[ 2088, February 17th (Monday, Afternoon) ] - [ Student's Dorm-Block > Gallagher-Sandoval Military Academy > Dungeontown's Middle Ring > Dungeontown USA-07 (Thousand Oaks, California, USA ] - [West Port-City (Los Angeles, USA) > Earth ]
Niero was completely speechless.
Mei was still holding his hands.
The Bengal tiger beastfolk girl's ears were lowered slightly, her cheeks flushed as she struggled to find the right words.
"I… I honestly don't know how I could ever repay you," Mei stammered. "Not even in this lifetime…"
"Yeah," JD said quietly.
Flick nodded. "Same here."
Niero blinked.
His usual egotistical voice immediately whispered inside his head.
Go on. Soak it in.
They're thanking you.
You saved them. Bask in the glory and worship.
For once, however, Niero couldn't completely indulge that voice.
Because he remembered what had actually happened.
He had lost control.
He had stopped fighting like a trained combatant and started fighting like some rabid animal that happened to possess overwhelming strength but yet lack cognition. He remembered the flashes of violence, the instinctive movements, the sensation of his body moving before his mind could catch up.
And that terrified him.
It reminded him too much of the last time it had happened.
The sparring match with his mother.
Back then, he had barely been lucid while going berserk, and the only reason the situation hadn't become something much worse was because his mother had been a former S-Rank Sororitae.
Someone who knew exactly how to stop a monster without killing it.
I could've killed someone.
That thought remained lodged in the back of his mind.
The entire reason Niero had always tried to keep his temper and power under control was because he never wanted to become that kind of person.
Yet today, he had come dangerously close.
"I…" Niero began.
He glanced toward the damaged ships and the distant coastline.
"The Sororitae who were caught in the ambush did most of the heavy lifting, especially Sororitae Sifang and her elemental powers..."
Mei looked at him.
He continues...
"They fought off those Black Tide monsters. They rescued people who were trapped, protected the crews, and even carried some of those damaged ships back onto land."
Niero looked down at his hands.
"I just…"
He hesitated.
"...fought tooth and nails...like an animal."
JD raised an eyebrow.
"But THAT animal kept us alive, dawg."
Niero looked toward him.
Flick folded his arms.
"Seriously. You looked terrifying, kicking and tearing those Scuba-Scums like soft meat..."
"Thanks," Niero muttered dryly.
"I mean it," Flick continued. "You were fighting like some kind of a beast. But if you hadn't done that, those Scuba-Scum would've outnumbered us."
JD nodded.
"We're alive because you kept them away until the rescue arrived."
Niero fell silent.
The praise somehow made him more uncomfortable than the fighting itself.
Mei suddenly squeezed his hands.
Niero stiffened.
She was looking directly at him.
"I don't care how you fought," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "You saved us."
Her fingers tightened around his.
"I don't know how I can ever repay you."
Her face became even redder.
"Even if I had another lifetime…"
JD nodded solemnly.
"She speaks for me, dude."
"Ditto. Highly doubt U-creds barely scratch the surface," Flick added.
Niero stared at the three of them.
For a moment, his usual arrogance struggled against the uncomfortable sincerity in their eyes, especially the eyes of a cute tiger beastfolk in front of him.
Niero's face slowly turned red.
His ego wanted him to bask in the admiration.
His conscience wanted to crawl into a hole.
He finally looked away, settling for the only response he could think of.
"I-it was nothing. Those Sororitae did most of the work, most of the rescue..."
The words came out half-proud and half-nervous.
Mei softly smiled.
"But still… thank you...from the bottom of my heart..."
To Niero's embarrassment, he averted his eyes from hers, but she still hadn't let go of his hands.
This is getting awkward.
Things slowly came down—
-but it is doubtful that this topic is going to fade into obscurity.
As the group finished their introduction with their dorm neighbors of Dorm 1029-
-the group was just about to split up and return to their respective rooms when—
BZZZT!
Several SmartCom devices vibrated almost simultaneously.
Niero and Junko were the first to pull out their smartphones.
Both stared at their screens.
---
[ NEW EMAIL — GSMA FACULTY OFFICE ]
Sender: <<
To: <<
Text: Report to the designated facility, Hardlight Training Room, at 2000 hours. Further details will be provided upon arrival.
---
Niero blinked.
"...What?"
Junko adjusted her oversized glasses and reread the message three times.
"W-Wait... why are we being summoned?"
BZZZT!
JD checked his SmartCom next.
Then Flick.
Then Mei and Gertrude.
Alicia, who just came out from her capsule room, reluctantly pulled hers out.
And finally, Bart noticed his phone vibrating in his pocket.
"Oooh! I got one too!"
Everyone looked at each other.
A collective silence descended over the hallway.
Niero frowned at the email.
"We haven't even received our academic schedules yet."
"Exactly," Mei said nervously. "How would they already know where to send us?"
Gertrude tilted her head.
"Maybe it's an orientation activity?"
Junko immediately shook her head.
"But why the Hardlight Training Room? We were told we'd have a week of orientation and recovery."
Alicia crossed her arms.
"Could be an administrative mistake."
Flick, meanwhile, was already inspecting the email header.
"Hmm."
He narrowed his eyes.
"This does look like a faculty-office address."
Everyone turned toward him.
"However..." Flick continued, "it's weird."
"Weird how?" JD asked.
"Sender is 'Classified'? It looks more like a throwaway account than an actual faculty department address."
Niero's eyebrow rose.
"So..."
He looked at the message again.
"Someone with access to the academy system just told us, the freshmen, to meet inside a Hardlight Training Room at eight o'clock tonight."
Bart added in.
"Maybe it's a surprise test!"
"Or," Niero muttered, "someone is about to throw us an embarrassing hazing ritual, like those old American college films."
Junko went pale.
"D-Don't say that! I don't want to get wedgies or run around the campus nude with paint on my body that says 'bottom bitch,'" said Junko nervously.
Yet she was weirdly huffing and puffing.
Everyone was silent, with the soft ambient sound of other students in the dorm.
Niero's and Mei's dormmates looked at Junko for her...graphical depiction of the 'hazing' ritual.
"Wow. What a disturbing image you paint there, miss gloomy." Flick quipped at her.
Niero sighed.
The eight freshmen stared at their SmartCom screens.
Whatever this was, it certainly wasn't on the orientation schedule.
=
=====
=
[ 2088, February 17th (Monday, Evening) ] - [ The Arena (Hardlight Training Room) > Gallagher-Sandoval Military Academy > Dungeontown's Middle Ring > Dungeontown USA-07 (Thousand Oaks, California, USA ] - [West Port-City (Los Angeles, USA) > Earth ]
At 7:49, Niero, JD, Flick, and Bart left Room 1030 alongside Mei, Gertrude, Alicia, and Junko.
They descended toward the academy's enormous underground Hardlight Training Room—the same facility Admin Armin had shown them during the afternoon tour.
The moment the doors opened, Niero stopped.
He was in the same massive room made of dark silver hexagon panels from top to bottom that was shown in the tour.
Then he noticed time in front of him.
"I guess we're not the only ones."
Twelve additional students were already waiting.
Most were girls—humans of various backgrounds, several sporting visible cybernetic implants. Among them were Beastfolk with tails and ears, a Mecho girl with polished synthetic skin, a Sanguinoch girl with her noticeable pale skin, and even two striking Kedaran psychic elves with pointed ears and otherworldly features.
"So they got the message as well?" JD muttered.
Gertrude scanned the room.
"Including us, there are 20 freshmen here—a full homeroom."
20, huh? Who would call an entire classroom at this time?
As Niero ponders and scans the environment of the potential event—
A pretty Malay girl wearing a flower-patterned hijab approached him. Her expression was haughty, almost irritated, with eyes that were silently judging him already.
"You. Handsome one. You know anything about this meeting?"
Niero shrugged.
"Your guess is as good as mine."
She clicked her tongue and muttered in Malay.
"Tch. Baguslah. Seorang lagi bodoh yang tak berguna (Great. Another useless idiot)."
Niero's eyebrow twitched.
"Oh, baguslah. Ingatkan aku seorang saja yang bodoh. Rupa-rupanya kau pun sama juga. (Oh, great. I thought I was the only stupid one. Turns out you're the same too.)"
The girl's eyes widened.
"A-awak faham bahasa Melayu?! (Y-you understand Malay?)"
"Surprise, bitch. Aku rasa ada orang yang lebih pentingkan produk kecantikan daripada moral, bodoh sial (I guess someone invests mostly in beauty products instead of morals, you fucking dumbass.)"
JD, Flick, Mei, Junko, Gertrude, and Alicia are shocked at Niero's multilingual insults.
Only Bart daydreams; he barely focused on the situation.
The Malay girl looked utterly offended.
Before the argument could escalate—
WHOOOOOM!
A blinding white light suddenly erupted from the ceiling.
Everyone covered their eyes; some howl in pain from the intense light.
"WHAT THE—?!"
"Empress Damn!!
"MY EYEEESSS!!!!
Niero and those around him are too affected by the light, with Niero and Mei wincing loud as both their eyes are quite sensitive, slowly adjusting to the overhead lights.
