Silence filled the tallest building in HollowHearth.
Not the calm silence of a peaceful afternoon, but a heavy and awkward silence, the kind that makes the air stiff and the people inside freeze like statues.
In the room sat the City Lord, Isen, straight-backed, unmoving, staring across the table.
On the opposite side was the Oldman, Laura's boss."
Both of them looked like they were trying to out-silence each other.
Laura stood behind the Oldman, stiff as well.
She blinked.
She waited.
She stared at them.
Nothing.
She thought, …Are they just staring forever? Seriously?
The City Lord finally spoke.
His voice cut through the air, vibrating.
"Teacher, how are you?"
The Oldman replied calmly, "I'm fine."
Then, silence again.
Laura felt her soul leaving her body.
She couldn't help it; she coughed lightly. "Ahem…"
Both men turned their heads toward her at the exact same time.
She straightened like a soldier.
The Oldman sighed. "… this is Laura."
City Lord Isen shifted his gaze to her.
"So this is the little brat."
Laura's eyebrow twitched, but she forced a smile.
Inside her head, Stay calm… stay calm… he's the City Lord, don't throw hands, don't throw hands…
The City Lord ignored her clenched fists and looked back at the Oldman.
"Teacher, I presume you have considered my proposal?"
The Oldman hummed. "Hmm."
Then he turned to Laura.
"This is about that kid who saved you. About the kidnappers. And… about you."
Laura immediately became serious.
The Oldman continued, "That kid...Ash.... is the son of the heroes."
Laura's eyes widened. "You mean… the heroes from the big families?"
"No."
The Oldman's voice sharpened.
"They're fakes. They stole glory that isn't theirs. I mean the real heroes. The ones who saved this city from destruction."
Laura's breath hitched. She had heard stories. Old rumors. Anomaly no.22, about the saviors. She always thought they were nothing but myths.
But the Oldman wasn't done.
"And you, Laura," he said, "will be the decoy."
"Me?"
"Yes." The Oldman nodded. "You will stand in the role of Ash. As the nephew of the City Lord. You will let the world believe you are the one connected to him."
Laura blinked. "So… he's Ash's uncle?"
The City Lord looked away at the window, avoiding her stare.
The Oldman nodded once. "Do you agree?"
She hesitated for a moment.
She knew this was dangerous.
She knew she would become a target.
But she also knew Ash saved her life.
And she owed him.
"I agree," she said firmly.
The Oldman simply stood up .
No praise.
No smile.
Just an approving nod, and he started leaving the room...
City Lord Isen opened his mouth wide, "Teach..."
But he stopped.
He didn't dare continue.
He looked like a big, strong man reduced to a shy little boy in front of the Oldman.
Laura, seeing this, waved casually.
"Don't worry, Uncle. He's just acting cool."
The Oldman paused mid-step.
His foot landed weirdly, thud. ...and he almost stumbled on the carpet.
Without looking back, he reached into his coat and flicked something behind him.
WHooosH!
"OUCH!" Laura grabbed her forehead. "Boss! What was that for?!"
But he was already gone.
Laura rubbed her head and looked at what had hit her.
It was a book.
Old, thick, and covered in dust.
Its title was written in the Oldman's terrible handwriting, she couldn't even read it though.
The letters looked like a bird had danced on ink and then tap-danced on the paper.
Still… she felt a faint energy coming from it.
"A legacy?" she whispered.
City Lord Isen's eyes narrowed.
Deeply.
Dangerously.
"So he chose her," he muttered.
Laura had no idea what that meant.
She hugged the book close to her chest anyway; if mechanics or engineers saw this book, they would probably try to snatch it from her.
To her, it was a book given by her boss.
To the City Lord… it was a declaration.
A successor had been chosen.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dumpsite, Afternoon
Ash collapsed on the dirty ground like a dying fish.
"Ahhhhh… I'm exhausted…"
He wasn't just tired.
He was drained.
Physically, mentally, emotionally, everything.
His clothes were covered in dust.
His hair stuck to his forehead.
His lungs burned.
He wanted to lie there forever.
Just close his eyes and pretend the world didn't exist.
But he couldn't.
Not when the academy exam was coming.
Not when he still didn't know anything about the academy.
Not when he needed strength more than anyone else.
He gritted his teeth.
He got lucky with his four illusion skills.
He got even luckier with the space-storage ability.
But he knew...
Luck won't carry him.
He must carry himself.
Ash forced himself up.
His arms trembled, but he stood.
He breathed in.
The air smelled like rust and dirt.
But he breathed anyway.
Then he continued training.
Punch.
Kick.
Dodge.
Step.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.
His muscles screamed.
But he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
Somewhere deep in his memory, he felt that his mother's voice was talking to him.
"Keep going. Even if it hurts."
He clenched his fists.
"I won't lose," he whispered.
Then he kept going.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SECRET LAB – UNKNOWN LOCATION
A cold room hummed with machinery.
Silver cages lined the walls, each holding a mouse with strange glowing markings on their bodies. Scientists moved between them, adjusting tubes and writing notes.
One man wearing glasses looked at a screen.
"It's done?"
Another answered, "It's done."
A third scientist, with an unsettling smile, asked,
"Can it be used on humans?"
"We won't know until we try," someone replied casually. "But besides… we have one hundred percent success rate on these guys ahahahahaha!"
Their loud laughter echoed in the room.
The cages rattled as the mice inside tried to move.
Most were normal, trembling or confused.
But one mouse was different.
He wasn't in a cage.
He stood outside, completely unnoticed, as if invisible.
He stared at the scientists with anger burning in his tiny eyes.
He wanted to stop them.
He really wanted to.
But he looked at the room again.
The defensive weapons.
The security turrets.
The pressure sensors on the floor.
The drones floating quietly near the ceiling.
He couldn't win.
Not now.
The little mouse lowered his head, trembling, not from fear, but frustration.
Then, slowly, he looked toward the exit.
He took a deep breath.
As if making a decision.
Then he slipped through a crack in the door and disappeared into the shadows.