The storage room wasn't the cramped, dusty closet Kenzo had expected. It was a cavernous vault of matte-grey metal, illuminated by floor-to-ceiling racks of equipment. Cases of sleek, collapsible weapons, conduits for energy users.
Hans was already there, standing in the center of the room with his arms crossed. He didn't look up as the heavy pressurized door shut behind Kenzo and Naomi.
"He was busy asking if Remnants were like movie ghosts," Naomi countered. "He's still stuck in the 'horror fan' stage of grief."
Hans finally shifted his gaze to Kenzo. He walked toward a nearby locker and pulled out a bundle of fabric, tossing it toward Kenzo's chest. Kenzo caught it, surprisingly heavy, the material feeling thick and woven with metallic threads.
"Put it on," Hans commanded. "That is the standard attire for those within Generation Zero."
Kenzo unfurled the garment. It was a stark, optic-white hoodie, trimmed with slate-grey accents and a subtle, high-collared neck.
"Generation Zero?" Kenzo asked, tracing the fabric. "Is this a military?"
"It's a collective," Hans replied. "The Core is overflowing with energy, but very few have the capacity to house it without burning out. Generation Zero is a group of those wielders who have chosen to master their energy rather than be consumed by it. We use what we are to ensure The Core remains stable. To use it for 'good,' as Faris would say."
"And what if I don't want to be 'good'?" Kenzo asked, his eyes flashing silver. "What if I just want to be left alone?"
"You lost the luxury of being alone the moment you pulled that stunt earlier," Hans said coldly.
The fabric was cool against his skin, instantly conforming to his frame. It felt like armor, but flexible, designed for the quick, explosive movements of a fighter.
I spent my whole life hoping to make a difference, he thought. I didn't expect the difference to look like this.
Naomi raised an eyebrow, a flicker of approval in her eyes. "Better. At least now you look like you belong in a fight."
"The attire is lined with kinetic dampeners," Hans added, turning toward the exit. "It will help stabilize your output. Now, follow me."
As the three of them began to walk out of the storage vault toward the main corridor, Kenzo's pace slowed. Along the final stretch of the exit hallway, the wall was lined with digital memory frames, portraits of past and present members of the unit.
Kenzo's eyes scanned the rows of white-clad soldiers until they landed on a frame tucked away in a corner near the door.
Unlike the others, the boy in the image was draped in solid, midnight black. He looked barely older than Kenzo, with messy brown hair and eyes the color of a piercing intense green. He wasn't smiling, he was staring straight ahead with a look of terrifyingly calm focus.
Kenzo stopped, the static in his blood giving a strange, cold hum. "Wait. Who's that? Why is his gear different?"
"Nobody important," they said.
The words came in perfect, chilling unison, a practiced, automatic response that felt like a door being slammed shut.
Hans continued walking without another word, the sound of his boots sharp against the metal. Naomi lingered for a fraction of a second, her eyes darting toward the frame for the briefest moment before she, too, turned away.
***
The walk to the lower levels was silent until a sharp chirp echoed from Naomi's wrist. She glanced at the holographic display, her expression shifting from boredom to a sharp, professional focus.
"Duty calls," she said, giving Kenzo a lopsided, mocking salute. She looked at Hans, a playful glint in her eyes. "He's all yours, Hans. Try not to break him before I get back."
She turned on her heel and vanished into a side corridor with a speed that defied her supposed injury. Hans didn't respond. He simply stood there with a blank, unreadable expression.
They reached a massive, reinforced door labeled COMBAT BAY 0-1. Hans stopped at the threshold, his hand hovering over the console but not entering his own biometric ID.
"This is as far as I go," Hans said, his voice cold. "You're on your own now, Kenzo."
Kenzo didn't ask why. He looked past the door into a room that felt like a stadium. High-tensile metal walls were lined with racks of wooden and metallic training weapons.
As soon as Kenzo took one step inside, the door behind him slammed shut. It wasn't a slow slide, it was a total seal.
Kenzo spun around, banging a fist against the metal. "What's going on?"
BEEP.
A speaker overhead crackled to life. Hans' voice filled the room, sounding distant and detached. "Listen closely. There are several forms of energy that dictate the laws of The Core. If you want to survive the 'impact' you claim you want to make, you must understand what you are fighting."
At the far end of the room, another door opened. A young man in a slate-grey uniform stepped out, twirling a heavy wooden staff. He had a lean, athletic build and a look of smug confidence.
"I heard about you," the recruit said, stopping in the center of the bay. "I'm Leo. I won't go easy on you just because you're the new favorite."
