As Aryan stood just outside the military office's main gate, a sense of relief started to wash over him. He had just survived an intense interrogation with Officer Rod, and now it finally felt like he might get a break. The cool breeze of Moro City brushed against his cheeks as he looked up at the sky, wondering what he should do next. Maybe find food, or a place to rest, or figure out where he actually was.
Just as he stepped forward to leave, a group of soldiers appeared, their boots thudding against the concrete in perfect rhythm.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" one of them barked.
Aryan turned, slightly confused. "Officer Rod said I was free to go."
The soldiers exchanged looks and suddenly burst into laughter.
Aryan narrowed his eyes. "What's so funny?"
"Rod sir is always like that," the soldier smirked. "Tells people they're free, but doesn't tell them where they're going next."
"What the hell do you mean?"
"You're not free, kid," another soldier said, stepping forward. "You're headed to the underground jail. Orders from above."
Aryan's stomach dropped. "What? Why? I didn't do anything wrong. I was trying to help that night in the forest!"
"Yeah, maybe. But until we figure out who you are and where you came from, you're considered a risk. No background, no ID, no home record in any city... It's protocol."
Aryan clenched his fists, feeling anger and helplessness twist together in his chest.
"In my past life I was called a criminal too," Aryan muttered under his breath. "I went to jail back then... but at least I did something to deserve it. In this life, I tried to protect innocent creatures, and I still end up here. What the fuck is this world?"
The soldiers didn't care about his mumbling. They surrounded him and motioned him to walk.
"Move."
The path to the underground jail was a long, narrow tunnel buried deep beneath the city's military base. Aryan was led through a series of mechanical doors and security scanners. Red lights flickered overhead, giving the place a haunting glow.
"This jail's no joke," one of the soldiers said, almost with pride. "It's divided by threat levels. Level D is for low-risk criminals. Level C for medium offenses. Level B... that's where murderers go. Level A is for people who've committed multiple crimes and are too dangerous to be left outside. And Level S..."
"Level S?" Aryan repeated.
"That's a myth to most," the soldier said, his voice suddenly quieter. "Only three people are held there. The most brutal criminals to ever challenge the World Government. You don't want to go near that place. Even we don't know what goes on down there."
Aryan was silent. He wasn't afraid of Level S. What bothered him more was that he had done nothing, yet here he was, being thrown behind bars again.
Eventually, they arrived at Level D. The air was colder, damper. The walls were made of thick stone, reinforced with steel bars and magic runes – or "Pluse seals," as they called them here. Prisoners in this level looked rough but not dangerous. Petty thieves, smugglers, maybe a couple of street fighters.
"Cell 18. That's yours," the guard said.
They pushed Aryan inside. The cell was small – just a stone bed, a rusted sink, and a thin blanket. Nothing else. The heavy iron door clanged shut behind him.
Aryan sat down, staring at the floor, trying to process everything.
They don't know who I am. They don't understand what I've been through. If they did, they'd never lock me up like this... he thought.
He looked down at his hands. He remembered freezing the water back in the hospital. The frame on the wall.
I have powers now. Just like in the anime I used to watch. Maybe even stronger. I could break out of this place.
But not yet. If he made a move now, he'd attract too much attention. He needed a plan.
Suddenly, a loud bell rang throughout the prison block.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
A voice echoed over a speaker: "Food distribution. Level D and Level C to merge in the dining hall. Level B and Level A will be served separately. Level S – personal distribution by officers."
Aryan stood up as his door unlocked and slid open.
A guard gestured. "Let's go. Keep your hands visible."
As he walked toward the dining area with other inmates, Aryan kept his head low but his mind racing.
This is my chance. I need to gather info, maybe find someone useful. And when the time is right... I'm breaking out.
The cafeteria was large, filled with stone tables bolted to the floor. Level C inmates were already seated, some talking, others just shoveling food into their mouths. Aryan took his tray and found a quiet spot.
He picked at the food absentmindedly. It wasn't bad, just bland. But his mind wasn't on the food.
Across the room, a group of prisoners were whispering. Aryan focused, trying to catch what they were saying.
"...heard they brought in a new guy. No records. Came from the forest."
"They say he was fighting BLADE members. Alone."
"Bullshit. No one survives that."
Aryan smirked slightly. Looks like rumors travel fast in here.
After the meal, everyone was escorted back. Aryan returned to his cell, his stomach full but his thoughts even more crowded.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands again.
This world is broken too. Just like Earth. But at least here, I have something. Power. And if I'm going to survive, I need to stop waiting for people to help me.
He looked at the ceiling.
Time to take control of my own fate.
The iron door slammed shut again, and the sound echoed through the underground jail.
But Aryan didn't flinch.
He was planning.
And when the time was right, the world would know exactly who Aryan really was.