Iza, the Blackwater scientist, regarded Kaisen with a gaze equal parts suspicion and curiosity.
"I had thought you wanted something," she began, her voice sharp enough to slice through the stillness. "Men don't just commit murder and then surrender."
It wasn't a question. It was bait.
Kaisen's answer came evenly, his tone flat and matter-of-fact.
"Murder in self-defense. Your people tried to kill me."
A flicker of irritation crossed her face before she masked it again. His composure was a quiet resistance.
She folded her arms, leaning against the cold table with a hum. "Hmm. Of course. What do you want, then?" Her voice had shifted—no longer prodding, but assessing.
"A job."
Iza blinked. The words hung there like a glitch in the system. For the first time, her expression faltered.
"What?"
"You heard me," Kaisen said simply. "I want a job. Blackwater's one of the top factions clearing high-class rifts, right? I want to be a Blackwater Awakened."
The silence that followed was deafening. Iza stared at him as if he'd just rewritten logic itself.
Then she leaned forward, incredulous.
"Let me get this straight—you slaughter twelve of our Awakened, surrender yourself, and now you're asking for a job?"
Kaisen nodded once. "Precisely. Their deaths were the best way to get Blackwater's attention. Looks like it worked."
A small, dark smile curved her lips. Not friendly, dangerous.
"You seem a terrible man," she murmured, tapping her fingers on the table in a slow rhythm. "But I'm no saint. If they all died to you, that makes you more valuable than all twelve combined."
Her tone was equal parts amusement and calculation—the sound of gears turning in her head.
Then her expression cooled. "However, there's a catch. One of the men you killed was close to one of our top-ranked Awakened. He intends to take revenge." Her eyes studied him carefully. "If I give you a job here, he'll come for you. And I won't stop him."
Kaisen said nothing, only waited.
Satisfied with the lack of reaction, Iza pressed a button on the table.
"Send Kang in."
A voice crackled through the comm. "Yes, ma'am."
---
The door hissed open moments later.
The man who entered seemed to change the air. Broad-shouldered, scarred, and built like a living weapon, Kang radiated violence. His eyes locked onto Kaisen with pure, undiluted hatred.
Iza gestured lazily. "This is our Rank Forty-Two Awakened, Kang—and the man whose friend you killed." Her gaze flicked back to Kaisen. "Your task is simple. Survive a spar with him, and you get the job."
Kaisen glanced at Kang, then back to her, his expression calm. "Seems easy enough."
Iza arched an eyebrow, that faint, mocking smile tugging at her lips. "You seem quite confident."
Without a word, Kaisen flexed his wrists. The rune-etched manacles—meant to hold Awakened twice his size—snapped apart like dry twigs.
He stood, rolling his shoulders. "I'm ready when you are."
Iza's eyes narrowed, a flicker of excitement in her otherwise controlled face. "Mmm," she murmured. "Noted."
---
They moved to a vast training hall—walls of reinforced alloy, covered with glowing runes. Observation glass lined the upper levels, where two figures watched from above.
"What's going on down there? Why's Kang fighting a kid?" one man asked, arms folded.
The woman beside him didn't blink. "They found him merc-hunting. Killed twelve Awakened, then surrendered. One of the dead was Kang's old partner. I guess they're letting the kid fight for his life, instead of Kang just killing the poor boy."
"Killed twelve and surrendered?" the man mused. "Interesting. Maybe he'll surprise us."
The woman scoffed. "Against Kang? Don't bet on it."
Below, Iza stood by the edge of the rune circle. Kaisen and Kang faced each other in the center, bare handed. A duel of raw strength and awakened power.
"There are no rules," Iza said, her voice echoing in the metallic chamber. "Five minutes. If you're still breathing when the timer hits zero, you pass. Understood?"
Kaisen nodded. "Got it."
"Good…" Her smile sharpened. "Begin."
A red digital clock flared to life on the wall—5:00.
'Feed me. Feed me.'
Kaisen rolled his neck, watching Kang with casual focus. "Alright, man," he said, tone light, almost friendly. "I'm gonna try not to kill you… but I can't make any prom—"
He never finished.
For an instant, the world went silent. The hum of machinery vanished. The spectators above froze mid-breath. Time even seemed to stall.
Kaisen's eyes flicked wide—not fear, he felt the clarity that came an instant before pain. He had underestimated Kang. The raw, brutal power of a Rank Forty-Two.
Then—impact.
Sound returned in a thunderclap of violence.
The air rippled as Kang's fist slammed into Kaisen's chest with bone-cracking force, the shockwave echoing across the hall.