Captain Benjamin stared at Sylar for a long moment before turning toward a narrow corridor. The boy followed silently, and after several turns, they reached a small, sealed chamber. When the Captain opened the reinforced door, Sylar saw that the room inside was barely large enough for a single person.
It was little more than a dark box. He could have reached the far wall in less than five steps, and the walls were so close together that he could touch both at once if he extended his arms.
Benjamin stood in the doorway and said quietly, "Do you know what solitary confinement is?"
The question drew Sylar's focus from the claustrophobic chamber. He nodded slowly, his expression solemn. "It's a form of disciplinary measure—"
"It's a form of torture," Lieutenant Astro interrupted sharply. His tone was hard, his expression grim.
Sylar turned toward the man, then nodded again. "You're right. It's torture. When someone is completely isolated, with no contact with anyone else."
Captain Benjamin inclined his head. His voice was steady, but there was a heaviness behind it. "You're strong-willed, Sylar. No one can deny that after what you endured, the twelve hours of the Omega Compound alone would have broken most men. But this… this is different. Solitary confinement doesn't test your body. It attacks your sense of self. When you're stripped of all contact and all sensory input, the mind begins to unravel. Anxiety, depression, hallucinations, psychosis—these are not weaknesses. They're the natural reactions of a brain denied its world."
The Captain's eyes hardened as he continued, his words carrying the weight of experience. "We, the Shooting Stars, have stronger wills than most humans. Yet even for us, this test is brutal. The room is designed to exponentially amplify the effects of isolation. Once you step inside, all sensory input will be cut off. You will be blind. You will be deaf. You will be utterly alone with nothing but your thoughts."
Sylar clenched his fists, his knuckles white. He was no coward—he had faced horrors beyond reason, creatures that tore through steel and flesh alike. But this was something else. This was a battle with no enemy to strike, no weapon to wield.
Benjamin saw the tension in him but said nothing. Neither did the Lieutenants. Even they, veterans of countless campaigns, wore grave expressions as they looked at the black chamber. They had fought through pain, through blood and death—but being trapped inside one's own mind was a different kind of battlefield. One where courage alone might not be enough.
"It will not be easy," Benjamin said finally. "But if you wish to face the nightmares that hunt humanity, you must first prove your mind can endure what no one else can. You must walk through the void itself."
Sylar drew in a deep breath, then nodded. "How long?"
"Seven days," Benjamin answered. "Your body will endure without food or water. The only question is whether your mind will."
The boy's jaw tightened, but he didn't hesitate. He stepped into the chamber, and the door sealed behind him with a heavy metallic thud. Instantly, the world vanished.
A strange field activated, washing over him like static. Sight and sound dissolved. Even his enhanced senses and echolocation failed. There was nothing—no light, no air movement, no vibration. Just silence and darkness, so complete it felt like a weight pressing against his skull.
Sylar sat down, resting his back against the wall. He forced himself to breathe evenly. He knew that if he tried to distract himself, if he started pacing or counting time, he would lose control. The only way to survive was to surrender—to let the void consume him and simply be.
Outside the chamber, Lieutenants Astro and Oscar exchanged uneasy glances.
"Seven days, Captain?" Astro asked quietly. "For recruits—especially one his age—the maximum limit is four."
Benjamin didn't turn to face them. His eyes were fixed on the black door. "That boy survived his world falling into hell. He killed a Grade Two True Apostle. He endured the agony of the Omega Compound for twelve hours. His potential is extraordinary—perhaps even enough to reach the rank of Grade 1 entity. But potential alone is nothing. If his heart and mind can endure this, he might surpass even that limit… perhaps stand among the Thrones themselves."
The Lieutenants exchanged another look. The Captain's words could have been dismissed as idealistic—after all, the Thrones were legendary beings, living weapons capable of annihilating continents and taking down worlds. And Sylar was just a boy, a survivor clinging to the edge of a ruined universe. Yet something in Benjamin's tone, in the calm certainty of his conviction, silenced their doubts.
They said no more. The three soldiers left the corridor in silence, leaving the black chamber to its quiet hum.
Seven days passed.
When the door finally opened, the four super soldiers—Benjamin, Astro, Oscar, and the bear-like Lieutenant Birk—stood waiting. None spoke as the energy field dissipated and the door slid aside.
For a long moment, there was only darkness. Then Sylar stepped out.
