Obei let out a hollow, disbelieving laugh. "Isn't that exactly what collapsing is…?"
Nicole's eyes flicked up sharply. Then, slowly, her expression softened into something that almost resembled amusement. "Semantics," she said dryly. "But fair enough."
She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other with the poise of someone who had not slept and refused to acknowledge it.
"If it helps," she added, "civilization collapsing is usually much louder. This is more of an… administrative implosion."
He snorted. "You're really aiming for comfort today."
"I'm aiming for honesty," she corrected. "Which is significantly harder to swallow."
Nicole tapped her pen against the folder again, returning to that calm, precise rhythm she had.
"But yes, Obei. The world is… reformatting itself. We're dealing with overlapping realities, psychological breaks, biological anomalies, and the sudden emergence of powers that defy physics."
She reached into the folder again, drawing out a thin, transparent sheet of polymer with a map printed on it. Layers, Colors, and Dozens of markings we're covered all over the map.
She slid it toward him. Obei stared.
It was a map of the city… bisected by glowing geometric shapes. Red zones, blue zones, black zones like fingerprints burned into the streets. It looked as though an eight year old had scribbled over it with crayons. Certain parts of the map lacked the distinctive colors that sporadically layered the map.
"why is it that these area's have no activity in them" he pointed towards an area that was devoid of any red, blue, or black zones.
After glancing at his finger she looked into his eyes "less population, and Wealthier areas. Most of the real damage is being done in areas where population is denser rural, impoverished, poor."
She watched as his eyes dimmed, there was an aura of pity now being displayed, she believed that it might be due to his background. When in reality it was due to the 'Narrative' he had formally been in.
Memories of Kara the nineteen year old surfaced in his mind. If what he had lived was a story then that had to mean that she was somebody to someone. And just because of that demonic tree Kara would never be seen again or she would never see them again.
Obei looked to Nicole "Is there anything that I can do."
'Pfft' She held back her laughter.
Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Although its admirable of you wanting to do more for the world, We aren't in such dire straights that we would enlist a child."
Confusingly he asked "but wasn't that the whole point of you briefing me on all of this, why else would you allow me to know so much about what is happening?"
She pulled the map back toward herself, tapping one of the blank zones, the wealthy district, before folding the sheet and sliding it neatly into the folder again.
"You think knowing this means you're being recruited?" she asked. "Obei… this is the minimum we tell Performers. Ignorance is more dangerous than knowledge now. If you don't understand the stakes, you panic. And if you panic with powers, people die."
She said it without malice, but the weight of the words hit him like a punch.
Nicole continued, tone cooling back into her professional cadence."Your age matters. Eighteen puts you at the threshold—old enough to be considered an adult, young enough that we can still… guide your development."
"Guide," he repeated. "That sounds like training."
"It is training," she admitted, "The chances of you fighting anything are slim but not non existent, the higher ups don't want to put to much pressure. But they're also being pushed into a metaphorical wall."
Nicole sighed "The Initiative isn't just a school. It's a tool. One of many tools being utilized at the moment."
She leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping into something quiet and intent. "Obei… you and the others who awakened first? You're the foundation. The first generation of Performers this world has ever seen. We need to teach you how your abilities function, how to regulate them, how not to harm yourselves—or others. We need you alive, stable, and functional for any future dangers."
Her eyes flicked briefly to his hands, then back to his face. "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain"
Obei gave a weak, crooked smile. "So… I don't really have a choice."
Her reaction was immediate. Her spine straightened. The softness vanished.
"Incorrect." The word cracked through the room like a gavel. She held his gaze it was steady, unwavering, and sharp.
"You will never be forced into anything. Not by the Initiative. Not by the agency. Not by any official who thinks your age makes you malleable."
Then, softer but dead serious "If anyone tries to coerce you… you come find me. Directly. I will resolve it."
There was no bravado in the statement. No theatrics. Just absolute certainty.
The kind that made Obei believe her without question.
"…Okay," he murmured.
Nicole nodded once, then exhaled as if releasing that intensity from her frame.
"Good. Now let me explain this properly."
She re-positioned herself in her chair, returning to that composed, professional cadence.
"The Initiative campus is classified, but I can tell you the essentials. First: it's not a military base. It's built like a hybrid part academy, part research center."
While rubbing her eyes and yawning she spoke once more.
"There's something you need to understand before you ever step foot on campus," she said. "The Initiative is not like the schools you're familiar with. Not socially. Not structurally. Not philosophically."
She tapped her pen once, punctuating each word.
"It is a power-based hierarchy."
Obei frowned. "Meaning…?"
"Meaning everything," she replied. "Authority, privilege, status, and opportunity are dictated by capability. Not age. Not test scores. Not family connections."
She lifted the folder again but didn't open it—just held it like a symbol.
"Your powers determine your standing. Full stop."
His stomach tightened, and she noticed, softening only slightly.
"It's not as barbaric as it sounds," Nicole added. "There are strict oversight protocols, medical monitors, psychological evaluations, and safeguards in place. But we can't pretend the world hasn't changed. We need the strongest of you to rise. And the Initiative… encourages that evolution."
"How?" Obei asked quietly.
Nicole clicked the pen and set it down. "Two ways. Tests and Trials."
She leaned forward. "At the start of the very first day, before you even find your dorm room, you'll undergo what we call the Index Exam. It's a baseline measurement of your talent—raw power, control, potential growth curve."
A faint, wry smile touched her lips. "Think of it as… a first impression. One that the entire campus sees."
Obei swallowed. "Public?"
"Very," she said. "Your rank will be displayed by the end of the day. And the social dynamics will form instantly around it."
He grimaced. "Sounds like a feeding frenzy."
"It is," she admitted. "The first-week hierarchy is going to be the most volatile. Alliances form. Rivalries spark. Strength is earned and taken away."
She clasped her hands again.
"But after that initial chaos, the structure should stabilize. Mostly."
"…Mostly?"
Nicole exhaled. "Because at the end of every month, there's a Trial. Mandatory. A comprehensive evaluation that can raise or lower your rank. Students will be training for it relentlessly. Some obsessively. A few… may even break under the pressure."
Her eyes flicked briefly downward before she continued.
"It's necessary. We need Performers who can survive a real crisis with a level head. Who can adapt to threat levels that don't follow rules or mercy."
Obei looked down at his hands. "So power decides everything."
"No," Nicole corrected softly. "Strength decides everything. Power alone is uncontrolled fire. Strength is knowing where to aim the flame."
She waited a moment, letting that sink in.
"Some students with weaker abilities dominate because they're clever, or disciplined, or strategic. Others with monstrous talent fall in the rankings because they never learn control. You won't be judged solely on what you can do—but what you can prove you're capable of."
Obei breathed out slowly. "So… every month is a fight to stay relevant."
Nicole smiled grimly. "Welcome to the new world."
She sat back again, calm and collected.
"And Obei? Whatever your rank becomes—high, low, or somewhere in the middle—remember this: hierarchy is a tool, not a sentence. You shape your own arc."
Her gaze sharpened once more.
"And I expect your arc to be an interesting one."