A loud voice crackled through the speakers, boomed from the elevated control room overlooking the training chamber, and it was frighteningly familiar.
"EXCELLENT!"
The students slowly looked upward while adjusting their eyes to the sudden light.
Standing behind the console in the overhead console room was a familiar, rugged figure in military uniform.
Master Sergeant Harlan Crowe.
He grinned like a man who had just successfully herded twelve cats into a box.
"Congratulations, cadets!"
He spread his arms dramatically.
"You have successfully followed a basic instruction!"
Silence.
The students stared at one another.
Crowe's grin widened.
"You're all officially assigned to Class G-1!"
A pause.
"And I'm your homeroom instructor."
The room became completely silent.
Not awkwardly silent.
Horrific silence.
Someone whispered, "We're doomed."
Another girl quietly began praying.
Bart's softly smile was like a barely lucid idiot.
JD stared blankly.
Flick looked like he wanted to request a transfer.
Junko looked ready to faint.
Even Alicia's haughty expression cracked even under her face mask.
Niero simply stared at Crowe.
His stomach sank.
"...damn."
Crowe slammed his fist against the console.
"WELCOME TO THE MEATGRINDER, KIDS!"
The students barely had time to process their new homeroom assignment before—
SHINK!
Five enormous energy walls erupted from the floor.
The Hardlight Training Room instantly divided itself into five separate zones, each containing exactly four students.
"What the hell?!" JD shouted.
Crowe's voice crackled through the speakers.
"Now, cadets! Roughly half of you are survivors of the recent convoy ambush."
Niero glanced around.
"The rest of you are ordinary freshmen with potentially insufficient field experience!"
A few students exchanged uneasy looks.
Crowe chuckled.
"So, naturally, I figured we'd start with an icebreaker!"
Niero's eye twitched.
"An icebreaker?"
"Today's little exercise will test your combat instincts, teamwork, and ability to survive when things go sideways!"
Crowe pressed a button.
BEEP.
Suddenly, glowing numerical displays appeared above every student's head.
[HP: 100 / 100]
Niero looked upward.
"...You've got to be kidding me."
Flick stared at his own display.
"Are we seriously getting health bars?"
Bart grinned.
"That's actually pretty cool!"
"Of course you'd say that," Flick muttered.
Then the environment changed.
WHOOOOOOM!
The sterile training chamber dissolved into a sprawling digital recreation of a french-themed heritage buildings. Neon signs flickered overhead. Old balconies towered above narrow streets. Restaurant fronts, bars, streetlamps, and abandoned vehicles filled the simulated environment.
Niero looked around.
"Where the hell are we?"
"Bourbon Street, in New Orleans, Louisiana." JD answered.
Niero looked at him.
"You've been here before?"
"Nope. I've only seen this place in a co-op horde shooter."
Before anyone could respond—
FWOOSH!
Motes of cube-shaped light gathered in mid-air.
A tactical survival knife materialized and dropped onto the pavement.
CLANG.
Crowe's voice echoed through the speakers.
"Cadets! Remember something!"
The students looked around.
"A soldier can't always expect to find a gun lying around like some god damn video games!"
Another knife materialized.
"When you're stranded, surrounded, or cut off from your squad—"
FWOOSH.
More knives appeared.
"Your survival knife might be your only best friend!"
Niero picked his up.
"Fantastic."
Then came the sound of metal scraping against pavement.
SKRRRRRRT...
Something emerged from the alley.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Skeletal mechanical bodies staggered into the street.
Husk Necromechs.
Artificial-looking corpses of Hollow origin—brittle skeletal machines assembled into countless strange forms and models.
Their jaws opened.
BLAAARGH!
Black matter erupted from one of them.
Niero immediately stepped back.
Vuldyr's voice echoed inside his mind.
> ["WARNING! They are only hardlight simulation only. The simulated Necromech nanites cannot physically infect or agonizingly consume you inside out."]
Another Husk vomited black sludge across the street.
> ["However, contact will still register as damage against your simulated HP."]
Niero tightened his grip around the knife.
"Got it. Best course of action…"
He stared at the approaching horde.
>["Don't get puked on nor let it touch you."]
Crowe's voice thundered overhead.
"BEGIN!"
Then all five zones erupted into chaos.
=====
High above the Hardlight Training Room, behind the thick glass of the overhead control room, Master Sergeant Harlan Crowe watched the exercise unfold.
Five enormous sections of the arena displayed five completely different simulated environments.
One resembled an abandoned city.
Another was a ruined industrial complex.
A third had become a dense forest.
The fourth simulated a collapsed underground facility.
And the fifth—
Bourbon Street.
Crowe leaned against the console, watching the students fight through waves of simulated Hollow fodder.
Some moved with surprising confidence.
Others were clumsy, panicked, or barely knew how to hold their knives properly.
"Hmm…"
He flipped through another clipboard.
Then another.
And another.
Each contained profiles of the twenty freshmen he had personally summoned into the arena.
Behind him came a voice.
"Master Sergeant Crowe?"
Crowe looked over his shoulder.
A young Russian woman stood behind him, arms folded.
Her faculty name card displays her name-
Anastasya "Anna" Volkov.
She glanced toward the arena below.
"Is this really wise?"
Crowe raised an eyebrow.
"Which part?"
"Throwing these children into a combat simulation only days after the Black Tide ambush."
Her eyes lingered on the surviving cadets.
"Some of them barely survived that incident."
Crowe's expression became more serious.
"I know."
Anna frowned.
"Then why?"
Crowe turned back toward the arena.
"Because life doesn't give a damn whether you're ready, and Hell won't wait until they're emotionally prepared to face it."
Anna remained silent.
"Those kids went through hell," Crowe continued. "I pity every one of them."
He watched one student stumble backward from a charging Necromech.
"But pity won't stop the next monster to pounce them from the Dungeon, the Fog, or even the Hollow..."
Anna sighed.
"And the paperwork?"
She pointed toward the mountain of clipboards.
"You know we have SmartComs and tablets, right? All of this could be stored digitally."
Crowe looked down at the stack of physical files.
Then he smiled.
"Yeah."
He lifted one clipboard.
"But I like paper."
Anna stared at him.
"Why?"
Crowe tapped the folder against his palm.
"Because I can hold it."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a physical banknote wrapped in rubberbands.
"Same reason I still carry cash."
Anna blinked.
"We have U-Credits."
"Digital numbers on a screen."
Crowe folded the banknote between his fingers.
"This?"
He grinned.
"Something real. Something I can actually hold on."
Anna shook her head.
"You're old..."
He smiled.
"Like finely aged wine, Miss Volkov."
Crowe returned his attention to the arena.
"These kids are gonna learn something today."
His eyes followed Niero's movements.
"Sometimes, the best way to learn how to survive…"
Crowe's grin returned.
"…is to find out what happens when survival gets difficult."
=====
[ Zone 01 — Dense Forest ]
Zone One had transformed into a dense tropical rainforest, resembling the Amazon.
Leaves rustled.
Then—
SKREEEEEE!
Black, glistening tentacles erupted from the undergrowth.
Lustbeasts.
These Hollow creatures were colonies of tentacles fused into crude forms—worms, serpents, dog-like beasts, and other grotesque shapes. Their mission? To turn female host into its breeding seedbed to produce more of them, especialy the special variants that inherit the host's Mana Arts.
"Here they come!"
FWIP!
A mysterious ink-like liquid poured from the henna tattoos covering Anjali Perera's arms. The calm Indian girl swung her arm, stretching the substance into a whip.
CRACK!
It smashed a Lustbeast aside.
"Keep your distance."
A massive creature charged.
BOOM!
A tall russian girl, Irina Ozyorsky stepped forward, her skin transforming into gleaming organic metal. She punched the monster away with enough force to send it crashing through several bushes.
"Оставайтесь позади меня, сестры (Stay behind me, sisters)!"
THWIP!
A metal ball struck another creature.
"Booyha!"
Maya Okafor , an Nigerian-British girl, grinned, her specialized ball-bearing slingshot still raised.
The projectile suddenly curved around Irina, striking a Lustbeast attempting to flank them.
"Nice shot!" Irina called.
"Thanks!"
Meanwhile, Han Seo-yeon calmly stood among them.
The short, blind Korean girl had several glowing green orbs floating around her.
A Lustbeast lunged toward one.
Seo-yeon simply stepped aside.
STAB!
Her combat knife pierced it.
Another attacked from behind.
CLACK!
Her sturdy walking stick smashed it across the head.
"Too slow."
The four girls barely communicated, yet their movements naturally complemented one another.
Anjali drove enemies toward Irina.
Irina created openings for Maya.
Maya eliminated threats attempting to flank them.
Seo-yeon's floating orbs constantly distracted and redirected the monsters.
Above the arena, Crowe watched quietly.
He pulled another clipboard from his stack.
He began writing.
-
Anjali Perera.
Irina Ozyorsky.
Han Seo-yeon.
Maya Okafor.
Natural synergy: Present.
Communication: Minimal.
Individual combat ability: Variable.
Team awareness: Surprisingly strong.
Potential: High.
=====
[ Zone 02 — Ruined Industrial Complex ]
Zone Two had become a sprawling ruined industrial complex, filled with rusted machinery, broken pipelines, abandoned warehouses, and narrow corridors.
