Noah Sato never intended to become anyone important.
In fact, if someone were to list every student at North Ridge Academy, he would be the last name they remembered—if they remembered him at all. He wasn't dumb, just painfully average. Average grades, average looks, average stamina. If the world had background characters, Noah would gladly be one of them.
And on this unlucky Monday morning, Noah wished he had stayed in bed.
The hallway behind the old gym was dim and mostly abandoned. The school said the annex was "under maintenance," but rumor had it the government used that wing for "special programs." Noah never believed that, of course. This was the kind of rumor people made up to spice up boring school life.
He shuffled forward, hair still messy from oversleeping. In his hands was a crumpled script for the drama club's new spy-themed performance—something he had been guilt-tripped into joining by his childhood friend.
Noah muttered his lines with low enthusiasm.
"At midnight… the Raven sees… what the crow cannot…"
He frowned, flipping the page over.
No, that wasn't it.
The line was—
"The Raven sees at midnight."
There. He repeated it again, louder this time, trying to get the tone right.
"The Raven sees at midnight."
A soft click echoed behind him.
Noah froze.
He turned.
The unmarked metal door at the end of the hall—one he had never seen open in his three years at this school—was sliding aside like something out of a sci-fi movie.
"…Huh?"
Two silhouettes stepped out, dressed head-to-toe in black tactical suits. Their eyes were hidden behind mirrored visors.
One of them spoke into a small earpiece.
"Candidate confirmed. Authentication phrase received."
The second one nodded.
"Proceed with extraction."
Noah blinked.
"…Extraction?"
Before he could take a step back, a gloved hand wrapped around his shoulder.
"Wait—WAIT—WHAT ARE YOU—"
A black hood went over his head.
Everything went dark.
Voices drifted in and out as he was dragged—no, carried—through what sounded like an elevator shaft. He heard mechanical whirring, the hiss of air pressure changing, and footsteps that echoed like they were in some underground fortress.
Eventually, the hood was yanked off.
Noah squinted under the harsh white lights.
The room was enormous, filled with sleek metallic walls, monitors, armed guards, and a dozen students seated in a semi-circle. Not normal students. These kids had stances like trained soldiers—calm, rigid, unblinking. Their uniforms weren't school-issued; they looked more military than academic.
At the center stood an instructor built like a tank—broad shoulders, sharp jaw, and cold eyes that didn't soften for anyone.
"Name," the instructor demanded.
"E-Noah Sato," he stuttered, rubbing his wrists.
The instructor typed rapidly on a tablet. His brows tightened.
"…No records."
The students exchanged looks.
One raised an eyebrow. A girl with silver hair and eyes that seemed to analyze even the molecules in the air.
"No records?" she said. "That's impossible. Everyone here has a profile."
Another student, tall and lean with a tactical calmness, added, "Unless he's a Phantom Candidate."
Murmurs spread instantly.
A Phantom Candidate.
Noah had no idea what that meant, but it sounded… dangerous.
The instructor slowly turned to Noah.
"If HQ sent a ghost student without notifying us, then your abilities must be beyond measurable parameters."
"B-Beyond what?"
But his voice was swallowed by the collective gasp of the class.
One boy whispered, "Another Level Zero?"
Another shuddered, "Like Ayanokoji…? But he's supposed to be one-of-a-kind."
Noah's face twisted.
Who the hell was Ayanokoji?
And what was Level Zero?!
The instructor snapped his fingers.
"Combat assessment. Sato, step forward."
"Wait, combat? I—I think there's a misunderstanding—"
"Begin," the instructor ordered.
A girl stepped into the ring. Same silver-haired prodigy from earlier. She cracked her knuckles lazily.
"I'll keep it light," she said.
"You look… fragile."
Someone sucked in a breath.
Another whispered, "She's provoking him… she wants to see his real power."
Noah had no power!
He could barely lift his backpack on bad days!
He stumbled forward, hands shaking. "I-I don't wanna fight—"
Her eyes narrowed. "Too late."
She lunged.
Noah shrieked and stepped back instinctively—
His foot slipped on the glossy floor—
He flailed—
He fell forward—
And his forehead slammed into her jaw.
A crack echoed.
The girl flew backward and collapsed unconscious.
Silence swallowed the entire training hall.
Noah lay on the ground, half crying, half confused, fully terrified.
The instructor stared at him like he had just witnessed a myth come alive.
"…He knocked out a top-tier trainee," a boy whispered.
"With one move."
"And he looked bored doing it."
"He didn't even take a stance…"
Noah's soul screamed:
I WASN'T BORED, I WAS DYING OF FEAR!
But all they saw…
was overwhelming strength.
The instructor finally spoke, voice low.
"Welcome to S-Class Zero, Sato."
"The government's most advanced covert training division."
Noah swallowed hard.
"I… I think I'm in the wrong room…"
No one believed him.
And somewhere deep in the facility, behind multiple layers of observation glass, higher-ranking officials watched Noah's accidental knockout in slow motion.
One of them whispered:
"Monitor him. If this Level Zero begins to show his true capabilities, we need to be ready."
Another nodded grimly.
"The world isn't prepared for a second monster."
Noah, meanwhile, sat in the training hall corner hugging his knees, praying this was a very bad dream.
It wasn't.
This was only the beginning…