?!
The sudden, casual, and overly familiar inquiry from behind sent a jolt through Chirak Oran's entire body. Every hair on his skin stood on end, and cold sweat trickled down his temple.
The tone, as if they were long-time friends, felt far too personal. But Chirak vividly remembered that this was merely someone he had exchanged a few messages with online days ago—a simple inquiry, nothing more.
Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined there would be a "follow-up" to such a mundane interaction.
Fighting back his inner panic, Chirak forced himself to appear calm and composed. He made the quick decision to ignore the stranger altogether.
He didn't turn around or make any sudden movements, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead as if he hadn't heard a thing.
In his mind, he quickly calculated the best course of action: act as though he didn't know anything.
Even if things escalated, he could always feign ignorance and claim, "You've got the wrong person."
After all, he was in a public train station surrounded by crowds of commuters, extensive surveillance systems, and drone patrols. Safety wasn't something he needed to worry about, or so he thought.
But the stranger behind him wasn't giving up so easily.
"Hello?"
The man's voice came again, this time tinged with a slight confusion.
Chirak heard footsteps approaching, and before he could react, a hand gently tapped him on the right shoulder.
?!
That tap made Chirak's heart pound violently. A chill ran down his spine, and cold sweat soaked his back.
His body instinctively tensed for a moment before he quickly forced himself to relax, trying to appear as natural as possible.
Realizing that the stranger was determined to talk to him, Chirak had no choice but to turn around and face him. As he did, he carefully adjusted his expression to show confusion and feigned innocence, hoping to deflect the man's attention.
Once he turned, he finally got a clear look at the person standing behind him.
The man was tall and imposing, with an air of confidence and authority.
He stood at least ten centimeters taller than Chirak, around 1.91 or 1.92 meters, and his muscular build left an undeniable impression. Even under a simple spring school uniform and jacket, the man's powerful physique was evident. His broad shoulders and chest strained against the fabric, hinting at exceptional physical strength.
As for his appearance, his sharp, well-defined features were striking. Sword-like brows framed piercing eyes, and his neatly cropped hair added to the image of decisiveness and control. His overall demeanor made it clear that he was the kind of person who would easily meet the rigorous recruitment standards of the Sons of Humanity Legion.
In that instant, a wave of questions flashed through Chirak's mind.
Why would someone like him be rejected by the Legion?
Even by the Sons of Humanity's strict standards, this man seemed like an ideal candidate.
But now wasn't the time to dwell on that. Chirak quickly snapped out of his thoughts and replied in a calm tone:
"Hello. Can I help you?"
The man's smile widened slightly at Chirak's response, and his tone was casual yet strangely familiar:
"FreshFruit1155, I'm 'For the Emperor!! Glory!' from the forums."
Hearing those words, Chirak's heart sank even further, and his vigilance heightened. However, he maintained a neutral expression to avoid giving anything away.
Unfazed, the man continued, "My real name is Marur Concor. It's great to meet you in person, Chirak Oran."
"How do you know my name?!"
Chirak's brow furrowed deeply, and his face turned wary.
Though outwardly he expressed anger, he was carefully concealing his emotions behind his words. His hands clenched into fists, his body slightly leaning forward as if ready to act at a moment's notice.
His tone grew sharper, more accusing: "What *'FreshFruit1155'? What 'For the Emperor' nonsense?! You must have the wrong person. Are you some kind of creep?"
Without waiting for a response, Chirak turned abruptly and walked toward a nearby drone station at the edge of the platform, his eyes locking onto the cameras and sensors above.
His heartbeat quickened as his instincts screamed at him that the situation was far from ordinary. This stranger's behavior had already crossed the line into the incomprehensible.
He intended to use the drone station to alert nearby patrol officers about the suspicious individual, ensuring he wouldn't fall into any unforeseen danger.
"Hey! Wait!"
Marur Concor seemed to realize the situation was spiraling out of control. He quickly stepped forward, raising his hands in a gesture of peace, his tone shifting from casual to urgent:
"No need to call security! I must have made a mistake. I'm sorry!"
Chirak stopped in his tracks but didn't fully lower his guard. He turned around slowly, his eyes cold and sharp as they bore into Marur Concor. In a steady but demanding tone, he repeated:
"How do you know my name?"
There was no mistaking the anger in his voice—it was clear that whatever Marur said next would determine Chirak's next move.
"Ah, this is... complicated."
Marur scratched the back of his head, as if searching for the right words.
His tone remained lighthearted but now carried a hint of awkwardness and helplessness:
"It's like this: I chatted with someone called 'FreshFruit1155' online not long ago.
We both went through similar experiences, so I thought if I ever had the chance to meet in person, it'd be worth it to talk about where to go from here."
He paused, gauging Chirak's reaction before continuing:
"At the time, he said he lived in Odegaard, but the more I thought about it, the less it added up.
The way he described being rejected by the Apothecaries was almost identical to what I went through, like he'd taken my experience and changed a few details."