From the shadows came chittering laughter.
Skitters Orkoids.
A goblin variant of the Orkoid—small, filthy, mischievous, and cunning. Rather than attacking directly, they moved in groups, constantly attempting to flank and overwhelm their targets.
"There's more coming!"
Liora Veyl panicked as several Skitters charged.
The nervous Kedaran raised her hands.
WHUM!
A translucent force-field construct formed around herself and her reluctant teammates.
"P-Please stay inside the barrier!"
One Skitter smashed its club against the shield.
THOOM!
Liora flinched.
Behind her, an injured teammate suddenly recovered slightly as a soft psychic wave passed through them.
Her Psionic ability continuously projected healing energy across the group.
"I-I can keep healing you! Just... please don't get yourselves killed!"
"Don't worry!"
Sora Hayashi charged straight into the goblins.
"I'm not losing to these little freaks!"
The energetic Japanese girl grabbed one Skitter and threw it with Judo, then immediately tackled another.
But the goblins were cunning.
Several slipped around behind her.
WHACK!
Her simulated HP dropped.
"OW!"
Another club struck.
WHACK!
Her HP decreased again—but Liora's healing wave immediately restored part of it.
Sora grinned.
"Fine! Keep hitting me!"
She activated her Mana Art.
The next club strike was absorbed into her body.
BOOM!
Sora's fist slammed into the Skitter with considerably greater force.
"What the—?!"
She laughed.
"The more you hit me, the harder I hit back!"
Across the battlefield, Valeria Dragomir was having an entirely different problem.
The recently converted Sanguinoch girl, dressed in elaborate gothic-lolita clothing, refused to let a single Skitter touch her.
"Stay away from me, you filthy creatures!"
She dodged backward.
Then sideways.
Then—
ZIP!
She suddenly appeared against another wall.
Crowe narrowed his eyes.
"Speedster?"
He watched carefully.
Valeria touched one wall, moved away, then instantly returned to the exact spot she had touched.
"...No. Possibly teleportation?"
He smiled.
"Interesting."
Meanwhile, Camila Ferreira moved through the chaos like a dancer.
"Let's go!"
She spun low across the floor, transitioning into a breakdance-like motion before launching a powerful Capoeira kick into a Skitter.
WHAM!
"Woohoo!"
Crowe watched the four girls struggle to coordinate.
He wrote:
-
Liora Veyl
Sora Hayashi
Valeria Dragomir
Camila Ferreira
Synergy: Poor.
Potential: Present.
Composition: Soft-hearted healer. Two overconfident damage dealers. One highly agile potential reconnaissance/rescue specialist. Quite a mess but there's something there.
=====
[ Zone 03 — Collapsed Underground Research Facility ]
Zone Three had become a collapsed underground research facility, its corridors buried beneath concrete, twisted pipes, flickering emergency lights, and abandoned laboratory equipment.
Something skittered through the darkness.
Muck Mycarnids.
Dog-sized, fuzzy insectoid creatures belonging to the fungal Mycarnid species crawled from vents and broken laboratories.
"Ew! Get away from me!"
Aisyah Rahman ran down the corridor, her hijab fluttering as several identical clones appeared around her.
"Pergi! Pergi mampus (Go! Go away)!"
The clones charged the Mucks.
Unfortunately—
CHOMP!
One clone disappeared into a creature's jaws.
Another was dragged beneath the swarm.
Aisyah stared in disbelief.
"Oi! Jangan makan klon aku (Don't eat my clones)!"
She immediately created more clones while desperately dodging the creatures.
Nearby, a tiny blur bounced through the corridor.
"Whoa! Whoa! Whoaaa!"
Callie Cottondrop, a 4'11" white dwarf rabbit Beastfolk with pink streaks in her hair, ricocheted between walls like a living rubber ball.
Her sunny valley-girl voice remained cheerful despite the chaos.
"Okay, guys! Maybe we can all, like, not getting ourselves killed?"
She thrust out her hands.
SPLAT!
Sticky Mana constructs resembling enormous globs of bubblegum formed around several Mucks, pinning them against the floor.
"Like, totally stuck!"
A metallic figure stomped past her.
Gigi Ferraro, an Italian Mecho, had no Mana abilities whatsoever.
She didn't seem to care.
"Bastardi schifosi (Filthy bastards)!"
She swung a wrench.
CLANG! CRUNCH!
A Muck flew into a wall.
"Filthy! Disgusting! Yellow-fluid insectoid freak!!!"
CLANG! CRUNCH!
Another one went down.
Nearby, Mariam El-Masry grabbed a metal pipe.
Her skin suddenly transformed into metal.
The pipe itself began melting.
FSSSSSH!
The metal flowed into her arm as though absorbed by her body.
Mariam looked at her empty hand.
"...Empress...Mother...watch over me..."
She grabbed another pipe.
WHAM!
She smashed a Muck across the head with her hands made from steel.
Capable to dealing damage while staying on her ground.
Above the arena, Crowe watched.
He scribbled onto his clipboard.
-
Aisyah Rahman
Callie Cottondrop
Gigi Ferraro
Mariam El-Masry
Potential synergy: Present.
Teamwork: Poor.
Combat experience: Extremely limited.
Primary instinct: Individual survival.
-
Anna stood beside him, watching the girls desperately fight.
"They don't appear to have any prior combat training."
"Exactly."
Crowe continued watching.
"They're not supposed to."
Anna looked at him.
"Then what are you trying to accomplish?"
Crowe smiled.
"To awaken something."
He tapped the clipboard.
"Fighting spirit."
=====
[ Zone 04 — Abandoned City, somewhere in Thailand ]
The simulated city had become eerily quiet.
Abandoned Thai storefronts lined the streets, tropical vegetation crawling over ruined buildings.
Then—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Armored figures emerged from the streets.
Iron-Pawns.
Rotting clone soldiers belonging to The Remnants, their decayed bodies reinforced with cybernetic implants.
"RAAAAAAGH!"
They charged with pistols and combat knives.
Mei inhaled.
Slowly—
She exhaled.
Her nervous expression disappeared.
Her eyes sharpened.
Wing Chun stance.
"Come."
The first Iron-Pawn swung its knife.
Mei redirected the arm.
THAK!
A precise punch struck its chest.
Another attacked from behind.
She pivoted, deflected the blade, and drove an elbow into its jaw.
CRACK!
"Too predictable."
Three surrounded her.
Mei's eyes narrowed.
Her Mana surged.
BOOM!
She vanished forward in a burst of speed.
One second later—
KRA-BOOOOOOM!
Mei slammed through the formation sholder first like a cannonball, sending the Iron-Pawns flying down the street.
"MEI!" Gerdy shouted.
The cheerful German girl reached into her fanny pack.
She pulled out a small white jawbreaker covered in rainbow dots.
"Okay…"
She unwrapped it.
POP.
Into her mouth.
She sucked on it, smiled—
and her body suddenly manifested thick, smooth jawbreaker-like armor.
A massive candy gauntlet formed around her fist.
"Jetzt bin ich bereit! (Now I'm ready!)"
An Iron-Pawn shot her.
BANG!
The bullet bounced off.
Gerdy blinked.
"...That tickled."
BOOM!
Her candy-coated fist smashed through its armor and launched it through a storefront.
"HAHA! That worked!"
Meanwhile—
"なんでママはこんな地獄みたいな場所に私を送り込んだの (Nande mama wa konna jigoku mitai na basho ni watashi o okurikonda no / WHY DID MAMA SEND ME TO THIS HELLHOLE)?!"
Junko sprinted down the street but got her tripped to the ground while almost at the verge of tears.
Several Iron-Pawns chased her.
"NO! NO! NO! NO!"
She slapped the ground.
FWOOSH!
A door suddenly appeared beneath her.
Junko jumped through.
SLAM!
The door vanished.
The Iron-Pawns immediately huddle that door and hammering against it vigorously in the attempt to breach it through.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
From the control room, Crowe stared.
"What in the name of yellow-belly tactic that gal having a power of a damn door?!"
Anna grabbed Junko's file.
"Actually…"
She read it.
"She creates doors leading to her personal pocket dimension."
Crowe's expression changed.
"...Huh."
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Potential logistical application."
Nearby, Alicia was being overwhelmed.
"Get away from me!"
She dodged one Iron-Pawn, realising her HP points only left 5 points, almost close to (theoretical) death.
Another blocked her escape.
Three more closed in.
"Damn it!"
Mei and Gerdy rushed toward her.
"Alice!"
"Hold on!"
Alicia panicked as the Iron Pawns coming at her almost from all her sides.
Then—
She ripped off her mask.
She pinched one nostril shut.
FWOOOOOSH!
A stream of green slime exploded from her nose.
SPLAAAAAAAAAAAT!
The Iron-Pawns were coated instantly.
The slime hardened like industrial adhesive, freezing them in place, with some even suspended in a web of green slime..
Silence.
Alicia stared at what she'd just done.
Her face turned crimson, as if she is about to cry.
She immediately covered it.
"D-don't look at me…"
Mei blinked.
Gerdy stared.
Then—
"That was AWESOME!"
"Seriously!" Mei said. "That was cool!"
Alicia's eyes widened.
