Aoi's eyes snapped open, her body jolting against the mattress.
The ghost of Jack's golden light still burned behind her eyelids, and the violent vertigo of the teleportation lingered in her gut.
I'm alive? she thought, her breath coming in shallow hitches.
No—wait. Claire.
The memory of the forest rushed back.
The bone-crushing kick, the golden sphere of light, and then... the raven hair.
The silhouette of the man who had stood between them and the end of the world.
Mitsuo saved us, she whispered to the empty room.
He actually protected us.
She sat up, trying to organize the chaos in her mind.
Who was Jack?
Why did his presence feel like a twisted mirror of Mitsuo's own power?
And why did the "White Wolf"—the man who treated her like a broken hammer—risk his own life to pull her out of the fire?
A flicker of blue light caught her eye.
A holographic message was pulsing against the metal of her door.
[ALL CADETS AND UNITS SUMMONED TO THE GREAT HALL. ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY.]
Aoi hesitated.
This was the first time she had received a formal order from the facility's high command rather than a casual, arrogant command from Mitsuo.
She felt a surge of uncertainty, but she complied, following the glowing trail the hologram projected onto the floor.
As she entered the hall, the sheer scale of the organization hit her.
It was a sea of uniforms.
Battalions of human soldiers stood in perfect, rigid lines, and interspersed among them were others—monsters, like her.
Some had scales.
Some had too many eyes.
All wore the same tactical gear.
At the front of the room, on a raised obsidian platform, stood the Colonel and Mitsuo.
Mitsuo looked different.
He wasn't wearing the standard, stiff military tunic; he had a casual jacket thrown over his shoulders, looking like a man who was above the rules he helped enforce.
Claire was there, too—clinging to his side like a shadow.
Nobody says a word, Aoi noted, her eyes scanning the room.
A thousand powerful killers in one room, and not one of them dares to question why a Ghoul is sticking to the White Wolf like a pet.
Aoi found her place in a line of four other "Inhumans."
They glanced at her—cold, hollow stares—but no words were exchanged.
In this place, they weren't people.
They were assets.
The room fell into a suffocating silence as Mitsuo stepped toward the edge of the platform.
The atmosphere was thick with conflicting emotions.
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Aoi could feel it:
the worship from the younger cadets,
the jagged envy from the veteran officers,
and the hidden fear that permeated the air.
But as soon as Mitsuo opened his mouth, the silence became absolute.
"To every cadet and officer present," Mitsuo began, his voice carrying effortlessly without the need for a microphone.
"J_O is back."
The name hit the crowd like a physical blow.
Aoi watched as seasoned soldiers paled.
A ripple of whispers broke the formation until the Colonel's voice thundered out:
"SILENCE!"
Discipline snapped back into place.
But the fear remained.
"That's right," Mitsuo continued, his expression unreadable.
"The Black Jackal is out. But this time... I'll make sure to kill him."
The hall erupted.
Younger cadets began shouting Mitsuo's name, their voices thick with a desperate kind of hope.
"As long as the White Wolf is here, we can't lose!"
"Mitsu-o! Mitsu-o!"
The chanting became a rhythmic roar.
Aoi watched Mitsuo's face.
For a fraction of a second—so fast that she almost missed it—his expression darkened.
A shadow of something that looked like exhaustion... or perhaps grief... crossed his features before he put the mask back on.
"I'll beat him!" Mitsuo shouted, raising a hand to quiet the crowd.
"But I want all of you to give two hundred percent. Even if I fail... I want us to win together."
Cheers shook the very foundations of the building.
To the soldiers, it was an inspiring speech from a humble leader.
But to Aoi, it sounded like a funeral rite.
Arrogant, untouchable Mitsuo... talking about failure? Aoi thought, her eyes narrowing.
He's hiding something.
They see a savior.
But look at him... he's just like me.
He's a weapon they've polished and put on a pedestal.
He calls us tools, but he's the biggest tool in this entire facility.
She realized then that Mitsuo's definition of a "tool" wasn't an insult.
It was his reality.
As the crowd continued to roar, Mitsuo's gaze shifted.
For a heartbeat, his blue eyes locked onto Aoi's.
There was no mockery in them this time.
No boredom.
Just a heavy, silent acknowledgement.
Then, he turned and walked off the platform—Claire following him into the shadows.
Aoi stood still as the crowd began to disperse.
She was more confused than ever, but the fear was being replaced by a burning curiosity.
She didn't want to see the White Wolf anymore.
She wanted to see the man behind the jacket.
As Aoi watched Mitsuo's retreating back, a frantic urge to follow him surged through her.
She had a thousand questions—about Jack, about the "Black Jackal," and about the look in his eyes.
But the heavy, watchful stares of the surrounding officers held her in place.
In this facility, breaking formation was more than a mistake.
It was an admission of weakness.
She waited until the hall began to drain, then moved into the labyrinthine corridors of the facility.
She walked aimlessly for a while, her mind a blur of golden light and raven hair, until she stumbled across one of the primary training sites.
The air here was thick with the scent of ozone and sweat.
Rows of young human cadets were engaged in combat drills.
But the moment Aoi stepped into the observation zone, the rhythm of the room died.
"Hey... isn't that her?" a young boy whispered, his eyes widening as he lowered his training rifle.
A ripple of recognition swept through the ranks.
"It is! That's the one who came back alive from the Black Jackal!"
"Wait, for real?" another voice joined in.
"I heard she's the one Special Officer Mitsuo took under his wing personally."
Before Aoi could process the shift in atmosphere, she was surrounded.
The cadets—barely more than children—looked at her with a terrifying mixture of awe and hunger.
To them, she wasn't a monster fused with a parasite.
She was an idol.
A survivor of a god-tier encounter.
A direct link to the man they worshipped.
"What's the White Wolf really like?"
"Did you actually see the Black Jackal and live?"
"Are you as strong as they say?"
The questions pelted her like rain.
Aoi felt a surge of vertigo.
She was used to being feared or hated.
This desperate adoration was suffocating.
They don't see the blood, she thought, her tentacles twitching beneath her uniform.
They just see the legend.
Before the situation could escalate, a sharp, piercing hiss cut through the noise.
The cadets froze.
In a synchronized blur of motion, they snapped back into their rigid lines, their faces pale.
Aoi turned toward the sound.
A Lamia stood before her, clad in a high-ranking officer's uniform.
Her lower half—a long coil of powerful, emerald scales—slithered with a rhythmic, threatening scrape against the floor.
Her expression was stern.
Her eyes were slitted and cold.
"So," the Lamia began, her voice dripping with a mixture of mockery and poorly hidden jealousy.
"You're the new recruit. The one the White Wolf decided to keep."
Aoi met her gaze, refusing to flinch.
The Lamia's tail flicked with agitation.
"Don't be too friendly with these runts," the officer said, gesturing dismissively at the trembling cadets.
"They can be... bothersome. They think war is a storybook."
The Lamia turned, her coils winding with predatory grace.
"Follow me, recruit. I'm taking you to your new battle group.
Let's see if you're actually worth the effort Mitsuo spent on you."
Aoi glanced back at the cadets one last time.
They were still staring—eyes full of a hope that she knew was a lie.
She turned and followed the Lamia into the deeper, darker parts of the facility.
The weight of her new "reputation" trailed behind her like a shadow.
To be continued.....
? MYukH. All rights reserved.