Marur spread his hands in a gesture of resignation, his tone turning matter-of-fact:
"So I guessed that he might actually be from New Argos, where I live.
And there aren't many students in New Argos who get rejected by the Sons of Humanity during their recruitment.
I asked around through a few friends, trying to find out if any students had recently been turned away by the Legion. Then I narrowed it down school by school, and here we are."
Marur pointed to himself as he concluded, softening his tone to appear more reasonable:
"That's how I found you. If I'm wrong, then that's on me. My apologies for the mix-up."
"..."
Chirak listened to Marur's explanation with a calm exterior, but inside, his mind was racing.
The story was riddled with inconsistencies.
The idea of "asking friends to investigate" sounded implausible, and the fact that Marur had somehow pinpointed him based on pure guesswork made even less sense.
"This guy is either a complete lunatic or working toward some specific goal," Chirak thought grimly.
Regardless, he decided not to waste any more time engaging with Marur.
No matter what Marur's true intentions were, continuing the conversation would only risk exposing more about himself.
The safest option was to contact his father at the police station and provide a full report of the incident.
Chirak nodded slightly, deliberately relaxing his expression and feigning indifference as he replied:
"Ah, I see. Well, your theory is interesting, but I'm afraid I'm not 'FreshFruit.' You've got the wrong person."
He took a step back as he spoke, widening the distance between them.
"Fair enough, fair enough..." Marur said with a hint of reluctance, his tone tinged with resignation. His smile remained, though it carried a trace of awkwardness.
"That's on me. Sorry for bothering you."
With that, Marur turned and walked away, heading toward the escalator without hesitation.
"..."
Chirak stood in place, watching Marur's figure disappear into the crowd. Only then did the tension in his body begin to ease. He let out a long breath, barely realizing how tightly wound he had been.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, Chirak quickly typed out a message to his father. He concisely described Marur Concor's appearance and recounted their conversation.
At the end of the message, he included his own suspicions:
"Marur Concor didn't approach me by chance. He has a purpose. I suspect there's an organization behind him attempting to contact and gain the trust of teenagers who were rejected by the Sons of Humanity Legion."
Satisfied with the message, Chirak sent it off and returned his phone to his pocket. Whatever his father decided to do next was out of his hands.
After all, this wasn't "crying wolf." Marur Concor had clearly been stalking and harassing him.
Who knew if he had done the same to others?
As Chirak prepared to relax, the station announcement broke his train of thought:
"The train is now arriving. Please allow passengers to disembark before boarding."
The train finally pulled into the station, and its sleek carriages came to a smooth halt. The holographic barriers activated, and the doors opened with a faint hiss.
Chirak waited patiently for the departing passengers to leave, scanning the area for anything unusual. Once satisfied, he stepped onto the train and found a seat toward the back, by the window.
As the train began moving, Chirak stared out at the twilight-drenched landscape of his hometown. The earlier tension and unease gradually gave way to a sense of stability and calm.
The scenery outside remained serene and beautiful—bustling streets, elevated train lines, and skyscrapers gleaming in the fading light of the star.
But Chirak's mind remained on high alert.
Marur's behavior was far too suspicious, and his actions carried a clear sense of purpose. Chirak resolved to stay vigilant and ensure he wouldn't expose himself to any potential threats.
For now, he planned to ride the train past his home district and transfer to another line leading to the central hospital where his mother worked.
Traveling directly home was too risky, especially when he was alone.
Even though his residential community had security measures in place, including patrol drones and surveillance, Chirak wasn't about to underestimate the possibility that Marur—or whoever might be behind him—could bypass those systems.
The central hospital, however, was a different story.
As an Atlas-controlled facility, its security was on par with that of the Imperial Navy's ground forces. No ordinary threat could breach its defenses.
And the hospital had more than just security. It housed an elite rapid-response unit known as Trauma Team.
These operatives were the cream of the crop, selected through a rigorous process from within the Atlas system.
Armed with state-of-the-art equipment and enhanced by specialized Inquisitor Serums, Trauma Team members were capable of handling any threat short of an Astartes-level opponent.
No matter how resourceful Marur or his backers might be, they would have little chance against a force like that.
For now, Chirak focused on his immediate plan: reach the hospital safely.
As the train approached a transfer station, Chirak prepared to change lines. He followed the flow of passengers off the train and toward the escalators.
But just as he was about to step onto the escalator, a chilling voice echoed in his mind—a low, icy tone that seemed to bypass his ears and speak directly to his thoughts:
"Child, if you don't want to see your parents' workplace reduced to ashes, or watch them tortured to death, you will follow our instructions exactly—"
?!
Chirak froze in place, his mind reeling.
Panic surged through him as the implications of the voice sank in. Whoever—or whatever—had just spoken to him had capabilities far beyond his comprehension.
"Don't try anything foolish, and don't look around to draw attention," the voice continued, cold and commanding.
"Go to the second platform, board the next train, and ride it to the final station. No tricks, or your parents will pay the price—"
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