"...what?"
"Absolutely cool!!!"
It seems Mei and Gerdy found her ability amazing.
But yet, Alicia was left frozen, not knowing how to react to that.
Above them, Crowe watched the four girls regroup.
Anna stood beside him.
"Perfect synergy?"
"Not perfect," Anna replied. "But close."
Mei was the frontline.
Gerdy was the tank.
Alice was crowd control.
Junko—
"Logistics and possible emergency extraction," Anna finished.
Crowe smiled.
"You've got a good eye."
Anna shrugged.
"My mother was a Marine before she retired."
She paused.
"Now she owns a night bar."
Crowe chuckled.
"Hell of a career change."
=====
Meanwhile, above Zone 5, Crowe turned his attention toward the remaining four boys.
He stared at the screen.
Then blinked.
Then leaned closer.
"...What in tarnation?!"
-
[Zone 05 - Bourbon Street, New Orleans]
Below him, the simulation had transformed into the streets of Bourbon Street, New Orleans.
And the four boys were already fighting.
Niero activated Booster.
WHOOOSH!
His physical prowess surged to roughly three times its normal level.
He sprinted, as if he was flying in high speed, between each of the Husk Necromechs, moving with the efficiency of a trained martial artist in a strange pinball manuver.
BAM!
One punch crushed a metal skull.
CRACK!
A spinning kick sent another robot tumbling through a storefront.
Niero ducked beneath its lunged attack and immediately countered with an uppercut.
"Too slow!"
Then—
WHAM!
A massive glowing gauntlet nearly smashed into his face.
Niero froze.
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
JD stood nearby, both fists surrounded by luminous energy constructs.
"Watch where you're punching, dumbass!"
"I should be telling you that! You walked into my punch!"
"You threw it at my head!"
"Because you were literally in my way!"
Despite arguing, both boys simultaneously punched two incoming Husk Necromechs.
KRAAASH!
They looked at each other.
"...Don't steal my kills."
"You started it."
"I'm literally fighting over here!"
Above them, Crowe's eyebrow twitched.
Then Flick floated casually through the battlefield.
Several chunks of broken masonry and metal hovered around him.
BBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The debris shot forward like minigun rounds, smashing into and shredding multiple Husk Necromechs.
Another wave approached.
Flick flicked his wrist.
BOOOOM!
A telekinetic blast sent them flying backward.
He sighed.
"Honestly, you three are so classless."
Niero glanced over.
"What the fuck you just say?"
"You lack elegance. Observe."
Flick raised both hands.
Every loose piece of metal around him suddenly launched simultaneously.
BRRRRATATATATAT!
His attack shreds most of the Husk hordes as if they were made from wet tissue papers.
"Elegantly efficient."
"Fucking show-off!"
"What? Jealous?"
"Fuck off, rich bastard."
Then came Bart.
His eyes widened.
His body suddenly expanded.
Muscles bulged.
His height increased to roughly one-and-a-half times that of an average adult.
His shirt stretched dangerously.
"ME STRONG!"
Niero stared.
"Oh, no."
Bart charged.
THOOM! THOOM! THOOM!
He grabbed a Husk Necromech.
CRUNCH.
It folded like a soda can.
"ME NO LIKE ROBOT MAN!"
Another robot attacked.
Bart punched it through a wall.
"ME PROTECT FRIENDS!"
Unfortunately—
BOOM!
The wall collapsed.
"OW!"
JD was buried beneath debris.
"BART!"
"Sorry!"
Bart immediately punched another robot.
KRAK!
"ME HELP!"
"You're making it worse!"
Flick barely avoided a flying Husk.
"Could you direct your primitive rage toward the enemy?!"
Bart suddenly stopped.
His eyes locked onto a tiny piece of shiny metal on the ground.
"...Shiny."
He crouched.
Everyone stared.
Niero slowly pointed toward the swarm.
"Bart."
"Shiny."
"Beat the robots."
Bart looked at the robots.
Then the metal.
Then the robots.
"...Robot."
He picked up the metal.
"Shiny."
"YES, AND THE ROBOTS ARE OVER THERE!"
Bart suddenly charged toward the Husks.
"ME BEAT ROBOT!"
BOOOOOOM!
The four boys continued fighting.
They argued constantly.
"Give me some space!"
"Get out of the way!"
"Stop hogging the spotlight!"
"That's MY kill!"
"Your aim sucks!"
"BART, DON'T THROW THAT!"
"ME THROW!"
"DON'T—!"
KABOOM!
-
Above them, Crowe slowly lowered his clipboard.
He stared at the battlefield.
The four boys were loud, reckless, arrogant, occasionally incompetent—
but whenever one of them created an opening, another instinctively exploited it.
Niero drew enemies toward himself.
JD smashed them when they overcommitted.
Flick controlled the battlefield and cleared space.
Bart absorbed punishment and demolished anything that got too close.
They weren't disciplined, polished, nor elegant.
They were a rag-tag collection of rowdy misfits who somehow fought like a squad.
=====
Above the Hardlight Training Room, Master Sergeant Harlan Crowe watched the five combat zones through the observation monitors.
And he was smiling.
Not his usual smug grin.
A genuine, satisfied smile.
Anna Volkov noticed, immediately made her worried.
"...Why are you smiling like that?"
Crowe didn't answer immediately.
He looked down at the screens again.
Zone after zone showed freshmen fighting their simulated enemies.
Then his eyes settled on Zone 5.
Niero.
JD.
Flick.
Bart.
The four boys were still arguing while simultaneously demolishing Husk Necromechs.
Crowe chuckled.
"These kids. They've got potential."
He tapped his clipboard against his palm.
"Hell, they've got a lot of potential."
His grin widened.
"And I'm damn proud I hand-picked 'em all."
Anna froze.
"...You what?"
Crowe glanced at her.
"You mean—You hand selected them?"
"Yep. Every single one."
Anna stared at him.
"I thought faculty admissions assigned students to their homerooms."
"They do."
"Then how did you—"
"I've got clearance."
Crowe casually flipped through his physical files.
"Doesn't mean I can just throw 'em into my class without documentation. That's why I'm running this assessment."
Anna looked at the files.
"So this entire exercise..."
"Is me finding out what these kids can actually do."
He pointed toward the monitors.
"Strengths. Weaknesses. Instincts. Teamwork. Combat ability. How they react under pressure."
His finger stopped on Zone 5.
"Especially those boys."
Anna followed his gaze.
Niero smashed a Necromech.
JD immediately punched another.
Flick launched debris.
Bart roared and crushed one with his bare hands.
Crowe smiled.
"See?"
Anna sighed.
"I see four idiots."
"I see four potentially useful idiots."
Crowe leaned against the console.
"Ever since the Bloom Dominion was founded, boys have had it pretty damn easy."
Anna raised an eyebrow.
"Easy?"
"You know what I mean."
He gestured toward the screens.
"Society protects 'em. Pampers 'em. Marry them off young by very rich women. And half the damn population thinks the disturbingly soft-looking adorable ones are attractive."
Anna's expression became flat.
"You do realize its because of the infliction that reduced the male population since the Black December, and yet you're complaining that girls find pretty boys attractive?"
"I know the circumtances. I'm complaining that some of those boys look like they belong in a fashion magazine instead in a battlefield."
He pointed at Zone 5.
"If we ever gonna survive against the Hollow, I want soldiers."
His voice became more serious.
"Not decorations. Not mascots. Not some dainty-lily pretty boy toys. I need soldiers. Fighters. A real men."
"But there are girls to-"
"You know what I mean, Junior."
He looked across all five zones.
"If I'm going to train the next generation of badasses, I need to know exactly what I'm working with."
Anna folded her arms.
"So you assembled twenty students based on your own judgment, tested them, and plan to use the results to justify their placement in G-1."
Crowe nodded.
"Exactly."
"That sounds incredibly calculating."
Crowe's face brightened.
"Thank you."
Anna blinked.
"That wasn't a compliment."
"Sure sounded like one."
She sighed.
Crowe returned his attention to the monitors.
"Once this is over, I'll compile everything and submit the files to the faculty."
He grinned.
"Then they'll know exactly why these twenty belong in G-1."
On the screen, Bart grabbed another Husk.
Crowe's smile widened.
"Yep."
He tapped his clipboard.
"Definitely worth the paperwork."
=====
21:10.
Nearly an hour had passed since the Hardlight assessment began.
One by one, the five simulated environments dissolved.
The streets of New Orleans vanished.
The abandoned Thai city disappeared.
The ruined laboratories, industrial complex, and dense forest all dematerialized into streams of white particles.
Within seconds, the enormous Hardlight Training Room was once again nothing more than a vast, empty chamber.
The twenty freshmen slowly emerged from the facility entrance.
They looked exhausted.
Several were limping.
One girl was rubbing her shoulder after apparently pulling a muscle. Another had collapsed onto the wall, breathing heavily. A few simply stood there in silence, looking as though they had just completed an actual military operation.
The only two who looked relatively fresh were Niero and Anjali.
Niero stretched his arms, while Anjali pulled out a small water bottle from her back pocket to drink it.
"...That wasn't so bad."
JD stared at him.
"Nigga...not so bad?!"
Flick looked equally horrified.
