That was when a hand clamped tightly around Tarkan's throat, lifting him off his feet effortlessly before flinging him like a ragdoll across the room.
He slammed against the wall with a heavy thud, the impact sending a jolt of pain through his back.
Blood gushed from his mouth in a thick spray as he fell to the floor.
Groaning, Tarkan pushed himself up slowly, wiping the blood from his lips as he turned to see who had assaulted him so suddenly.
Standing a few meters away was a middle-aged man, tall and broad-shouldered, exuding the kind of quiet authority that couldn't be faked.
He wore a neatly pressed military-style uniform similar to those worn by the soldiers stationed outside the Terra Association building.
But unlike them, his uniform bore a distinct mark of two golden stars meticulously embroidered on the left side of his chest.
Tarkan didn't even consider using Reverse to go back in time to fight him.
He hadn't seen him approach, hadn't felt the slightest disturbance in the air.
The suddenness of the attack, and how effortlessly he was flung, told him that this wasn't a battle he could win.
More than that, his instincts horned by years of survival were screaming at him.
It wasn't a battle he could win.
"Don't you know there's no fighting allowed here? Let alone attempting to kill a fellow Ascender," the officer said coolly, his voice controlled but heavy with authority.
After briefly checking Cassian and confirming there were no fatal injuries, he turned his stern gaze to Tarkan.
Tarkan slowly got to his feet, straightening his now torn and bloodied clothes in a calm, deliberate manner.
There was no visible irritation, no outburst, no response to the officer's ranting
His face remained blank, unreadable. He seemed utterly unfazed by the entire ordeal
But beneath that still exterior, Tarkan's mind was sharp and analytical.
He could see it clearly, this officer wasn't as righteous as he seemed.
If anything, he was shielding Cassian.
He could have stepped in before the fight escalated, but he didn't.
Instead, he waited until Cassian was in danger before stepping in with enough force to injure only one party, him
The timing was too precise.
The officer had likely been watching the entire scene unfold, waiting in the crowd only taking action when he saw Cassian was in danger.
Tarkan didn't say a word about it
Instead, he quietly wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes locking onto the officer's face.
There was no anger in his expression, no emotion at all, just a chilling, blank stare that seemed to absorb every detail of the man's face, as if committing it to memory.
And without a word, Tarkan turned away.
He walked toward the young man standing behind the front counter.
"Where can I get registered? I'm newly awakened," he asked flatly.
The staff member blinked in surprise, caught off guard by Tarkan's calm demeanor.
There was no sign of malice in his eyes, nor any sign of resentment.
For someone who had just been assaulted in public, he seemed disturbingly composed.
The staffer pointed down a corridor and gave him directions. "Second floor, room 3B."
Tarkan nodded once. "Thanks."
He left the scene without looking back.
The officer watched him go, arms crossed, brow slightly furrowed.
Something about the boy unsettled him. He'd expected outrage, protests maybe a desperate plea for justice.
But there was nothing
Just calm indifference.
Seeing him walk away, the officer felt a small sense of satisfaction. At least he knows his place, a lowborn, behaving as one should.
As Tarkan disappeared down the hall, the small crowd that had gathered began to disperse, murmuring quietly before resuming their business.
The registration center was quiet, save for the occasional footsteps and low voices.
Tarkan sat among a row of benches, holding a numbered ticket in one hand.
The chaos from earlier felt distant now, as if it belonged to someone else.
When his number was called, he stood and entered the room
A staff member sat behind a desk, typing on a holographic console. "Please sit," they said, not looking up.
Tarkan complied, folding his hands in his lap.
"What's your name?"
"Tarkan."
"Surname?"
He paused. "None."
The staffer raised an eyebrow but moved on. "Talent grade?"
"D-rank."
The staffer didn't question it, only typed the answer into the system.
But Tarkan's mind lingered on the question.
He could've said the truth and said he awakened an SSS-rank talent, and gain instant status, fame, power.
But that came with chains of people trying to own and Control him.
He wasn't naive enough to believe the world only had three S-rank talents.
For all he knew, there were dozens maybe even more powerful ones hidden or unregistered, afterall
The Terra Association had no reliable way of verifying talent grades.
Instead, they relied on people to self-report, offering incentives like power and privilege for those willing to reveal their true abilities.
But Tarkan had no interest in that, Not yet thou.
When asked to demonstrate his power, he explained simply, "It's not offensive in nature, It only increases my thinking speed."
The staffer nodded, noting it down. "That's rare."
After completing the evaluation, Tarkan was handed a sleek black bracelet with ten gold coins, which was part of the Terra Association's welcome package for newly awakened Ascenders.
It was a gesture, a welcome package from the Terra Association.
A way to make newly awakened Ascenders feel recognized and closer to the association
The staffer walked him through how to use the bracelet.
Once registered and linked to his identity, it would function as both a tool and an identification device.
Tarkan examined it with quiet fascination. In his former life, a device like this would've been the pinnacle of technological advancement.
One of its more intriguing features was its charging mechanism. it absorbed kinetic energy from the body's movement, meaning as long as it stayed on his wrist and was alive, it would never run out of power
That made it functionally infinite.
After inspecting it briefly, he decided he'd explore its features later.
For now, he eyed the ten gold coins and made his way out of the building, headed toward the trade market.
He needed a weapon, something reliable and sturdy.
He wasn't planning to relive any of his past experiences or waste his timer.