaking her gently. "Wake up¡­ Please, wake up!"


    His hands trembled as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded letter.


    "Mom, look! I got a Rhodes Scholarship. It was really hard to get in, but I did it¡ªjust like I promised you. So, wake up, please."


    He turned to his sisters. "Sarah¡­ Amara¡­ Mom isn¡¯t waking up. I think something¡¯s wrong with her. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll get help. Just¡ªjust don¡¯t move, okay? I¡¯ll be right back."


    James sprinted outside, his lungs burning as he screamed for help. A police car came into view. Desperation surged in him as he waved frantically.


    "Help! My family¡ªthey''re injured, they need a medic!"


    But the car sped past, ignoring the lone, panicked boy. Reality sank in. The world was in chaos. No one cared about a kid crying on the street.


    As he turned back toward his house, a looming presence behind him sent shivers down his spine. His body stiffened. Every instinct screamed at him¡ªnot to look. But he did.


    Standing there was a wolf-like creature, towering at twice his height. It stood on two legs, its bloodstained fur matted with fresh wounds. It growled, its unstable stance betraying an injured yet deadly predator. James'' breath hitched, unable to process what he was seeing. Death stared him in the face.


    Then, from behind him, a voice rang out.


    "Kelechi, move!"


    Location ¨C Beijing, China


    Gunfire echoed through the city as monstrous creatures poured from rifts in the sky. The skyline was fractured, a massive crack looming overhead, but the real horror was on the ground¡ªhumanoid wolf-like beasts rampaging through the streets.


    Zi Chen, a military commander, barked orders as his unit fought desperately to hold their ground. "Maintain formation! Keep them back!"


    The creatures were relentless, swarming through the gaping tears in space. Despite the chaos, the soldiers executed a steady retreat, conserving their ammunition.


    "I need a reload!" Zi Chen shouted.


    But as he reached for more ammo, he suddenly stopped. His unit thought he had run out of bullets¡ªbut that wasn¡¯t the case. A strange force surged through him, unseen yet palpable. The air around him grew heavy, an overwhelming pressure suffocating those nearby.


    It was the kind of feeling a child would experience standing in the ring against the world¡¯s greatest boxer¡ªabsolute, crushing dominance.


    Zi Chen dropped his rifle. He raised his hand toward an approaching beast. In an instant, a gaping, doughnut-shaped hole appeared in the creature¡¯s chest. It collapsed, lifeless.


    His unit stood frozen. No one could comprehend what had just happened.


    All across the world, similar events unfolded. Individuals¡ªordinary men and women¡ªwere awakening to god-like abilities.


    It was the dawn of a new era for human civilization.

 Chapter 3: loss

    James¡¯ lungs burned. He gasped, but no air came. His chest heaved in vain.


    The monster¡¯s eyes¡ªglowing like embers in the dim light¡ªlocked onto him. It didn¡¯t move. It didn¡¯t need to. The slow curl of its lips, revealing jagged, bone-crushing teeth, told him everything.


    James wanted to run. Wanted to scream. But his legs were stone, his body frozen in sheer terror.


    Then¡ª


    "Junior, move!"


    A force slammed into him. The world blurred as he hit the ground hard, the impact knocking air back into his lungs. He gasped, blinking up through the haze.


    Michael Kelechi Conor¡ªhis father¡ªstood between him and the monster.


    He was battered, bloodied, but unbroken. His tattered shirt clung to his frame, streaked with crimson, but his stance was firm, unwavering. His eyes burned¡ªnot with pain, not with fear, but with something more terrifying. Determination.


    The monster growled, the sound deep and guttural, shaking the very walls. Then, it struck.


    Michael shifted fluidly, dropping into a perfect combat stance¡ªone hand forward, legs spread for balance. A stance designed for evasion, counterattacks. For survival.


    The beast exhaled sharply, a blast of hot, foul breath filling the air. Then¡ªit charged.


    Michael stood his ground. Not even the pain in his limbs made him falter. James had never seen his father look so deadly.


    "Junior, run!" His voice was firm, but urgent. "I¡¯ll hold it off. Get as far away as possible. I¡¯ll catch up when¡ª"


    "No, you¡¯re not¡ª"


    The monster lunged.


    Michael sidestepped, his foot snapping forward. CRACK. The impact rattled through the air as the beast staggered, ribs fracturing under the force. But it did not fall. It spun back, saliva dripping from its fangs, and slashed at Michael¡¯s throat.


    A blur of movement. Barely a dodge.


    The claws raked his side, flesh peeling like paper. James sucked in a sharp breath. But Michael didn¡¯t stop.


    He closed in. A brutal right hook snapped the monster¡¯s snout sideways. CRACK. A knee to the chest. An elbow to the skull. Each strike was precise. Calculated. Unrelenting.


    For a moment¡ªjust a moment¡ªJames thought his father might actually win.


    Then the beast roared.


    It lashed out, faster than before. Michael¡¯s body jerked as claws tore into his shoulder, hurling him backward. He crashed through the remains of the dining table, wood splintering beneath his weight.


    "Dad!" James screamed.


    Michael gritted his teeth, forcing himself up. His body trembled, but he refused to stay down. Not while his son was watching.


    The monster pounced.


    Michael had no time to dodge. He caught its throat¡ªbare hands against raw muscle and teeth. But the force drove him to the floor, the beast¡¯s full weight pinning him down.


    James¡¯ breath hitched. His father was trapped.


    Claws plunged into Michael¡¯s side. Teeth snapped inches from his face.


    Still, he did not let go.


    His arms trembled. Pain lanced through every muscle. The monster pushed harder.


    Then¡ªa bite.


    CRACK.


    A scream ripped through the air.


    Michael gasped. Blood pooled around him. His left arm¡ªuseless.


    With his remaining strength, his right hand shot forward. Fingers jabbed into the beast¡¯s eye. Deeper. Deeper. A sickening squelch.


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    The monster howled, thrashing. But Michael didn¡¯t let go.


    A smirk touched his bloodied lips. "Got you, bastard."


    Then¡ª


    A final, merciless swipe tore across his chest.


    Michael coughed blood. His body collapsed.


    James didn¡¯t breathe. Didn¡¯t move.


    His father didn¡¯t even flinch when he hit the ground.


    "Dad?" His voice cracked. "Dad, stay awake¡ªplease! We have to go. Mom, Sarah, Amara¡­ they aren¡¯t moving! We need help! Please don¡¯t leave too!"


    Michael¡¯s eyes softened. His son, usually so cold, so composed¡ªwas weeping.


    For the first time, Michael allowed himself to feel tired.


    His breath was shallow. His vision dimmed.


    "I¡¯m sorry¡­ I couldn¡¯t protect them." His voice was barely a whisper. "Don¡¯t lose hope¡­ things will get be¡ª"


    A shadow loomed behind James.


    The monster was still alive.


    Michael exhaled.


    "Forgive me¡­"


    His eyes dimmed.


    James¡¯ world shattered.


    His vision blurred. His breath turned ragged, sharp. His fingers brushed against something.


    A knife.


    Cold metal.


    He gripped it, knuckles whitening.


    "Give them back!"


    He charged.


    He stabbed.


    And stabbed.


    And stabbed.


    Over and over, until the beast stopped moving. Until his arms ached. Until everything went silent.


    Until he realized¡ªit didn¡¯t matter.


    His family was gone.


    James slumped beside his father. He didn¡¯t cry anymore. He just sat there.


    Three Days Later


    "Sir! We found someone!"


    Lying among the bodies, covered in dried blood and bruises, was James.


    For a moment, they thought he was dead.


    Then¡ª


    A shallow breath. Weak. Barely noticeable.


    But alive.


    ---


    Three Days Before James Was Found


    The United Nations emergency conference was in full swing, every branch worldwide in lockdown. Nations communicated through holographic screens, but the meeting had descended into absolute chaos¡ªrepresentatives shouting over one another, their voices clashing in a storm of panic and defiance.


    Amid the noise, Sergei Volkov, Russia¡¯s representative, a surprisingly young man with icy blue eyes, leaned forward, fingers interlocked. His expression was grim as he addressed General Robert Langston, the U.S. representative, a towering man with a scarred jaw.


    ¡°We have lost three cities¡ªnot to the creatures, but to the awakened. Some of these people wield god-like abilities. If we don¡¯t act now, this world will enter an apocalyptic era.¡±


    Langston''s eyes burned with defiance. ¡°And your solution is to treat them like rabid dogs? You¡¯d abandon your people just because they¡¯ve changed?¡± His voice was sharp, cutting through the noise like a blade.


    ¡°We need to focus on the real threat first¡ªthe creatures coming from the rifts,¡± interjected Isabella Duarte, the Brazilian representative. A woman with jet-black hair and a business-like demeanor, she spoke with measured authority.


    Sergei scoffed. ¡°Says the one who wants to experiment on awakened humans like lab rats.¡±


    France¡¯s Emmanuel Laurent, an average-looking man who constantly adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat. ¡°This is the next step in human evolution. Instead of suppressing them, we should be working with them to fight the real enemy.¡±


    ¡°And what about the awakened wreaking havoc?¡± Sergei countered. ¡°They¡¯re worse than the creatures!¡±


    A deep voice cut through the tension. ¡°Then we control them by force.¡±


    The speaker was Chukwuemeka Onwudiwe, the Nigerian representative¡ªa bald, dark-skinned man who exuded raw authority.


    China¡¯s Zhang Wei, a middle-aged man with sharp features, raised an eyebrow. ¡°And how exactly do you plan to do that?¡±


    Chukwuemeka leaned forward. ¡°The awakened fall into three categories.¡±


    First¡ªthe rampant ones, those who seek destruction. We suppress them with force.


    Second¡ªthe protectors, individuals trying to bring balance. They are risking their lives to save the people we are meant to protect, we can''t let their hardwork be unnoticed.We offer them support, so they see us as allies rather than threats.


    Third¡ªthe side-viewers, those waiting for the perfect moment to act. They are the most dangerous.


    George Whitesmore spoke in a calm demeanor " why do you think the side viewers are the most dangerous ones"


    "Because they are still using their brains when they just gained power beyond their imagination". Mr diwe replied.


    " So if they are still using their brains and distancing themselves from this crises how do we convince them to deal with the creatures pouring out of the rift". Ms. Duarte stated.


    "We negotiate, offer them benefits they can¡¯t refuse, and keep them under watch. At least until we have a solution to make them fall back into order".


    A measured voice joined the fray. ¡°A logical approach, but one that assumes we hold the upper hand.¡±


    All eyes turned to George Whitesmore, the UK representative. He was a man of striking presence¡ªsilver-haired, sharp-eyed, and dressed with an elegance that masked his reputation as a ruthless strategist. He rested his chin on his steepled fingers before continuing.


    ¡°The moment we act against the awakened, we declare war on our own people. If we fail to suppress them instantly, they will retaliate. And tell me, what government has the means to stop an awakened whose power rivals a nuclear warhead?¡±


    Silence gripped the room.


    Langston exhaled sharply. ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice. If we don¡¯t take control now, there won¡¯t be a world left to argue over.¡±


    Whitesmore¡¯s lips curled in a faint smile, but his eyes remained cold. ¡°Then control them wisely. Force alone will only accelerate our downfall.¡±


    India¡¯s Anika Rao, a tall woman who carried an air of mystery, tilted her head. ¡°And how will they trust our promises?¡± Mr. Diwe''s expression remained firm. ¡°We don¡¯t ask for trust¡ªwe prove it. Our military must take control of the situation, evacuate survivors, and eliminate the creatures. Only then can we offer resources and security in exchange for cooperation.


    ¡±Representatives turned to their respective military commanders, issuing urgent orders to mobilize forces, stabilize the crisis, and execute this strategy.All except Zhang Wei.


    Anika Rao narrowed her eyes. He wasn¡¯t speaking to his military. His expression was too calm. His words, too measured.


    He was speaking to China¡¯s scientists.And unlike the others, he wasn¡¯t reacting to the crisis¡ªhe was already ahead of it.

 Chapter 4: reality

    Three days after the nation''s decision.


    The air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke. Armed officers cautiously moved through the wreckage of what was once a home. Their boots crunched against shattered glass, broken wood, and the dried remnants of a battle that should have been impossible for normal humans.


    Officer Segun knelt beside the massive wolf-like creature, inspecting its wounds. The beast was far larger than the usual ones emerging from the rift, its fur matted with dried blood, its muscles still tense even in death, as if it had died mid-hunt. But what unsettled him the most wasn¡¯t its sheer size¡ªit was how the creature had been killed.


    Deep gashes marred its throat and skull, the blood long dried from the fatal wounds. Segun ran a gloved hand over its body, his expression shifting as he pieced together what he was seeing.


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t done by an awakener, or by a gun, or any of our weapons,¡± he murmured. ¡°These wounds were inflicted over time¡ªa battle of endurance.¡±


    A heavy silence settled among the officers.


    ¡°A human killed this beast?¡± Musa, his partner, asked in shock.


    ¡°Any survivors?¡± Segun asked, standing up.


    ¡°We found some people¡­ but they¡¯re all dead¡ªwait.¡± The officer paused. ¡°This kid is still breathing. He¡¯s got a stable pulse. He just needs treatment.¡±


    ¡°A kid?¡± Segun¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°What was he using?¡±


    ¡°A knife.¡±


    ¡°Bring it over. Now.¡±


    The moment Segun took the weapon, his stomach clenched. He compared the shape of the blade to the wounds on the beast, tracing over the deep gashes. His breath caught in his throat.


    ¡°Oh, dear Lord.¡±


    Musa frowned. ¡°What?¡±


    Segun turned to him, his voice tense. ¡°A kid did this.¡±


    ¡°You must be joking,¡± Musa scoffed. ¡°I don¡¯t think I could last three minutes against something like this, let alone¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, realization dawned on him as he followed Segun¡¯s gaze. The wounds, the blade, the corpse¡ªit all lined up perfectly. There was no mistaking it.


    The child had killed this monster.


    ¡°We need to save him at all costs,¡± Segun said, his voice firm. ¡°Call HQ. Tell them we have a survivor. Medic, start first aid immediately. This kid must not die.¡±


    He clenched his fist, his thoughts racing.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    In this era of chaos, talent must be treated with care¡ªespecially those beyond human comprehension.


    His gaze lingered on the unconscious boy.


    If he could take down a beast like this before even awakening¡­ I wonder what kind of monster he¡¯ll become once he¡¯s fully nurtured.


    Location: UN Conference


    Dr. Daniel stood before the assembled world leaders, his voice steady but urgent. "We have been monitoring this rift for a long time," he began, gesturing to the holographic display behind him. "This rift, or as we now call it¡ªthe void crack¡ªis a fracture in reality itself. To help you understand, allow me to demonstrate."


    He picked up a sheet of paper from the table. "Consider this paper as Earth, our reality. Now imagine this bucket of water represents an immense concentration of energy. If I were to submerge the paper in the water, it would weaken, becoming fragile." He dipped the paper momentarily, then held it up, its edges drooping under the moisture. "Now, if the water were to stir violently¡ª" he shook the paper lightly, causing it to tear "¡ªthe paper rips. This is what¡¯s happening to our world. The void cracks are the violent waves, and the creatures emerging are the chaos they bring."


