Arcadia –In a small apartment, rain poured heavily against the glass, and thunder rumbled across the horizon. The dimly lit living room was filled with dark shadows, with faint streetlights casting reflections on the walls.
In a far corner, Seraph sat on a worn-out couch, sipping from his glass, his eyes fixed on the television screen broadcasting the news about the incident.
The door suddenly creaked open. Rodion entered, completely drenched from the rain. Slowly, he removed his helmet, setting it aside before looking inside, where Seraph sat. Rodion's eyes were cold, devoid of any clear expression.
Rodion, in a calm voice: "The weather is terrible out there… but nothing new."
Seraph: "Stop worrying about those bastards. They now live in peace at the cost of the sacrifice he made. He gave his life for theirs lives that are worth nothing."
Rodion slowly approached the old wooden table, sitting on the chair across from Seraph, who was still staring at the television. Rodion's eyes carried an eerie stillness as he watched him.
Rodion: "Are you going to stay here, watching that screen, living without purpose?"
Seraph, still staring at the screen, his voice low but carrying a suppressed anger: "And you... have you ever truly thought about what it means to have a purpose? These so-called goals you speak of are nothing but illusions we create for ourselves to endure the weight of reality… But in the end, we keep searching for meaning in something that never had any to begin with."
Rodion stared at him for a moment. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of rain tapping against the windows. Then, in a voice laced with harsh awareness, he spoke.
Rodion: "You're trying to convince yourself that this is all there is, aren't you? That life is meaningless, that everything we do is just a waste of time… But is that truly what you believe? Or are you just avoiding the truth?
The truth is, in the end, we all choose how we live. We choose what to believe in, what we find meaning in. If your existence has no purpose, it's because you have decided to see this world as empty of anything worth living for."
Seraph finally turned toward Rodion, his eyes filled with a mixture of sarcasm and pain.
Seraph: "You don't understand… If life is just a search for a goal, then what's the point of all this suffering? Of all that blood spilled for nothing? Of those who sacrificed their lives, those who fell into the darkness, those who were torn apart in battle just so others could keep on living?!
Do you know what it means to be one of them? To be just a number in a war where you have no say? No, none of this matters. None of it means anything. In this merciless world, we struggle and suffer while others live in comfort, in luxury, in a life untouched by the weight of existence. A world that devours us while they sleep in peace. Where is the justice in that? Where is the purpose?!"
We live for whom?… For whom? If this is the path we must walk, then what is left for us in the end but pain?!"
He fell silent for a moment before turning back to the television, gripping the remote tightly in his hand.
Seraph: "And that fool… He knew. He knew I would fail. He knew I wouldn't be able to kill the Chancellor."
Rodion took a deep breath, as if drawing his words from some hidden depth within him. His voice softened slightly as he gazed at the screen.
Rodion: "Seraph… You can't stop at one point and call it the only truth. Because if you do, then you've already given up. There is always something beyond the pain, something that can give you a reason to keep going. But that doesn't come from others, nor from external goals. It comes from within you."
Seraph didn't respond. He kept watching the television in silence.
The rain resumed its melody against the windows, and in that moment, they both felt another presence in the room.
The whispers of the wind from the balcony suddenly turned into a sharp whistle,
as if warning of something approaching.
The darkness slowly receded,
revealing a figure standing in the corner,
as if it had emerged from the shadows themselves.
Maviudas appeared suddenly, standing firmly, his eyes glowing in the dark like embers of an ancient fire.
His hands were tucked into the pockets of his long coat, and his shadow stretched behind him like the wings of a ghost.
Maviudas, in a quiet but chillingly deep voice: "You two… What will you do now?"
His words flowed slowly, as if weighing every syllable before speaking.
Seraph, moved swiftly, raising his gun and aiming it at Maviudas, his voice sharp and tense: "What do you want?!"
A heavy silence filled the room,
the only sound was the rapid beating of their hearts. Maviudas did not move,
only staring at them with that piercing gaze that left behind unanswered questions.
