Ai spoke, "I'll deal with it," when another girl walked by, thanking her.
Kiyomasa, on the other hand, was surrounded by three boys and two girls. They sat in a loose circle, discussing something together.
Nova was standing at the door when Zazm walked closer, his usual flat gaze fixed forward.
"What's going on?" Zazm asked, his tone low and even.
Nova smirked. "Yoo, Zazm, whatcha been up to?"
Zazm didn't reply. His eyes shifted into the classroom, scanning the scene. Ai was laughing and joking around with friends, leaning back in her seat. Kiyomasa sat with a girl explaining something to him while the others listened, nodding and exchanging thoughts.
Nova glanced back at him. "They're fitting in pretty good."
Zazm's gaze lingered on Kiyomasa. "Ai I understand… however, Kiyo…"
Nova shrugged. "Kiyo's been getting close with everyone. You know his kind nature—he pretty much helps anyone who needs it. Whenever there's group study or someone explaining something, they always invite him."
He leaned against the doorframe. "Honestly, people here are better than I expected."
"What did you expect?" Zazm asked.
Nova chuckled. "Egoistic nobles, bad attitudes… maybe even racism against people from other planets. But surprisingly, everyone's close here. No stupid politics in the way."
Before Zazm could reply, a voice came from behind them. "It's important."
Both turned to see Neo leaning casually against the wall. His coat was buttoned, hair neatly trimmed, and his posture sharp.
Nova glanced around the hall. "Aren't you worried someone's gonna see you?"
"They won't," Neo replied flatly. "Don't waste your breath."
Nova grinned. "That's Sir Neo for you. By the way, where've you been? Haven't seen you in weeks."
"Busy," Neo said simply, "going here and there."
"And what were you saying?" Nova pressed.
Neo's eyes sharpened. "Everyone here knows humanity's position in the war. We can't afford to fight each other." He walked past them toward the classroom door. "Most kids here… they hate the remnants. A few are in it for glory. Others? Forced."
Nova sighed. "The condition of the war's really bad."
Zazm added, "Every day, millions are dying… right?"
"More than that," Neo replied, tone grim. "Our position is fine for now, but we don't know how long that'll last."
Nova's smirk faded. "Those Omega-class ones… they're something else. And that false king? Way out of our league."
Neo clicked his tongue. "Those bastards could wipe us out whenever they want."
Nova clenched his fist. "That's why we're fighting. We all have Omega potential—we'll reach it."
Neo glanced over his shoulder as he started walking away. "I hate to say it… but they really are our only hope right now."
Nova forced a grin. "Don't worry, captain. We won't let you down."
Neo's voice cut back like a blade: "Don't make me hate you."
Both Nova and Zazm were caught off guard, but Neo was already gone.
Nova let out a low whistle. "Well… let's leave them be. They're busy. Let's get some lunch."
As they started walking, Zazm asked, "Where are Miwa and Minos?"
Nova smirked. "Set them up for some alone time today."
"I see," Zazm replied, his tone unchanged.
"I'll decide the menu for their marriage," Nova said.
Zazm deadpanned, "It's their marriage."
"I'll still decide the menu."
Nova walked ahead. "You joining for lunch?"
"I have class in fifteen minutes," Zazm replied.
"Sad. Well, enjoy yourself."
Nova's silhouette disappeared into the shadow of the hallway, leaving Zazm alone.
He turned to leave but bumped into someone. The girl stumbled back, but Zazm caught her arm before she fell.
"Be careful, Jennie," he said.
Jennie looked up, her face flushing faintly. "I… I was in a hurry."
"It's fine," Zazm replied.
Two more girls appeared behind her—Lisa and Nirin.
Lisa tilted her head. "You're Zazm, right?"
He gave a short nod.
Lisa stepped closer. "Why do you look so… um… depressed?"
Nirin leaned forward. "His eyes look dead."
Lisa smirked. "Are you depressed, or just a wannabe emo?"
"Can you both just go away?" Jennie cut in, exasperated.
Zazm's gaze hardened. "Mind your own business."
Jennie added firmly, "Zazm likes to stay alone. Please let him be."
Lisa chuckled. "Look at Mr. Cool here."
Nirin smirked. "How'd you become friends with Jennie? She didn't adopt you or something, did she?"