    A murmur spread through the room as the weight of his words settled over the delegates. Some leaned forward, while others exchanged hushed conversations.


    Egypt¡¯s representative, Mr. Mohammed, leaned forward. "Does this mean the void cracks will eventually close?"


    Dr. Daniel exhaled, choosing his words carefully. "If our theory is correct, yes. But not in the way you might hope. Earth is undergoing a transformation. Once the energy stabilizes, the rifts will cease."


    "Transformation?" another representative interjected, skepticism clear in his tone. "What do you mean by that? Are you saying Earth itself is changing?"


    Dr. Daniel¡¯s eyes gleamed with excitement. "Exactly. Unlike this paper, Earth is not a lifeless object¡ªit is a dynamic system, capable of adaptation. The longer it is exposed to this energy, the more it absorbs. Just as awakeners are evolving, developing abilities beyond human limits, Earth itself will mutate, reinforcing its own structure and making reality more stable."


    A scoff came from the European delegation. "Mutation? That¡¯s a dangerous word, Doctor. You make it sound as if we are meant to accept this chaos as progress."


    Dr. Daniel shook his head. "Whether we accept it or not is irrelevant. This is not a matter of ideology¡ªit is survival. We are witnessing the next step in human evolution. The only question is whether we will be ready to embrace it."


    Silence followed as the weight of his declaration settled in.


    Finally, Mr. Langston, the U.S. representative, spoke. "How long will it take for Earth to stabilize?"


    Dr. Daniel¡¯s excitement faded into somber reality. "We cannot say for certain. It could take weeks, months, or even years, depending on how quickly we adapt. But one thing is certain¡ªreality will never be as it was before. Even after stabilization, some rifts may still appear. Most will be minor, insignificant. But some¡­ could threaten humanity itself."


    The room fell into a tense silence, the implications sinking in. Some leaders jotted down notes, while others whispered to their aides.


    During the conference¡¯s intermission, Chinese Minister Zhang Wei held a private discussion in a secluded chamber. He sat across from his team of scientists, his fingers interlocked, gaze piercing.


    "Is it ready?" he asked.


    One of the scientists cleared his throat. "We have identified the triggers for awakening and developed a classification system. However, to fully understand the potential of awakeners¡ªand their limits¡ªwe require more time and, crucially, more void serum."


    Zhang Wei tapped his fingers against the table, deep in thought. "So, the serum is the key..." He let out a slow breath. "No need to say more. I have already considered releasing our findings on awakeners. In exchange, we will secure the benefits we need." A smirk formed on his lips. "With this knowledge, the world will have no choice but to bargain with us."


    The scientist bowed slightly. "Understood, Minister."


    Zhang Wei exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting toward the window, where the skyline  stretched into the distance. The game had begun.

 Chapter 5: The Fate of Nations

    James stirred awake, his body aching, his mind sluggish. The cold metal of the truck bed pressed against him, the thin blanket draped over his shoulders offering little warmth. Around him, other survivors sat in silence, wrapped in the same flimsy coverings. Their eyes were empty, staring at nothing. No one spoke. No one cried. The weight of what they had witnessed had stolen even the will to grieve.


    The truck rumbled down the shattered streets of Victoria Island. James barely registered the figures beside him or how he had gotten there. His gaze remained fixed outside, where the once-thriving city lay in ruin. Buildings had crumbled, their skeletal remains jutting into the sky like broken fingers. Flames licked at the husks of homes, sending thick smoke spiraling into the air. The roads were slick with blood, reflecting the flickering light of burning cars.


    Soldiers moved methodically, retrieving bodies from the wreckage¡ªsome human, others not. Medics loaded the twisted corpses of creatures onto stretchers, likely for study. A woman sat on the curb, cradling the lifeless head of her child, her body swaying as she whispered to him. Nearby, a wife clawed at the mangled remains of a car, trying to drag out the limp form of her husband before the wreck exploded. The air was thick with the scent of smoke, burning flesh, and something James could only describe as wrong.


    It was a nightmare. One no one could wake from.


    A voice cut through the suffocating silence. "It''s painful, isn''t it?" The officer who had pulled James from the ruins¡ªhis name was Segun¡ªwatched him carefully. "This place used to be beautiful. Now, it¡¯s just¡­ ashes."


    James didn¡¯t reply. He just kept staring out the truck, his face devoid of expression.


    Segun exhaled and continued, as if needing to fill the silence. "Where we found you¡­ it was worse than this. A graveyard."


    James finally turned, his voice barely above a whisper. "My family?"


    A flicker of hesitation crossed Segun¡¯s face before he answered. "I¡¯m sorry, kid. We¡¯re spread too thin. We couldn¡¯t give them a proper burial. But¡­ we laid them to rest the best we could."


    James turned back to the ruined city. His voice was quiet, almost lost in the wind. "I see. Thank you."


    Segun nodded but said nothing more. He knew there was nothing left to say.


    The truck rolled on, carrying its silent cargo of the broken and the grieving.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    UN Conference ¨C


    ¡°We¡¯ve been arguing for almost a week now. We need a solution¡ªfast.¡± A weary representative slammed his fist on the table. ¡°The chaos within our borders is under control for now. Awakeners are cooperating with the military. But what then? If we don¡¯t find a long-term strategy, everything we¡¯ve done will be meaningless.¡±


    Mr. Langston scoffed. ¡°And what do you suggest? Hand our awakened citizens special privileges until they no longer need us? Or should we use force to suppress them, making ourselves look like cowards clinging to power? Either way, we¡¯re losing control. They may be manageable now, but once they master their abilities¡­ I don¡¯t even want to think about whether they or the creatures from the rifts will be the bigger threat.¡±


    The room fell into uneasy silence. The weight of his words settled over the gathered leaders¡ªno one had an answer.


    Just as the tension reached its peak, a calm voice broke through.


    ¡°How about we establish our own awakened task force?¡±


    Heads snapped toward the speaker. The suggestion was so na?ve, so absurd, that for a moment, no one knew how to respond. Then anger flared across the room.


    ¡°You think that¡¯s the solution?¡± George Whitesmore, European representative growled. ¡°Do you realize how long it would take to train and control such a force?¡±


    Zhang Wei remained unfazed. ¡°One year.¡±


    Scoffs and murmurs rippled through the chamber. Langston leaned forward, eyes narrowing. ¡°And I assume you have a plan to back up that claim?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Zhang¡¯s voice remained steady. ¡°Within a year, our respective regions would be stabilized. Order would be fully restored. More importantly, your governments would receive all the credit. The world will see you as the saviors who ended the chaos.¡±


    A heavy pause. Then a quiet, skeptical voice spoke.


    ¡°Stop.¡± Mr. Diwe¡¯s sharp gaze locked onto Zhang. ¡°You¡¯re not offering this solution out of goodwill, are you?¡±


    Zhang¡¯s lips curled slightly. ¡°I see you¡¯re not naive, Mr. Diwe.¡± He leaned back, his confidence unwavering. ¡°Yes, I have a way to bring this crisis to an end. But I won¡¯t give it away for free.¡±


    A Pakistan representative shot up from his seat. ¡°Our world is on the brink of collapse, and you want to do business?¡±


    Zhang¡¯s gaze turned ice-cold. ¡°Yes.¡± His tone was as sharp as a blade. ¡°Your nations are falling apart. I have a solution. Do you have a better one?¡±


    The room fell silent again. The Pakistan rep sat down, his jaw tight.


    Anika Rao tapped her fingers against the table. ¡°So this is what you and your scientists have been working on since the beginning of this conference.¡±


    Zhang smirked. ¡°You¡¯re very perceptive, Ms. Rao.¡±


    He swept his gaze across the room, his voice lowering to a near whisper. ¡°I¡¯ll give you all a choice. Are you open to negotiation, or will you let your nations collapse out of pride?¡±


    His eyes settled on key figures. ¡°Mr. Khan, Mr. Langston, Ms. Rao, and of course, Mr. Diwe. Your countries are the ones on the verge of breaking. That¡¯s why you¡¯ve been the most vocal here. It is already hard for countries to control their people I wonder how terrifying it is to regulate countries with massive population like yours¡±


    He folded his hands together, his expression unreadable. ¡°This is your only opportunity to save your nations. You will take it, won¡¯t you?¡±

 Chapter 6: Negotiations

    LOCATION: LAGOS


    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Officer Segun announced, his voice flat and indifferent. ¡°Everyone, get down.¡±


    The heavy doors of the transport creaked open, revealing a city that barely resembled what it once was. Soldiers in full combat gear stood in formation, rifles slung over their shoulders, their expressions unreadable. As the refugees stepped out, the air hit them¡ªa nauseating mix of sweat, rotting food, and smoke, making each breath feel heavy.


    Segun continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. ¡°From now until this crisis is over, you will be staying here. No fighting. No complaining. No loitering past curfew. If you have a problem, it¡¯s your business to solve. You will receive rations twice a day. Break the rules, and you will be thrown out of the camp.¡±


    Officers across the camp repeated similar warnings. But the refugees barely reacted¡ªtoo exhausted, too broken to care.


    James stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the camp. What had once been a city of commerce and modernity was now a fortress of desperation. The collapse of nearby cities had forced hundreds of thousands to seek shelter here, but Lagos had never been built to hold this many.


    Everywhere he looked, makeshift tents and crude shelters sprawled along the streets. The air was thick with decay, the scent of burning debris clinging to everything. Conversations were mere murmurs, as if speaking too loudly might invite disaster.


    Children who should have been playing sat motionless, their wide eyes filled with something far too mature¡ªawareness. In this world, failing to understand your surroundings could get you killed.


    Lagos was held together by sheer military force. Soldiers patrolled relentlessly, their rifles never out of reach. At key checkpoints, civilians were scanned with handheld devices, searching for energy fluctuations¡ªsigns of awakened individuals.


    The roads leading to the city center were no longer bustling with life. Instead, they were lined with tanks and armored vehicles, their cannons tracking the slightest movement of stray lycons. Automated defense turrets loomed over key intersections, red lights flickering as they scanned for threats. Above, drones hovered silently, their mechanical eyes sweeping the ruins.


    This was no longer a city.


    It was a war zone.


    LOCATION: UN CONFERENCE


    The world leaders sat in tense silence, still deliberating over China¡¯s proposal. Finally, Mr. Langston broke the silence.


    ¡°What do you want in exchange for the information on how to resolve the crisis?¡±


    A small smile played on Mr. Zhang Wei¡¯s lips. ¡°I¡¯m glad you asked. By now, all of you should have noticed reports from your respective nations regarding a strange blue liquid appearing near the void cracks.¡±


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Mr. Diwe leaned forward. ¡°You mean the liquid emitting energy readings that are off the charts?¡±


    ¡°Precisely.¡± Zhang nodded.


    Mrs. Rao, her sharp eyes calculating, spoke next. ¡°If you want it, that must mean it¡¯s extremely valuable and rare.¡±


    ¡°You could say that,¡± Zhang admitted. ¡°I require ten gallons of what we call ¡®Void Serum.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Void Serum?¡± Several leaders murmured in unison.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Zhang confirmed. ¡°That is what our scientists have started calling it.¡±


    George Whitesmore scoffed. ¡°Ten gallons? We haven¡¯t even collected half that amount. Producing such a quantity is impossible.¡±


    Zhang chuckled lightly. ¡°I see. Then let¡¯s make it one gallon.¡±


    Mr. Laurent narrowed his eyes. ¡°That was your real offer from the start, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Who knows?¡± Zhang replied coyly. ¡°For those who wish to receive the information, you must agree to deliver the serum after stabilizing your respective regions.¡±


    A heavy silence settled over the room until a voice finally broke through.


    "I accept your proposal,¡± announced Russia¡¯s representative, Mr. Volkov.


    ¡°I accept,¡± Mr. Diwe followed.


    Mrs. Rao and Mr. Langston soon followed suit, and as the leading nations gave their approval, the rest eventually fell in line.


    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t make us regret this, Mr. Zhang,¡± Langston said.


    Zhang gave a reassuring nod. ¡°Of course not. Now, I will tell you all how to create an Awakened. Does that sound reasonable enough?¡±


    The room fell deathly silent.


    ¡°Wait, you mean you already know how to induce Awakening?¡± someone asked incredulously.


    Zhang gave a slow, deliberate nod. ¡°Yes, we do. Sooner or later, you would have figured out the pattern behind Awakenings. Now, I will explain the phenomenon.¡±


    He stood and gestured towards a holographic display.


    ¡°Awakening is the process by which humans absorb energy naturally into their bodies until their genes evolve to a higher state. However, not everyone has the talent to absorb energy naturally. Those who lack the talent must be forced into Awakening.¡±


    The leaders listened intently as Zhang continued.


    ¡°Imagine the human body as a cup,¡± he explained, pointing at the visual representation on the hologram. ¡°When we first arrived in this dimension, we all unlocked a ¡®cup¡¯¡ªa vessel to store energy. However, each person¡¯s method of filling that cup differs. A certain threshold must be reached before evolution can occur.¡±


    He turned back to the audience.


    ¡°This brings us to the core question: What is Awakening?¡±


    The leaders remained silent, waiting for his answer.


    ¡°So far, we have identified two types of Awakening: Special Awakening and True Awakening.¡±


    He expanded the hologram, showing data points and visuals of known Awakened individuals.


    ¡°Special Awakening refers to individuals who can comprehend and absorb energy with ease. Their bodies naturally evolve, allowing them to wield power as if it were second nature.¡±


    Zhang then changed the display to show a battlefield.


    ¡°True Awakening, however, is the solution to your current crisis. The Lycons emerging from the void cracks are not ordinary beasts. While firearms may work on them, they do not facilitate evolution. To truly awaken, one must kill these creatures with cold weapons.¡±


    One of the representatives raised a hand. ¡°Can you elaborate?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Zhang said. ¡°When a Lycon is killed with conventional firearms, its energy dissipates into the surroundings. However, when slain with a melee weapon, the energy transfers through the weapon and into the wielder¡¯s cup.¡±


    The hologram animated a warrior slashing a Lycon, with energy visibly flowing into their body.


    ¡°Once the cup reaches a certain level, the individual evolves into an Awakened being.¡±


    Murmurs filled the room as the implications sank in.


    Zhang¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°But even that is nothing compared to the Second Cup wielders. They exist on an entirely different level from normal Awakened humans.¡±


    The room was


    completely silent now, all eyes on Zhang Wei as he prepared to unveil the final piece of his revelation.

 Chapter 7: Gifted camp

    ¡°Second cup wielders are a monstrosity of nature. Take this human cup for example.


    Each individual has a cup and if energy keeps filling the cup. They will eventually reach their limit. But some rare cases may possess a second cup.


    ¡°This means they will absorb twice as fast as one-cup wielders and their energy limit will be off the charts. Those beings will be the true powerhouse of this world and that is what all nations are to look out for.


    A chill suddenly spread through the room. ¡°We do not understand how they unlocked a second cup but those individual are the most dangerous begins alive¡±.


    Nations finally understood how to adapt into this new crises that was upon them. The world had finally reached a new turning point.


