Rahul followed behind the man whose name he now knew—Racks Xaben. A name as strange and sharp as the man himself. Heavy boots, thick neck, muscles that seemed to strain against the black suit, and a stare that always looked like it saw a little more than he should.
Rahul's own clothes were crisp and new, the suit they had given him hugging his frame like it belonged to someone far more experienced. The elevator they stepped into was silent and sleek, its interior reflecting every movement like water.
As the doors slid open, Rahul gasped.
Where… am I?
The world outside the elevator was like stepping into a future too bright to imagine.
A vast chamber stretched before him—not a room, but an entire hidden city built within a tower. Every surface gleamed white like it had been polished by stars. Holograms hovered in midair, floating text, stats, and maps dancing across the room. Massive screens displayed everything from news bulletins to bounties and missions. The floor beneath them pulsed faintly, like the tower itself had a heartbeat.
Shops lined both sides—cafés, equipment vendors, libraries, training simulators, even what looked like genetics clinics. But what caught Rahul's eye most was the central spire—a second tower, thinner and taller, stretching up through the center like a spine of light.
It wasn't a city.
It was an empire of secrets.
Rahul whispered without realizing, "This place… is from another world…"
Xaben gave a faint smile. "Now you get it. You were a frog in a well, Rahul. And the sky just cracked open."
They walked toward a second elevator hidden at the base of the central tower. It had no windows, only buttons—forty of them stacked like a vertical sword.
Xaben casually tapped 35.
"The top floor you can go is thirty-five," he said, without looking at him. "That's where the official headquarters are for all recognized organizations under Bloodblom."
Rahul raised an eyebrow. "And the rest?"
Xaben turned to him sharply, "You're new, so listen well. Never go near the thirty-sixth floor or above. They're restricted. Heavily. Those floors belong to people with enough power or influence to crush cities. You trespass, you disappear."
He didn't elaborate. He didn't need to.
The elevator hummed quietly as it rose. Rahul stared at the numbers climbing—16… 23… 28… The ride felt like it took minutes, but when the doors opened at 35, the shift in atmosphere was immediate.
This was no public plaza.
This floor was silent, almost sterile. There were no holograms, no advertisements, no shops. Only doors. Labeled in languages Rahul didn't understand, all steel and black and glowing with unreadable sigils.
They turned into a corridor marked only by a glowing blue stripe on the floor.
A single room waited at the end—circular, blue-lit, and filled with strange devices Rahul couldn't identify. At the center sat a woman, leaning back in her chair with a sleek tablet-like device in her hands. She wore a long blue coat with the Bloodblom crest on the shoulder and silver-rimmed glasses that flickered with lines of code.
Her name, as Xaben introduced her, was Riley.
She glanced up, unimpressed. "Another one?"
Xaben smirked. "I got a new recruit. One of the rural ones. Has some fire, this one."
Without waiting for a reply, he gestured to Rahul to come forward.
"Put your hand on the crystal."
The object in question was now glowing—a palm-sized crystal orb sitting on the desk, its core swirling like a captured storm. "It detects lies," Xaben explained. "Answer her questions truthfully. Or it'll hurt you. A lot."
Rahul didn't hesitate. He walked forward and placed his hand on the orb.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then a soft blue aura pulsed outward, encasing his hand like mist.
Xaben and Riley exchanged a brief look—silent approval. Brave kid. No hesitation.
"Name?" Riley asked.
"Rahul Roi."
The crystal glowed a steady blue. Truth.
"Power?"
"Don't know…"
A brief pause. Riley raised her eyebrows. Xaben frowned.
They both looked at the crystal. It pulsed blue again. Truth.
Rahul stood still, calm on the outside. But inside, his heart pounded. You're surprised? I'm more surprised than any of you. I don't even know what's inside me.
Xaben crossed his arms. "Interesting… We assumed you were strength-type. There was a video of him knocking a grown thug out cold with a single punch."
Riley tapped on her screen, searching for something. "I saw that clip. It got wiped fast. Whoever ordered that has a lot of pull."
She leaned in. "Core type?"
Rahul blinked. "It… said 'Living Will Core.' When I almost drowned."
The orb pulsed blue again.
Riley's fingers paused on the tablet. Xaben's gaze sharpened. Another truth.
This wasn't what they expected.
They thought he was some rough-street brawler, awakening strength powers early. But now? Now he was a puzzle.
"Age?"
"Fourteen."
Blue light. Confirmed.
Riley leaned back. "Alright. Registration complete. You're official now."
She reached into a drawer and pulled out a small badge shaped like a blooming flower—deep red with faint circuit lines. "Wait outside. I'll bring your access card in a moment."
