The classroom reeked of dust and fear. Smoke swirled in the air, thick and suffocating, stinging everyone's eyes and lungs. From the wreckage of the door, five masked figures stepped in—clad in black tactical gear, rifles raised, movements smooth and precise.
One of them grabbed a student, pressing the muzzle of his gun against their temple.
The leader's voice crackled through a modulator, a low, menacing growl. "Hand over the professor. Or your classmates die one by one."
Teji didn't even glance at the hostage. The unconscious professor was slung over his shoulder, limp and lifeless.
"Do whatever you want. Not my job to protect them," he muttered, his voice flat, emotionless.
BANG.
The shot rang out like a death knell. Blood sprayed. One of Teji's old classmates fell, screaming as agony tore through their shoulder. Tamiki cried out, horrified.
Teji didn't flinch.
"Even if you kill everyone in this room, I don't care," he said, his voice devoid of warmth, "I'm not playing hero today. But you?" He paused, eyes cold and calculating, "You're all going to die anyway."
A faint buzz interrupted the tension. The earpiece crackled. HQ's voice filtered through, crisp and authoritative:
"Teji, update. Mission parameters changed. Secure civilian lives. Eliminate hostiles."
Teji dropped the professor's body onto the floor with a dull thud.
"Took you long enough."
In the blink of an eye, Teji surged forward, his movements a blur of speed and lethal precision. His blade flashed through the air with a singing hiss.
Shing.
The first soldier's head dropped cleanly from his neck.
Teji pivoted. The second soldier raised his rifle, but Teji was already behind him. A swift slash severed both his legs. The man crumpled to the floor with a sickening thud, but before he could scream, Teji drove his blade into his skull.
Gunfire rang out from the third soldier. Teji danced through the bullets, each shot missing by mere inches. In an instant, his blade sliced clean through the rifle before ending in the soldier's neck.
The fourth raised a shield, but it was too late. Teji slashed his chest open with a surgical square cut—then stabbed directly into the exposed heart. As he pulled the blade out, the still-beating organ stuck to it for a moment before sliding off.
The leader stumbled back, too stunned to react. Before he could even raise his weapon, Teji lunged forward and drove a brutal kick straight into his chest.
A sickening crack echoed through the room.
The force launched the man off his feet, slamming him into the wall. He crumpled to the ground, coughing violently, blood spilling from his mouth. His ribs were crushed — internal organs failing fast.
"P-please…" he gasped, voice barely audible beneath the mask. "Save my daughter… they have her…"
Teji didn't flinch. He stared coldly at the man.
"Ask your god, not me."
Teji's pistol was already in his hand.
Bang.
One clean shot to the head. The leader's body slumped, lifeless.
A faint buzz. The leader's comms device buzzed in his vest pocket, screen flashing. It was ringing.
Teji paused, staring at it. Slowly, he knelt and answered.
The device crackled before the voice on the other end came through—calm, unaware, detached.
"Report."
Teji's voice was chillingly casual as he spoke into the comm.
"I'm Agent 4 from Boizano. Your whole squad's dead."
A pause. Then, a dry, mocking chuckle on the other end. "Ah, one of you. The self-righteous Boizano agents, always pretending you're not like the government dogs. But in truth, you're worse. Just another weapon, dressed as a man. A slave used to kill in the name of 'peace' and 'freedom.' You people will never know true freedom."
Teji's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening around the comm.
"I don't give a fuck about your philosophy. But if you ever interrupt my work again…" He squeezed the device, metal and plastic creaking under the pressure. "…I'll make this planet too small for you to hide."
Crack.
The comm snapped in his hand, sparks flying as it broke apart.
Tamiki had heard everything. Her wide eyes locked on Teji, full of confusion and concern.
As the crushed comm fell from his hand, she took a tentative step forward, her voice soft but firm.
"What does that mean?"
Teji didn't look at her. His gaze stayed focused, distant.
"None of your business," he muttered, cold.
Tamiki stepped forward again, reaching out to gently hold his forearm, stopping him. "Please… just this once, be honest. Tell me."