    LOCATION ¨C LAGOS


    James was slowly getting used to his life in the refugee camp. He moved through the camp but it felt like he was somewhere else. Somewhere far away. The refugees were all lined up for their daily ration. Sounds were muffled, colors were faded and faces blurred together. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and desperation. But James felt nothing his body just walked around the camp not because he wanted to but because it had to. He ate from time to time. But just to keep enough energy in his body to move. He had no sense of hunger, no exhaustion, no fear and no will to live either. Only instincts.


    Three days later¡­


    Lagos had become a graveyard for life, but people still clung onto it. The hidden markets were filled with survivors, merchants, former solider each playing their own desperate games of surviving. Children clinging onto their mothers silently as they traded for rations and other items that were valuable during this period. A kid walked up to James and handed him a bar of chocolate. ¡°You want some?¡±. He looked at James with a smile. James answered. ¡°no thanks am full¡±. ¡°You are lying I have seen you for days you barely eat, barely move or barely talk. You are like a robot programmed to just survive¡±. James looked at her trying to smile but he forgot how to and just replied. ¡°no worries about me am a light eater. Have always been¡±. James walked away as he replied to the little girl. The 10-year-old kid looked at James in a confused expression. Then walked away. But everyday she kept looking for James over and over and over again. Until one day, the kid didn¡¯t show up at all. Maybe she¡¯s finally given up. But as he said that, some people were murmuring in the background.


    ¡° That is the third kid today they have taken away¡±. ¡°Give him back that he''s my only family left¡±. A woman desperately trying to get her child taken away by the military.¡± He hasn¡¯t done anything wrong just give him back to me¡±. The child shouted for his mother too. ¡°Mom don¡¯t let them take him away¡±. But the soldiers still took him away from his mother. ¡°You will get your child soon enough mam¡±. the military replied to the mother as he was being taken away. And as James was watching the scene unfold before him.


    A voice appeared before him. ¡°Mr. Kelechi cornor. I need you to come with us¡±. James did not resist but just asked as he was walking with the soldiers and researcher in white lab coat that was taking him away. ¡°Where am I going¡±? The researcher replied ¡°you would find out when we get there. Don¡¯t worry it won¡¯t threaten your safety¡±. As James and researcher finally reach their destination James, eyes gazed at the scene before him. A heavily guarded fortress that could be mistaken for the president villa was seen before him. The solider were fully armed not with guns but cold weapons like swords and spears. ¡°Please this way the researcher pointed to to James¡±. They were taken into the fortress with a car. Driving for over a mile until they finally reached a 5-foot story building that was made out of glass. James got out with the scientist and as he stepped into the building; kids were seen being tested on by the scientist and researchers. James was taken to a room filled with medical equipments. As he lay down on the bed, ¡°I will be taking a little blood¡± a woman said as he pierced James arm with a syringe. Ouch! Exclaimed... James. And as the woman took it into a machine that was displaying his blood type in a screen. Energy level 9%. She said to the researcher that brought him in. impressive the researcher said. Replied he should already be above most normal humans. He shouted out to a soldier, ¡°Colonel Tosin; we are taking him to the ¡±. As they drove into a military like base. James stood in a camp that all personnel were officers but the people in the camp was ranging between 14 and 20. James was shown around the camp by Colonel Daniel. ¡°You will train eat and live here until we deem is no longer necessary¡±. James sighed, as he knew from now on this was his new life.


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    The daily schedule was strict, every moment accounted for:


    - 6:00 AM ¨C Wake Up:The sharp blare of a siren jolted everyone awake. No exceptions.


    - 6:30 AM ¨C Breakfast:Eaten in silence under the cold, calculating eyes of soldiers.


    - 8:00 AM ¨C Morning Assessments: Children were evaluated for their physical condition, mental stability, and, most importantly, potential usefulness.


    - 1:00 PM ¨C Afternoon Chores: Cleaning, organizing, and maintaining the facility under supervision.


    - 6:00 PM ¨C Dinner: Identical to breakfast. No one spoke unless necessary.


    - 9:00 PM ¨C Lights Out: Sleep was expected, whether it came or not.


    The gifted camp was heavily secured. Soldiers patrolled the perimeters, their boots crunching against gravel. Drones buzzed overhead, scanning the facility for potential threats. Beyond the high, barbed-wire fences, the outside world remained unstable¡ªlooters, unstable awakeners, and the remnants of destruction lurked in the shadows.


    James spoke to no one.


    He sat at the far end of the cafeteria, back pressed against the cool metal wall, eating methodically. Each motion¡ªlift, chew, swallow¡ªwas precise, devoid of thought or emotion.


    The cafeteria hummed with activity¡ªclinking trays, whispered conversations, the occasional cough¡ªbut James existed in his own world, a place where nothing touched him.


    Then, a voice shattered the silence.


    ¡°James? James Kelechi Conor?!¡±


    James didn¡¯t react.


    Footsteps. Quick, uneven.Someone was moving toward him fast, ignoring the orphanage¡¯s usual quiet restraint.


    A boy his age skidded to a stop beside the table, slightly out of breath. His uniform was wrinkled, his shoes scuffed, and his messy dreadlocks hinted at someone who cared little for discipline. Yet, his eyes burned with energy¡ªa stark contrast to the lifeless air of the facility.


    James recognized him instantly.


    Samuel Chuka Johnson.


    Loud. Reckless. Unshakable.


    Unlike everyone else drowning in silence, Sam refused to be quiet.


    ¡°Damn, you¡¯re really here! I thought you died or something!¡± He threw his hands up. ¡°I mean, you didn¡¯t talk much before, but now you¡¯ve gone full-on statue mode.¡±


    James didn¡¯t flinch, didn¡¯t even glance up.


    Sam exhaled loudly and slid onto the cold metal seat across from him. ¡°Alright, fine. Be all mysterious and broody. I¡¯ll talk enough for both of us.¡±


    James continued eating, unfazed.


    Sam leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching him with an exaggerated squint. ¡°You¡¯re seriously not gonna say anything? Not even a grunt? A nod? A flicker of emotion?¡±


    Silence.


    Sam grinned, undeterred. ¡°Cool, cool. Guess I¡¯ll just sit here and annoy you till you break.¡± He dug into his food, talking between bites. ¡°You know, I was kinda hoping you¡¯d turn out different after all this. Like, maybe I¡¯d finally see you panic or something. But nope¡ªyou¡¯re still the same unshakable weirdo.¡±


    James remained still, his body language unreadable.


    Sam sighed dramatically and leaned back. ¡°Man, this place sucks.¡±


    James ignored him.


    He wasn¡¯t wrong. The gifted campwasn¡¯t cruel, but it wasn¡¯t kind either. There were no unnecessary comforts, no reassurances. Everything was about maintaining order. Children weren¡¯t allowed to dwell on their losses. The past was irrelevant¡ªwhat mattered was whether they could contribute to the future.


    Sam jabbed at his food. ¡°You ever wonder why they¡¯re keeping us so locked down? I mean, it¡¯s not like we¡¯re prisoners, but it sure as hell feels like it.¡±


    James still didn¡¯t answer.


    But Sam kept talking.


    He always did.


    ¡°I heard some of the older kids talking about awakenings.¡± He lowered his voice slightly, like it was some grand conspiracy. ¡°They say some people¡ªregular people¡ªare waking up with abilities. Even here. They think the government is watching us, waiting to see who shows signs.¡±


    James finally paused.


    It was small, a fraction of a second, but Sam noticed. His grin widened.


    ¡°Ah-ha! That got your attention, didn¡¯t it?¡± He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. ¡°They say it¡¯s random, but I don¡¯t believe that. What if the government already knows? What if they¡¯re testing us? Watching for signs?¡±


    James¡¯ grip on his spoon tightened slightly, then relaxed.


    Sam watched him closely. ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯s weird?¡± he pressed. ¡°All these security patrols, all these medical check-ups? It¡¯s not just for our well-being. They¡¯re looking for something.¡±


    James didn¡¯t respond.


    But Sam saw it¡ªthe slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curled for just a moment.


    He was listening.


    That was enough.


    Sam grinned, triumphant. ¡°Fine, keep your cool act. But I know you¡¯re paying attention now.¡± He stretched, cracking his knuckles. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll just have to stick around till you finally decide to talk.¡±


    James


    sighed softly, barely noticeable.


    Sam?


    He wasn¡¯t going anywhere

 Chapter 8: my will to live

    The dining hall buzzed with the low murmur of children eating, their movements mechanical, their expressions hollow. The overhead lights flickered slightly, casting a dim glow over the cold metal tables. In the far corners of the room, armed guards stood at their posts, eyes scanning the rows of orphans as they ate in near silence.


    James sat at the edge of one of those tables, his tray barely touched. Across from him, Sam spoke between bites, his words spilling out with the energy of someone desperately trying to fill the void.


    James chewed slowly, his face expressionless as he listened to the meaningless chatter. Sam was talking about something ridiculous¡ªmaybe a joke, maybe a memory. James wasn¡¯t sure. He tried to ignore him.


    Tried to drown out the voice, the noise, the forced laughter. But it gnawed at him.


    How could he talk so much?


    How could he smile¡­ like this was just some vacation?


    James¡¯ grip on his spoon tightened. The food in his mouth turned tasteless. The question clawed its way out of his throat before he could stop it.


    ¡°¡­How can you smile like this?¡±


    His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.


    Sam froze. The usual light in his eyes flickered.


    James wasn¡¯t looking at him anymore¡ªhis gaze was hollow, filled with something broken and heavy.


    The room suddenly felt smaller, the hum of quiet conversations fading into the background.


    For a moment, Sam didn¡¯t respond. Then, he exhaled, leaning back against his chair, tapping his fingers on the table.


    ¡°You think I don¡¯t want to cry?¡±His voice was quieter now, stripped of its usual energy. ¡°You think I don¡¯t feel like screaming until my throat tears open?¡±


    James didn¡¯t answer.


    Sam looked away, staring at the scratched surface of the table. His fingers curled slightly.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t there, James. You didn¡¯t see it.¡±


    James felt his jaw tighten.


    Sam ran a hand through his short, unkempt hair. ¡°The monsters came fast. Too fast. My parents... they tried to protect us. Gave us to my aunt and told her to run.¡± His voice turned bitter. ¡°She did. But the moment she saw a wolf like monster¡­ she panicked.¡±


    James¡¯ fingers twitched.


    Sam let out a shaky breath. ¡°She pushed us. Me and my brother. Just¡­ shoved us toward it and ran the other way.¡± His hands clenched on his lap. ¡°She used us as bait, James. Thought she could save herself if the monster was busy eating us.¡±


    James¡¯ throat felt tight.


    ¡°My brother¡­¡± Sam swallowed hard. ¡°He didn¡¯t hesitate. He grabbed me and shielded me with his body. Even as the monster clawed at him¡­ tore into him¡­ he kept pushing me back.¡±


    The metal spoon in James¡¯ grip bent slightly.


    Sam¡¯s voice wavered. ¡°I don¡¯t even remember screaming. I don¡¯t even remember moving. But before it could kill me¡­ the rescue team arrived.¡± His throat bobbed as he swallowed. .¡°They shot it down, but it was too late for my brother. He was already on the ground, bleeding out.¡±.


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    Silence.


    James could hear the distant clang of trays being placed back onto carts, the shuffling of feet as a few children finished their meals. But everything felt muted.


    Sam exhaled shakily. .¡°His last words?¡±. A hollow, painful smile pulled at his lips. .¡°He looked at me and said¡ª¡®Forgive me for not protecting you.¡¯¡±.


    James¡¯ breath hitched.


    Those words.


    The exact words.


    .Forgive me for not protecting you..


    His father had said the same thing.


    But¡­ why?


    What were they asking for forgiveness for?


    James¡¯ chest tightened, a foreign weight settling in his stomach.


    Sam let out a humorless chuckle, but it cracked at the edges. .¡°I hated him for it.¡±. He stared down at his tray. .¡°I hated him for leaving me behind. I hated him for saving me.¡±. His hands clenched. .¡°Because if I had the choice, I would¡¯ve stayed. I would¡¯ve died with him.¡±.


    James couldn¡¯t breathe.


    Something inside him twisted, sharp and painful, like a blade pressed against raw wounds.


    Sam exhaled. .¡°But I¡¯m here, James. I¡¯m alive. And if I stop smiling¡­ if I stop talking¡­ if I let myself feel the weight of everything?¡±. He met James¡¯ gaze, eyes dark and unreadable. .¡°Then I might never get back up.¡±.


    James clenched his fists under the table.


    For the first time since he arrived at the orphanage, he felt something stir inside him.


    A question.


    A truth buried just beyond his reach.


    And for the first time in days¡­


    James wasn¡¯t sure if he wanted to know the answer.


    Sam took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly before he clenched them into fists. His knuckles turned white, but his voice, though quiet, was steady.


    .¡°I kept wondering why¡­¡±. he muttered, eyes dark with something unreadable. .¡°Why weren¡¯t they like my aunt?¡±.


    James looked at him, his expression impassive. He didn¡¯t speak, but something about the way he watched Sam made it clear¡ªhe was listening.


    Sam¡¯s gaze dropped to the scratched surface of the metal table, his fingers twitching as if trying to grip something invisible. .¡°She threw me away like trash. We were family, but the moment she was scared, she didn¡¯t hesitate to use me to save herself.¡±. His voice grew heavier. .¡°I keep thinking¡­ that¡¯s what normal people would do, right? The fear of death¡ªit twists you, makes you act on instinct. It makes you stop thinking, stop caring.¡±.


    James said nothing.


    Sam¡¯s fists clenched tighter. .¡°But my parents¡­ my brother¡­¡±. His voice wavered, but only for a second. When he continued, it carried something fierce, something raw. .¡°They weren¡¯t like that.¡±.


    A deep silence settled between them, the weight of his words pressing down like an unseen force.


    .¡°They knew they were going to die, James.¡±. His voice was quiet but steady. .¡°They knew it¡­ and still, they chose to protect me. They chose to give their lives for me. Even when my brother was already bleeding out, he still held on just to push me away from danger.¡±.


    James¡¯ fingers twitched.


    Sam exhaled shakily, his shoulders trembling slightly before he forced them to still. But his eyes burned with something unshakable. .¡°So I told myself¡­ their deaths won¡¯t be meaningless.¡±.


    James felt something stir in his chest¡ªsomething sharp, something unfamiliar.


    Sam let out a slow breath. .¡°I think I finally understand what they meant¡­ when they asked me to forgive them.¡±.


    James blinked, his lips parting slightly.


    Sam¡¯s gaze was unwavering, his voice raw with conviction. .¡°They weren¡¯t asking for forgiveness because they failed.¡±. His fists slowly loosened, but his hands remained firm. .¡°They weren¡¯t apologizing just to console me¡­ They were giving me a burden.¡±.


    James stiffened.


    .¡°They were telling me¡­ to walk on my own without them.¡±.


    The words echoed in James¡¯ mind, carving themselves deep into his thoughts.


    Sam lifted his chin, his expression fierce, resolute.


    .¡°That¡¯s why I won¡¯t cry. That¡¯s why I won¡¯t let their deaths be meaningless. If I break down now, if I let myself drown in grief¡­ then what was the point of their sacrifice?¡±.


    James stared at him, unable to look away.


    Sam¡¯s lips twitched into a smirk, but this time, there was no trace of playfulness. Only ironclad will.