Rodion watched silently, his hand resting on his gun but making no move. Meanwhile, Maviudas walked toward them with calm, deliberate steps, each footstep echoing in the stillness.
Maviudas: "Your choice is simple… I know you've seen the worst this world has to offer. You've suffered injustices that leave no room for trust, and you were raised in the shadows of loneliness and despair, where no one cares for anything but themselves. But if you want to stay here, prisoners of the past, ghosts of dead dreams, then that's your decision. But if you want something more, something that frees your souls from this burden…
Join me. Not for my sake, but for yours. We will not be heroes in the way they sing about, but a force that refuses to break before this wretched world."
Seraph, his voice sharp with anger: "Sorry, but we won't be part of your heroic delusions. The world doesn't need new heroes; it needs an end to this ridiculous play."
What you see as salvation, we see as another chain. We've lived long enough to understand that grand words don't erase pain, nor do they change reality."
Maviudas smirked slightly, continuing with confidence:
Maviudas: "You may be right. Words don't erase pain, nor deny the truth. But the difference between us and those who trampled on us is that we choose to create meaning from that pain. To turn the darkness that swallowed our childhoods into a light that guides others. The world doesn't need heroes in perfect stories, but people with the courage to stand against the chaos, no matter the cost.
You see this as a chain, but I see it as an opportunity… to be part of something greater than your solitude."
Seraph chuckled bitterly: "An opportunity? Is that what you call it? An opportunity to be new tools in the hands of this corrupt world? You've stood against the chaos, Maviudas, but you've never asked yourself why you keep going. The world doesn't want heroes; it wants scapegoats… New sacrifices to be thrown into the fire so that others can feel some relief.
Nothing changes, and we are just pieces in a game that will never end. If you want to be a hero in this illusion, then go ahead. But as for me… I won't sell what's left of myself for a broken dream."
Maviudas stepped closer, his voice carrying weight, his words slicing through the silence:
Maviudas: "I'm not asking you to believe. I'm asking you to see what could be, amidst all this ruin.
In Arkans Hero, you won't be lost remnants living in the shadows, but warriors who rise above what destroyed you. The power stolen from you by this world won't be returned to seek revenge, but to rebuild yourselves. Not because the world deserves you… but because you deserve to find the light after this long darkness.
With me, I will give you what life has deprived you of. I will give you a place where you no longer need to hide..."
Then, just as silence became overwhelming, another voice rang out from the shadows. It was Rivander, who had entered through the balcony unnoticed.
Rivander placed his hand on Maviodas' shoulder, his voice filled with confidence: "You mean... with us."
Maviudas looked at Revander before turning his attention back to Rodion and Seraph: "We offer you more than just an opportunity. We offer you a path… a path you might not refuse if you're truly searching for something beyond mere survival."
Seraph's eyes burned with anger: "You're asking us to be your followers? To sell ourselves for a false banner? The whole world is filled with lies and destruction, and everyone in it is chasing illusions. I will not be a part of this."
Rodion stood still for a moment, his gaze fixed on Maviudas as if he were seeing something distant in the heart of the darkness. Then, with steady steps, he moved forward, his voice calm yet resolute.
Rodion: "I accept."
Maviudas raised an eyebrow, then smirked slightly, as if he had expected this. He took a deep breath and stepped closer to Rodion: "Good."
Seraph cast a scornful, disappointed look at Rodion, then let out a bitter laugh: "You know nothing about this world…"
Maviudas pointed a finger at Seraph, as if confronting him with an undeniable truth, then spoke with quiet yet firm authority: "The choice is always yours. But the truth will always be here… within each of us. You cannot escape it."
Rodion locked eyes with Maviodas before turning to Seraph, as if reading the depths of his soul. His voice was quiet but carried the weight of years: "He won't change his mind… let's go."