"You're insane. We are exhausted but yet you're barely broke a sweat."
Bart raised a trembling hand.
"I'm tired...dudes..."
Niero glanced at him.
Before the argument could continue—
RRRRRRRNNN. DING.
The elevator doors opened.
Master Sergeant Harlan Crowe stepped out alongside Anna Volkov.
Crowe walked toward the exhausted freshmen with his hands behind his back.
At that point, he notice Crowe in his military officer unifrom with multiple military badges. At the same time, he saw he was carring a leather briefcase and a suble limp on his right leg.
"Well!"
His voice echoed throughout the chamber.
"You little bastards did good!"
Some students looked up.
"Some of you clearly need more training."
Several freshmen groaned.
"But that's what training is for."
Crowe paused.
Then smiled.
"And now, you've got six days of school leave remaining. I recomend you take great rest until further notice."
Silence.
Then—
The exhausted students suddenly looked alive again.
A collective wave of relief swept through the room.
One girl nearly cried.
Another raised both hands toward the ceiling.
"THANK THE RADIANT EMPRESS!"
Someone else immediately started planning to sleep until next week.
Crowe chuckled.
"Go home. Rest. Recover. Eat something that isn't hyper-process crap like instant noodles or stuff."
He waved his hand.
"Dismissed, maggots!!!"
The freshmen immediately began gathering their belongings and heading toward the exit.
Crowe watched them go.
Then, with an almost suspiciously cheerful smile—
"See you all real soon."
The students stopped.
Several slowly looked back.
A chill ran down their spines.
"...Why did he say it like that?"
"I don't know."
"I hate him already."
Crowe laughed.
Anna sighed.
"You're enjoying this far too much."
"Absolutely."
The freshmen eventually began filing out.
Several girls immediately started discussing what the hell had just happened.
"What even was that?"
"Were we seriously being evaluated?"
"Why did they make us fight?"
Meanwhile, Mei and Gerdy were enthusiastically discussing Alicia's ability.
"I still think your slime powers was awesome!"
"It's gross, but awesome!"
"It came from my nose!"
"Exactly! That's what makes it memorable!"
Alicia covered her face.
"I hate both of you."
But under the mask she wore back, she broke a small smile.
Nearby, Niero followed JD, Flick, and Bart toward the exit.
"I'm gonna hit the sack."
"Dude...same."
Both Flick and Bart yawned.
They barely made it several steps.
"Cadet Niero Ripley."
He stopped.
The others continued walking.
Niero slowly turned around.
Crowe stood several meters away.
"Stay behind for a bit. I've got something to discuss with you."
Niero narrowed his eyes.
The tone was different.
Not playful.
Not theatrical.
Serious.
Crowe looked toward Anna.
"Volkov."
Anna nodded.
"I'll supervise the freshmen back to the Dorm-Block."
She turned and followed the departing students.
Niero watched her disappear through the doors.
Then he looked back at Crowe.
The enormous training room suddenly felt much larger.
Much quieter.
Only the faint electrical hmmmmmmmm of the Hardlight system remained in the background.
Crowe stood on one side.
Niero stood on the other.
Neither spoke.
For several seconds, there was only silence.
Niero finally broke it.
"...This isn't about homework, is it?"
Crowe didn't smile.
"God, no. I hate homework..."
Niero's expression hardened slightly.
"Then what is it?"
As Crowe pulled out his SmartCom.
He tapped the screen.
BEEP.
The enormous Hardlight Training Room suddenly changed.
WHOOOOOM—
The massive empty chamber dissolved around them.
The walls contracted.
The floor shifted.
The vast training arena became a small, windowless concrete room.
A single metal table sat between them.
Two metal chairs.
One overhead light.
Nothing else.
Niero stared.
"...What the hell?"
Crowe pointed toward the chair.
"Take a seat."
Niero slowly sat down.
Crowe placed his briefcase on the table.
CLACK.
He opened it.
Inside were several neatly organized printed documents.
Niero raised an eyebrow.
Of course he uses paper.
Crowe reached past the documents.
Then pulled out—
A large bottle of whiskey, a 5 years aged type.
And two small shot glasses.
Niero stared at the bottle.
Then at Crowe.
Then back at the bottle.
"Do you actually carry a bottle of whiskey everywhere you go?"
Crowe looked offended.
"Son, have you ever heard of a whiskey briefcase?"
Niero deadpanned.
"Sir, have you ever heard of a whiskey flask?"
Crowe paused.
Then broke into a grin.
"Ha!"
He chuckled as he placed the bottle on the table.
"Smartass."
Crowe poured whiskey into both glasses.
Glug. Glug.
Niero watched the amber liquid swirl.
He raised one finger.
"Permission to speak freely?"
Crowe slid one glass toward himself.
"Proceed."
Niero looked around the tiny concrete room.
"Why are we here?"
Crowe raised an eyebrow.
Niero gestured around them.
"Not just here here. Why are we here, alone?"
He pointed at the walls.
"And why the hell did you turn the entire training room into what looks like an interrogation chamber?"
He looked directly at Crowe.
"This feels like the part of the movie where you gonna torture me on where I hid the nuclear launch codes."
Crowe took his first shot.
GULP.
He lowered the glass.
"Hm."
He considered Niero's words.
"Sounds like something a movie nut would say."
Niero frowned.
Crowe glanced around the concrete room.
"But..."
He chuckled, gestured toward their surroundings.
"...I gotta admit, it is pretty damn ominous."
Then he pushed the second shot glass toward him.
"Here."
Niero looked at it.
"Sir. I'm sixteen. Still a minor..."
"I know."
Crowe shrugged.
"Your choice."
Niero hesitated.
Then Crowe added—
"...an associate of mine gave you a stout beer on the road here."
Niero raised an eyebrow.
His mind flashed back to the previous morning.
Takeshi Armitage behind the wheel.
The open road.
A cold bottle of beer.
That ridiculous conversation.
Niero slowly looked at the whiskey.
Then at Crowe.
Crowe didn't press him.
Niero picked up the glass.
"...whatever. Bottoms up."
He threw it back.
GULP.
His face immediately contorted.
"HHHKK—!"
He coughed violently with tears flows out of his eyes.
Crowe burst out laughing.
"HA! HAHAHA!"
He clapped his hands.
"That's it!"
Niero slammed the glass onto the table.
His eyes watered.
"That tastes like gasoline!"
Crowe laughed harder.
"But yet you chug it like a real man!"
Niero coughed again.
Crowe picked up the bottle.
"The first shot is just the starter."
Niero glared at him.
"There's a second?"
Crowe poured again.
The amber liquid filled the glass.
His grin faded slightly.
"The next one..."
He pushed the glass toward Niero.
"...you drink with intention, like a conversation sip and all."
Crowe giggled to himself.
He picked up the whiskey bottle and poured another measure into his own glass.
Glug. Glug.
He tossed it back casually.
Niero was still recovering from his first shot, coughing into his fist as the burning sensation slowly subsided.
Crowe's amusement gradually faded.
His expression became serious.
"I've already spoken with my associate."
Niero stopped coughing.
Crowe watched him.
"The one you made acquaintance with for quite a while."
Niero said nothing.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Crowe raised a hand.
"Relax."
He leaned back in his chair.
"This ain't an interrogation."
He tapped the whiskey glass against the table.
"Think of it more as a personal interview."
A pause.
Niero finally answered.
"...Yeah."
Crowe waited.
Niero sighed.
"I was with Agent Armitage."
Crowe nodded.
Niero remained silent.
Crowe continued.
"I've actually heard about you since last year."
That caught Niero's attention.
"Last year?"
"Yep."
Crowe opened the briefcase and shuffled through several documents.
"You were flagged as one of several potential individuals worth keeping an eye on."
Niero frowned.
"Potential?"
"Particular skills. Unusual aptitude. Possible Metatalent."
Niero leaned back.
"What about the girls?"
Crowe casually waved his hand.
"Ehh. Different story."
He gestured toward the academy beyond the simulated walls.
"Even a shit-rank Mana Caster girlies who can't do anything fancy can still overpower some average Joe with physical enhancements with their Mana energy."
Niero raised an eyebrow.
Crowe continued.
"That's just the reality of the Bloom Dominion. Women are already born into a matriachal society where superpowered women with supernatural ability is practically the norm."
He tapped the files.
"So when I'm looking at youngsters with potential, both boys and girls, I'm usually looking for something else."
His eyes settled on Niero.
"Kids who might become something bigger than themselves."
Niero stared at him.
Then gave a faint smirk.
"Funny..."
"What?"
"I've been hearing that word a lot lately."
Crowe raised an eyebrow.
"What word? Potential?"
"Yeah."
Niero leaned back.
"Agent Armitage said it."
He pointed at Crowe.
"And now you're saying it. Felt like I need to create a tally for everytime that word was used."
Crowe smiled.
"There's a reason."
Crowe became quiet for a moment.
Then answered.
"Potential isn't just talent."
He placed the glass down.
"It's the spirit of possibility."
Niero listened.
"The thing buried at the bottom of someone's soul."
Crowe tapped his chest.
"Something that can be dragged out, forged, and actualized into the world."
His expression hardened.
"And in this world?"