    .¡°I¡¯m going to live, James. No matter how hard it gets. No matter how much it hurts.¡±. He exhaled, his shoulders finally settling. .¡°Because that¡¯s what they wanted.¡±.


    The silence between them felt heavier now. More real.


    James lowered his gaze, his heart pounding in his chest.


    Sam¡¯s words lingered in his mind, digging deep, refusing to leave.


    .Live..


    .Keep moving..


    .Don¡¯t let their sacrifice be meaningless..


    James had lost his family too. He had watched them die.


    But unlike Sam, he didn¡¯t have an answer.


    His father¡¯s last words still haunted him.


    ."Forgive me for not protecting you.".


    James clenched his fists under the table.


    .Why?.


    Why did his father say those words?


    Why did it feel like something was missing?


    Sam was already looking forward, already carrying his pain like a badge of honor. But James¡­


    James was still stuck.


    A hollow emptiness settled in his chest, but for the first time in days¡­


    He felt something flicker deep inside him.


    Something he couldn¡¯t name.


    Yet.

 Chapter 9: you are not alone

    James¡¯ fingers trembled slightly as he gripped the edge of the table. The cold metal dug into his palms, grounding him, yet his mind felt like it was slipping. His head hung low, eyes shadowed beneath his bangs. His expression was blank¡ªempty.


    But deep inside, something had begun to stir.


    A crack in the numbness. A whisper of emotion.


    His voice came out hoarse, almost broken.


    ¡°Then¡­ why did my family also die?¡±


    Sam¡¯s smirk faded.


    James¡¯ breath hitched, and slowly, he lifted his gaze. For the first time in days, his eyes weren¡¯t cold or distant. They weren¡¯t hollow.


    There was something raw in them now. Something painfully human.


    ¡°Why did my father ask for forgiveness?¡± His voice cracked, the weight of the words pressing down on him. ¡°What am I supposed to forgive him for?¡±


    Silence.


    Sam didn¡¯t speak, didn¡¯t interrupt. He just watched as the mask James had been wearing finally crumbled.


    James let out a shaky breath. His shoulders sagged, the tension leaving him all at once, replaced by something heavier¡ªsomething suffocating.


    ¡°Even if I accept living¡­¡± he murmured. ¡°I¡¯ll still be alone.¡±


    The words hung between them like a thick fog.


    He clenched his fists, nails digging into his skin. He wanted to hold on to the numbness. He wanted to stay in that empty space where nothing hurt.


    But Sam¡¯s words had shattered something inside him, and now the emotions were seeping through the cracks.


    Loss.


    Pain.


    Fear.


    Guilt.


    James squeezed his eyes shut, his breath unsteady.


    What was he supposed to do with all of this?


    How was he supposed to move forward when every step felt like walking on broken glass?


    A bitter silence stretched between them.


    Then¡ª


    A chuckle.


    Soft. Amused.


    James¡¯ eyes snapped open in confusion.


    Sam was laughing.


    Not mockingly. Not out of cruelty.


    It was light, almost gentle¡ªlike he had expected James to say that all along.


    James stared at him, disbelief flickering in his gaze.


    Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His usual smirk had softened into something warmer.


    ¡°You¡¯re still overthinking things, James.¡± His voice was steady, unwavering. ¡°You¡¯ve got me, don¡¯t you?¡±


    James froze.


    The words caught him off guard, slipping through his defenses before he could stop them.


    Sam¡¯s eyes never left his. There was no hesitation in his expression, no doubt.


    Just certainty.


    ¡°You¡¯re not alone. You just haven¡¯t realized it yet.¡±


    James¡¯ lips parted slightly, but no words came out.


    Not alone?


    The thought felt foreign¡ªimpossible.


    For so long, it had just been him and the silence.


    For so long, he had believed there was no one left to hold onto.


    Sam tilted his head, his grin widening slightly. ¡°So how about this?¡± He tapped a finger against the table. ¡°I¡¯ll be your family. You and me¡ªlet¡¯s not make their deaths meaningless.¡±


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    James¡¯ breath caught in his throat.


    Something cracked inside him again.


    It wasn¡¯t the sharp, painful kind.


    It was slow. Deep. A warmth creeping into the hollow space where his heart used to be.


    He lowered his gaze, staring at his clenched fists.


    Family.


    Could he really¡­ accept that?


    Could he really let himself believe in something like that again?


    James¡¯ mind rebelled against the thought, trying to pull him back into the emptiness, back into the safety of not caring


    But Sam¡¯s words wouldn¡¯t leave him.


    You¡¯re not alone.


    You just haven¡¯t realized it yet.


    James swallowed.


    It hurt.


    It hurt so much to even consider believing in those words.


    Because if he did¡­ if he let himself accept them¡­


    Then losing again would destroy him.


    But at the same time¡ª


    For the first time since his family died, someone had reached into the darkness and pulled him back.


    For the first time¡­ he wasn¡¯t drowning alone.


    And maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªhe didn¡¯t have to be.


    James stared at Sam, his mind struggling to process the words he had just heard.


    For so long, loss had been his only companion. The burden of survival had been nothing more than a lingering obligation¡ªa cruel extension of a life that should have ended with his family.


    He wasn¡¯t afraid of dying.


    Nor did he feel any real purpose in living.


    His world had ended the moment his family took their last breaths.


    But now, sitting across from Sam in the crowded orphanage dining hall, something foreign crept into his thoughts. A whisper of a question, an idea he had never dared to consider.


    How do I live for them?


    Sam grinned, breaking the silence. ¡°You know, James, I¡¯ve been thinking.¡± He leaned forward, voice brimming with excitement, but beneath it, something deeper¡ªsomething firm. Conviction. ¡°They say people are waking up with abilities¡ªreal powers, like something out of a movie. We don¡¯t know how or why, but it¡¯s happening.¡±


    James blinked, his mind still distant.


    ¡°At first, I thought it was just rumors, but the soldiers here talk when they think we aren¡¯t listening. Some people are getting as strong as tanks, as fast as cars¡ªhell, some can even control things like fire and lightning.¡± Sam¡¯s voice dropped lower, his gaze sharpening. ¡°And you know what? I¡¯m going to be one of them.¡±


    James finally looked at him, the haze in his mind lifting just slightly. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ going to become an Awakened?¡±


    Sam nodded, his eyes burning with certainty. ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t care if it takes months or years. I¡¯ll train my body, push myself to the limit. If that¡¯s what it takes to awaken, then I¡¯ll do it.¡± His fists clenched. ¡°Because I won¡¯t let what happened to us happen to anyone else.¡±


    James exhaled slowly. Becoming an Awakened¡­ Was that really something they could achieve?


    For the longest time, he had only seen himself as a passive observer, letting life happen around him. Letting the weight of the past keep him shackled.


    But Sam¡¯s words¡ªhis determination¡ªmade something stir inside him.


    "And you," Sam said, pointing at James. "You¡¯re going to do it with me."


    James hesitated. ¡°...Why?¡±


    Sam scoffed, shaking his head like the answer was obvious. ¡°Because you¡¯re strong. I can tell.¡± Then his voice softened. ¡°And because I don¡¯t think you actually want to be alone, James. You just think you have to be.¡±


    James¡¯ breath hitched.


    Those words dug deep¡ªdeeper than anything had in a long time.


    A part of him wanted to reject them, to push Sam away and bury himself back in the comforting numbness of solitude.


    ¡°I¡¯m not strong.


    I don¡¯t need anyone.


    I don¡¯t deserve to live when they don¡¯t¡±.


    But his hands trembled under the weight of those lies.


    Alone¡­ I¡¯ve always been alone. But¡­ do I have to be?. He thought to himself.


    James clenched his fists, his head lowering again. His chest ached, a dull, suffocating pain rising from somewhere deep inside.


    Sam watched him for a moment, then let out a long sigh. ¡°James¡­¡±


    Before James could react, a sharp impact rocked his head to the side.


    A punch.


    His vision blurred for a second as his cheek stung from the sudden hit.


    Sam had punched him.


    James looked up, stunned, but Sam was already grabbing the collar of his shirt, dragging him closer until their faces were inches apart.


    "You think you''re the only one who lost everything?" Sam growled, his eyes dark with emotion. "You think you''re the only one who wakes up every day wondering why the hell you''re still breathing?"


    James¡¯ body tensed.


    ¡°I lost my family too. I lost my home, my future¡ªeverything I ever knew.¡± Sam¡¯s grip tightened. "You don¡¯t think I wanted to disappear too? You don¡¯t think I wished, every goddamn day, that it had been me instead of them?"


    James swallowed hard, his throat dry.


    "But you know what?" Sam continued, his voice raw. "I¡¯m still here. And so are you."


    James turned his face away, gritting his teeth.


    "Look at me!" Sam shook him slightly. "I don¡¯t care if you think life ended the day your family died. I don¡¯t care if you think you¡¯re alone. Because you¡¯re not!"


    James¡¯ breathing was ragged, his mind spinning.


    Sam¡¯s words¡ªhis anger, his pain¡ªthey were real. They weren¡¯t just empty reassurances. They weren¡¯t meaningless.


    They were the same feelings James had buried deep inside himself, the same wounds he had refused to acknowledge.


    "I¡¯m not letting you waste away, James. I¡¯m not letting you sit there, drowning in guilt, pretending like you¡¯re already dead." Sam let go of his collar, his expression softening just slightly. "Because I know, deep down, you don¡¯t want to die."


    James squeezed his eyes shut.


    Because Sam was right.


    Even at his lowest, even when everything felt meaningless, a small part of him had clung to life.


    A weak, fragile part.


    But it was there.


    And now, Sam had grabbed hold of it¡ªdragged it into the light, refusing to let him slip away.


    James felt something burning in his chest.


    It wasn¡¯t just pain.


    It wasn¡¯t just grief.


    It was something else¡ªsomething stronger.


    Hope.


    Sam took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. Then, as if nothing had happened, he smirked. ¡°I¡¯ve already decided. If becoming an Awakened is the only way to protect what matters, then that¡¯s what I¡¯ll do.¡±


    He held out a hand.


    "Are you coming or not?"


    James stared at the outstretched hand, his heart pounding.


    A choice.


    He could retreat back into the shadows. Back into loneliness, into emptiness.


    Or¡ª


    He could reach forward.


    He could take Sam¡¯s hand.


    He could move forward.


    James'' fingers twitched before he slowly¡ªhesitantly¡ªreached


    out.


    And then, he grasped Sam¡¯s hand.


    "...Alright."


    Sam¡¯s smirk widened into something real¡ªsomething triumphant. "Good."


    Their hands tightened.


    No more running.


    No more drowning in the past.


    From this moment on, their path was set.


    There was no turning

 Chapter 10: confinement

    A week had passed since James and Sam had formed their bond. In that short time, Sam had dragged him into more trouble than James had encountered in the last five years. But strangely, James didn¡¯t mind. He was beginning to feel something he hadn¡¯t in a long time¡ªpurpose.


    The orphanage was still a place of uncertainty, where survival took priority over everything else. Food was rationed, the guards were unpredictable, and no one truly felt safe. But James had to admit¡ªSam made the days a little easier.


    Which was why, when James saw Sam bump into a soldier carrying a small, reinforced case, he immediately knew something bad was about to happen.


    The soldier was a tall, broad man with a thick beard, his uniform slightly disheveled, suggesting he had been on duty for too long. His fingers were wrapped tightly around the handle of the case, his knuckles white. Whatever was inside, he was holding it like his life depended on it.


    When Sam, stretching lazily with his arms behind his head, took an unintentional step backward, James barely had time to react.


    The moment Sam¡¯s shoulder hit the soldier¡¯s chest, the man staggered slightly. It wasn¡¯t a hard impact, but it was enough.


    The case slipped.


    It hit the ground with a dull clunk.


    The metal rattled as a faint, eerie glow seeped through the cracks. A small vial rolled out, stopping just near Sam¡¯s foot.


    A second of silence.


    Then, the soldier¡¯s face twisted in rage.


    "You little shit!"


    Before Sam could even turn around to apologize, the soldier¡¯s fist slammed into his stomach.


    Sam let out a choked gasp, doubling over as all the air was forced from his lungs. His legs buckled, and he nearly collapsed, barely catching himself on one knee.


    James froze, his mind struggling to catch up with what just happened. But when he saw the soldier raise his fist again, something inside him snapped.


    He lunged forward, grabbing the soldier¡¯s wrist. "He didn¡¯t mean¡ª"


    The soldier''s backhand came fast.


    Pain exploded in James'' face as he was sent sprawling onto the dirt-covered ground. His vision blurred. His ears rang. His jaw throbbed, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.


    The soldier grabbed Sam by his collar, lifting him like a ragdoll.


    "You brats don¡¯t understand how dangerous this stuff is!" he snarled, shaking Sam like a misbehaving dog. "Do you know how much this is worth?! Do you even know what this is?!"


    Sam struggled, coughing violently, but the soldier¡¯s grip was like iron.


    James, pushing himself up with trembling arms, felt his anger boil over.


    The soldier threw Sam down and delivered a brutal kick to his ribs.


    Sam let out a strangled grunt, curling up in pain.


    James saw red.


    He forced himself up, fists clenching so tightly his nails dug into his palms. His heart pounded in his chest, a roar of fury echoing in his ears.


    But before he could throw himself at the soldier again¡ª


    They appeared.


    Two girls, always seen together like sisters, had been sitting near the entrance of the dining hall when they saw the commotion. One of them had always been the more outspoken of the two, while the other followed with an intense but quiet determination.


    The moment the soldier¡¯s fist connected with James, they shared a single glance¡ªthen ran.


    Not toward the fight. Not toward the guards.


    But toward the people.


    They sprinted through the crowded orphanage, calling out to anyone who would listen. "The soldiers are beating up James and Sam!" Their voices were urgent, desperate, loud.


    People stirred. Heads turned.


    And slowly, like a ripple spreading through water, the crowd began to move.


    Meanwhile, at the other end of the orphanage, a boy who could be mistaken for an adult had been sharpening a makeshift knife near the storage area. He had always been large for his age, his broad shoulders and quiet demeanor making him seem years older than he actually was.


    When he turned and saw Sam being kicked to the ground, something dark crossed his face.


    He didn¡¯t hesitate.


    He turned and ran straight for the barracks.


    The guards were unpredictable. Sometimes they helped, sometimes they ignored problems. But this¡ªthis was different. This wasn¡¯t a simple scuffle between kids.


    This was one of their own abusing his power.


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    As he reached the barracks, his voice boomed. "The guards need to come. Now."


    The few guards lounging around looked up in confusion, but when they saw the expression on his face, they moved.


    Back in the courtyard, James forced himself upright just as the soldier reached for Sam again.


    But this time, he hesitated.


    A crowd had gathered.


    The sisters had done their job well¡ªtoo well.


    A ring of individuals now surrounded them, their faces ranging from concern to outrage. Some whispered among themselves. Others simply stared, their gazes filled with quiet fury.


    The soldier cursed under his breath, his grip loosening. He took a step back, realizing he had made a mistake.


    Then, before he could react¡ª


    The guards arrived.


    Their presence alone was enough. The bearded soldier stiffened, his face twisting in frustration.


    A moment later, A boy with glasses appeared.


    Unlike the others, he wasn¡¯t running.


    He was walking.