Rahul nodded. Without a word, he turned and walked out with Xaben.
As they stepped back into the corridor, the walls hummed faintly, the silence between them heavy with unspoken things.
Rahul glanced at his reflection in the polished black glass beside the hallway. A kid from a forgotten village… now walking through one of the most secret organizations in the world.
He had no idea what he was becoming.
But one thing was clear—
There was something inside him.
Something no one understood yet.
And the deeper he went into this world, the more dangerous that mystery would become.
.
.
.
.
The door opened again. Riley stepped out holding something small and sleek between her fingers.
"Here," she said, tossing it toward Rahul.
He caught it.
It looked like a card, but unlike anything he had seen before. It shimmered with an opalescent sheen, slightly warm to the touch. His name was etched on the surface in thin silver text:
> RAHUL ROI
Access Class: D-Intern
Tower Permit: 2nd to 35th Floors
Clearance: Level 1
There was also a chip embedded at the corner, glowing faintly blue.
Riley pointed at the card. "That's your lifeline in this place. Don't lose it. It gives you access to and from the tower, stores your funds, logs your movement, and identifies you in every Bloodblom building. You'll be paid through this too."
"Got it," Rahul nodded, slipping it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
"Also," she added, "you're eligible to stay in Bloodblom residential units. We already assigned you a room."
Xaben clapped a heavy hand on Rahul's shoulder. "Come on. I'll show you."
They descended via elevator to the second floor, which looked nothing like the high-tech halls above. This floor had a softer atmosphere. There were corridors of residential units, furnished lounges, a cafeteria in the corner, even a gym. Other people—some in suits, others in casual clothes—were lounging, training, or chatting over tablets.
"Everyone who isn't top brass or active field agents lives here," Xaben explained. "These are team quarters. The rookies, the interns, the undercovers. That includes you now."
He led Rahul down a quiet hallway, stopping at a metal door labeled Room 218-B. He pressed a thumb to the scanner and it clicked open.
Inside was a small but neat apartment—one room with a bed, desk, wardrobe, and a private bathroom. On the desk was a tablet and a folded Bloodblom uniform.
"This place is part of my division's wing," Xaben said. "The others will meet you later."
Rahul set down his small bag near the bed, taking it all in. It was more than he expected. In his last life, he'd never had to earn anything. In this one, he was already living inside the walls of a secret organization, with his own room and a job that sounded… dangerous. But maybe it was better than sleeping under a bridge.
Before he could breathe it all in, Xaben spoke again.
"No time to rest. We have work to do."
Rahul blinked. "Already?"
Xaben nodded grimly. "You're not being thrown into combat, so don't panic. But this is important."
He walked toward the small window and looked out.
"Before you joined us, we were tailing a high-profile informant turned criminal. Name's Darven Kehl. Arms smuggler, black-market peddler, info broker. You name it, he's touched it."
Rahul listened quietly.
"We spent months building a profile. But a week ago, he slipped. Saw the faces of two of our agents. And now he's vanished off our radar during the day. At night, though…"
Xaben turned to face him. "He always goes to a pub called 'Nivara's Root.' Fancy place. Private booths, loud music, lots of distractions."
Rahul tilted his head. "And you want me to…?"
"Observe. Blend in. Watch. Report. That's all."
Xaben pulled out a folded piece of paper—no doubt a map of the club—and handed it to him. "You're a new face. He won't suspect you. We've already cleared your age issue—this pub isn't strict about minors as long as they're quiet and don't cause trouble. You're just another street kid with curiosity and good taste."
Rahul smirked, "So I'm bait."
"You're a ghost. We're not using you as leverage. We're using you as a pair of fresh eyes. This isn't combat. But it is fieldwork."
Rahul studied the map. The pub was a few blocks from the outer district. He could get there with the metro or even on foot if needed.
"You'll go there tonight. Dress casually. Blend in. Stay no more than two hours. Keep your earpiece on at all times—one of us will be listening in."
Rahul gave a slight nod, processing the plan. He had no idea what he'd find there. A criminal? A monster? Or just another broken man like him?
"Why me?" he asked quietly. "I'm just a kid from a village."
Xaben stared at him. "Exactly. That's why no one will expect you."
He tapped Rahul's chest lightly with two fingers.
---
Later that evening, Rahul changed into casual black jeans and a dark shirt. A standard issue earpiece went into his left ear, barely visible under his hair.
As he left the tower for the first time as a registered Bloodblom operative, his card buzzed with a soft pulse.
Access granted.
Outside, the city lights burned like galaxies fallen to earth.
Tonight, he wouldn't be a hero. Or a killer. Or a spy.
Just a shadow in the corner of a pub…
…watching a man who had already slipped through too many cracks.