He gestured toward the concrete walls.
"We've got monsters crawling out of places that shouldn't exist. Things capable of killing an average Mana Caster."
He paused.
"Hell, some of them could potentially kill a mid-level Sororitae and even a roid-up Amazoness Bellatrixies."
Niero's expression became more serious.
"So talent isn't enough."
"Exactly."
Crowe leaned forward.
"You need people who can become more than what they were yesterday."
He looked down at the files.
"And after hearing what you did aboard that BDV Iron Convoy..."
Niero's eyes narrowed.
Crowe continued.
"I'm impressed."
Silence.
Niero's stomach tightened.
"How much did Agent Armitage tell you?"
Crowe didn't immediately answer.
That was answer enough.
Niero's expression became wary.
"...what exactly did you hear?"
Crowe simply smiled.
"Enough."
Niero stared at him.
Crowe reached into the briefcase again.
This time, he pulled out a thick folder.
Niero's eyes immediately went to the label.
-
RIPLEY, NIERO
AGE: 16
DOB: 21 MAY 2072
-
Crowe opened it.
"Let's start with the boring stuff."
He read aloud.
"Niero Ripley. age 16. Born in May 21st, 2072."
He flipped the page.
"Resident of Sector 13-05, Pleasant Hills, Mega Ark-City 01: Radiant City."
Crowe looked up.
"M.A.C 01, huh?"
Niero shrugged.
Crowe snorted.
"Privilege little shit."
Niero frowned.
"Excuse me?"
"What? That city's was the first Ark-City ever build by the Radiant Empress herself since the Black December, practically considered an elite city even for an average joe like you."
Crowe continued reading.
"Lives in a... café?"
He blinked.
"A home-cafe family business enstablishmen. The one who can lives above it."
Crowe read further.
"Bronze-tier citizenship household. Mother. Aunt. Two sisters."
He paused.
"And a cat."
Niero nodded.
"Family's adored orange fatass; Pumpkin."
Crowe stared at him for a second.
Then continued.
"Prior academic institution... St. McWeston All-Boys Academy."
A grin appeared.
Then Crowe started laughing.
Niero's expression soured.
"What?"
Crowe tried to suppress his laughter.
"I'm sorry."
He read the next section.
"'Academically exceptional. Consistently achieves high marks across the majority of subjects. Demonstrates accelerated learning capability and unusually strong problem-solving aptitude.'"
Crowe nodded.
"Sounds impressive."
Then he read the disciplinary section.
"'However, frequent disciplinary incidents involving rebellious attitute and physical altercations with fellow students and, on several occasions, teaching staff.'"
Crowe burst out laughing.
Niero's eyebrow twitched.
"Yeah, yeah. Keep reading."
"Oh, I intend to."
Crowe wiped his eye.
"'Due to continued behavioral difficulties, subject was enrolled in an accelerated academic program and graduated approximately one year ahead of schedule.'"
He lowered the paper.
"So they accelerated a problematic genius through school just to legally kick you ass out?"
Niero crossed his arms.
"Pretty much."
Crowe laughed again.
"That's the funniest damn academic record I've ever seen."
"Can we move on?"
"Sure, troublemaker."
He flipped to another document.
"Entrance qualification test."
Crowe scanned the results.
"Physical fitness: B-."
Another page.
"Writing: A-."
Another.
"Psychological evaluation: B."
Then—
"Metatalent evaluation... B-."
Crowe stared at the page.
Then slowly looked at Niero.
"...That's a suspicious amount of B's."
Niero shrugged.
"I was nervous."
Crowe muttered under his breath.
"Bullshit."
Niero heard him.
"What?"
Crowe flipped to the next document.
This one was marked:
METATALENT EVALUATION — PSIONIC
Crowe read.
"Rank B-minus Psionic Metatalent: [Booster]."
He continued.
"Enhancement-type ability capable of increasing physical prowess, reflexes, strength, and kinetic efficiency by approximately two-to-five times."
His eyes moved lower.
"Minor telepathic resistance."
Another line.
"Minor telekinetic capability."
Crowe nodded.
"Combat aptitude: above average."
He closed the file.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Crowe picked up his whiskey.
Gulp.
Then poured another shot for himself.
And another for Niero.
He pushed the glass across the table.
"Here's the interesting part."
Niero didn't touch it.
Crowe rested his elbows on the table.
"There isn't much visual evidence demonstrating what you can actually do, especially on the Iron Convoy ship as most of the camera was damaged or its data corrupted."
He tapped the folder.
"Your official evaluation says B-minus."
Another tap.
"Your physical test says B-minus."
Another.
"Your psychological evaluation says B."
Crowe's expression hardened.
"But then Agent Takeshi Armitage tells me what happened aboard that Iron Convoy."
Niero's eyes narrowed.
Crowe continued.
"You survived the Black Tide."
He paused.
"You fought well."
Another pause.
"You fought extreamly well."
Niero remained silent.
Crowe leaned back.
"So either your official documentation was horribly inaccurate..."
He let the sentence hang.
"...or you deliberately...and strategically...held yourself back."
Silence.
Crowe stared directly into Niero's eyes.
Then came the pause.
Short.
Deliberate.
Ominous.
"Which one is it?"
Niero felt a chill crawl up his spine.
For months, he had carefully controlled what people saw.
He had deliberately kept Booster within believable limits.
He had made himself look talented—
but not extraordinary.
Strong—
but not monstrous.
A capable kid.
Nothing more.
Yet here was Crowe, calmly sitting across from him with a whiskey glass in one hand and Niero's carefully constructed evaluation in the other.
Not accusing.
Not threatening.
Just seeing through it.
Crowe flipped through another section.
Then stopped.
"Medical records."
He looked Niero over.
"Huh."
He chuckled.
"You're bare meat."
Niero blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"No cybernetic implants."
Crowe tapped the report.
"No neural implants. No neural ports. No spinal interfaces. Nada. Ziltch."
He shook his head.
"Hell, most kids your age have that NeuroBit doohickey in their noggin'. Its basially a smartphone in the brain."
Niero shrugged.
"I've got nothing against cybernetics. I just don't like the idea of putting an electronic inside my brain as a causal or trendy thing. I'm just more comfortable keeping my technology outside my body."
Crowe nodded slowly.
"Fair."
Niero glanced at Crowe.
"Besides, there are plenty of branded models, like SmartComs. Very pricey now days as well as the cost in surgery just to replace into higher-end models."
"Hmmm. Tech these days..."
Crowe leaned back.
Niero continued.
"I'm probably more 'old school' for certain things in life. Kinda like you..."
Crowe's eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean by that?"
Niero looked around the room.
Then gestured toward Crowe's briefcase.
"You use printed files instead of a SmartTab."
Crowe raised an eyebrow.
"You're drinking bottled whiskey instead of using whiskey Bev-Tabs."
He pointed toward Crowe's head.
"You don't appear to have any cybernetic ports around your neck or skull."
Crowe remained silent.
Niero shrugged.
"And I can only imagine you're the type who carry and use actual paper cash."
He paused.
"Probably wrapped in a rubber band."
Silence.
Niero immediately regretted speaking.
...Shit. Did I just get too personal?
>[ Probably...] said Vuldyr telepathically.
Crowe stared at him.
Niero shifted slightly in his chair.
Then—
"Heh."
Crowe chuckled.
"HAHA!"
He reached into his uniform.
Pulled something out.
And dropped it onto the metal table.
THUNK.
A thick stack of physical cash.
Wrapped in a rubber band.
Niero stared.
Crowe picked up his whiskey glass.
"Damn right. Right on the money."
He raised it.
"You ain't just a smartass."
He grinned.
"You're a very observant smartass."
Niero couldn't help smiling.
"Uhh. Thanks."
Niero picked up his shot glass.
Then lowered it.
"So..."
He looked directly at Crowe.
"What's the actual purpose of this interview again?"
Crowe's smile disappeared.
"Alright."
He leaned forward.
"I'm gonna stop beating around the bush."
He placed both hands on the table.
"I want to know what you're really capable of based on what Agent Armitage told me."
Niero's expression hardened.
Crowe continued.
"Your intelligence, combat ability, Metatalent...and whatever else you've been keeping underneath that carefully constructed little B-minus evaluation."
Niero's fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
Crowe's eyes narrowed.
"That...and your Centurion Armor."
Niero winced.
"...Armitage told you about that too."
Crowe nodded.
"A rare alien nanomachine armor from the Hollow, a blessing for humanity. Bonds with the host. Can manifest directly from the body. Functions as power armor without needing to be physically carried."
Crowe smiled.
"Pretty damn impressive."
Niero stared at him.
"So that's what this is about."
"Partly."
Crowe picked up his whiskey.
Took another shot.
GULP.
Then—
He stood.
Niero watched him carefully.
Crowe rolled his shoulders.
"Alright."
He cracked his neck.
"Let's stop talking about what you can do."
Suddenly—
VRRRRRRRRMMMM—
Something moved beneath Crowe's skin.
Niero's eyes widened.
A swarm of grey-black-silver metallic material erupted across Crowe's arms.
SHHHHHK!
The substance spread.
Across his chest.
Over his shoulders.
Down his legs.
It poured from beneath his military uniform like liquid metal.