Jennie groaned, grabbed them both by the wrists, and was dragging them away.
When Zazm spoke.
Zazm's gaze stayed fixed on the ground, his voice flat.
"You two move in groups to get noticed?"
Lisa and Nirin turned, frowning.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Nirin asked.
Zazm didn't look up. "Because one of you isn't enough to get noticed."
Lisa let out a mocking laugh. "Is the emo dude talking to us?"
Zazm finally turned his head, his tone still lifeless. "Yes. " He pointed at her, his eyes dull but cutting. "I'm assuming your father left your mother. Because… of course. It's not easy to tolerate two of you."
The laughter died instantly. Lisa's expression froze, her mouth half-open but no words coming out.
Zazm's eyes shifted to Nirin. "You should speak louder."
Nirin blinked in confusion. "Why?"
"Because you're too small," Zazm replied, tilting his chin slightly. "I didn't even notice you."
Color rose to Nirin's cheeks. "What do you mean by small?"
Zazm's stare didn't waver. "Small in every way."
Silence.
They couldn't find right words to speak even Jennie was shocked but Zazm turned around and started walking away.
As she left, Miwa appeared suddenly, jumping slightly in front of Zazm. "That was sick!"
Zazm looked at her but didn't respond.
She smirked. "Looks like you still have it in you."
"Weren't you with Minos?" Zazm asked.
"I was," she said, "but he had to pick up some books."
They walked in silence until Miwa fidgeted with her fingers. "Zazm… I want your help with something." Her face was already turning red.
Zazm noticed but said nothing, only giving a short nod for her to continue.
She stopped in a quieter corridor lined with trees, the wind making their hair shift slightly.
"Well… you know I don't have family anymore," she began softly.
Zazm's eyes stayed on her, listening.
"In our family, there was this… custom," Miwa continued, her cheeks deepening in color. "If a girl likes a boy, she brings someone from her family to… to talk to him."
She inhaled deeply. "I think… I've always thought of you as my older brother. So… would you… please… go and ask Minos to be with me? As my brother?"
Zazm's eyes widened just slightly—an emotion flickering there before he hid it again.
"I'm not saying now," Miwa added quickly, waving her hands. "I mean… after everything is over. When we're done… would you?"
Zazm stepped closer, placing a hand gently on her head.
She looked up at him, eyes wide.
"Very well," he said quietly. "Once it's all over."
Her face lit up like an eager child. "You promise?"
"I would," he replied with a short nod.
"Promise me, promise me," she insisted, almost bouncing in place.
"I promise," Zazm said.
Miwa smiled brightly. "Thank you… and don't tell anyone!"
Zazm turned away without another word, his hands in his pockets, walking off.
Miwa watched him go, then looked up at the sky, her mind spinning with thoughts and a faint smile still lingering.
---
The bell had just rung when Zazm stepped into the classroom. His eyes scanned the desks briefly, expression as unreadable as ever, before he headed toward his seat.
Before he could even pull out the chair, Marine's voice rang out from across the row.
"Zazm, get ready — we're going."
He raised his gaze slightly, pausing mid-step.
"Where?"
Marine clasped her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels.
"Our regular lesson got swapped out. Today's combat class — first one of the semester. We're headed to the training ground."
He turned without a word, walking toward the door. Marine fell into step beside him, her steps light, almost bouncing.
"I've been waiting for this all month. Finally, some action instead of staring at textbooks all day."
"It's been almost two months."
"Mm-hm. Our professor said we needed to cover the fundamentals before getting into combat training. I guess that makes sense, but still… we're way behind other classes."
He didn't respond. His pace was steady, hands in his pockets as they made their way down the hall.
After changing into training gear, the two stepped out into the open air. The field was wide and flat, the grass cropped short, and rows of students were already forming up into lines. The sun glinted off the polished helmets of the assistant instructors standing at the far end.
Marine tugged at the leather of her new outfit — fitted black shirt and pants reinforced with stitched panels.
"Leather just… feels different. Like you're actually about to do something serious."
His attention stayed ahead as they joined the others in formation.
A tall man with broad shoulders and a faint scar running down his cheek stepped into the center. His voice carried easily over the gathered students.