    Calm. Collected. And right behind him


    The warden.


    A tall, gaunt man with deep-set eyes and an expression that never wavered. His gaze swept over the scene¡ªJames bleeding, Sam on the ground, the soldier standing over them, the gathered crowd.


    He didn¡¯t speak immediately.


    Instead, he let the silence stretch.


    The tension was suffocating.


    Then, his voice came¡ªlow, firm, commanding.


    "Explain."


    The soldier opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked around, as if searching for an excuse. But the weight of the warden¡¯s stare, combined with the sheer number of witnesses, left him with nothing to say.


    The warden¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change.


    Then, slowly, he turned to James and Sam.


    James forced himself to stand straighter, even as his jaw ached.


    Sam, still clutching his ribs, let out a weak chuckle. "So, uh¡­ not my best moment."


    The tension cracked. A few people in the crowd let out quiet chuckles. Even the guards looked a little less stiff.


    The warden sighed.


    Then, finally, he spoke.


    "Take him to the barracks," he ordered the guards, nodding toward the bearded soldier. "We will discuss this later."


    The soldier¡¯s jaw clenched, but he didn¡¯t argue. He knew better.


    As he was led away, the warden turned back to the boys.


    He looked at James, then at Sam.


    "You two," he said, his voice firm. "My office. Now."


    James exhaled, his fists finally unclenching.


    Sam groaned. "I hate meetings."


    James sighed. "Shut up, Sam."


    But as they followed the warden, James couldn''t help but glance back at the people who had stepped up for them.


    The two sisters, still standing together. The broad-shouldered boy, arms crossed. The boy with glasses, adjusting his frames. The silent crowd that had refused to look away.


    Something had changed.


    And James knew, deep down¡ª


    This was only the beginning.


    By the next morning, the entire camp was buzzing with whispers.


    Some people muttered about Sam¡¯s recklessness, shaking their heads in disapproval. Others were furious about the soldier¡¯s actions, claiming it was an abuse of power. But the ones who had been there¡ªthe ones who had seen it firsthand¡ªknew the truth.


    It wasn¡¯t about who was right or wrong.


    It was about power.


    And power always came from above.


    James sat outside the Warden¡¯s office, his back stiff, his fists clenched. His ears strained to catch the conversation behind the heavy wooden door, but the walls were thick, muffling most of the words. He could hear Sam¡¯s voice, tense but steady. The Warden¡¯s voice, however, was calm. Cold. Final.


    Then, the voices became clearer.


    ¡°Do you understand what you¡¯ve done?¡± The Warden¡¯s voice was sharp but devoid of anger, as if he were stating a fact rather than reprimanding someone.


    Sam¡¯s voice came next, laced with irritation. ¡°It was an accident.¡±


    Silence.


    Then, the low scrape of a chair against the floor as the Warden leaned forward.


    ¡°An accident?¡± His voice was measured, patient¡ªbut there was an underlying weight to it. ¡°Tell me, how much do you think that vial was worth?¡±


    Sam hesitated, his breath hitching slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ a lot?¡±


    ¡°A lot?¡± The Warden exhaled, as if he had expected this answer. ¡°That ¡®accident¡¯ of yours could have cost this camp upwards of one million dollars.¡±


    The room fell silent again.


    James'' hands tightened into fists. One million?


    Sam scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous. There¡¯s no way one little vial is worth that much.¡±


    The Warden didn¡¯t raise his voice. He didn¡¯t need to. ¡°That ¡®little vial¡¯ wasn¡¯t just some random liquid, boy.¡±


    A pause.


    ¡°It was Void Serum.¡±


    James¡¯ breath caught in his throat.


    Even he knew what that meant.


    It had already been made public built from rumors of what exactly a precious rare liquid that countries could go to war for.


    Void Serum was one of the most valuable substances in existence. It wasn¡¯t just expensive¡ªit was a miracle in liquid form. Some said it was the key to unlocking true power. Others said it was a resource so rare that only the highest-ranking officials were allowed to touch it.


    One thing was certain¡ªit wasn¡¯t something an orphan was allowed to spill.


    Sam was silent.


    The Warden continued. ¡°The soldier who hit you¡ªdo you understand why he reacted the way he did now?¡±


    Sam shifted in his seat. His voice was quieter this time. ¡°...Yeah.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the Warden corrected, ¡°you don¡¯t.¡±


    A faint rustling sound¡ªperhaps the Warden shifting some papers on his desk. Then, his voice came again, even colder than before.


    ¡°The people above me¡ªthe ones who actually make the decisions in this camp¡ªaren¡¯t going to care about ¡®accidents.¡¯ They¡¯re not going to care that you¡¯re just a kid, or that you didn¡¯t mean it.¡±


    His words were like blades, cutting away any sense of innocence.


    ¡°What they will see,¡± the Warden continued, ¡°is an orphan who almost cost them millions. And do you know what happens when people like you cost them money?¡±


    Another silence.


    James¡¯ heart pounded in his chest. What is he going to do to Sam?


    The Warden sighed, the faintest trace of frustration slipping into his voice.


    ¡°If it were up to the higher-ups, you wouldn¡¯t even be here right now.¡±


    Sam tensed.


    ¡°They¡¯d have had you executed on the spot.¡±


    James stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. His breathing was heavy, his chest tight. Executed?


    No. No, that couldn''t be right.


    Sam was just a kid. They were just kids.


    But deep down, James knew¡ªthe world they lived in didn¡¯t care about that.


    Inside the office, the Warden continued speaking. ¡°The only reason you¡¯re alive is because I convinced them you were just a stupid kid who didn¡¯t know any better.¡±


    Sam exhaled sharply. ¡°Then¡­ what happens now?¡±


    The Warden leaned back in his chair. His next words were devoid of emotion.


    ¡°You will be placed in solitary confinement until further notice.¡±


    Sam sucked in a breath.


    James froze.


    ¡°Your meals will be reduced¡ªonce per day, and only below standard rations. Enough to keep you alive, but nothing more.¡±


    James felt his anger rise. This was punishment. It was cruel, calculated¡ªdesigned to break a person without killing them outright.


    Sam didn¡¯t respond immediately. But when he did, his voice held no anger¡ªonly resignation.


    ¡°How long?¡±


    ¡°That depends.¡± The Warden¡¯s voice was unreadable. ¡°Until I deem it necessary.¡±


    James felt something snap inside him. He moved toward the door, hand outstretched¡ªready to kick it open, to do something¡ª


    But then he stopped.


    The door opened.


    Sam stepped out, his wrists already cuffed.


    Their eyes met.


    James expected anger, defiance¡ªsome kind of fight left in him.


    But there was nothing.


    Just quiet acceptance.


    James'' hands trembled at his sides. ¡°Sam¡­¡±


    Sam gave him a weak grin. ¡°Guess I screwed up, huh?¡±


    Before James could say anything, two guards grabbed Sam¡¯s arms and led him away.


    James watched him go, helpless.


    Then, the Warden spoke.


    His voice was calm but firm.


    ¡°You should learn from this, James.¡±


    James turned, his eyes burning with emotion.


    The Warden met his gaze, unflinching. ¡°In this world, mistakes are rarely forgiven.¡±


    James didn¡¯t reply.


    He just stood there.


    Watching.


    Understanding.


    And hating every second of it.

 Chapter 11: Join the military

    The Warden exhaled deeply as he rubbed his temples, his office dimly lit by the glow of his desk lamp. His phone had been ringing nonstop for hours. Reports, requests, demands¡ªeveryone wanted something, and they wanted it now.


    The latest call came through just as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes flickered toward the screen. Government HQ. Again.


    He picked up.


    "We need recruits. Immediately."


    No greeting. No pleasantries. Just straight to business. The voice on the other end was tense, almost desperate.


    The Warden¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°I told you, I don¡¯t have¡ª¡±


    "Find them."


    A pause.


    "Nigeria is different. The world is noticing. Countries are asking questions."


    The Warden¡¯s fingers drummed against the desk. He had known this was coming. Ever since the Void Cracks started altering the land, ever since strange phenomena started occurring only here¡ªthis conversation had been inevitable.


    ¡°Our resources are stretched thin,¡± he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. ¡°People are barely surviving.¡±


    "Survival is not the priority anymore," the voice snapped. "Power is. Other nations are growing suspicious of how fast we¡¯re adapting. If we don¡¯t move first, we¡¯ll lose control of the narrative."


    The Warden¡¯s eyes darkened. ¡°So what do you expect me to do?¡±the kids we have aren''t ready yet.


    "Recruit. Fast. There isn¡¯t much time."


    Click. The line went dead.


    He leaned forward, staring at the phone. The weight of the conversation settled on his shoulders like a vice. This wasn¡¯t just about survival anymore. It was about positioning.


    Nigeria was changing. But the real question was¡ªwhat was changing it?


    As Sam was dragged away, his gaze met the four kids who had stood up for him and James when the guards had beaten them earlier. Bruised and exhausted, they stared back at him, their expressions a mix of fear and helplessness. Despite everything, Sam managed a small, lopsided grin.


    "Thanks for before," he said, his voice hoarse but steady.


    For a moment, the world seemed to slow. The kids didn''t say anything¡ªmaybe they didn''t know what to say. But the way they clenched their fists, the way their eyes burned with unspoken anger and defiance, was enough.


    Then the guards yanked Sam forward, and the moment was gone.


    James sat alone.


    The camp buzzed with quiet activity, people moving on from the earlier incident as if nothing had happened. The sky was dimming, the sun bleeding into the horizon, casting long shadows across the makeshift settlement.


    He traced a line in the dirt with his finger, his mind replaying the Warden¡¯s words. Solitary confinement until further notice. Below-average rations.


    It was worse than punishment. It was a slow, quiet death.


    But what could he do? The Warden wasn¡¯t just a man; he was in a system far bigger than James could fight. For now.


    A small shuffling sound made him lift his head.


    They were standing there.


    The same four kids who had jumped in to stop the beating.


    At first, none of them spoke. They just stared at him, as if unsure how to start. Then, the girl who had run for help stepped forward.


    "You okay?" she asked, her voice carrying a mix of concern and curiosity.


    James gave a tired, lopsided grin. "If being half-dead counts as okay, then yeah."


    She snorted but didn¡¯t laugh. Instead, she walked closer and crouched down beside him.


    "The Warden," she said, choosing her words carefully. "What did he say?"


    James sighed. "It¡¯s bad."


    The others sat down as well, forming a small circle around him.


    "How bad?" asked the boy with glasses, adjusting them slightly. His sharp eyes narrowed as if already calculating possibilities.


    James ran a hand through his messy hair. "Sam¡¯s getting thrown in solitary. No idea for how long. And they¡¯re cutting his food down to barely anything."


    Their expressions darkened.


    "But¡­ why?" The second girl spoke up, her voice quieter than the first girl¡¯s but firm. "It was an accident."


    James shook his head. "Doesn¡¯t matter. The Warden said the soldier was right. That- the vial was¡­ something we can¡¯t even begin to understand."


    He looked up at them. "You guys ever heard of a liquid so powerful that countries would fight wars over it?"


    Silence.


    Then, realization hit them all at once.


    Their eyes widened.


    "You¡¯re joking," the older-looking boy said, disbelief in his voice. "You''re saying it was¡­ that?"


    James nodded.


    They exchanged glances, absorbing the weight of the situation.


    Then, after a moment, the first girl straightened up.


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    "I guess we should introduce ourselves properly, then," she said, offering a hand.


    James blinked before hesitantly shaking it.


    "Amanda Chioma Williston," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Sixteen."


    Amanda had the confidence of someone who was used to taking charge. Her dark brown eyes held a spark of intelligence, and her deep brown skin had a few faint scars¡ªnothing too obvious, but signs of someone who had lived. Her hair was styled in a simple but neat manner, just enough to stay out of her way. Though she was of average height, the way she carried herself made her feel taller.


    She gestured to the girl next to her.


    "This is Sophia Rufiat Zubairu. Fifteen."


    Sophia gave a small nod. She had lighter brown skin and softer features compared to Amanda, but her posture was guarded, her arms crossed slightly as if she wasn¡¯t sure whether to trust James just yet. Her dark eyes studied him carefully, and her short, curly hair framed her face in a way that almost made her seem gentle.


    James had a feeling she wasn¡¯t as soft as she looked.


    The boy with glasses adjusted them again before speaking.


    "William Pere Tamuno. Seventeen."


    He pushed his glasses up, his thin fingers moving with precise control. His body was almost too slim¡ªhis clothes slightly loose on his frame. It made him seem even smaller than he already was, but his sharp eyes carried a quiet intensity, like someone who observed more than he spoke.


    "And I¡¯m Jonathan Seun Christian," the older-looking boy said, cracking a grin.


    James tilted his head.


    Jonathan sighed dramatically.


    "Yes, yes, I know what you¡¯re thinking," he said. "Sixteen, but looking like I pay taxes and have three kids, right?"


    Despite himself, James let out a short laugh.


    Jonathan was big. Not just tall, but broad-shouldered, built like someone who could throw a punch that mattered. His skin was a rich, dark brown, and his short hair was cropped close to his head. His deep-set eyes carried amusement, but there was something else underneath¡ªexperience.


    He had seen things.


    Maybe even worse things than James.


    Jonathan stretched his arms and leaned back slightly. "I swear, it¡¯s the worst. Adults tell me to act my age. Kids treat me like a babysitter. Even the guards get confused."


    Sophia rolled her eyes. "They held you in the kids¡¯ camp, though."


    "Because I am a kid," Jonathan shot back. "I¡¯m just a big one."


    Amanda sighed. "We don¡¯t have time for this." She turned back to James, her expression serious again. "So, what now?"


    James exhaled slowly.


    "I don¡¯t know," he admitted. "But I do know one thing¡­"


    He looked at each of them, his expression hardening.


    "This isn¡¯t the last time we¡¯re going to be reminded that we¡¯re powerless."


    Amanda¡¯s jaw clenched. Sophia looked away. William adjusted his glasses again. Jonathan rubbed his knuckles together absently.


    James sat up straighter.


    "I don¡¯t want to just sit here and wait to get crushed under their boots. I need to do something."


    Amanda studied him carefully.


    Then, she smiled.


    "Good."


    Jonathan grinned. "Now that¡¯s what I like to hear."


    William nodded. "Then we should start planning."


    Sophia sighed but didn¡¯t argue. "If we¡¯re doing this, we have to be careful."


    James let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding.


    This was the beginning.


    He didn¡¯t know what they could do yet, but one thing was clear:


    He wasn¡¯t alone.


    Meanwhile, outside the Warden¡¯s office, two frustrated teenagers stood before a pair of unimpressed guards.


    ¡°This is the fifth time today you two have come looking for him,¡± one of the guards grumbled, shifting his rifle slightly. ¡°What¡¯s so urgent?¡±


    Amanda crossed her arms, her expression determined. ¡°We need to talk to him about sam.¡±


    James nodded, though his patience was wearing thin. ¡°And before you say it, yes, we know he¡¯s busy. But this is important.¡±


    The second guard sighed. ¡°Kid, everyone¡¯s got something important these days.¡± He glanced at his partner. ¡°They¡¯re not the only ones looking for him.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± the first guard muttered. ¡°You think this is bad? He¡¯s been dodging military requests all day.¡±


    Amanda frowned. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Who knows?¡± the guard shrugged. ¡°But whatever¡¯s happening¡­ it¡¯s big.¡±


    That sent a chill down James¡¯ spine.


