PK exited the security cabin and prepared to leave the base.
Just as he turned toward the exit, Selene spoke up, her voice carrying a hint of excitement.
"Since it's your first time here," she said, "why don't I show you around the base?"
PK gave it a brief thought and nodded.
"Sure."
Selene visibly brightened.
She guided him through various sections of the base—operation control centers, strategic planning rooms, and the training zones where soldiers trained relentlessly. PK observed everything quietly, his expression calm and unreadable.
They eventually reached the elite unit training ground.
That was when a sharp male voice cut through the air.
"Selene."
Both of them turned.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stood there, his posture rigid, his presence commanding. His eyes immediately locked onto PK.
"Who is this?" he demanded. "And how is a random person allowed inside the base?"
Selene stiffened slightly.
"This is Captain PK," she replied. "He's—"
Before she could finish, the man interrupted.
"I'm Tom," he said coldly, stepping forward. "Captain of the Elite Unit."
His gaze never left PK.
PK remained indifferent.
Without a word, he took out his ID and held it up.
For a single second, Tom's body froze.
Then his expression changed—mockery replacing surprise.
"Tch," Tom scoffed. "An ID means nothing here. In this base, only real skills matter."
He folded his arms and continued, clearly enjoying himself.
"You people work behind screens," Tom said, his tone sharp.
"No battlefield pressure. No risk of death. While we—" he gestured behind him, "—have to be physically superior, master every weapon, and put our lives on the line."
His words were meant to provoke.
PK didn't react.
His calm was unsettling.
He turned slightly toward Selene and asked, casually and clearly,
"Who is this idiot who doesn't know when to stop talking?"
Selene blinked.
Then—she laughed.
It was instinctive. She couldn't help it.
That laugh hit Tom harder than any insult.
His face darkened instantly.
Being humiliated in front of Selene was something he couldn't tolerate.
Tom stepped forward, his voice hard.
"You're arrogant," he said. "Want to compete with me?"
PK didn't even pause.
"Sure."
The response was immediate and effortless.
The atmosphere around them shifted.
The Elite Unit—twenty members including their captain—turned their attention toward PK. These were men trained to be monsters on the battlefield, each one said to be equal to fifty ordinary soldiers. Masters of firearms, close combat, and tactical warfare.
Tom smirked.
"Let's see how far arrogance takes you."
PK stood there calmly, hands relaxed at his sides, as if this were nothing more than a casual inconvenience.
Like a river—quiet, steady, and impossible to provoke.