"Once you become soldiers, your primary weapon will likely be an energy sword. But before you touch one of those, you'll start with something more… forgiving — wooden swords."
He gestured toward a table piled with various wooden weapons.
"One by one, go pick a sword. But before that — any questions?"
A boy in the second row raised his hand.
"Sir, is the sword our only option?"
"Good question. No. You're not limited to swords. Spears, nunchaku, axes — use whatever you want. But be warned—" he paced slowly in front of the group, "—energy spears and other exotic weapons are harder to master, and most aren't practical in real combat. Still… if you master one, any weapon can become lethal."
A girl in the back raised her hand.
"Then why train all of us with swords first?"
"Because the sword is the most balanced weapon in existence. It teaches distance, timing, control — things you'll need with any weapon. Think of it as your alphabet. You learn this first before writing poetry."
Another boy raised his hand.
"Sir… what if we get an AMI mark?"
The man's lips curled into a half-smile.
"Chances of that? One in a thousand. There are a hundred of you here, so… statistically, none. But—" his eyes scanned them slowly, "—you don't need an AMI mark to be strong. What you do need is skill, and the ability to think faster than the person trying to kill you."
He pointed to the weapon racks.
"Choose your sword. You've got long swords, greatswords, katanas. If you think you can handle it, you can even go dual-blade. Let's see what you're made of."
Students scattered toward the tables. Some went straight for the katanas, drawn by the promise of speed. Others reached for the imposing greatswords, testing their weight with wide-eyed grins — only to nearly drop them.
Marine glanced at Zazm.
"So… what's it gonna be?"
He didn't answer. He stepped forward, silent as ever, and picked up a long sword from the rack, testing its balance in his hand.
"A longsword, huh? Yeah… that suits you. All serious and cold."
She walked to the greatsword stand, lifting one with both hands.
"I'll take this one."
The instructor barked for them to gather into a circle. The group shuffled into place, the thuds of wooden blades against palms echoing across the yard.
"First, the basics. How to hold your blade. Lift it — as high as you can!"
Several students with greatswords staggered immediately, falling back from the weight. Marine almost lost her footing but caught herself.
"Use your heads! You don't lift a greatsword like a twig. Every second counts in a fight, and overextending will get you killed."
He made them reset their stance.
"Now… grip with both hands. Lock your focus on the tip. Breathe."
His gaze swept over them until it stopped on Zazm. He walked over, studying his posture.
"Ever trained in swordsmanship before?"
"No."
"Is that so… Did you think I'd believe that?"
Before Zazm could react, the man blurred forward, throwing a sudden punch toward his face. Zazm's arms moved instinctively, the wooden sword snapping up to block. The instructor stopped his fist just before it met the blade, smirking.
"You've got good instincts. And you suit a long sword."
He walked off, resuming the drill.
Marine grinned, leaning toward Zazm.
"That was mad impressive. First day and you already caught the instructor's eye. Cool points for you."
From a window above, Seraphina watched briefly before sitting back down.
"Looks like everything's going fine."
By the time training ended, most students were drenched in sweat. Some lay flat on the grass, panting.
Marine dropped onto the ground, breathing hard.
"Too much… way too much…"
She turned to see Zazm standing straight, barely winded.
"How are you not dying right now?"
"I was a professional in capoeira."
She raised a brow, smirking.
"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"
They stood and started walking back when Zazm stopped abruptly.
"Marine. I have something to talk to you about."
Her eyebrow arched, curiosity sparking in her eyes.
"Sure. Go on."
"In private."
A slight flush crept onto her cheeks. Her lips curved into a teasing smile.
"Oh~? Something private? How bold."
"Can you meet me at the old warehouse in the back?"
"The small one that's empty?"
He gave a short nod.
Marine smirked, her tone laced with playful mockery.
"You know, if you want to talk to a girl in private, most guys would invite her to their room…"
He turned and started walking away.
"I'll see you after school."
She watched him go, that sly smile never leaving her face.
"I'll be waiting… for whatever you've got to tell me."
---
The final bell rang, and Zazm was already halfway out the classroom door before anyone else had even stood up. His hands were buried in his pockets, his expression unreadable as always.
From behind, one of the girls called out, "Marine, you up for hanging out?"