    Amanda exchanged a glance with him. Something was wrong


    That evening, James, Amanda, Sophia, William, and Jonathan met near one of the camp¡¯s quieter corners.


    ¡°No luck?¡± James asked, already knowing the answer.


    Jonathan leaned against a rusted fence, arms crossed. ¡°Nope. The guards said the Warden¡¯s busier than he¡¯s ever been.¡±


    William adjusted his glasses. ¡°Even busier than when the camp was first set up?¡±


    Sophia nodded. ¡°They said he¡¯s been dealing with government officials. They¡¯re pressuring him about something.¡±


    Amanda bit her lip. ¡°This has to be about sam.¡±


    James frowned. ¡°Maybe. But if it was just about him, why would the government be involved?¡±


    The group fell silent.


    Jonathan let out a low whistle. ¡°Something¡¯s happening, and I don¡¯t think we¡¯re gonna like what it is.


    Inside his office, the Warden¡¯s phone rang again.


    He almost didn¡¯t answer.


    But when he saw the caller ID, he knew he had to.


    He picked up.


    "The government will start the program next year. You need to hurry now."


    The Warden stiffened. He had suspected this would happen, but hearing it confirmed made it real.


    ¡°I need more time.¡±


    "You don¡¯t have time. You have orders."


    A heavy silence stretched between them.


    Finally, the caller spoke again.


    "Get it done."


    Click.


    The Warden placed the phone down and leaned back, his hands clasped together. His thoughts churned.


    This wasn¡¯t just about keeping order anymore. It wasn¡¯t even about Nigeria¡¯s survival.


    It was about who would control the future.


    Late at night right before the camps curfew. The soilder that always monitored the kids looking for the warden. Said . In a soft manner "the warden want to see you all tomorrow "


    The next morning, James and the others sat together, trying to figure out their next move.


    Then, a guard approached.


    ¡°The Warden wants to see you.¡±


    James felt his stomach twist.


    Finally.


    But whether this was good or bad¡­


    That was still unknown.


    The atmosphere in the warden¡¯s office was suffocating. The five of them¡ªJames, Amanda, Jonathan, Sophia, and William¡ªstood before the imposing desk, the dull overhead light casting long shadows across the room. Behind the desk sat Warden Gregory, a man known for his cold efficiency. His uniform was crisp, his demeanor unreadable, but the air of authority around him was undeniable.


    Gregory leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His sharp gaze swept over them before he finally spoke.


    "I won¡¯t waste your time," he said. "You all know why you¡¯re here. Your friend, Samuel, has been confined under military law. Charges against him are serious enough to ensure he never sees the outside world again. But¡­" He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "There¡¯s a way out."


    James'' fists clenched. He already hated where this was going.


    "Join the military," the warden continued. "Serve under the AUN, work for the government, and Sam walks free. Not only that, but any charges against him will be erased. He¡¯ll be a free man. That¡¯s the offer."


    The room fell into silence. James could hear the faint ticking of a clock on the wall, each second dragging out the tension. He glanced at his friends¡ªAmanda¡¯s jaw was set, Jonathan looked tense but thoughtful, Sophia and William exchanged uncertain glances.


    James took a breath, then stepped forward. "I¡¯ll do it." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "But let me do it alone. The others¡­ they¡¯re not close to Sam. This isn¡¯t their problem. I¡¯ll take responsibility."


    Gregory exhaled slowly, his expression remaining neutral. "No."


    James stiffened. "What?"


    "You misunderstand, Conor," the warden said. "This isn¡¯t a request for a single soldier. We need capable recruits, and all five of you fit the profile. It¡¯s all of you, or no deal."


    James'' teeth clenched. "That¡¯s not fair. They have their own lives. They shouldn¡¯t have to pay for my friend¡¯s mistakes."


    Gregory only shrugged. "Fairness is a luxury, not a right. The world runs on necessity, not sentiment."


    Before James could fire back, a voice cut through the tension.


    "I¡¯ll do it."


    Amanda.


    James turned sharply, his brows furrowing. "Amanda, don¡¯t¡ª"


    "I¡¯ve already decided," she said, her arms crossed. Her eyes met his, unwavering. "You¡¯re not the only one who cares about Sam. I like him is a funny Guy" . She said as she giggled slightly


    "Me too," Jonathan said next, exhaling as if finally settling something within himself.


    Sophia hesitated for only a moment before she nodded. "If Amanda¡¯s going, I¡¯m going."


    "Guess that makes five," William added, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Not like I had other plans anyway."


    James'' stomach twisted. "No, you don¡¯t have to do this. You don¡¯t¡ª"


    Amanda put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him mid-sentence. "It¡¯s not just about Sam anymore, James. We all have our reasons."


    Jonathan gave a tired smile. "And besides, you¡¯re not the only one who wants to change things."


    James opened his mouth, then closed it. His mind raced, trying to find something¡ªanything¡ªthat would make them reconsider. But as he looked into their faces, he realized the truth: their minds were


    already made up.


    Warden Gregory leaned back in his chair, satisfied. "Then it¡¯s settled."


    James felt the weight of the decision crush down on him. He had stepped forward, thinking he could bear this burden alone. But now¡­ they were all in it together. Whether they wanted it or not, their fates had just been sealed.

 Chapter 12: Evaluation

    Minister Chukuemeka Onwudiwe, known internationally as Minister Diwe, sat behind his mahogany desk, his eyes fixed on the city skyline beyond the window. The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the office, but the silence between him and his secretary carried more weight than any noise could. A small lamp cast a dim glow over the paperwork sprawled across his desk¡ªdocuments outlining the agreement he had just finalized.


    Across from him, his secretary, Ikenna, adjusted his tie, his fingers fidgeting slightly before he spoke. ¡°Sir¡­ do you think what you agreed to was a good idea?¡±


    Diwe didn''t respond immediately. Instead, he let the question hang in the air, his fingers lightly drumming against the desk. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. ¡°Do you want the honest truth or the fake truth?¡±


    Ikenna hesitated for only a second before straightening. ¡°The honest truth.¡±


    Diwe gave a dry chuckle, rubbing his temple. ¡°Then in the long run¡­ it was a bad idea.¡±


    Ikenna¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°But, sir¡ª¡±


    Diwe raised a hand, cutting him off. His voice was calm, measured, but there was an underlying weight to it. ¡°We will have to nurture our best cadets, train them, shape them into the finest warriors¡­ only to send them off to foreign lands. If we had a choice, I wouldn¡¯t even consider it.¡±


    Ikenna¡¯s expression remained neutral, though his jaw tensed. He adjusted his glasses before responding, ¡°But, sir, we will be getting massive benefits now. Our country is going to rise with this technology and the influx of scientists. We can become a true powerhouse.¡±


    Diwe sighed, shaking his head. ¡°You¡¯re being na?ve, Ikenna.¡± He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his fingers lacing together. ¡°Their main goal is to suck us dry to the bone. Do you truly think this is charity?¡± His eyes locked onto Ikenna¡¯s, sharp and piercing.


    Ikenna shifted slightly, his fingers tightening around the edge of his notepad. ¡°But with the resources they¡¯ve given us¡ª¡±


    Diwe slammed his palm lightly against the desk, not in anger, but in emphasis. ¡°And if they aren¡¯t satisfied with what we nurture? What do you think will happen then?¡±


    A pause. Ikenna swallowed, his throat bobbing. ¡°They¡¯ll demand compensation.¡±


    Diwe nodded slowly. ¡°Exactly.¡± His voice was quieter now, but there was something far more ominous in the way he said it. He pushed back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as if calculating a future only he could see. ¡°And what happens when we can no longer pay their price? When they¡¯ve bled us of our best minds, our strongest warriors, and our natural resources? What do you think will be left?¡±


    Ikenna remained silent, his grip tightening around his notepad.


    Diwe let the silence stretch before exhaling sharply. ¡°It can destroy us. Kill our country without a single war being fought. No soldiers, no weapons¡ªjust policy, trade, and dependence.¡± He gestured vaguely toward the documents on his desk. ¡°It may look like a fair trade now, but this¡­ this is just a game of farmers and the barn.¡±


    Ikenna¡¯s brows knitted together. ¡°Farmers and the barn?¡±


    Diwe gave him a knowing look. ¡°Yes. They are the farmers. We¡­ are the barn. As long as we produce what they want, they will keep us standing. But the moment we fail to deliver, what do you think happens to a barn that no longer serves its purpose?¡±


    Ikenna didn¡¯t respond. He didn¡¯t need to. The answer was clear.


    Diwe stood up, adjusting his cuffs, his expression unreadable. ¡°A single screw-up¡­ and our land is done for.¡±


    The air in the office felt heavier. Ikenna shifted, looking down at his notes but not really seeing them. He took a slow breath before speaking. ¡°Then what do we do, sir?¡±


    Diwe¡¯s lips curled into a thin smile, though there was no amusement in it. ¡°We play along. For now.¡± His gaze drifted back to the city skyline, his hands clasped behind his back. ¡°But we prepare. Quietly. Because when the farmers come to collect, I intend to make sure they don¡¯t leave with everything they want.¡±


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    Ikenna nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of those words. In that moment, he truly understood¡ªthis wasn¡¯t just about trade.


    It was survival.


    And Minister Diwe was already planning the next move.


    Warden Gregory sat behind his desk, his sharp gaze scanning the five kids standing before him. His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.


    "All six of you will be joining the military. You''ll train day and night, and once you start, there is no turning back."


    The weight of his words settled over them like a heavy fog. The children processed it slowly, glancing at one another. Then Jonathan, the tallest of the group, frowned.


    "Six? But¡­ who¡¯s the sixth?"


    Warden Gregory leaned back in his chair, an amused smirk playing on his lips.


    "Sam, of course."


    James'' eyes lit up as he turned to his friends, searching their faces for approval. Seeing their determination, he straightened his back and raised his right hand in a sharp salute.


    "Understood, sir!"


    The warden¡¯s smirk deepened. "Let¡¯s get started."


    As soon as he spoke, the door creaked open, and in walked Sam, accompanied by a soldier. The kids stiffened¡ªSam¡¯s presence changed everything.


    The soldier stepped forward, his presence commanding yet calm. His sharp, calculating eyes swept over them like a predator assessing its prey. He was their trainer from now on.


    As they went to the training grounds for their test evaluation


    "Although I need cadets, I won¡¯t make reservations for useless ones," Warden Gregory added coldly. "If you don¡¯t have the skill, the deal is off¡­ and Sam goes back to confinement."


    James clenched his fists. The others exchanged determined looks. They weren¡¯t just fighting for themselves anymore.he added as they were being taken to the guards training grounds


    The trainer exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "You should know," he said, his tone almost casual, "I never hold back. Even for kids."


    Before anyone could react, he vanished.


    THUD!


    James gasped as the trainer¡¯s fist slammed into his stomach like a sledgehammer. His feet barely left the ground, but the sheer force made his body tremble. He staggered back, gritting his teeth against the pain.


    Sam, reacting instantly, lunged forward with a fierce punch aimed at the trainer¡¯s ribs.


    The trainer twisted his body, effortlessly dodging the strike. In the same motion, he pivoted on his foot and sent a sharp, precise chop toward the back of Sam¡¯s neck¡ªintended to knock him out cold.


    But Sam wasn¡¯t like the others.


    With uncanny reflexes, he blocked the strike with his forearm, the impact sending a shockwave through his body. Still, he wasn¡¯t fast enough to stop the trainer¡¯s follow-up¡ªa brutal downward punch that sent him crashing to the ground.


    The trainer didn¡¯t stop. He shifted his attention to Amanda.


    The girl¡¯s eyes widened as he lunged at her. But instead of freezing, she instinctively stepped back, her movements smooth and controlled. Each retreating step kept her just outside his reach.


    She was fast. Too fast for a normal kid.


    But speed alone wouldn¡¯t save her.


    The trainer suddenly altered his pace, feinting left before cutting right in an instant. Amanda¡¯s reaction was a fraction too slow. A swift strike to the back of her neck¡ªand she collapsed.


    Sophia, who had been standing beside Amanda, tensed. The moment the trainer turned to her, she moved.


    She copied Amanda¡¯s exact movements.


    Step back. Dodge left. Shift right. Avoid. Barely miss.


    The trainer raised an eyebrow. She had memorized Amanda¡¯s every action and repeated it flawlessly.


    But that meant she would fall for the same trap.


    Just like before, the trainer feinted left and cut right. Sophia tried to adjust¡ªbut she was a second too late.


    Another sharp strike. Another body down.


    Jonathan, the biggest among them, roared as he charged first. His sheer size and strength made his movements slower, but when he swung a fist, it carried real power.


    The trainer dodged the first punch. The second came right after, forcing him to step back. Jonathan grinned¡ªhe was fast for his size.


    But he wasn¡¯t fast enough.


    The trainer ducked under his next punch and delivered a devastating blow to his ribs. Jonathan grunted. A second punch landed on his jaw. His head snapped back.


    The third strike, a brutal hook to his temple, sent him sprawling. Out cold.


    Only one remained.


    William¡ªthe smallest of the group.


    His thin frame made him look weak, but the moment the trainer moved, William reacted.


    He dodged. Once. Twice. Every attack.


    The trainer¡¯s strikes barely grazed him. The boy¡¯s reflexes were abnormal, his body bending and twisting in ways that made him frustratingly hard to hit.


    But the trainer had seen this before. Pure evasion couldn¡¯t win a fight.


    He waited. Calculated. Found the moment.


    And with a single precise strike to the side of William¡¯s head¡ªhe was down.


    The dust settled. Five bodies lay unconscious on the ground.


    The trainer exhaled, turning to Warden Gregory to give his report.


    Then he froze.


    James was standing.


    His breath was ragged, his body trembling, but his legs never gave out. He endured it.


    The trainer¡¯s mind raced. All of them were good. But I only used 20% of my strength to knock them out¡ªeven Jonathan needed three strikes but they were at the same force.


    But James¡­


    His eyes narrowed. I accidentally used 50% of my strength on him when I said I don''t hold back.


    And yet¡ªhe was still standing

 Chapter 13: The AUN

    Trainer Vincent stood in the center of the training mat, rolling his shoulders as the last echoes of the fight faded. Around him, five unconscious bodies lay motionless, their breaths steady but slow. The only one still on his feet was James.


    The boy¡¯s chest rose and fell with deep, ragged breaths. His arms trembled slightly, his stomach still tight from the blow Vincent had delivered. And yet, he hadn''t fallen.


    Vincent slowly exhaled and turned toward Warden Gregory, who had been watching from the observation deck above. He gestured for him to come down.


    Gregory, a broad-shouldered man with streaks of gray in his hair, descended the stairs with measured steps. His military boots clacked against the floor as he approached, arms crossed, eyes scanning the scene with a cold, unreadable expression.


    Vincent shook his head, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. ¡°I have my report,¡± he said, his tone more serious than usual. ¡°And you¡¯re gonna want to hear this one.¡±


    Gregory arched a brow. ¡°Go on.¡±


    Vincent glanced down at the unconscious recruits before beginning.