KRRRRT—KLANG!
Plates formed.
Thick armor assembled over his body.
Heavy shoulders.
Reinforced chest plating.
Massive gauntlets.
Armored legs.
The silhouette became bulky, intimidating, and brutally utilitarian.
It didn't look sleek.
It looked like someone had taken a tank—
and turn it into an armor.
The final pieces locked into place.
KLANG!
A heavy helmet enclosed Crowe's head.
Niero instinctively leaned backward.
The armored figure stood silently before him.
Then—
HISSSSS.
The helmet split open.
The faceplate retracted.
Crowe's familiar face appeared behind the armor.
He grinned.
"Well..."
He spread his massive armored arms.
"Aren't ya gonna show yours?"
Niero stared at Crowe's armored form.
Then sighed.
"Fine."
He closed his eyes.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
VRRRRMMMM—
A strange liquid mass began emerging from Niero's body.
It was black and silver, threaded with brilliant cyan-blue light.
Tiny cube-like structures moved within the metallic substance like countless microscopic machines assembling themselves in real time.
The material flowed across his arms.
His torso.
His legs.
His neck.
SHHHHHK—KLANG!
The liquid hardened.
Armor formed around him.
A sleek, full-body power armor took shape.
Primarily black.
Secondarily silver.
Brilliant cyan-blue highlights ran through the armor, accompanied by sharp golden accents.
The helmet sealed around his head.
Its reflective faceplate revealed nothing.
Across the eye region was a luminous cyan V.
Another cyan V stretched across his chest.
Niero stood silently.
Crowe whistled.
"Damn."
He slowly walked around him.
"I've never seen that Centurion model before."
Niero looked down at himself.
"Neither have I."
Crowe stopped in front of him.
"Where'd you get it?"
"Don't remember."
Crowe raised an eyebrow.
"How long have you had it?"
"Since I was ten."
"Ten?"
"Yeah."
"And you don't remember where it came from?"
Niero shook his head.
"It's blurry memory."
Crowe looked at the armor again.
"What can it do?"
"Physical enhancement. Increased endurance. Flight."
Crowe nodded.
"Kid. That's standard Centurion capability."
He tapped the armor's chest.
"Every recorded Centurion Armor has those similar, if not the same, basic functions."
Then he looked directly at Niero.
"What else?"
Niero hesitated.
"I don't know."
Crowe frowned.
"You don't know?"
"I've never had anywhere to properly test it. Not under the watchful eyes of the M.A.C 01's survalience."
Crowe suddenly grabbed Niero around the neck with one enormous armored arm.
CLANK.
"Then that's where I come in!"
Niero's helmet turned toward him.
Crowe grinned.
"It is my great duty to train you—and the rest of G-1—to your true potential!"
He released him.
Niero straightened his armor.
The two armored figures stood facing each other.
Then both armor systems began to retract.
SHHHHHK—
The metallic material dissolved back into their bodies.
Crowe's armor vanished beneath his military uniform.
Niero's Centurion Armor disappeared beneath his clothes, leaving him in his T-shirt and hoodie.
They sat back down.
Crowe poured another shot.
"This world needs more capable people. More heroes!"
He looked at Niero.
"And I'm gonna spend the next three years molding those twenty little beansprouts into warriors."
Niero frowned.
"Why are you so damn adamant about turning us into 'warriors'?"
Crowe's expression became unreadable.
"Thats is a need-to-know basis, boy."
"That's very convenient."
"Heed this, kid; I believe in youngsters with great potential."
He tapped Niero's chest.
"And G-1 is full of 'em."
Crowe leaned back.
"My job is to push you to the limit."
A grin slowly appeared.
"Then push you past it."
He spread his arms.
"I'm the crucible."
His grin became almost feral.
"And I'm gonna forge the ultimate badasses."
Niero stared at him.
Crowe continued.
"You'll receive some special training."
Niero's eyes narrowed.
"To see what else you're capable of."
He paused.
"To determine whether you're a warrior..."
Another pause.
"...a strategic asset to the Queendom..."
His eyes hardened.
"...or a potential threat to humanity."
Silence.
Niero could feel the weight of those words.
Crowe wasn't joking anymore.
He was judging him.
Measuring him.
Waiting to see what kind of person was sitting across that table.
Then Crowe asked quietly—
"You got what it takes, boy?"
Niero stared at the whiskey.
Then at Crowe.
He picked up the shot glass.
His hand was steady.
"I don't just want to just reach my limit."
He raised the glass.
"I want to surpass it. Become stronger than I was before!"
He drank.
GULP.
Crowe's mouth curled into a proud grin.
"That's what I wanted to hear."
He stood.
"That's what I want from every damn cadet in G-1."
Crowe extended his hand.
Niero looked at it.
Then Crowe did something horrifying.
He spat into his own palm.
Niero's face immediately twisted, cringed with disgust.
"...What the fuck?"
Crowe thrust his hand forward.
"Shake on it, maggot!"
"That's disgusting!"
"SHAKE!"
Niero stared at the wet palm.
Then at Crowe.
Then reluctantly grabbed it.
SQUELCH.
A horrible wet sensation spread across his hand, tighten by the grip of the rough hand of Crowe.
Niero's entire body shuddered with disgust.
A wave of goosebumps crawled up his spine.
"Ugh—!"
Crowe grinned like a maniac.
"HAHAHA!"
He shook Niero's hand enthusiastically.
"Welcome to G-1, kid!"
Niero immediately wiped his hand against his hoodie.
Crowe's grin became almost menacing.
"This is the beginning of a beautiful cadet-officer relationship."
Niero stared at him.
"...I'm starting to regret this."
Crowe laughed.
"Too late, son. Too late..."
=====
[ GSMA's Student Dorm-Block ]
Niero walked down the tenth-floor hallway toward Room 1030.
It was late enough that most students had already changed out of their academy clothes.
Groups of girls wandered between rooms in casual sleepwear—tank tops and shorts, oversized T-shirts, baggy pajama pants, fuzzy slippers, and whatever else they had grabbed before coming to the academy.
As Niero passed, a few girls noticed him.
One quickly adjusted her hair.
Another straightened her shirt.
A third subtly checked her reflection in a window.
Niero barely noticed any of it.
He had more important problems.
Specifically—
Crowe's spit.
Niero squeezed another tiny bottle of alcohol gel onto his right hand, bought from the GSMA's convience store on the floor he was on.
SPRIIIIIIIIIII.
He rubbed his palms together furiously.
Then between his fingers.
Then the back of his hand.
Then his wrist.
He scrubbed so aggressively that it looked like he was attempting to remove several layers of epidermis.
Vuldyr's voice echoed inside his head.
> ["Careful. You already used three bottles."]
"I know."
> ["Yet you are behaving like a germaphobe."]
"I'm not a germaphobe. I just don't want that bastard's spit on my hand."
He threw the empty bottle toward a nearby trash can without looking.
THUNK!
Perfect shot.
A few girls nearby looked impressed.
Niero immediately threw another.
THUNK!
Then the third.
THUNK!
All three landed cleanly.
Vuldyr snickered.
> ["Hehehe. Human comedy at the finest..."]
"Glad you're enjoying yourself."
> ["Immensely."]
Niero continued walking.
After a moment, Vuldyr asked:
> ["Was Crowe what you expected?"]
Niero's expression became more thoughtful.
"Honestly? Not really."
He had expected Crowe to question him.
He had expected suspicion.
He had expected military arrogance.
What he hadn't expected was Crowe accepting his explanation about the Centurion Armor so easily.
Or at least appearing to.
"He actually bought my story."
Niero frowned.
"Or he pretended to."
> ["You believe he suspects something?"]
"Definitely."
He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets.
"My Astra Kavacha isn't a Centurion Armor, thats the fact. I just gave him the closest explanation that wouldn't sound completely insane."
He sighed.
"And somehow he accepted it quite well."
Niero glanced toward the elevator.
"That's what bothers me."
> ["Why?"]
"Because it feels like he's waiting."
> ["For what?"]
"For me to screw up."
Niero's expression hardened.
"Like he's waiting for me to slip and reveal what I'm really hiding."
Vuldyr was silent for a moment.
Then Niero asked:
"Give me everything you've got on Harlan Crowe."
There was a faint electronic sound inside his head.
> ["Searching the Queendom Codex."]
A moment later—
> ["Master Sergeant Harlan Crowe."]
Information began appearing in Niero's mental interface.
> ["Highly decorated American military officer. Military family. Service lineage extending to his great-grandfather."]
> ["Multiple deployments. Specialist in demolition, heavy weapons, tactical operations, and anomalous combat."]
Niero's eyes narrowed.
Vuldyr continued.
> ["Former member of a specialized military squad designated informally as the Mad Dogs."]
Niero raised an eyebrow.
"The Mad Dogs?"
> ["Military brotherhood specializing in operations against hostile human and non-human forces, anomalous entities, and Hollow Intruders. Threat range: approximately Rank-C through Rank-A."]
Niero whistled.
"That's a hell of a résumé."
> ["Crowe is also a registered Centurion Armor user."]
Niero smiled faintly.
"Walking tank."
Niero continued down the hallway.
"Then why the hell is he teaching high school?"