Maviudas stole a final glance at Seraph before moving toward the door. Rodion turned to look at Seraph one last time before following without hesitation, walking away alongside Maviodas.
At that moment, Seraph was left alone in the dark room. He stared at the spot where Rodion and Maviudas had stood, his eyes empty. He did not speak, but he felt the weight of his solitude as he watched them disappear in silence. The heavy air in the room screamed with emotions he could not explain, while they walked away from his dark world toward new horizons.
Slowly, he raised his head... not looking at the ceiling, but beyond it… at the sky, as if searching for something beyond his sight, beyond this world. His eyes were distant, as though trying to capture a vision lost between the layers of time. And in that moment, his thoughts blurred, memories overlapping in his mind, weaving fragments of the past still clinging to his consciousness.
1 year and 32 days ago.
Arcadia – 1997, Novix Headquarters.
A military facility stood in a remote land, resembling a massive prison, isolated atop a plateau overlooking a vast river, its waves crashing in silence as if bearing witness to what transpired behind those gray walls. No birds flew there, no breeze refreshed the air... only a heavy silence, occasionally pierced by distant echoes, as if the very air was groaning.
Inside, a young boy stood... a frail figure with short blond hair and golden eyes reflecting the dim light of the room. He wore white clothing with a black circle on his chest marked with the number "93." His slender body swayed between the grip of men in military uniforms, dragging him harshly as if he were nothing more than a worthless puppet. He screamed, struggled, tried to break free, but their grasp was unyielding, cold as steel, merciless.
A few steps away, a man stood firmly, observing the scene through emotionless eyes behind his glasses. This was Professor Zero. His long white coat made his expression seem even more detached, as if everything unfolding before him was just another experiment, a mere variable in a complex equation.
The boy's voice filled the corridor... protesting, resisting... but no one turned to him. In the end, he was thrown forcefully into a small room. He hit the floor, hearing the metallic clang of the door locking behind him, sealing his fate.
Dazed, he stumbled to his feet, rushed to the door, and pounded on it with all his might, his small fists bleeding under the strain.
"Open the door!"
He screamed with all the air left in his lungs, but the entire place remained silent, as if his voice was nothing more than a whisper fading into the lifeless walls.
Slowly, he stepped back, his breathing ragged, his knees failing him. He collapsed onto the cold floor, his back pressed against the unyielding wall, burying his head between his knees. He didn't know if time stopped here or if the clock's hands moved only to mock him.
But he knew one thing…
No one was coming.
No one would hear him.
And no one would care.
He sat there, still as a shadow that had lost its form, his breath uneven, his gaze lost in the void, as if his mind was falling into a bottomless abyss. The silent walls around him were not just stone; they were a prison of isolation, where minutes stretched into eternity. In that moment, there was nothing… no sound, no movement… only a suffocating silence that pressed against his chest more than the shackles themselves.
But suddenly, as if the void had torn open, a voice reached him... faint but clear... calling him.
"Can you hear me…?"
He lifted his head abruptly, his widened eyes reflecting a shock he had yet to comprehend. He turned around in panic, staring at the walls, the ceiling, the shadows flickering under the dim light. There was no one.
He clenched his teeth, his heart pounding violently. Was he losing his mind? Was he now hearing things that weren't there? But then the voice came again, closer this time, as if it were seeping through the wall his back was pressed against.
A female voice.
He froze in place, his brows furrowing in confusion, and then unease crept into his features. He didn't understand… Who could be there? Was this real, or just another illusion created by his trapped mind?
A cold sensation spread through his body, but he took a slow breath, trying to regain his composure. Then, after a brief silence, he asked in a quiet yet sharp voice.
"Who are you?"
A heavy silence slipped between the cold walls, as if the void itself was holding its breath, waiting for a response.
"My name is… Luna."
The boy lifted his head slightly, staring into the darkness ahead as if trying to see the voice speaking to him. There was something strange in the girl's words... a calm tone, yet behind it was a bitterness that was unmistakable.
