The deafening bang, the splintering door, and the old man's manic scream of "Time for class!!!" still echoed in the hollows of my skull. It had been an awakening, not just from a fitful sleep, but to the stark, exhilarating reality of my new existence. The old man, whose name I still didn't know, but whose intensity rivaled that of the Mileena I'd fought, had barely allowed me a moment to process the wreckage of my room before he'd herded me, not towards a battle, but towards a corridor teeming with life.
As we walked, the sterile, utilitarian aesthetic of the base shifted, giving way to hallways that pulsed with a vibrant, restless energy. The air thrummed with the low murmur of countless voices, a murmur that rose and fell like an ocean tide. And then I saw them: the other students. There were so many, a veritable kaleidoscope of faces and forms, a melting pot of humanity and what I could only assume were various hybridized or genetically modified beings. Some wore sleek, utilitarian jumpsuits identical to mine, while others had personalized their attire with subtle modifications—a splash of color on a shoulder pad, an intricate emblem stitched onto a sleeve, or cybernetic enhancements that glinted in the ambient light. Their expressions ranged from fierce determination to nervous anticipation, from quiet self-possession to barely contained arrogance. I felt like an anomaly among them, my raw, untamed power a volatile secret barely contained beneath my skin.
"They look… ready," I whispered to Koji, who was walking beside me, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the unexpected intimacy of our shared, chaotic "class induction." He still wore the faded green hoodie, its bright hue a strange contrast to the muted tones of the corridor. "How long have they been here?"
Koji glanced at me, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. He lowered his voice, the confession delivered with a casualness that belied its impact. "About two weeks before you, mostly. Some longer. But they're all cadets, just like me. New recruits, fresh meat for Kiyoshi's grinder."
My breath hitched. "You're… a cadet?" The revelation hit me with the force of a physical blow, though the immediate emotion was one of pure, unadulterated Kyogaku (Surprise) so profound it was almost comical. Koji, who had fought with the fluid precision of a seasoned warrior, who had disarmed bandits with nonchalant ease, who carried sai as if they were extensions of his own formidable will—a cadet? The image was so incongruous with my perception of him, so utterly at odds with the experience of watching him move, that an involuntary burst of laughter escaped me. It was sharp, incredulous, bordering on hysterical.
"You… you fight like a hardened pro! Like someone who's seen a thousand battles!" I gasped, still chuckling, the absurdity of it momentarily eclipsing the gravity of our situation. "How in the world are you a cadet?"
Koji's expression hardened, the amusement draining from his face like water from a sieve. His dark eyes, usually shadowed, fixed on me with an intensity that sent a prickle of unease down my spine. "Because 'cadet' refers to our status within the Rhines, Yoru. Not my combat experience." His voice dropped to a low, gravelly tone, each word a stone falling into a deep well. "I worked somewhere else before coming here. For a very long time. As an assassin."
The words hit me not like a pin, but like a steel-tipped arrow, piercing through the last vestiges of my naive amusement. The laughter died in my throat, replaced by a sudden, gut-wrenching wave of Arhian (Sadness) and profound shame. My face flushed hot, a testament to my crushing embarrassment. I should have just let him finish before I mocked him. The casualness with which he delivered the brutal truth of his past, the cold, stark reality of his previous profession, was terrifying. It wasn't boastful; it was a simple statement of fact, devoid of emotion, yet heavy with the untold stories of violence and death. My flippant mockery felt like a slap in the face of his past, a testament to my own ignorance. The thought of the lives he must have taken, the darkness he must have waded through, sent a cold shiver through me. He had fought like a pro because he was a pro, a killer with a past that dwarfed my own nascent struggles. The hallway, moments before a bustling hub of new beginnings, now felt charged with the silent echoes of countless battles.
Before I could stammer out an apology, or even fully process the grim revelation, the flow of students ahead of us thickened, funneling into a massive archway. We had arrived.
The room that greeted us was breathtaking, a stark contrast to the utilitarian corridors and my shattered dorm room. It was not merely huge; it was monumental, a testament to the Rhines' power, wealth, and a hidden reverence for a forgotten past. The architecture was a masterful blend of ancient Bini elegance and cutting-edge Rhines technology, a symphony of dark wood, polished onyx, and shimmering, almost ethereal light. Soaring ceilings, lost somewhere in the dim heights, were adorned with intricate patterns of gold leaf that seemed to shift and shimmer, reminiscent of the celestial charts from a bygone era, perhaps reflecting the very constellations that once guided the Ora tribe. Pillars of dark, veined stone, carved with abstract motifs that whispered of forgotten lore, rose from a floor of polished obsidian, reflecting the soft, diffused light like a still, dark lake. Holographic projectors, seamlessly integrated into the cornices, cast swirling energy patterns across the walls, creating a sense of dynamic grandeur, a bridge between ancient mysticism and futuristic power. The air, surprisingly fresh and subtly perfumed with a clean, metallic tang, hummed with a low, resonant frequency that vibrated deep in my chest.