    Evaluation Report


    1. Sam ¨C The Counter-Striker


    Vincent nudged Sam¡¯s shoulder with his foot. ¡°This one¡¯s got fighter instincts. He was the only one who reacted the moment I moved. Didn¡¯t hesitate. That¡¯s rare.¡±


    Gregory nodded. ¡°And?¡±


    Vincent smirked. ¡°He blocked my first strike, which means he¡¯s got sharp reflexes. But he¡¯s still raw. His reaction speed is high, but he lacks proper footwork and discipline. That¡¯s why my second hit floored him.¡±


    He crouched beside Sam¡¯s unconscious form, inspecting his arms. ¡°Good muscle density for his age. If trained properly, he could develop into a close-combat specialist. But right now? He relies too much on instinct. A real opponent would bait him into overcommitting.¡±


    Gregory hummed in thought. ¡°Potential rating?¡±


    Vincent shrugged. ¡°B-. He¡¯ll need refining, but if he survives, he¡¯ll be solid.¡±


    2. Amanda ¨C The Speedster


    Vincent shifted to Amanda next, tapping her temple lightly. ¡°She¡¯s fast. Almost unnaturally so.¡±


    Gregory narrowed his eyes. ¡°Awakened?¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Vincent said, shaking his head. ¡°But the way she moved¡­ it was smooth. Controlled. Like she¡¯s been dodging attacks her whole life. She¡¯s not just fast¡ªshe knows how to use her speed properly.¡±


    He exhaled. ¡°But speed alone won¡¯t cut it. The moment I broke her rhythm, she fell.¡±


    Gregory nodded. ¡°If she gets an Awakening?¡±


    Vincent smirked. ¡°If it enhances her speed? B+ potential. Maybe even A-. But she needs combat training. Right now, she¡¯s just fast prey.¡±


    3. Sophia ¨C The Observer


    Vincent crouched next to Sophia, studying her unconscious face.


    ¡°This one¡¯s different. She doesn¡¯t fight. She learns.¡±


    Gregory frowned. ¡°Explain.¡±


    Vincent tapped his temple. ¡°She mimicked Amanda¡¯s movements perfectly. Every dodge, every retreat. It wasn¡¯t instinct¡ªit was calculated. She saw what worked and copied it flawlessly.¡±


    He crossed his arms. ¡°That kind of adaptability is dangerous. If she learns fast enough, she could predict enemy movements mid-fight. But¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°She still fell for the same trap. Memorization isn¡¯t the same as understanding.¡±


    Gregory let out a small grunt. ¡°How do you rate her?¡±


    Vincent tilted his head. ¡°B. But if she gets an Awakening that boosts cognitive functions? A-. She could be a tactical fighter or an analyst.¡±


    4. Jonathan ¨C The Powerhouse


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    Vincent sighed and glanced at Jonathan¡¯s large frame.


    ¡°This one¡¯s a tank. Strength beyond normal for his age. I had to hit him three times to put him down.¡±


    Gregory raised an eyebrow. ¡°And?¡±


    Vincent exhaled. ¡°He¡¯s strong, but predictable. His punches had weight, but his movements were too obvious. Against weaker opponents, he¡¯ll dominate. Against skilled ones? He¡¯s just a bigger target.¡±


    He rubbed his chin. ¡°If he Awakens and gets a strength-based ability? B+. But without that, he¡¯s just brute force. C+ at best.¡±


    5. William ¨C The Phantom


    Vincent glanced at the smallest recruit, shaking his head.


    ¡°This one was the most frustrating,¡± he admitted.


    Gregory leaned in. ¡°Why?¡±


    Vincent smirked. ¡°Because I had to think to hit him.¡±


    Gregory¡¯s eyes widened slightly. ¡°Evasion?¡±


    Vincent nodded. ¡°His reflexes aren¡¯t just good¡ªthey¡¯re unnatural. He dodged everything. Bent and twisted his body in ways most people can¡¯t. His movements were instinctive, not trained. If I had been using full strength, he wouldn¡¯t have lasted. But in a real fight? He¡¯d be hell to pin down.¡±


    Gregory rubbed his chin. ¡°Rating?¡±


    Vincent exhaled. ¡°A-. If his Awakening boosts agility or precognition? A+. He¡¯s the hardest to hit, but also the weakest physically.¡±


    6. James ¨C The Endurer


    Finally, Vincent turned to James¡ªthe only one still standing.


    ¡°This one¡­¡± Vincent hesitated, staring at the boy.


    Gregory frowned. ¡°What?¡±


    Vincent¡¯s voice lowered. ¡°I hit him with half my strength.¡±


    Gregory¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°And?¡±


    Vincent clenched his fists. ¡°He¡¯s still standing.¡±


    Gregory¡¯s gaze slowly shifted to James, who was still trembling but refusing to fall.


    Vincent took a deep breath. ¡°He took a direct hit that should¡¯ve knocked him out cold. His body absorbed it, endured it, and stayed upright. That¡¯s not normal.¡±


    Gregory¡¯s voice was quiet but firm. ¡°Awakened?¡±


    Vincent shook his head. ¡°Not yet. But his pain tolerance and willpower are beyond natural. If his Awakening enhances his endurance¡­¡±


    He looked Gregory dead in the eyes.


    ¡°S-tier potential.¡±


    A heavy silence filled the room.


    Gregory studied James for a long moment, then exhaled through his nose.


    ¡°Monitor him closely,¡± he said, voice cold. ¡°If he survives, he might be something special.¡±


    Vincent nodded, eyes narrowing. ¡°Yeah. I think so too.¡±


    [Location: Presidential Office, Abuja, Nigeria ¨C One Month After the First Void Break]


    The air in the room was heavy. Thick velvet curtains muted the harsh afternoon sunlight, casting deep shadows across the long mahogany table where some of the most powerful men in the country sat. The tension was palpable¡ªthe kind that made even the air feel dense.


    At the head of the table sat Minister Diwe, a man in his late fifties, dressed in an impeccably tailored dark blue suit. His sharp, intelligent eyes held the weight of a man who had seen too much in too little time. Across from him sat secretary Ikenna Okoye, uniform crisp, a deep frown etching lines into his otherwise stoic face.


    Between them, a holographic display flickered above the table, showing a world map dotted with red markers. Each marker represented a new construction site¡ªfacilities rising across the globe.


    Ikenna¡¯s eyes narrowed as he studied the map, his jaw tightening. ¡°This can¡¯t be right,¡± he muttered, his deep voice laced with disbelief. ¡°The UN¡­ is gone?¡±


    Minister Diwe exhaled slowly, leaning forward. He steepled his fingers, as if choosing his words carefully. ¡°Not gone,¡± he said evenly. ¡°Dismantled.¡±


    Ikenna looked up sharply. ¡°And replaced with this¡­ AUN?¡± He gestured toward the hologram, his tone edged with skepticism. ¡°Awakened United Nations? A global government?¡± His brows furrowed. ¡°Who the hell agreed to this?¡±


    Diwe¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°Everyone.¡±


    Silence.


    Ikenna leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable. ¡°Everyone?¡± he echoed, voice quieter but no less intense.


    Diwe nodded. ¡°Every surviving government. Every major power.¡± He reached into a folder on the table and slid a document across to Ikenna. The official declaration. The seal of the former UN was still visible at the top¡ªnow overwritten by the bold insignia of the AUN.


    Ikenna stared at it, his fingers running over the embossed lettering.


    Diwe continued, his voice calm but firm. ¡°The world has changed, General. You saw what happened during the first Void Break. Governments crumbled, economies collapsed, entire cities were lost in days. No single nation can handle what¡¯s coming next. We had no choice.¡±


    Ikenna¡¯s hands curled into fists on the table. ¡°No choice?¡± He scoffed. ¡°And what of sovereignty? What of national defense? You¡¯re telling me we¡¯re just¡­ handing everything over?¡±


    Diwe leaned forward, his gaze sharp. ¡°Sovereignty?¡± he repeated, voice turning cold. ¡°General, tell me¡ªwhere was sovereignty when monsters tore through our cities? Where was national defense when our best soldiers couldn¡¯t even put a dent in those things?¡±


    Ikenna¡¯s mouth opened, but no words came out.


    Diwe exhaled, rubbing his temples. ¡°I don¡¯t like it either, Ikenna,¡± he admitted, his voice softer. ¡°But tell me¡ªhow do you fight something beyond human understanding? We had to adapt. And that means uniting.¡±


    Ikenna¡¯s jaw clenched. His fingers tapped against the table in a slow, measured rhythm. ¡°And these facilities?¡± he finally asked. ¡°What exactly are they building?¡±


    Diwe tapped a control on the table, and the hologram zoomed in¡ªa massive structure rising in the heart of Lagos. Sleek, towering, reinforced with unknown metals. Not just in Lagos, but in Abuja, New York, Beijing, Moscow, Berlin¡ªeverywhere.


    ¡°AUN command centers,¡± Diwe explained. ¡°Military headquarters. Research labs. Training facilities for these¡­ ¡®Awakened¡¯ individuals.¡±


    Ikenna¡¯s brows shot up. ¡°They¡¯re training them?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Diwe¡¯s fingers tapped against the table. ¡°They¡¯re the only ones capable of fighting these creatures. Governments are prioritizing them, registering them, arming them.¡± His voice darkened. ¡°And monitoring them.¡±


    Ikenna exhaled, shaking his head. ¡°This is happening too fast.¡±


    Diwe gave a dry chuckle. ¡°We don¡¯t have the luxury of time, General.¡± He leaned back, eyes locked onto Ikenna¡¯s. ¡°The next Void Break is coming. And when it does¡­¡± He gestured to the hologram.


    ¡°These facilities won¡¯t just be training grounds.¡±


    His voice dropped to a near whisper.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be our last defense.¡±


    A heavy silence settled between them.


    Ikenna exhaled through his nose, his fingers tightening around the document. Finally, he nodded once. Slow. Begrudging. ¡°Then God help us all.¡±

 Chapter 14: Welcome to hell

    [Location: AUN Military Cadet Training Camp ¨C Barracks, Sector 17]


    Day 1 ¨C Induction


    The bus rumbled to a stop, its reinforced steel doors groaning open. A blast of cold morning air hit them as James and his group stepped out onto the concrete platform. The facility loomed before them¡ªa vast compound of gray buildings, watchtowers, and training fields stretching beyond the horizon. Razor-wire fences surrounded the perimeter, a stark reminder that leaving wasn¡¯t an option.


    A group of instructors stood in formation near the entrance, their uniforms crisp, their faces cold and unreadable. At the center stood Commander Rourke, a man built like a war machine¡ªtall, broad, and utterly unshaken. His piercing gaze swept over the new recruits like a predator sizing up prey.


    James squared his shoulders. Sam, Amanda, Sophia, Jonathan, and William did the same.


    Without warning, Rourke¡¯s voice boomed across the platform.


    "Welcome to hell."


    Silence.


    "From this moment on, you are no longer civilians. You belong to the AUN. Your body, your mind, your life¡ªall of it will be reforged. Those who break will be discarded. Those who endure will become weapons."


    He took a step forward, eyes locking onto each of them.


    "I don¡¯t care who you were before. The only thing that matters now is survival. And most of you?" His lip curled. "You won¡¯t make it."


    The recruits stood frozen. Some gulped. A few looked like they were already questioning their decision to enlist.


    "Cadet Instructor Vincent!" Rourke barked.


    A familiar figure stepped forward¡ªTrainer Vincent, the same man who had tested them. He gave James a brief glance before addressing the group.


    "Your barracks are in Sector 17. You have ten minutes to get there. I suggest you move."


    The moment the words left his mouth, the alarms blared.


    Red lights flashed. Sirens screamed.


    And then¡ªchaos.


    The Sprint to the Barracks


    "MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!"


    They barely had time to react before gunfire erupted. Not at them¡ªbut around them. Live rounds hit the ground near their feet, kicking up dust and concrete.


    A cadet screamed. Others ran. James and his group bolted.


    The instructors were firing warning shots¡ªforcing them to sprint toward the barracks under simulated battlefield conditions.


    James¡¯ breath came hard and fast as his boots pounded against the pavement. His muscles burned, his lungs ached, but he pushed forward. Everyone did.


    Amanda and William, the fastest among them, weaved through the chaos with ease. Sam and Sophia stayed close, dodging the falling shell casings. Jonathan, despite his bulk, kept pace¡ªbut his heavier build made the sprint brutal.


    Some recruits tripped. Others collapsed, hands over their heads, too paralyzed to move. Those who fell¡­ weren¡¯t given a second chance.


    Instructors dragged them out of the running path¡ªsome yelling at them to get up, others simply shaking their heads.


    James refused to fall.


    By the time they reached the barracks, sweat dripped from their brows. Their legs trembled. Their lungs screamed.


    But they were still standing.


    The Barracks ¨C Reality Check


    The barracks were worse than expected.


    A long, dimly lit hall stretched before them¡ªrows of metal bunk beds crammed together with just enough space to walk between them. The air was thick with dust, the walls stained with sweat and age. There were no mattresses, only thin sheets.


    A single, rusted pipe ran along the ceiling, occasionally dripping water.


    Sam swore under his breath. ¡°This is a prison.¡±


    Jonathan wiped sweat from his brow. ¡°I¡¯ve seen worse.¡±


    Sophia ran a hand along the wall. ¡°I haven¡¯t.¡±


    Before they could catch their breath, the door slammed open.


    Instructor Vincent strode in, flanked by two armed guards.


    "You have exactly five minutes to prepare for physical training. Failure to comply will result in punishment. Welcome to military life."


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    And just like that¡ªthe real training began.


    Week 1 ¨C The Breaking Point


    4 AM Wake-Ups


    There was no alarm clock¡ªjust a deafening air horn.


    Every morning, it blasted through the barracks at exactly 4:00 AM.


    No warnings. No mercy.


    Some recruits groaned. Others didn¡¯t wake up fast enough.


    Those who didn¡¯t? The instructors dragged them out of bed and threw them onto the cold concrete floor.


    James and his group learned quickly. By the third day, they were up before the horn.


    Physical Training ¨C Hell on Earth


    The training field was brutal.


    - Five-mile runs. No stopping. No water.


    - Obstacle courses designed to break bones. Barbed wire, trenches, high walls.


    - Weight training with live ammunition. Some were forced to carry crates of actual bullets across the field.


    Jonathan pushed through sheer strength, but even he struggled. Sam, despite his speed, found himself drained by the relentless pace. Amanda and William had endurance, but even they faltered.


    James?


    He endured.


    Every muscle screamed, every joint ached¡ªbut he never collapsed.


    And the instructors noticed.


    Combat Drills ¨C Learning to Kill


    They weren¡¯t trained to fight. They were trained to disable and kill.


    - Hand-to-hand combat. No padding. No rules.


    - Live-weapon sparring. Blunted blades that still cut.


    - Group battles. Outnumbered. Forced to fight with strategy.


    Blood hit the sand more than once.


    By the second week, half the recruits had dropped out.


    James and his group did not.


    Survival Training ¨C Starvation & Isolation


    On the 10th day, they were dropped into the wilderness with nothing.


    - No food.


    - No water.


    - No weapons.


    Their task? Survive for 72 hours.


    Some failed immediately.


