The summons arrived without ceremony.
A soft chime echoed through Team 7's quarters, followed by a line of text glowing on the wall display.
> TEAM 7 — REPORT TO DIRECTOR'S OFFICE
TOP FLOOR, IDHA TOKYO MAIN BASE
IMMEDIATE
Ren stared at the message.
"…Director's office?"
The Misoke twins exchanged a glance—brief, wordless.
Ayla straightened slightly, fingers curling once before relaxing.
Akira felt his chest tighten.
The highest floor.
That meant one thing.
Authority.
The elevator ride was silent.
The walls were glass, revealing Tokyo shrinking beneath them as they ascended. Floors passed in a blur—training sectors, command centers, weapon labs, medical wards.
Every level reminded Akira of how small they were.
No one spoke.
The elevator slowed.
Then stopped.
TOP FLOOR — AUTHORIZATION CONFIRMED
The doors slid open.
The hallway beyond was wide, quiet, and almost empty. Dark panels lined the walls, broken only by faint blue lighting embedded in the floor.
At the far end—
A single door.
Two guards stood at attention on either side, their presence heavy but restrained. They didn't speak as Team 7 approached. One of them placed a hand on a scanner beside the door.
A soft beep.
The door opened.
The office was vast—but not extravagant.
A wall of glass dominated the far side, giving a breathtaking view of Tokyo from above. A single desk sat near the center, uncluttered, precise. Shelves lined the walls, filled with neatly arranged files and data slates.
Behind the desk stood a man.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair streaked faintly with gray.
He wasn't sitting.
He was watching the city.
When he turned, the air shifted.
"I am Viran Varanasi," he said calmly.
"Head of the IDHA Tokyo Branch."
No introduction beyond that.
He studied them in silence, eyes sharp but unreadable.
"Sit."
The word was soft.
They obeyed instantly.
Viran moved to the desk and rested his hands on its surface.
"You passed an abnormal entrance examination," he said. "One overseen by an abnormal agent."
Akirawa, leaning against the wall near the door, clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Viran did not look at him.
"That does not make you special," Viran continued.
Ren swallowed.
"You survived," Viran said. "That is all."
He tapped a control on his desk.
A holographic display bloomed into the air—images of Nightmare incidents, damage reports, evacuation maps.
"This is the world you are entering," he said. "Nightmares do not care about talent. They do not care about courage. They do not care about effort."
The images shifted—collapsed buildings, broken streets, civilians running.
"They care only about fear and distruction."
His gaze returned to them.
"You are not heroes. You are not soldiers."
The words were calm. Surgical.
"You are liabilities being refined."
Silence filled the office.
"From today onward," Viran said, "you will train. You will fail. You will break."
A pause.
"And if you survive that—then you may become useful."
An attendant entered quietly, placing folded black jackets on the desk.
IDHA insignias glinted faintly under the light.
"These," Viran said, "mark you as provisional rookie agents."
Akira stepped forward and took his jacket.
Under Viran's gaze, it felt heavier than before.
Viran straightened.
"Prove," he said, "that you are worth the resources spent keeping you alive."
No encouragement.
No congratulations.
Just expectation.
As they turned to leave, Viran spoke again.
"Oh—and one more thing."
They froze.
He looked out at the city once more.
"Welcome to IDHA."
His eyes hardened slightly.
"Do your best...."
END OF CHAPTER 8