Marine flashed her a polite smile but shook her head quickly.
"Sorry, I've got something to do today," she said, her voice cheerful but rushed.
Before anyone could respond, she was already out of her seat, weaving between desks. She moved quickly, like she didn't want to waste a single second.
She burst into the washroom and headed straight for the mirror. Her eyes scanned her reflection — a few strands of hair out of place, a crease in her collar. Unacceptable.
From her pocket, she pulled out a small comb and smoothed her hair until it fell perfectly into place. She adjusted her uniform: tugging down the hem, fixing her cuffs, straightening the collar. Then she turned to check her side profile in the mirror and muttered under her breath,
"Perfect."
She paused mid-step.
"Oh, almost forgot…"
From her blazer pocket came a small bottle of perfume. She spritzed it lightly against her neck, a faint floral scent filling the air. She smiled faintly to herself and whispered, "Now I'm ready," before rushing out.
Her footsteps echoed against the hall floor. She was talking to herself as she walked, almost without realizing.
"I'm actually excited… wonder what he wants to talk about… maybe something serious…"
Her cheeks were flushed by the time she reached the back of the academy grounds. The small, abandoned warehouse loomed over her — rust on its doors, dust and weeds all around.
She took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The hinges groaned, the air inside thick with the scent of dust and metal. Her eyes darted over the empty, dimly lit interior.
"Hello?" she called out softly.
"You're here."
The voice came from deeper inside, low and cold.
Marine turned around, an excited smirk already forming on her face.
"Yep, I'm here. So…"
She stepped forward, tilting her head playfully, "…what do you wanna tell me?"
Zazm stepped out from the shadows. Without a word, he walked to the door and shut it. The loud clang of the latch locking echoed through the empty warehouse.
Marine's smirk widened.
"Oh~ Are you planning to do something to me here?" she teased, her voice dripping with fake innocence.
Zazm didn't respond. He kept walking toward her, slow and deliberate. She found herself stepping back instinctively, but kept her smirk — though her heart rate was starting to rise.
Inches away from her now, his body almost brushing hers, he leaned in close to her ear.
"Who are you?"
The words were whispered so quietly yet carried a weight that felt like steel.
Marine blinked, caught off guard, before letting out a light, awkward laugh. "W-What do you mean?"
Zazm's eyes didn't move from hers. His voice was still flat, emotionless. "There's no need to pretend anymore. I already know everything."
Her back pressed lightly against a metal support beam as she took a half step back. "You're scaring me now…"
"I already know who you are," he said, his tone sharp but controlled. "No point in hiding it."
Marine's fingers curled over her chest, a subtle movement to calm her breathing. "I… don't know what you're talking about."
Without another word, Zazm turned his gaze toward the center of the warehouse. In the middle, two chairs sat across from a small table, a single briefcase on top.
He walked over, sat down, leaned back casually, and spoke like he was reading from a police file.
"Marine Kurone… spy for the Remnants. Placed near me to collect information — about me, my comrades, my abilities."
Her eyes widened, true shock breaking through her usual composed face. "W–What nonsense are you uttering?" she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Zazm tilted his head, studying her reaction like she was a specimen under glass. He didn't blink.
Marine's legs were beginning to shake. She opened her mouth to say something else — but in that moment, Zazm was no longer in the chair.
He was right in front of her.
Her eyes widened just as his fist came toward her — instinct took over. A dozen thorned vines shot from her skin, sharp and whipping through the air toward him.
One thorn slashed across his hand as he leapt back. A bead of blood rolled down, but he didn't even flinch.
"I was taught some Remnants can't help but trigger their powers when they're nervous," he said calmly, wrapping his scarf around the bleeding hand. "It's understandable. All Remnant abilities are tied to the brain. When the brain senses extreme danger, the body acts before thought… powers fire on their own."
Her breathing quickened. "Why…?" she whispered. Then, louder, her voice cracking: "WHY DID YOU KNOW IT?! HOW?!"
Zazm didn't answer.
She lunged at him, thorns erupting from her arms and shoulders like a storm of spears. The sound of them tearing through the air was sharp, deadly.
Zazm didn't move — still focused on wrapping his hand. The thorns came within a hair's width of his body and then—
Shatter.