    Jonathan hunted small animals. Amanda and Sophia found edible plants. William scouted. Sam kept them moving.


    James?


    He made sure they survived.


    When a rival group tried to steal their supplies, James fought.


    He didn¡¯t win.


    But he didn¡¯t lose either.


    When they returned¡ªbruised, battered, and starving¡ªthe instructors didn¡¯t congratulate them.


    They just sent them straight to the next drill.


    End of Week 2 ¨C A New Mindset


    James looked around the barracks.


    A third of the bunks were empty.


    Some cadets had broken. Others had been injured and removed.


    Only the strong remained.


    As James sat on his bunk, wrapping his bruised knuckles, he glanced at his team.


    Jonathan was massaging his sore muscles.


    Sam was sharpening a knife.


    Amanda and Sophia were strategizing.


    William was sitting in silence, eyes calculating.


    None of them spoke.


    They didn¡¯t have to.


    They had survived.


    But this was only the beginning.


    [Location: AUN Military Training Facility ¨C Armory]


    The scent of metal and oil filled the air as James and his squad stood in a dimly lit armory, the hum of energy-infused weapons vibrating softly in their hands. The room was cold, sterile, lined with racks of weapons¡ªnot firearms, but blades, axes, spears, and other melee arms. The only sound was the faint crackle of power running through the weapons as they pulsed in an almost hypnotic rhythm.


    At the front of the room, standing with his arms crossed, was Commander Rourke. A towering man with grizzled features, his sharp blue eyes scanned the recruits like a predator assessing prey. His presence alone commanded silence, though hushed whispers from other cadets filtered through the air.


    "Void weapons¡­ real ones?"


    "I heard a single one could sell for a fortune on the black market."


    "These are just the low-grade ones. Imagine what the high-rank officers get."


    "Cold weapons only¡­ so it¡¯s true, then. Guns are worthless against those things."


    The murmurs stopped the moment Rourke stepped forward.


    "Listen up," he said, his voice like gravel scraping against stone. His gaze swept over them, lingering a second longer on James and his team. "You¡¯ve just been given your first Void Weapons. Energy-infused melee weapons¡ªdesigned to cut through creatures that bullets can¡¯t even scratch."


    He motioned to the weapons in their hands. "What you¡¯re holding is the lowest grade of Void Weaponry. Even so, these are worth more than your damn lives. Do not lose them. Do not break them. And do not underestimate them."


    James looked down at the weapon in his grip¡ªa short blade, its edge lined with a faint glow. He could feel it, a pulse of energy that thrummed in sync with his own heartbeat. It felt alive.


    Beside him, Jonathan tested the weight of his battle-ax, the massive weapon fitting his brute strength perfectly. He gave it a small swing, the air humming as it cut through. Powerful, but heavy. Exactly what he needed.


    William, the smallest and fastest of the group, flipped a pair of daggers in his hands, their sleek edges shimmering faintly. He barely seemed to be holding them; they moved like extensions of his fingers.


    Amanda stepped forward next, her eyes sharp as she observed the selection. She reached for a lightweight spear, its shaft reinforced with energy ore. She spun it once, testing its weight, and nodded to herself. "Fast. Precise. Good reach," she muttered. A weapon for someone who fought smart, not head-on.


    Sophia, standing beside her, watched carefully. She was a quick thinker¡ªalways analyzing, always adapting. Her hand finally settled on a thin, curved saber. Unlike the others, who tested their weapons openly, she simply gripped the hilt, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, there was no hesitation. It was the right choice.


    Commander Rourke watched their selections with a knowing smirk.


    "Good," he said. "Your weapons should feel like an extension of your own body. If it doesn¡¯t feel right, it¡¯s useless in a real fight. That¡¯s why we¡¯re starting with basic models¡ªno complex abilities, just raw energy. You either master them, or you die."


    He let his words sink in before continuing.


    "Now, let me make one thing very clear." His voice dropped slightly, but the weight behind it doubled. "You will never use firearms in the field. Guns are useless."


    Some cadets shifted uncomfortably. Others frowned.


    Rourke scoffed. "I see some of you don¡¯t believe me. Let me put it this way¡ªbullets do nothing to Void creatures. Even armor-piercing rounds bounce off. The only way to kill them is with direct energy-infused melee strikes. That¡¯s why every awakened soldier fights with a blade, an axe, a spear¡ªnever a gun."


    He paced slowly in front of them, his hands clasped behind his back. "And since all of you are unawakened¡­ you¡¯re useless in a real fight." His gaze was cold, impassive. "Until you kill a creature from a Void Crack with your own hands¡ªuntil your very being is forced to evolve¡ªyou are nothing but meat waiting to be slaughtered."


    The room fell into complete silence.


    Then, in a tone far too calm, Rourke continued, "That¡¯s why your only goal is to survive long enough to awaken. And for that, you need skill. You need instinct. And you need absolute mastery of the weapon in your hands."


    His eyes swept over them once more.


    "From now on," he said, "these weapons are your life. They should feel like your own hands¡ªlike breathing, like walking. Every slash, every thrust, every movement must be second nature."


    He turned to the nearest weapons rack and grabbed a sleek, black-forged great sword. With a single swing, he slashed clean through a reinforced metal training dummy. The dummy, designed to withstand bullets, collapsed in two. Sparks flickered from the cut.


    "This,


    " Rourke said, voice quiet but filled with undeniable authority, "is the difference between life and death." He turned back to them, expression unreadable.


    "Now¡ªlet¡¯s see if any of you are worth keeping alive."


    The real training had begun.

 Chapter 15: The first mission 1

    [Location: AUN Military Training Grounds ¨C six months Later]


    The training field stretched under the pale morning sun, a vast expanse of dirt and gravel littered with combat dummies, weapon racks, and exhausted cadets. Six months. six months days of relentless drills, combat exercises, and survival training.


    By now, James and his squad were no longer the same raw recruits who had first held their weapons with uncertainty. They had been broken down, reshaped, and reforged into something sharper¡ªsomething deadlier.


    Commander Rourke stood on the sidelines, his arms crossed as he observed the group¡¯s progress. His expression was unreadable, but his sharp gaze tracked every movement, very reaction.


    James ¨C The Adaptive Fighter


    James tightened his grip around his short blade, exhaling slowly. The weapon no longer felt foreign in his hands. It was his.


    His stance had improved¡ªlower, balanced, ready to move. Every strike was precise, controlled, his body reacting on instinct rather than thought. He had learned to use his speed and adaptability to turn an opponent¡¯s strength against them.


    A training dummy lunged at him¡ªmechanized, fast, designed to mimic real enemies.


    James sidestepped, blade flashing in a sharp arc. The hum of energy-infused metal met synthetic flesh. A clean cut. One strike, one kill.


    His breathing was even, his eyes locked onto the next opponent without hesitation. No wasted movement. No fear.


    Amanda ¨C The Spear Dancer


    A few feet away, Amanda spun her lightweight spear with practiced ease. Her footwork had become fluid¡ªeach step measured, each movement part of a seamless dance.


    A sparring partner lunged at her.


    She twisted, the spearhead gliding past the attack like water slipping through fingers. Then, with a sharp pivot, she struck. A swift thrust to the ribs, followed by a spinning sweep to the legs.


    Her opponent hit the ground hard.


    Amanda didn¡¯t stop. She reset her stance immediately, spear held firm, her sharp eyes scanning for the next attack. She had learned to control distance¡ªto keep enemies at bay, never letting them close enough to land a strike.


    Her movements were fast, efficient, untouchable.


    William ¨C The Phantom Daggers


    William was nowhere to be seen¡ªuntil he moved.


    His daggers were an extension of his body now, the twin blades flashing in and out of sight as he weaved between training dummies with unnatural speed.


    A target turned to attack¡ªtoo slow. William was already behind him.


    A quick, silent slash across the back of the knee. The target staggered. Before it could recover, a second blade found its mark in the throat.


    Even as his opponents fell, William¡¯s breathing remained steady. His reflexes were sharp, his attacks unpredictable. He had learned to fight in the shadows, striking before the enemy even knew he was there.


    Jonathan ¨C The Unstoppable Force


    Jonathan had transformed into a living war machine.


    His battle-ax was no longer just a weapon¡ªit was an extension of his brute strength. He no longer swung it wildly; each strike was calculated, devastating.


    A training dummy charged at him.


    Jonathan didn¡¯t dodge. He stepped forward.


    With a powerful overhead swing, his ax came down like a guillotine. The sheer force split the dummy in half, sparks flying as the energy-infused metal met resistance¡ªand tore through it like paper.


    Despite his size, Jonathan had learned control. His swings were no longer reckless¡ªthey were measured, powerful, unstoppable.


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    Sophia ¨C The Perfect Counter


    Sophia stood calm, composed, patient.


    Her curved saber was light, elegant¡ªmade for precision, not brute force. Unlike the others, she didn¡¯t go on the offensive first. Instead, she waited.


    Her opponent lunged.


    She stepped back, just enough to avoid the strike. A fraction of a second later, she countered¡ªone swift slash across the opponent¡¯s exposed flank.


    Another attack came. She didn¡¯t panic.


    She dodged, turning the opponent¡¯s own momentum against them. A feint, a sidestep, a final, precise cut.


    She didn¡¯t just react¡ªshe predicted, she controlled the fight before it even began.


    Sam ¨C The Iron Wall


    Sam had become their shield.


    His choice of weapon¡ªa heavy longsword, meant for both attack and defense. Unlike the others, he didn¡¯t dodge.


    He blocked.


    A combat dummy swung at him. He raised his blade, absorbing the impact with his stance. His arms didn¡¯t tremble, his footing remained firm.


    The moment the opponent recoiled, he countered with a brutal downward slash. A single strike¡ªit was over.


    Sam had learned to take hits, to endure. He was their front line, the one who would stand his ground no matter what.


    The Test Begins


    The cadets stood together, sweat glistening on their skin, chests rising and falling with exertion. Their weapons¡ªonce foreign objects, now a part of them.


    That¡¯s when the doors to the training hall slammed open.


    Trainer Vincent stepped in, a cold smirk on his face. Behind him, a group of senior officers followed. He tossed a map onto the table.


    "This is your first survival mission," he said.


    James and his squad gathered around, eyes narrowing.


    "Your objective: Survive three days in enemy territory. Retrieve a hidden token deep within the combat zone."


    Murmurs spread through the room.


    "Enemies will be hunting you," Vincent continued, his voice utterly unconcerned. "And if you fail¡­" His eyes gleamed with amusement.


    "You¡¯re out."


    The air in the room grew heavy.


    "If you die¡­" He shrugged. "Well, then you were never meant to be here."


    Silence.


    Then¡ªJonathan cracked his knuckles. Amanda gripped her spear a little tighter. William smirked. Sophia¡¯s eyes sharpened. Sam exhaled, steady as ever.


    And James?


    He simply smiled.


    The test had begun.


    [Location: Warden Gregory¡¯s Office ¨C Late Evening]


    The dim glow of an overhead lamp cast long shadows across the cluttered wooden desk. Warden Gregory, a broad-shouldered man , sat behind it, flipping through a thick file. His uniform was crisp, but his eyes¡ªsharp and calculating¡ªheld the weight of years spent molding soldiers from raw recruits.


    Across from him, Trainer Vincent stood with a relaxed yet controlled posture. His uniform bore the faint scent of sweat and dust from the training grounds, and his knuckles were still bruised from the day''s drills. He waited in silence as Gregory skimmed through the monthly evaluation report.


    The warden sighed, rubbing his temple.


    ¡°These new cadets¡­¡± Gregory muttered, flipping a page. ¡°We¡¯ve lost ten in the past three weeks. Eight dropped out. Two injured beyond recovery.¡± He looked up, pinning Vincent with a hard stare. ¡°Tell me you have something good to report.¡±


    Vincent smirked, crossing his arms. ¡°Depends on your definition of ¡®good.¡¯¡±


    Gregory raised a brow. ¡°Go on.¡±


    Vincent reached into his jacket, pulled out a smaller folder, and set it on the desk. ¡°This batch is rough around the edges, but there are six you should keep an eye on.¡± He tapped the file. ¡°James Conor and his squad.¡±


    Gregory frowned, flipping the folder open. ¡°Conor?¡± His gaze skimmed the names¡ªAmanda, William, Jonathan, Sam, Sophia.


    Vincent leaned against the chair opposite the desk, his expression unreadable. ¡°They¡¯re progressing faster than expected. Faster than they should be.¡±


    Gregory grunted. ¡°So? Every batch has its outliers.¡±


    Vincent shook his head. ¡°Not like this.¡± He hesitated for a moment before exhaling. ¡°There was a sparring match last week. James was pitted against a second-year.¡±


    Gregory leaned back, folding his hands. ¡°And?¡±


    Vincent¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°He should have lost in seconds.¡± His eyes darkened as he recalled the match. ¡°The second-year had everything¡ªheight, reach, experience. But James¡­ he moved like he¡¯d been fighting for years.¡±


    Gregory¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°Explain.¡±


    Vincent pushed off the chair and took a slow step forward. ¡°It wasn¡¯t skill¡ªit was instinct. His body reacted before his mind could catch up. He dodged, countered, recovered in ways that shouldn¡¯t be possible for someone at his level.¡±


    Gregory studied Vincent¡¯s expression, noting the unspoken weight behind his words. He didn¡¯t interrupt.


    Vincent continued, voice lower. ¡°For a moment¡­ I swear, you could have confused him for an awakened.¡±


    Silence stretched between them.


    Gregory¡¯s fingers drummed against the desk. ¡°You sure?¡±


    Vincent¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t waver. ¡°I know what I saw.¡±


    Gregory exhaled through his nose, deep in thought. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ concerning.¡± He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. ¡°What do you think it means?¡±


    Vincent hesitated. ¡°Could be nothing. Could be everything.¡± He glanced at the closed door, then lowered his voice. ¡°You and I both know awakeners aren¡¯t supposed to appear in forced-awakening training. And yet¡­ James moves like he already has something.¡±


    Gregory studied him for a long moment before sighing. He leaned back, rubbing his chin. ¡°So, what do you propose?¡±


    Vincent straightened. ¡°Push him harder.¡±


    Gregory raised a brow.


    Vincent crossed his arms again. ¡°I¡¯ve already been upping the intensity. He adapts too fast. Every time I throw something new at him, he picks it up like it¡¯s second nature. If we don¡¯t test his limits now, we¡¯ll never understand what makes him different.¡±


    Gregory let out a low chuckle. ¡°You always did have a thing for breaking recruits.¡±


    Vincent smirked. ¡°And you always did have a thing for building weapons out of them.¡±


    Gregory¡¯s smirk faded as he tapped the file. ¡°Fine. Keep pushing him. But be discreet.¡± He glanced at Vincent, his tone suddenly serious. ¡°And if he really is something more?¡±


    Vincent¡¯s smirk disappeared. He met Gregory¡¯s gaze. ¡°Then we report it. But not a second before we know for sure.¡±


    Gregory exhaled, rubbing his temple. ¡°You¡¯re playing a dangerous game, Vincent.¡±


    Vincent shrugged, heading for the door. ¡°The best ones always are.¡±


    As he stepped out, Gregory stared at the file for a long moment before finally closing it.


    James Conor.


    He¡¯d be watching..