Malric walked with Vos through the rain outside the school gates. A black car hovered nearby, sleek and windowless. Inside, data screens flickered with his name and genetic profile. The umbrella above them was silent—coated with vibration-dampening mesh.
"You don't want to be a hero," Vos said. "That's good. We don't need heroes. We need people who make decisions."
"I didn't save that bus to be noticed."
"I know."
They stopped beside the vehicle. Vos didn't open the door yet.
"Sector Zero isn't glamorous. You'll make enemies. You'll see things most agents never survive. You'll bleed. Sometimes, people you try to save… won't make it."
Malric's hand flexed. His fingers still ached from overuse.
"I've seen worse," he replied.
Vos gave a small smirk.
"That's exactly what the last Sector Zero recruit said," he muttered. "She detonated half a mountain to protect her team. Now she leads our ground unit."
"…What's the catch?" Malric asked.
Vos's smirk faded.
"You'll be on-call. Always. You'll live where we tell you to. You'll train under supervision. You'll give up anonymity. And you'll follow orders—unless your life depends on not doing so."
Malric thought for several seconds.
Then asked one question.
"…Do I get to keep my freedom?"
Vos didn't answer right away.
He opened the car door instead.
"Only if you fight to protect it."
---
Inside the car, Malric pressed his palm to the contract screen.
> User Bio-Signature Verified
Malric Grimholt - Codename Pending
Welcome to Sector Zero
The screen flickered. Then showed a photo—seven other teenagers, their faces blurred, in combat uniforms with a glowing emblem on their chests: a broken circle with a rising spark inside.
Sector Zero.
Malric looked at his reflection in the glass.
Something stirred behind his eyes.
Not hope. Not fear.
Readiness.