Fragments of her own weapon fell to the ground like glass shards.
Marine froze mid-strike. "…How?" she breathed.
"What you're hitting," Zazm said, finally standing, "is an empty space."
He tapped his chest.
"I created a gap between myself and reality. I'm not here… not fully. That makes me immune to almost everything — except, of course, attacks that can cut through space itself."
She tried to move again, but suddenly… nothing. Her body wouldn't respond.
"You're standing in my space now," he said, taking a slow, almost leisurely step toward her.
The moment he crossed into her frozen range, her body unlocked — but before she could react, his hand was already around her throat.
Her eyes widened as she grabbed at his arm, her nails digging into his skin, but his grip didn't loosen even a fraction.
"W-Why… ca–n't… I…" she struggled, words breaking between coughs.
"You can't use your powers," he said flatly, as though explaining to a child.
Her vision was starting to blur when, suddenly, he let go. She dropped to the ground, coughing and gasping for air.
Before she could recover, his hand tangled in her hair and yanked her up violently. She let out a short, pained gasp as he dragged her across the dusty floor toward the center of the warehouse.
He shoved her into the chair so hard it creaked under the impact. Without a word, he pulled a length of coarse rope from under the table and began tying her down — wrists, ankles, chest. His motions were mechanical, precise.
Marine tried to speak but his gaze silenced her. That stare — flat, empty, as if he wasn't looking at a person at all, just a problem to be contained.
When the last knot was tied, Zazm stepped back and simply looked at her, his face completely unreadable.
In that moment, he didn't seem human. Not even close to it really.
The rope bit deep into Marine's wrists, her fingers twitching in their restraints. Tears welled in her eyes, but her gaze stayed fixed on the floor.
Zazm sat across from her, leaning back in the chair as though this were a casual meeting. His voice was flat, without the slightest trace of emotion.
"So. Tell me everything."
Marine stayed silent.
Seconds stretched. The only sound was the distant groan of the warehouse walls under the wind.
Zazm tilted his head slightly.
"Why aren't you sharing anything?"
Marine's lips trembled. Her voice came out low, almost a whisper. "Where… did it all go wrong…? I was so happy… and now…"
Zazm stood up without a word. His steps were unhurried as he approached. He took her right hand in his own, examining it like a craftsman inspecting a tool.
Then — crack.
Marine's body jolted violently, a scream tearing from her throat — only to be choked off as his other hand closed tightly around her neck.
"Don't shout," he said. "I don't like loud noises."
Her eyes widened as he snapped another finger, then another. Each break was clean, deliberate. By the time he reached the fourth, Marine's voice was raw.
"J–Just… kill me," she gasped. "What's the point…?"
Snap.
Her fifth finger bent at an impossible angle. Her voice broke into a hoarse, animal scream, but Zazm didn't react. He let her hand drop and walked calmly to the briefcase on the table.
The latch clicked open. Inside was an array of instruments — blades of various lengths, clamps, rusted hooks, a small jar containing a pale, twitching creature with needle-like appendages.
Zazm's hand passed over them without hesitation. He picked up a slender knife.
He came back to her side. Without a word, the blade flashed — and her right ear fell to the dusty floor.
Her scream cut through the empty space, echoing off the walls. Zazm didn't even glance at it. He began removing her fingers one by one, each slice followed by the metallic clink of steel hitting bone, each time her body convulsing against the restraints.
When her hands were nothing but bloodied stumps, she was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.
Still, she said nothing.
The knife clattered to the floor. Zazm's hand rose — and plunged into her face. Bone and tissue yielded under his grip as he wrenched her left eye from its socket.
Her scream this time was ragged, high-pitched — the sound of something breaking inside her mind.
Zazm dropped the eye into her mouth.
She froze, trembling violently.
Her body moved before her mind could catch up. With shaking hands, she brought the blood-slick orb to her mouth. Her teeth sank into it — a burst of bitter fluid filled her tongue. She gagged, coughing it back, but he forced her jaw shut until she swallowed.
A thin whimper escaped her lips.
He picked up a pair of pliers and clamped them over her front tooth. One pull — a crunch and tear — and it was gone. Again. Again. Each time her body lurched with the sharp shock of pain, her gums tearing, blood running down her chin in a steady line.