Teji froze. Her touch wasn't demanding — it was pleading. During his training, he had learned to read people, to break down human psychology like a puzzle. And Tamiki wasn't lying. She wasn't just curious — she genuinely cared.
He let out a soft exhale, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips.
"Tch… guess I've got no choice, huh."
His eyes flicked up to meet hers, but only for a moment before looking away again.
"You remember my road accident, right? From two years ago? When we were first-years?"
Tamiki blinked, nodding. "Yeah… I remember. Of course."
Teji's voice softened, quieter now, almost as if the words were dragged from him.
"That night… I was riding home, like I always did."
FLASHBACK
The cool evening air hit Teji's face as he cruised down the road, the hum of his bike comforting beneath him. He pulled up to a red light, waiting, his eyes scanning the road.
The light turned green.
Teji glanced both ways. The cars in front of him had stopped. The road seemed clear.
He pushed forward, moving steadily through the intersection.
Then, out of nowhere, a car—blurring at full speed—came from his right.
It didn't stop.
Teji barely registered the headlights before metal slammed into his body with brutal force.
CRASH.
His body was thrown, lifeless, across the street. The impact shattered his helmet and the pain was unimaginable. His vision spun. Blood filled his mouth. Everything was a haze.
But Teji didn't lose consciousness.
Even as his bones broke and his body crumpled, he stayed awake. His senses were razor-sharp—every detail, every noise, etched into his memory.
He could hear the sirens. He could feel the hands lifting him onto a stretcher.
Inside the ambulance, a voice shouted, "How is he still awake?!"
The road bumps made fire shoot through his broken body, but he never screamed.
In the ER, he barely noticed the doctor who leaned over him, holding a needle.
"Hang in there," the doctor said, injecting the painkiller into his bloodstream.
And then, the darkness took him.
When Teji woke, hours had passed. His body was numb, the pain dulled by the drugs, but there was a strange, unnatural coldness in his chest.
Not the kind from the sterile hospital environment.
This was different.
Before he could fully process what was happening, the door creaked open.
Three strangers entered. They didn't move like ordinary people—each one was composed, controlled, and dangerous. The man at the front, a tall figure with piercing gray eyes, stepped forward.
"Teji, right?"
He didn't answer.
"We're from Boizano," the man said, flashing an ID. "You stayed awake during all of that trauma. Most people would've passed out, or worse. But you didn't."
Teji narrowed his eyes.
"We see potential in you," the man continued. "Your mental endurance is... rare. With the right training, you could be more than just another survivor."
Teji felt his frustration grow. "I didn't ask for this," he snapped. His chest burned with the weight of it all. "I just want to go home. I don't care what's in your head. I don't care about your 'potential.'"
The tall man didn't flinch. Instead, he gave a slight nod to his subordinates, and they left.
As they walked out, the man turned to one of them. "What now?" he asked.
The subordinate paused, then replied flatly. "We'll make him agree."
Weeks passed.
Teji returned home, but he was a shell of the person he used to be. His body felt foreign—heavy, stiff, like something that no longer belonged to him. But even worse than the physical discomfort was the constant nagging embarrassment. He didn't want anyone to see him this way.
He told his mother to keep visitors away. He needed time. Time to understand everything. Time to heal.
But healing didn't come quickly. His body, however, recovered faster than anyone expected. By the fourth month, his recovery was far ahead of schedule. But his mind? His mind remained clouded.
One day, Teji decided to visit the doctor for a check-up. The ride to the hospital was long, but it gave him space to think—space to process what had happened, what he'd been turned into.
At the hospital, the doctor's words were strange.
"You're healing faster than we predicted," the doctor said, baffled.
Teji didn't reply. He barely heard the words.
He was too consumed with the strange feeling in his chest.
He went home that evening, and as he walked up to the front door, something was off. The door was wide open.
His mother was the kind of person who always made sure the house was locked tight, especially when she was alone. A feeling of unease crept up his spine as he stepped inside, calling out for his mom.
"Mom?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
No answer.
He stepped deeper into the house, his heart pounding in his chest. The air felt heavy, tense. Every instinct screamed at him to turn around, to leave. But he pushed forward.
And then he saw it.
[End of chapter 3]