"And you? What's your name?"
The question, simple as it was, struck him like an unexpected slap. His name? For a moment, it felt as though he was searching in a mind that wasn't his own, as if his memory was nothing but the wreckage of a labyrinth with no exit. The more he tried to find an answer, the more something heavy tightened around his head... a throbbing pain, as if only a single thought could survive this abyss. He murmured in a faint voice, as if doubting his own words.
"I… don't know."
Her voice returned, soft but firm. "Yes, just as I expected."
When she said that, a cold shiver ran through his body. He straightened slightly, tense. "What do you mean?"
A long silence, then the girl sighs and answers him.
"They erase our memories before bringing us here… Specifically, they delete only the part related to our identities. Like your family, your friends, your relatives.
They must have someone with an ability like that. Do you remember how you got here? When, and why?"
He opened his mouth to say something but stopped. He thought seriously, tried to dig deep into his mind, but found nothing but emptiness. There was no beginning, only a vague moment of waking up, hands grabbing him, feet dragging him inside, and doors closing behind him.
"No… I have no idea… All I remember is that I was just… here."
The girl spoke again, softly. "I see… I'm sorry about that."
He didn't know how to respond. He didn't need pity, but he felt something akin to pain in her tone. Maybe because she understood, maybe because she had been through the same thing.
"Do you have a name in mind?" she asked. "You'll need one... you won't want to be known by just your number… Trust me, it's really annoying. We all chose our own names here."
Their own names? It didn't make sense, but in this place, nothing did. He tried to recall any word, any old sound in his mind, any familiar feeling, but he found himself in the same whirlpool.
"I… don't know… I have no idea…"
Luna sighed, but not in frustration... it was as if she had already expected this answer.
"Hmm… want me to pick one for you?"
Luna's eyes narrowed slightly, but not in surprise… It was something else, something deeper, more painful. As if an old wound had stirred within her... one she hadn't touched in a long time, yet it had always been there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for a moment like this to resurface.
A tightness filled her chest, as if the air had suddenly grown heavier. She realized she was trying to breathe slowly, not wanting to let her voice betray even the slightest tremor. She blinked, but the memory was faster... it slipped into her mind without permission, intertwining with this moment, with this feeling she thought she had long forgotten.
In a hushed voice, barely spoken, as if it were part of an old secret never fully revealed, Luna's voice trembled slightly, her words carrying a weight she hadn't expected to feel.
"There was someone I once knew… He was like you…"
She paused, the air between them thick with unspoken things, her breath shallow. The words clung to her tongue, heavy with history, yet she didn't retract them. She blinked, but it wasn't to avoid the truth... it was to allow herself the space to understand it, to come to terms with the ripple it had caused within her.
"I wish I had chosen one for him."
The sentence was simple, but it hit like a stone dropped into still water... its ripples spread far beyond what she had intended. It wasn't just a wish... it was a confession long buried, a truth wrapped in years of regret and silence, now spilling into the open. It should have been said to someone else, at a different time, when it still mattered. But that someone was gone, lost to the past, never to hear her sorrow.
The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. The boy, his heart caught in the wake of her words, remained still, processing the depth of what she had just shared. His response was quiet, almost a whisper, but it carried a quiet strength, a touch of reassurance.
"I don't mind."
It wasn't just an answer. It was an unspoken promise... one that neither of them could fully grasp in that moment.
When she heard him respond calmly, Luna felt something unexpected stir in her heart. The words were simple, but their impact was deep within her. She felt a sense of relief, as if a weight had lightened just a little. There was a calmness in his voice, as if the heavy moment, filled with all those memories and pain, was beginning to fade away.
She lifted her gaze to him, her eyes filled with conflicting emotions, but deep inside, there was a strange sense of peace, something akin to the calm after a storm. She wanted to say something, but the words got lost in the distance between them. She only gave a small smile, a quiet smile, an unspoken expression of something she didn't know how to explain.