Her voice was gone now. All that came from her were wet, garbled noises.
Finally, she slumped forward, sobbing silently.
"Tell everything," Zazm said.
Her voice cracked like thin glass.
"I'll… tell you… just… stop…"
For a moment, the pressure lifted. She looked up, eyes wild, lips trembling. "I… I don't know—"
Her sentence ended in a scream as his hand phased through her abdomen. She felt the unnatural cold of his fingers sliding through muscle, past bone — until they closed around something deep inside her.
Then — a crushing force.
Her kidney ruptured in his grip. The pain was blinding, nauseating, as if molten lead were pouring through her spine. Her legs kicked uselessly against the restraints.
He withdrew his blood-soaked hand.
"You must be thinking it's over, since you're about to die."
His palm pressed against her chest. Her entire body shuddered as the wound reversed — skin sealing, organs reforming — but the memory of the agony burned fresh in her mind.
"You aren't dying unless you speak everything."
He reached into the briefcase again and lifted the jar. Inside, the pale creature twitched against the glass, its many needle-like legs tapping rhythmically.
"This," he said, "is an organ eater."
The lid came off with a soft pop. The creature was on her face before she could turn away — its legs piercing her cheeks, its head burrowing into her nasal cavity.
Marine's body convulsed violently. She gagged and screamed, the sound muffled as the creature forced its way deeper, splintering bone as it chewed through cartilage. A sharp, wet crack echoed as it reached her sinuses and pushed upward into her skull.
She felt every bite — sharp, precise, gnawing into the soft tissue of her brain. Her vision burst into white static, her hearing into a high, keening ring.
When she lost consciousness, Zazm placed his hand on her head — and rewound her body.
Her eyes snapped open. Her nose was whole again. Her brain intact. But the phantom pain lingered — her body remembering what her mind wanted to forget.
And then, he did it again.
Hours passed like that — pain, death, rebirth — an endless loop until time itself felt meaningless.
By the end, Marine wasn't screaming anymore. She wasn't even crying. She just stared forward, lips trembling, as if the very concept of resistance had been burned out of her. She had finally told everything she knew.
Zazm stood over her, expression unchanged.
"K-kil...me."
Zazm got up and walked towards her he looked at her. "Marine thanks for always sticking out like a damn pain."
The knife slid across Marine's throat in one smooth motion.
Her body jerked once, then slumped forward in the chair. Blood spilled down her chest in a slow, steady stream, pooling beneath her feet. Zazm didn't watch her die — he was already turning away, slipping the blade onto the table as if setting down a used pen.
His hands went into his pockets. Footsteps echoed as he began walking toward the door.
"...Zazm."
The voice came from behind, low but sharp. He stopped.
Neo was standing in the shadows near the far wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable except for the tension in his jaw.
"Do you even know what you just did?" Neo asked. His tone was calm, but there was an edge in it — like a blade hidden in the words.
Zazm didn't turn. "She was sent here to gather information," he said evenly. "To bring us over to their side. No matter what it took. She tried to seduce me. She didn't know anything else."
Neo's eyes narrowed. "I'm not talking about the information."
Zazm raised his gaze slightly, meeting Neo's.
Neo stepped forward into the dim light, his boots scraping against the concrete. "I'm talking about the fact that you brutally tortured her. And killed her. You fine with that?"
Silence.
Zazm gave a short, unhesitating nod.
Neo stared at him for a long moment, his lips curling slightly — not into a smile, but something colder. "Tch… you know something?" His voice dropped lower. "Before today, I never liked the look in your eyes. But now… now it makes me want to kill you."
Zazm tilted his head a fraction.
Neo's glare sharpened, his voice laced with venom. "I've seen that look before. In the worst kinds of people. The selfish bastards who'd sacrifice anyone, anything, just to get what they want."
Zazm didn't flinch. He didn't answer just stood there.
Neo's tongue clicked. He stepped even closer, the air between them tense enough to snap. "If you weren't the one who spotted that spy when the rest of us failed… I'd have already broken your damn teeth in."
Zazm met his stare without a word. The silence stretched, heavy as iron.
Neo finally looked away, muttering under his breath. "Tch… cold-blooded piece of shit."
__________________________