At the entrance to this magnificent hall, a line of cloaked Rhines operatives, their faces obscured by the shadows of their hoods, stood at a long, sleek counter. As each student approached, a card was produced—a sleek, metallic rectangle that felt cool and solid in my palm. It was imbued with a faint, internal luminescence, its surface adorned with a single, complex, iridescent sigil that seemed to shift and pulse with latent energy. It was a personalized identifier, a key to the next stage of our journey.
We, the multitude of recruits, were then directed into the main body of the hall, a vast, open space capable of holding hundreds, perhaps thousands, of individuals without feeling cramped. The sheer scale of it was awe-inspiring, a visceral reminder of the depth and breadth of the Rhines' influence. I knew the Rhines home was huge, having glimpsed glimpses of its sprawling complex, but not this huge. This wasn't just a base; it was a hidden city, a clandestine kingdom built beneath the foundations of Noekyota. A nervous anticipation, laced with a shared sense of wonder and apprehension, rippled through the gathered throng. Whispers filled the air, questions about what lay ahead, what trials awaited us.
Then, a sudden hush fell over the crowd, a silence so profound it felt like a physical pressure. The holographic constellations on the ceiling seemed to dim, drawing all attention to the colossal stage that dominated one end of the hall. It was a raised platform of polished crystal, glowing with an inner light, framed by two immense, sculpted figures that might have been ancient Bini deities, now guardians of the Rhines' domain.
And then, Kiyoshi Ziv Bazuaye,the head of the Rhines, walked onto the stage. He didn't merely walk; he glided, his movements so fluid and economical that he seemed to defy gravity. He wore a dark, impeccably tailored suit that accentuated his imposing figure, yet his presence was less about brute force and more about an almost ethereal command. The wavering distortion that had blurred his image in the command center was gone, or perhaps simply mastered, his features now sharp and distinct. He exuded an aura of absolute authority, a quiet power that resonated through the vast hall, silencing every last whisper. He was every inch the leader, the master strategist, the man who had weathered centuries of pain to build this empire.
He stood center stage, his golden eyes sweeping over the sea of faces before him, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. His gaze felt like a physical touch, assessing each and every one of us, stripping away our facades, looking directly into the core of our beings.
"Welcome, Rhine babies," he began, his voice a rich, resonant baritone that filled the immense hall without needing to shout, each word perfectly modulated, carrying weight and meaning. The term "babies," delivered with a hint of paternalistic amusement, yet underscored by an undeniable current of condescension, was a subtle declaration of his absolute authority, his position as our master. "You've all been recruited for one overarching reason: to seek information. To delve into the hidden currents of Noekyota, to uncover the truths deliberately buried by those who cling to power. And during the course of this relentless pursuit, we fight. We fight to end the Mileenas who stand in our way, those abominations who sow chaos and destruction. And we fight the government, the DVO, who seems to hide everything, who thrives on deception, and who seeks to control every facet of our existence."
His words, delivered with a deceptive calm, ignited a spark of righteous anger within the hall. I could feel the collective surge of Okao Zankoku (Anger) and Asien (Disgust) ripple through the students, a testament to Kiyoshi's masterful ability to manipulate emotions, to galvanize a crowd. He was tapping into the very core of their grievances, their desires for justice or revenge.
"But this training," he continued, his voice gaining a sharper, more focused edge, "this arduous, demanding path you are about to embark upon, is created for one singular purpose: to make you all stronger in your arena. To hone your unique talents, whatever they may be, into instruments of precision and devastating efficacy. We will strip away your weaknesses, amplify your strengths, and forge you into something more than you currently imagine possible."
A collective murmur of anticipation, a low, guttural sound of burgeoning resolve, swept through the hall. The promise of strength, the intoxicating lure of power, was a potent motivator. Kiyoshi allowed the murmurs to build, to simmer, before raising a hand, silencing the crowd once more with effortless command.
"But first," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, a subtle shift that drew every eye, "I'd love to introduce to you my favorite student." He paused, his golden eyes sweeping across the crowd, building the suspense with practiced ease. "A truly… remarkable specimen." His gaze then settled directly on me, a faint, almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes.
And then, a blinding beam of pure, incandescent light, a spotlight so brilliant it felt like a physical blow, erupted from the ceiling and fixed itself directly upon me. It was so bright, so sudden, that I instinctively threw an arm up, shading my eyes from the searing intensity. The heat of it was immediate, prickling my skin, and for a terrifying second, I felt utterly exposed, vulnerable, all my secrets laid bare under its merciless glare. I heard gasps ripple through the assembled students, their gazes now locked on me, some with awe, others with unconcealed envy, still others with a wary apprehension.