Kenzo settled into a fighting stance, his lead foot sliding forward. "Don't worry. I wasn't going to go easy either."
"The first is Soul Energy," Hans's voice droned over the speaker. "While they cannot always manifest their power into projectiles, Soul users channel energy into their own body. They possess incredible speed, heightened reflexes, and can regenerate wounds."
As the sentence finished, Leo vanished.
He was a blur of grey. Before Kenzo could even register the movement, a heavy crack echoed through the room. The staff slammed into Kenzo's ribs, sending a shockwave of pain through his side. Kenzo staggered.
Gritting his teeth, Kenzo scrambled toward the wall and grabbed a wooden longsword from the rack. He didn't know how to use it, but the weight felt better than empty air. He charged back, swinging with the raw power.
The two clashed in the center of the room.
Clack. Snap. Clack.
Kenzo matched Leo's swings, his rhythm allowing him to predict the timing, even if he didn't know the technique.
Leo parried a heavy overhead strike and leaned in, his eyes narrowed. "Why aren't you using it? Your energy?"
Kenzo blinked, confused. "What are you talking about? I'm trying!"
"You're just swinging a weapon." Leo scoffed. He swept Kenzo's legs and followed through with a blunt strike to the chest that knocked the wind out of Kenzo. "That's one point for me. Don't underestimate us Soul users just because we aren't flashy."
As Leo began to walk away, the speaker crackled again. "The next form," Hans said, "is Lunar Energy. It works like the moon in the night sky—silent, freezing, and incredibly heavy. You're basically dropping the freezing pressure of the upper atmosphere right onto your enemy's head."
The far door opened again. Kenzo's heart skipped a beat as Naomi walked in. She looked different, her medical brace was gone, her leg looking completely stabilized, and her yellow eyes were glowing faintly.
"Round two, Kenzo," she said.
Kenzo pushed himself up, gripping the wooden sword until his knuckles turned white.
Focus.
Naomi didn't wait. She held her palms forward, and a beam of concentrated silver light shot toward him. Kenzo threw himself into a desperate roll. He scrambled up and charged, a faint, jagged spark of static beginning to flicker around his hands.
But as he swung the sword, a translucent wall snapped into existence in front of Naomi. The wooden blade hit the barrier and bounced back with a jarring vibration that nearly numbed Kenzo's arms.
"Try and break it," Naomi challenged.
Kenzo roared, slamming the sword against the shield again and again, but it was like hitting a mountain.
"Too bad," Naomi whispered.
She leapt into the air. She moved with a grace that was terrifying, her palm drawing back as a massive amount of silver pressure gathered around her hand. Kenzo looked up, fear finally clawing at his throat.
Naomi unleashed the attack. A wave of heavy Lunar force slammed directly into Kenzo's chest.
He was thrown backward across the room, his wooden sword splintering until it was barely more than a jagged stick. He hit the wall hard, sliding down to the floor as the room spun.
"Do you want to stop?" Naomi asked, her voice hovering somewhere between concern and a test.
Kenzo coughed. He looked at the shattered remains of his weapon, then at his hands. He thought of the alleyway. He thought of the feeling of being helpless while others fought for him.
"No," Kenzo responded.
He stood up slowly, his legs shaking. He looked at Naomi. He needed to prove he was something more. He needed to be the one who could stand in the gap.
Kenzo charged. He didn't use the sword. He tucked his chin, moved his head in a tight bob-and-weave, and threw a lead hook with everything he had.
That's it! he thought as a violent, jagged spark of purple static erupted from his fist.
The air in the room suddenly began to scream. The Distorted energy didn't just flow, it tore. The lights in the bay flickered and died as Kenzo's punch didn't just hit Naomi's barrier, it seemed to eat through it. The static reached out, wildly discharging in every direction, cracking the floor and melting the metal weapon racks.
"Kenzo, stop!" Hans's voice shouted, no longer calm.
But Kenzo couldn't stop. The energy was pulling him forward. He was no longer punching, he was the center of a storm.
Naomi's eyes widened. She realized he had lost control. She didn't hold back anymore. She spun mid-air, her hand slicing through the air.
"Lunar Shard!"
A jagged spike of solidified pressure shot forward, cutting through the chaotic static like a needle through silk. It struck Kenzo square in the shoulder, the force of it instantly neutralizing his momentum and pinning him to the back wall.
The static vanished.
Kenzo hung there for a second before the shard dissolved. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the floor.
Naomi stood in the center of the room, her breathing heavy, looking at the scorched floor.