And that smile, despite its silence, was deeper than any word could ever be.
A brief stillness followed... not just hesitation from her, but something that felt almost sacred. Then came her voice, soft and childlike, yet carrying an odd certainty.
"How about… Seraph?"
For a few moments, Seraph felt his tension begin to fade, as if a gentle wave had washed over his restless soul. It wasn't certainty, but it felt like a fragment of hope... faint yet present... slipping into his chest like a dim light amidst a merciless darkness.
He whispered his new name, barely audible, as if testing its weight, as if trying to believe it.
"Seraph..."
He paused, sensing the strangeness of carrying a name he wasn't born with. And yet… he didn't reject it. On the contrary, it carried something inexplicable... a strange sense of belonging, as if the name had always been there, simply waiting for the right moment to be spoken.
Then, in a quiet voice, barely trembling, he said it.
Seraph: "Thank you... Luna..."
It wasn't just a passing gratitude... it was an admission, a whispered confession carrying the heaviest parts of his soul.
And on the other side, Luna listened in silence, but her eyes spoke volumes. She didn't comment, didn't try to break the moment. She simply listened.
He heard nothing from the other side, but somehow, he could feel her smile.
The next morning.
The bell rang... sharp and jarring... like a blade slicing through the silence.
The metallic echo bounced off the concrete walls as the door swung open with force, creating a loud noise that forced everyone awake at once. The harsh white light from the ceiling lamps stabbed into drowsy eyes without mercy.
Seraph lifted his head slowly, his trembling fingers passing over his face as if to make sure he was still there. His mind was foggy, his memory blank, like a white page forced to accept whatever was written on it.
There was no escape... he had to get up.
He stood unsteadily, and as he stepped toward the door, a man in a military uniform stood waiting, his voice like thunder as he barked orders that needed no explanation.
"Move!"
Seraph stepped out into the corridor, illuminated by cold white beams, where he saw the others leaving their rooms the same way... human ghosts staggering under the weight of the unknown.
The boys walked straight ahead, while the girls turned left toward another hall. Each step made him feel like he was walking through a hazy dream... until a certain moment…
The door to his left opened, and a girl stepped out.
She was a few years older than him.
Her light blonde hair cascaded to the side in an elegant style, her face perfectly balanced, as if she belonged to a world far from this cold place. Her fair, smooth skin reflected the dim light, her small nose and lips, faintly smiling, seemed out of place in this harsh reality.
She wore a pale beige dress, and simple earrings hung from her ears, as if she was clinging to a part of her old self... something untouched, still pure.
Luna: "Hello."
She spoke in a calm voice, her tone oddly blended with confidence and warmth in the midst of all this coldness.
Seraph stood in place, as if time had stopped for a moment.
He didn't know why, but he felt something unfamiliar... something that made him unable to respond. He was unable to speak, unable to take his eyes off her, as if she were the only real thing in this false place.
But his words came out eventually, unconsciously.
Seraph: "…Hello."
The moment didn't last long before Seraph was shoved forcefully from behind, a harsh voice exploding in his ear, pulling him back to reality. He moved involuntarily, but before continuing forward, he turned slightly, looking back.
Luna was walking toward the other hall with the rest of the girls.
He felt something strange inside... an unexplainable tightness. Would this be the last time he saw her face? In a place where everything was uncertain, he wasn't sure if he'd ever see her again.
He turned back, continued forward toward the large door where two armed guards stood.
They opened the door for him.
The dining hall.
The moment he stepped inside, he found himself in a vast hall, long tables filled with boys sitting in groups... talking, laughing, eating, as if they were used to this place.
Some were silent, staring at their food without interest, while others had fully adapted to this new reality.
Seraph watched as the others approached the stall on the left, so he took a tray as they did, handed it to the worker there, and received it back, filled with food that had neither taste nor soul.
He sat at one of the tables, eating slowly while his eyes observed the others. Some were talking and laughing as if they had completely forgotten where they were. Others seemed to have entirely given up, watching their surroundings with indifference, as if they were not part of this reality.