Vuldyr brought up more records.
> ["Five years ago, Crowe's unit was stationed near a small American Ark-City. An unanticipated Hollow Intruder skirmish occurred."]
Niero's expression changed.
"No alert?"
> ["None."]
The next information appeared.
> ["The city was caught completely unprepared. Approximately half of its civilian population was killed. The attacking entity was classified as a powerful Rank-A+ Hollow Intruder."]
Niero slowed.
"Jesus."
Vuldyr continued.
> ["Crowe and his unit engaged the Intruder. They successfully delayed its advance until Sororitae support and at least one Bellatrix soldier could deploy."]
Niero nodded.
"And they won?"
> ["Yes but Crowe's team was almost completely annihilated."]
Niero stopped walking.
"Almost?"
> ["Crowe was the only surviving member."]
Silence.
Vuldyr displayed the medical records.
> ["Multiple broken bones. Cracked skull. Severe spinal trauma. Extensive internal injuries. Right leg lost below the knee."]
Niero's eyes widened slightly.
"Injured right leg? That explains the limp."
He remembered seeing it earlier.
Just barely.
Crowe walked confidently enough that most people probably wouldn't notice.
But Niero had.
Vuldyr continued.
> ["Crowe underwent extensive reconstructive surgery and received internal metal plates. He declined a cybernetic replacement limb. Instead, Crowe specifically requested a conventional non-cybernetic prosthetic leg."]
Niero frowned.
"Old school to the bone..."
Then came the final part.
> ["Following the incident, Crowe received multiple military decorations."]
One stood out.
MEDAL OF HONOR.
Niero let out a quiet whistle.
"Okay. That explains the uniform's decorations."
He thought for a moment.
"But why come here? After surviving something like that, most people would retire."
He glanced toward the hallway windows.
"Or spend the rest of their life drowning themselves in whiskey bottles."
> ["Possible. PTSD. Survivor guilt. Nightmares. Any normal people would have inflict with such grief, especailly with his Mad Dog battalion that looks like they were very close."]
Niero shook his head.
"But instead he comes here."
He looked toward the door marked 1030 at the end of the hallway.
"To train twenty freshmen."
Vuldyr's voice became quieter.
> ["Perhaps, and this is a possible speculation, he doesn't want other children to experience what he did when they becomes soldiers."]
Niero stopped.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he looked down at his right hand.
The hand Crowe had shaken.
The hand he had spent three bottles of sanitizer cleaning.
"Maybe."
Niero opened the door.
"But if that's what he's doing..."
He glanced back down the hallway.
"Then he's one hell of a strange guy."
> ["And apparently an even stranger instructor."]
Niero stepped inside.
=====
[ Dorm Room 1030 > GSMA's Student Dorm-Block ]
Niero finally returned to Room 1030.
The moment he opened the door, the smell of curry and chicken greeted him.
JD and Bart were sitting inside their capsule rooms with their doors open, each holding a steaming cup of Samurai Star Cup Noodles.
Bart looked up first.
"Niero!"
JD glanced over.
"There he is."
Both of them stared at Niero.
"You okay?" JD asked. "You were alone with Sergeant Crowe for a while."
Bart nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah! Did scary army man yell at you?"
Niero dropped his shoulders.
"Nah. We mostly talked about how awesome I am."
JD slowly lowered his noodles.
"Man. Thats pure bullshit."
Niero raised an eyebrow.
Bart nodded.
"Everyone was awesome today!"
"Exactly," JD said. "You think you're special because you survived an interrogation with Mr. Cowboy Comando?"
Niero waved him hand weakly.
"...eh. What ev's"
Bart suddenly held out his cup.
"Want some?"
Niero looked at his chicken soup noodles.
His stomach growled faintly.
He shook his head.
"Nah. I'm skipping dinner tonight."
JD frowned.
"You sure?"
"I'm too exhausted to eat."
He glanced toward the other capsule.
Flick was already asleep.
Apparently, the rich boy had decided that the day's events were beneath his energy budget.
Niero sighed.
He climbed the ladder to the upper bunk.
"Night, man." JD said.
"Night."
Niero slid into his capsule and pulled the door shut.
SHHHK.
Dim room, with some light from the dorm spill in.
He plugged his SmartCom into its charging dock.
The screen illuminated his tired face for a moment before automatically dimming.
Niero closed his eyes.
And descended inward.
[Ego-Space]
Reality disappeared.
The sensation was unlike falling.
It was more like stepping through himself.
When Niero opened his eyes again, he was standing inside his own inner world.
=
=====
=
[ Niero's Ego-Space ]
The place resembled a strange fusion of his childhood bedroom and the command bridge of some impossibly powerful spacecraft.
Familiar furniture from home existed alongside alien consoles and enormous architectural structures.
The floor stretched endlessly toward a distant horizon.
Except it wasn't really a floor.
It resembled a perfectly still ocean, black and reflective, extending into infinity.
Above it was an endless star-filled sky.
Countless stars glittered overhead.
And among them burned a massive celestial body.
A gigantic star.
His Stellarion Core.
Around it orbited a much smaller one.
Niero had never fully understood what they represented.
He wasn't sure he wanted to.
Around the bridge stood numerous enormous doors.
Some were wooden.
Some metallic.
Some ancient.
Some futuristic.
Some looked like vaults.
Others looked like ordinary household doors.
Each one led somewhere.
Somewhere within himself.
And at the center of the bridge stood the Throne.
It was enormous.
Dark.
Elegant.
Almost absurdly imposing.
It looked less like a chair and more like something built for a king who had conquered worlds.
Niero stared at it.
Then slowly walked toward it.
He sat down.
For a moment, nothing happened.
He simply remained there.
Quiet.
Breathing in...
...then breathing out.
A strange sense of calmness.
Vuldyr materialized beside him.
Her humanoid form stood with her arms folded, looking down at him.
> ["Well. It has been a very long time since you've actually sat upon that throne."]
Niero looked at the armrest.
His fingers slowly tightened around it.
"Yeah. I've avoided it for quire a while."
> ["If I may...why?"]
Niero was silent.
Then he leaned back.
"I... don't know. Maybe because I never really felt like I...deserved it...or something of sorts."
Vuldyr tilted her head.
> ["And now?"]
Niero looked across the endless ocean.
He remembered the Black Tide.
The Breach.
Amaryllis.
The moment his body stopped moving.
The sensation of death.
And then—
getting back up.
He looked down at his hands.
"Now?"
A faint smile appeared.
"I almost died, Vee...."
Vuldyr said nothing.
Niero leaned against the throne.
"I survived something that should've killed me."
His smile became slightly more confident.
"I'm alive, thanks of the Stargod System, the Astra Force, and...you, Vee."
Vuldyr blushed yet softly smiled at him.
"So maybe…"
He looked upward toward the impossible star.
"...I finally earned the right to sit here."
Vuldyr gave a small smile.
> ["Perhaps. Thats is the trials and tribulations of a Stargod. And so far, you are still victorious. Have some pride in that."]
Niero exhaled.
"Thank you for being there."
> ["Always, kiddo.]
He clapped in the air, then rubbed both of his hands.
"Anyway. Show me my status."
Vuldyr raised one hand.
A familiar translucent interface materialized before them.
-
<[ POST-ASCENSION STATUS ]>
< Ascension Realm (Realm) > === < Mortal: 1st Realm (Student Realm) -> 2nd Realm (Disciple) >
< Ascension Phase (Phase) > === < Phase 3: Sovereign Phase ---> Phase 01: Foundation >
< Ascension Level (LV) > === < 036 ---> 038 >
< Astra Force's Stage (Stage)> === <1st stage (Ember) ---> 2nd stage (Nova)>
< STR (Strength) > === < 06.85 ---> 16.85 >
< AGI (Agility) > === < 05.85 ---> 15.85 >
< END (Endurance) > === < 05.85 ---> 15.85 >
< INT (Intelligence) > === < 03.85 ---> 13.85 >
< PER (Perception) > === < 04.85 ---> 15.85 >
< LUK (Luck) > === < 14.85 ---> 15.85 >
< CRM (Charm) > === < 02.85 ---> 12.85 >
< CRT (Critical Rate) > === < 04.85 ---> 14.85 >
-
Niero stared.
His eyes widened.
"...Whoa."
Vuldyr nodded.
> ["Your post-Ascension growth is considerable."]
Niero looked at his Strength, Agility, Endurance, Intelligence...
Even his Charm had practically multiplied.
Niero blinked.
"Did my Charm just go up by ten?"
> ["Yes. Perhaps surviving death improved your personality."]
Niero stared at her.
"Fuck off."
> ["Charming yet foul mouth as always, kiddo.."]
Niero ignored her.
Then another number caught his attention.
Omnia Matter: 365 → 1,535
His eyes lit up.
"YES!"
Vuldyr glanced sideways.
> ["You appear very pleased."]
"Of course I'm pleased!"
Niero practically leaned into the status window.
"I'm only 100 Omnia Matter away from activating Gacha Fortuna."
Vuldyr sighed.
> ["As happy as a itchy finger gambler."]
"Yeah. How else I can progress Greedmonger's task?"
=
====
=
<<<[ Ch 38, Part 04 - END ]>>>