"Yoru Okonogie Raziel," Kiyoshi announced, my full name echoing through the hall, amplified by the crystalline acoustics of the chamber.
He continued, his voice now laced with a theatrical flourish, a deliberate manipulation of the narrative. "And you all know what that means. Throughout our course of study and information gathering, the Okonogie name has always made an impact. Always influential. A name synonymous with… certain unique abilities. A lineage of undeniable, and often terrifying, power."
The students stirred, a new wave of whispers rising, this time tinged with a blend of fear and respect. The Okonogie name, even here, in this hidden stronghold, carried a weight, a legacy. But it wasn't shocking to me. I had already learned from Sweet, from the fragmented memories and Takashi's cryptic pronouncements, that my lineage was indeed influential, bound to the very fabric of Noekyota's hidden history. The surprise was not the name's power, but Kiyoshi's willingness to reveal it so publicly, to use it as a tool to shape the perceptions of the other students.
He allowed the whispers to die down, his gaze still fixed on me, a puppet master observing his prized marionette. "But more importantly," he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial, almost gleeful tone, "he is the first man, the first Kanjōkhō, to ever get a bounty placed on his head by the DVO. How wonderful." The word "wonderful," delivered with a sinister chuckle, sent a cold shiver down my spine. He was celebrating my notoriety, reveling in the target I had become.
As he spoke, the colossal screen behind him, which had earlier displayed complex data streams, suddenly flared to life. The entire surface was filled with a single, horrifying image: my bounty slip. It was a grainy, distorted image of my own face, but not as I typically saw myself. This was a snapshot, perhaps captured from a DVO drone or surveillance network, of me in the throes of unbridled emotional release. My eyes were wide, glowing with an unnatural, almost feral light; my face was contorted in a mask of primal Okao Zankoku (Anger) and Kyofu (Fear), my features twisted into a grotesque, inhuman snarl. The air around the image seemed to ripple with uncontrolled Yami-ebhi, a dark, churning aura of pure, destructive power. Below the image, stark red text screamed: WANTED. REWARD: Substantial. DANGER: Extreme. NON-LETHAL APPREHENSION PREFERRED (IF POSSIBLE).
I was still perplexed at my own form. Where did they get that berserk image from? I had never witnessed myself in such a terrifying state. It was a glimpse into the raw, uncontrolled monster that lurked within, the ultimate manifestation of my Mileena nature, a beast that I barely knew existed. The image on the screen was a chilling testament to the DVO's surveillance capabilities and the terrifying potential of my own uncontrolled power. The shock of seeing myself reduced to such a feral, inhuman form was profound, a jarring reminder of how close I danced to the precipice of madness.
Kiyoshi's speech was a masterpiece of sinister cunning, each word carefully chosen, each revelation timed for maximum impact. He wasn't simply informing the students; he was subtly manipulating them, trying to stir up a situation between them against me. He was painting me as a threat, a rogue element, a potential rival for power and Kiyoshi's "favor." The implication was clear: I was both valuable and dangerous, a challenge to their own aspirations, a walking target with a price on my head. He was deliberately isolating me, pushing me into a position where I would have to constantly prove myself, to fight for every inch of respect.
But I wasn't shocked by his cunning. My conversation with Sweet, the raw, brutal history of Kiyoshi's own vengeance, had already prepared me for this. I knew the reason I was here: to gain power, to find my grandmother, and to become strong enough to withstand these very manipulations. His methods were ruthless, but his objective, at least for now, aligned with my own. I would play his game, but I would play it on my own terms. My internal resolve, tempered by the shame of mocking Koji and the chilling glimpse of my own monstrous potential, hardened into an unbreakable shell.
Then, Kiyoshi's voice shifted, his tone signaling a new phase of his address. "In the card you've been given," he announced, gesturing to the sleek metallic objects clutched in our hands, "you've been allocated to several specialized dorms for intensive training. These dorms are located in various strategic locations around Nigeria, chosen for their unique environments and specialized challenges. Each location is designed to push you beyond your limits, to refine your abilities in a way that is tailored to your unique genetic and emotional makeup."
A ripple of excitement, mixed with apprehension, spread through the hall. Nigeria. Not just Noekyota, but the ancient, sprawling, diverse land it was built upon. This was a dispersion, a scattering to the winds, each of us destined for a unique crucible. It was a test of adaptability, of independence, of raw survival.
"And from these diverse training grounds," Kiyoshi concluded, his voice rising, resonating with a dramatic flair, "only the best, the strongest, the most adaptable, would be brought back for the final proving ground. For the ultimate competition, the grand culmination of your training, here at the heart of the Rhines."
He paused, letting the words hang in the air, allowing the thrill of competition, the allure of ultimate victory, to seep into the minds of the recruits. Then, with a triumphant flourish, he delivered the name that would become our shared obsession, our ultimate goal.
"The Seekers Festival!"