On the upper floor, a long hallway overlooked the main hall through side windows.
The professor walked with steady steps, followed closely by his assistant, a man holding a notebook in his hands.
Zero: "The new boy... has he shown any resistance? Any trouble or aggression using his ability?"
The professor's voice was cold and indifferent, as if he were discussing an experimental subject rather than a human being.
The assistant replied firmly. "No, sir. It's been a day since his arrival, and he hasn't reacted at all. We haven't discovered his ability yet."
The professor did not respond immediately. He continued walking for a few moments before stopping in front of the window, his gaze fixed on the main hall. His eyes were locked onto Seraph, watching his every move, every gesture, as if deciphering a complex puzzle.
Then, in a firm voice, he said.
Zero: "Watch him closely. Some have awakened their abilities before we could even brainwash them… As for the nature of his power, we will find out. Sooner or later… he will be forced to reveal it to survive."
He fell silent for a moment, studying Seraph as if analyzing him, then turned to his assistant. "Prepare everything… we will begin training soon."
The assistant bowed slightly and replied in a low voice. "Understood, sir."
Inside the hall, Seraph had finished his meal, but his questions remained unanswered. He sat for a while, watching the other boys around him. Most ate in silence, while others spoke in hushed tones, as if afraid of being overheard. Despite the clatter of dishes and the movement of feet, the atmosphere remained heavy and oppressive. Everything was too orderly, as if everyone had been programmed to follow a rhythm they were not allowed to break.
Then suddenly, the massive door at the end of the hall rumbled open, revealing three armed men. They gave no orders, yet most of the boys immediately stood up, their bodies moving as if on instinct. They walked toward the door without hesitation, as if accustomed to this routine.
Seraph, however, remained seated, watching the scene in confusion. He glanced around and noticed that he wasn't the only hesitant one. A few other boys had yet to move. But it didn't take long before two guards approached them, their faces emotionless, their eyes hollow. Without a word, they began shoving the hesitant ones forward, some stumbling and falling, only to scramble back up quickly to avoid further punishment.
Seraph quickly stood before they reached him and followed the others through the door.
The corridor they entered was long, illuminated by dim white lights. Its metallic walls reflected their shadows in distorted shapes. Numerous rooms lined the hallway... some sealed shut with heavy metal doors, others with reflective glass panels that prevented any glimpse inside.
Above them, in every corner, surveillance cameras moved slowly, tracking their every step.
Armed men stood along the corridor, silent and motionless, only moving when necessary. Their eyes were fixed ahead, devoid of emotion, like machines programmed for blind obedience.
At the end of the hallway, two guards stood in front of a massive metal door. Without speaking, they opened it in perfect unison, as if responding to an unheard command.
Sunlight poured in suddenly.
Seraph hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing under the sudden brightness. He raised a hand to shield himself, and gradually, his vision adjusted.
Before him stretched a massive training ground, enclosed by towering metal walls. It looked like a giant cage... or a battlefield sealed from the world.
The ground was divided into different sections.
To the left, a sports area was filled with heavy iron equipment... carefully arranged weights, thick ropes hanging from tall poles. Older boys lifted the weights in silence, their gazes sharp and focused, as if nothing else in the world mattered.
To the right, an obstacle course awaited... tall wooden walls, old tires lined up in a row, narrow paths requiring jumping or crawling to cross. Some boys ran through it, their bodies covered in dust, their clothes stained, while others stood on the sidelines, panting as they tried to catch their breath.
At the farthest end was a shooting range. Circular targets stood at the back, where some boys held training weapons, firing under the watchful eyes of strict instructors dressed in dark coats.
But what drew Seraph's attention the most was the center.
In the middle of the training ground lay a circular arena.
Its floor was concrete, surrounded by a low iron fence. Inside, boys exchanged blows under the silent watch of their trainers, who observed without interference. Sweat dripped from the fighters' faces, but there were no screams, no sounds of pain or weakness.
