"Woah... wait, what happens if they fail both exams?" Amon asked curiously, his tone teetering between intrigue and dread.
[Those who fail both usually return to normal living.]
[Only ten percent of those who take the Heroic Exams ever pass.]
[Operative Exams have an even lower rate—five percent.]
"That's… low," Amon muttered, his eyes slightly wide.
[It is required.]
[The universe is not merciful to the weak.]
Amon tilted his head, digesting those words. It was harsh—but maybe that was just how things worked here. After all, every world had its own kind of cruelty.
"Hmm… Hey, are there any alien creatures around? Like, y'know, Xenomorphs or maybe the ones from Warhammer 40K?" His tone shifted from curious to downright excited.
[Negative.]
[The only alien species in this universe are the Draks, Xubi, Efla, and Bexhar.]
[Each inhabits multiple galaxies near their home worlds.]
[However, human interaction with them has led to the formation of universal alliances.]
[Humanity succeeded in making peace pacts with all known alien races, ensuring no species harms another.]
"Wow… that's surprisingly civil," Amon muttered, scratching his cheek.
[However, there are cosmic beings known as the Xenon.]
[They are famed for their cosmic-tier beauty and galactic-level power.]
"I see…" Amon nodded knowingly, even if his brain was screaming a hundred follow-up questions. He sat up from the bed, his eyes shimmering with curiosity. "Hey, how do I get my NEXUS? This body does seem like it's from this world..."
[In two days.]
[The host's body is nearing the age of eighteen.]
[Discovery of NEXUS will be imminent by then.]
"Cool!" Amon grinned, collapsing back on the bed, hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. A faint smile crept across his lips—maybe this world wasn't so bad after all.
Meanwhile, far away in the heart of the Evanguade Branch Headquarters of the Operative & Heroic Agency (OHA), Helios stood tall within the control room. The air hummed with the low buzz of energy and chatter from countless Operatives at their stations.
This was only a branch—a sub-base compared to the main OHA installation near the colossal Apex-Array. But even so, it pulsed with importance.
At the center of the chamber, a massive holographic table projected the glowing figure of the Branch Director, the founder of the Evanguade Division himself.
"Did you find Void's whereabouts, Helios?" the Director asked, his voice carrying authority wrapped in exhaustion.
"I apologize, sir," Helios replied, standing firm. "The final lead we had on Void's trail led nowhere. No clues. No traces."
The Branch Director sighed, his expression turning somber. "We'll try again another time. For now… what did you find?"
Helios straightened his posture. "A young boy. His file says he's turning eighteen in two days, so we plan to conduct his neural surgery by then."
The holographic man nodded slowly. "I see… have you—"
"I tried connecting the dots, sir, but no. He and Void are not related."
"I see..." The Director's tone softened. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "You seem to be acting like a father now, no?"
Helios blinked, taken aback. "What... makes you say that, sir?"
A chuckle escaped the Director's mouth, crackling through the hologram. "Well, you've always been stoic and dutiful. I'm sure even your coworkers would agree."
"Huh? I don't think—"
Before he could finish, Helios noticed several Operatives nearby nodding in agreement.
"…I… have?" he murmured, genuinely puzzled.
The Director laughed again. "That much can be said. I hope you connect more with this child—it might mend your scars."
The words hung in the air as the hologram flickered and vanished. The room gradually filled again with the rhythm of keyboards and distant chatter, but Helios remained still, staring at nothing.
'Have I… really started appearing like a father?'
He couldn't believe it. He had only known Amon for a few hours. How could that boy—confused, curious, and overly talkative—stir something paternal in him?
His thoughts were cut short by a soft, feminine giggle. His eyes immediately shifted to the source: Cypher.
"Cypher," Helios said, his tone as flat as ever. "What exactly do you find funny about me being lost in thought?"
"Everything," she answered with a grin. "Say, mind letting me spend a bit of time with the boy?"
"No."
"So blunt—!"
Helios didn't even flinch. His answer was immediate and final.
If there was one thing he wasn't letting happen, it was leaving an innocent, freshly rescued boy in the hands of her.
"Jeez, come on! It won't be that long~"
"You said that before," he reminded her, his tone sharp. "And you ended up facing twelve months of disciplinary action. So, no."
Cypher winced, clicking her tongue in defeat. "At least let me have fun..."
"Your 'fun' is not safe for work," Helios deadpanned. "Flirty gestures are as far as you're permitted until he knows more about the world."
Her eyes lit up mischievously. "Really!?"
"No."
Like a balloon deflating, Cypher dramatically dropped to her knees. "Come on!"
"No is no, darling... unless the kid permits you."
Her face brightened immediately. "Promise?"
"Barely."
"Yay!" she cheered before skipping off to her workstation, leaving Helios massaging the bridge of his nose.
"Three hundred years old," he muttered, "and still acting like a child."
"Sir Helios!" an Operative shouted from across the room. "There's something going on in Sector 5!"
"Call Pentagona. Tell her everything," Helios ordered. "Don't just sit there—move! We've got another mess on our hands."
Within moments, the control room shifted into motion. Screens flared to life, drones were deployed, and the hum of urgency filled the air once more. Helios stood at the center of it all—cold, focused, yet faintly burdened with thoughts of the strange boy sleeping under his protection.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city, the sound of quiet sobs filled a dim apartment.
"Where's Dad?" a small girl with twin pink pigtails asked, her voice faint. Her eyes were dull, empty of the light that should've belonged to a child.
"Gone," her mother said softly.
"Really?" another voice—older, steadier—spoke from behind her. It was another girl, likely the elder sister. Her eyes still held a flicker of light.
The mother nodded, a faint smile forming on her face.
"Yes!" the older girl suddenly exclaimed, her voice trembling between relief and disbelief. "We can finally... finally live normal!"
She broke into tears, rushing to embrace her mother. The woman smiled faintly, returning the hug.
"Mmhm... All of your father's earnings have been transferred to us," the mother murmured. "It's odd, but... we can finally live the way we want."
Her once lifeless eyes shimmered again—just barely, but enough to be seen.