He didn't stumble toward the light like others before him. He didn't scream or collapse. He simply walked, slow and steady, his movements deliberate. His eyes were glazed, his hands trembling. For a heartbeat, his expression was blank—empty, as if his mind had been hollowed out.
Then, as the light touched his face, something shifted. His gaze focused. The fog in his eyes cleared, and a spark of will ignited behind them—sharp, burning, unbroken.
Benjamin smiled; his eyes glowed with recognition. The boy looked older somehow—not in years, but in presence. Like someone who had seen eternity and returned with knowledge too heavy for words.
Astro, Oscar, and Birk exchanged stunned glances and gave a faint nod of approval.
Sylar stood before them, silent, breathing deeply. His body was exhausted, but his spirit radiated the strength to stand against the darkness, no matter how deep it became.
Benjamin stepped forward, staring directly into the eyes of the boy. "We are five days from reaching the Death World of Akay," he said quietly. "Go. Take a shower. Eat. Sleep. We'll speak tomorrow."
Sylar gave a small nod and made his way to the showers. As the cold water ran down his body, his hands continued to tremble. The ordeal he had just endured was far more horrifying than even the twelve hours of agony in the Omega Compound. There were moments when he truly believed he would lose himself completely.
Yet, in that endless void of silence, one thing had kept him anchored—the distant, mechanical voice of the Nemesis System echoing in his mind. Though he could not hear his own thoughts or even feel his heartbeat, the system's notifications reached him. With each moment of endurance, his willpower grew stronger.
A faint light appeared before his eyes as a notification manifested.
[Will: 50]
Seven days of psychological torment had raised his Will by thirteen points—a remarkable feat by any measure. Still, Sylar hoped never to experience something like that again. The emptiness of the void, the weight of isolation—it had scarred him in ways no physical wound ever could.
After his shower, he ate a full meal, then slept for hours. Ironically, doing nothing for seven days had exhausted him more deeply than any battle. When he awoke the next day, his mind felt steadier, his hands no longer shook as violently.
Captain Benjamin greeted him with a nod as the rest of the squad gathered in the training hall. "You've passed every challenge, Sylar—and with flying colors. However, the Star Crucible remains extremely dangerous. I don't know what kind of trials await you there. Only the instructors know the details. And since the Death World of Akay was only recently rediscovered, we have little information about the planet itself. So, for the next few days, we'll focus on developing your combat skills."
Sylar tilted his head slightly, a confident smile forming on his lips. "I believe my fighting skills are already well developed. I've fought and defeated several groups of Apostles before—without much trouble."
Benjamin raised an eyebrow and smirked, then turned toward the massive, bear-like Lieutenant Birk. "Oh, really? Then let's see just how well developed those skills are. Birk?"
The towering super-soldier rose from his seat, stretching his thick arms before walking toward Sylar. "Don't worry, kid," he said, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. "I'll hold back and keep my power close to your level."
Sylar looked up at the giant. Even though he had grown taller and stronger, he still barely reached Birk's shoulder. Still, there was no hesitation in his eyes as he stepped forward and assumed a combat stance.
Captain Benjamin and the two other Lieutenants exchanged knowing smiles, settling back as if preparing to watch a show.
The moment the match began, Sylar launched forward with blinding speed—only to find himself spinning through the air less than two seconds later. He crashed hard onto the metallic floor, the breath knocked from his lungs.
"What… the—?" he gasped, dazed and confused. He hadn't even seen the strike that sent him flying. How could this happen? He'd fought and defeated numerous enemies back in the Arcade.
Birk chuckled, shaking his head. "Hahaha, you've got guts, brat. I'll give you that. But don't fool yourself. You won because your physical stats were higher than your opponents'. You were faster, stronger, and your mind processed combat better than theirs. But against someone at your level, your so-called skill means nothing."
Sylar clenched his jaw, rising slowly from the ground. His face tightened—not in anger, but in realization. He had thought of himself as a prodigy in martial combat. The truth hit him hard: he had relied on his power, not his technique.
After a long silence, his expression shifted. Determination burned in his eyes once again. "Let's begin," he said firmly.
Birk grinned, clearly pleased by the boy's resolve. "Good. Then the lesson starts now." He raised his fists, his stance lowering into a grounded, perfectly balanced form.
"First," Birk said, his tone serious now, "this is a true battle stance—a firm foundation from which you can respond to any threat. You'll learn it before you take another step."
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End of Book 1 - The end of Arcade and the boy that rose to the stars