The fights here were different… they weren't just training. They were battles for survival.
They weren't just using their fists.
Seraph saw something strange.
Something mesmerizing.
A battle between two people... one that defied human understanding.
But what caught his attention the most wasn't the fight itself... it was the center.
In the middle of the arena stood a circular ring. Its cracked concrete floor bore the scars of countless battles, surrounded by a low iron fence that seemed less about protecting the spectators and more about preventing those inside from escaping. Inside it stood boys... but they weren't just fighters… they were monsters in human form.
They exchanged blows under the watchful eyes of trainers who observed in silence, like impartial judges in a sacred battlefield. No words of encouragement, no commands... just cold stares… tracking every movement, every pulse, every moment of weakness.
There were no screams, no groans. Only the sound of bodies colliding, bones crashing, air ripping under the weight of supernatural speed, and sparks flying from the friction between two forces whose outcome was impossible to predict.
But this wasn't just an ordinary fight… it was something different. It was more like a survival test.
Seraph watched as the ground trembled… even the air itself seemed to shudder with every step.
Ares stood, facing his opponent, his eyes narrowing in caution as he observed the dark void beginning to form around his rival's hand... Jiren.
It wasn't just energy… it wasn't just an aura. It was a tear in space itself, a rupture between dimensions. There was no warning.
With a clenched fist, Jiren lunged forward, his hand glowing with darkness as it tore through the fabric of reality… and in a fraction of a second, the same tear appeared right in front of Ares's face.
He saw nothing but the fist emerging from the void... like a phantom hand striking from the abyss. He barely managed to tilt his head, but the sheer force of the shockwave that followed was enough to rip the air around him, sending his hair flying wildly.
But Jiren wasn't finished. Another tear… the same strike, but this time aimed directly at his chest. Ares's eyes flashed sharply, and instead of dodging… he vanished.
It wasn't true disappearance... it was a leap into the void.
Jiren's fist stopped midair, finding nothing... just an empty space where his opponent had stood moments ago. But suddenly…
"Here."
Jiren turned by instinct, only to see Ares running through the air. His feet didn't touch the ground, nor was he falling… he was walking on an invisible void, as if treading on a hidden barrier between dimensions.
He sprinted in a curved path around Jiren at breakneck speed, then in an instant... "Void Pounce." He disappeared.
He reappeared in a flash behind Jiren, his leg glowing before crashing down on his back like a hammer.
Jiren's body slammed into the ground with immense force, shaking the entire arena. Dust erupted, spiderweb cracks spread beneath him.
But Jiren… laughed.
He rose slowly, his eyes glowing with deep blackness, his fist cracking as if reconstructing itself from within.
Jiren: "Dimensional tricks, huh? Fine… let's see which dimension collapses first."
Ares: "Come and find out."
Ares smirked and kicked off the void again, leaping between the air… ready for a new phase of this supernatural battle.
This wasn't just hand-to-hand combat… it was a display of new physical laws, of power that defied logic.
The ground quaked under the force of the clashes. Seraph felt a chill crawl over his skin, but he couldn't look away. His heart pounded wildly... not from fear… but from unease. From the sudden realization that this place wasn't just a military training center… it was something else. Something far more insane.
These weren't just fighters…
They were weapons.
From a high vantage point, behind a wide window, Professor Zero observed the scene in complete silence. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his gray eyes were locked onto the new boy... Seraph.
Beside him stood his assistant, who gestured toward 'Romanov,' the man below... clearly their instructor. A tall man in a green jacket, carrying nothing but a single pistol strapped to his waist.
The instructor stepped into the center of the arena, then called out in a commanding voice.
Romanov: "Number twenty-one!... and the new boy, number ninety-three!... Step forward!"
Jiren moved instantly. His steps were heavy yet calm, brimming with an indifferent confidence, as if this was just another routine event.
Seraph, on the other hand… froze. He didn't move, didn't even breathe. Cold sweat trickled down the side of his face… his heart was pounding violently.
Romanov: "You idiot, he's talking to you! Move, unless you prefer punishment!"
The voice came from behind him, laced with mockery, followed by hushed chuckles from the other boys.
Seraph flinched, a tremor creeping into his limbs, but he forced himself forward. His steps were slow, hesitant, as if walking toward his own execution.
When he finally reached the ring, Romanov's voice suddenly thundered like a storm.
Romanov: "Why didn't you step forward the moment you heard your number!? If you want to survive here, you follow orders to the letter! Is that clear!?"
Seraph quickly nodded, not understanding anything but not wanting to cause more trouble. Romanov took a step back and declared:
Romanov: "The new boy, number ninety-three, will face number twenty-one."
A brief silence filled the arena… then came muffled laughter.
Some exchanged knowing glances, while others sighed as if mourning him already. Seraph didn't understand, but something inside him told him he was about to face something unfair… something unnatural.
The instructor turned back to him, his tone even harsher.
Romanov: "What are you waiting for!? Step into the ring!"
Seraph hastened forward, his fists clenched, but he couldn't hide their trembling. Jiren, meanwhile… smirked. It was a cold, empty… inhuman smile.
When they finally stood face to face, not a single word was exchanged.
Jiren stood completely unbothered, as if this were just a dull scene he had witnessed countless times before... like the outcome was already decided.
Seraph, however, felt his limbs growing heavier, his stomach twisting… as if the air around him had thickened.
The instructor gave him no time to process anything.
A gunshot rang out.
In that moment… something happened that Seraph didn't even comprehend until it was too late.
From the void, a dark circle appeared… right in front of his face.
A fist emerged from it like a bullet, slamming into his face with terrifying force.
"Gghhaaah!" He didn't even grasp what had happened. He only felt his nose shatter, blood bursting from his mouth and nostrils all at once.
Pain exploded in his skull, like a massive hammer crushing his head.
He crashed to the ground violently. The only sound was scattered laughter. Whispered murmurs among the boys... some predicting a swift end, others shaking their heads in quiet pity.
Jiren stood over him, looking down with disdain.
Jiren: "Hah… that fast?"
He lifted his foot and stomped the ground beside Seraph's head, his voice dripping with contempt.
Jiren: "I hate newcomers."
Above, behind the wide glass, Professor Zero continued watching. He didn't move, didn't show a single expression... his eyes simply remained locked on Seraph, as if waiting for something…
Down below, the instructor roared.
Romanov: "Number ninety-three!!! What the hell are you doing!? Get up this instant, or I'll make you!"
But Seraph could barely breathe. Blood dripped onto the floor, agony tearing through his face, and yet… he placed his hands against the ground, and ever so slowly, he began to rise.
He could hear his pulse thundering in his ears, his heart slamming against his ribs as if trying to break free.
Romanov: "You need to focus and awaken your ability. Feel your veins, your arteries… that light running through your body."
The instructor's words were nothing but noise in his ears, but he tried.
He shut his eyes… concentrated… tried to feel what Romanov spoke of… but nothing happened.
His eyes snapped open, his breaths ragged, filled with anxiety and despair.
Then…
Jiren: "Hahaha… this is pathetic."
A mocking laugh... Jiren's. He raised his hand, another dark circle forming beside him.
But this time… it targeted Seraph's stomach directly.
The fist shot from the void, delivering a hellish punch to his gut.
"Gaaaah!!" Agony erupted through his body... it wasn't ordinary pain… it was something different… terrifying. Like something inside him had torn, had ruptured.
He gasped sharply, fresh blood spilling from his mouth. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach as if trying to hold himself together.
His vision blurred… the sounds around him grew distant… everything began to fade… and in the end…
He fell. Unconscious.
The arena fell silent. But above, behind the wide glass, the professor was still watching…