Felix Valerius was being escorted toward the upper-management building of the Hero Association, he’d just come back from an S-rank gate, his clothes were still stiff with monster blood, and his stomach had been complaining since he’d skipped lunch.
An Association officer had caught him the moment he stepped out of raid processing.
Nearly twenty minutes later, he was standing outside the doors of the upper-management conference room.
The officer opened them.
The room was large, a long black table down the center, comfortable chairs, and holographic maps of the world’s current rift activity glowing faintly against the walls.
Three people sat at the far end.
He recognized two of them immediately. Elena Voss, Director of the Association’s Special Rehabilitation Division.
And beside her, Gideon Rask, an SS-rank, gravity affinity, Head of Security at Acheron Deep, humanity’s most secure underground facility for awakened criminals.
The third was a stranger: a woman in her late thirties, dark hair pinned back, thin glasses, a white coat worn over her formal Association uniform.
"Sit, Felix," Elena said, gesturing at the empty chair.
He sat, eyes moving between the three of them.
"This is worrying."
The woman in glasses smiled faintly. "Why?"
"Because when three important people summon one person into a room, it’s usually very good news or very bad news."
"Which do you think this is?" Gideon asked, arms crossed.
"I was hoping for a promotion."
"Not a promotion," Elena said.
"I knew it."
The woman in the white coat laughed under her breath. Elena introduced her. "This is Dr. Evelyn Hart. Chief psychologist overseeing the rehabilitation program."
"Nice to meet you."
"Likewise."
"And you already know Commander Rask."
"Everyone’s heard of the Commander,"
Gideon raised an eyebrow."Everyone, or just you?"
"Same thing," Felix said.
Felix looked at Elena. "So?"
She tapped the table, and a holographic document unfolded above it: four words at the top.
**SPECIAL REHABILITATION PROGRAM**
Felix stared at it, then at her, then back at the document. "No."
"You haven’t heard anything yet."
"Rehabilitation."
"Yes."
"Absolutely not."
"You made that decision remarkably fast," Dr. Hart said, amused.
"I’m a healer." Felix pointed at himself. "Not a psychologist or therapist."
"We know all of that."
"Then why am I here?"
Elena looked at him directly. "Because you might be one of the few people alive who could make this program actually work."
That got his attention enough to sober his expression.
She expanded the document. Several files opened beside it. Felix scanned them and then went still.
He recognized the classification stamped across the top of each one.
Tier 1.
"How many?" he asked.
"Five initial candidates."
"All Tier 1?"
"Yes."
Tier 1 talent was vanishingly rare. Most awakened heroes were Tier 3, and even Tier 2 was considered a rare gift.
Tier was fixed the moment a person awakened: set by the quality of their mana core, not something training or time could raise.
Tier 1 simply meant the ceiling was high enough that, through the person’s own effort, their rank could climb all the way to SSS. Right now, the entire world had only five.
Felix leaned back slowly. "So that’s what this is about."
"Exactly." Elena closed the extraneous files, leaving only the program summary onscreen. "The Association has spent centuries building its ranking system, its academies, its combat forces. We know how to train talent. We know how to deploy it. What we’ve never been good at is rehabilitation."
"When an awakened criminal commits a severe crime," Dr. Hart said, "their strength stops being an asset and becomes a liability."
"A powerful awakened individual can cause more destruction than a lot of monsters."
"Sometimes considerably more," Gideon added.
"Which is why severe cases get executed," Felix said.
"Correct," Elena said. "Below Tier 1, there’s rarely a reason to take the risk of doing anything else."
Felix’s eyes stayed on the files. "So these five should already be dead."
Nobody answered him. Nobody needed to.
"They’re alive because they’re Tier 1."
"Yes."
"That’s a dangerous precedent."
"It is," Elena said, without flinching from it. "Which is exactly why this is an experimental program and not standard policy. Ordinary criminals serve sentences proportional to their crimes. The ones considered too dangerous to release are executed. These five are different: they have something humanity can’t easily replace."
"Potential," Felix said.
"Exactly." Dr. Hart adjusted her glasses. "A Tier 1 talent isn’t just another strong awakened. We might go years without discovering a single new one."
Felix understood the shape of the argument without needing it spelled out further. Fifty rifts opened somewhere on Earth every day.
Heroes went in. People died. Power mattered, and Tier 1 was the closest thing humanity had to a future.
Elena’s voice cooled. "The Association has decided to give these five one chance."
"And if they fail?"
"Execution," Gideon said.
Felix’s expression didn’t change. "Even though they’re Tier 1?"
"Especially because of it. A Tier 1 talent who refuses to become an asset is more dangerous than a Tier 3 criminal ever could be."
Elena closed the files. "We’re not interested in forgiving what they’ve done."
Felix caught the distinction. "Then what exactly are you trying to do?"
"Rehabilitation. And afterward, supervised service, assuming they show real, verified change, they’d eventually work under strict Association oversight."
"Using their abilities against rifts," Dr. Hart said.
"So you’re trying to turn criminals into heroes."
"Not heroes," Elena said, after a pause. "Assets."
The word sat heavy in the room. Felix didn’t like it, but he understood exactly why it had been chosen, the Association wasn’t pretending these women were innocent.
It was asking whether there was anything worth salvaging in people it had otherwise already condemned.
"And you want me to run this."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Elena didn’t answer right away. When she did, it was simple. "Your mana."
"My healing?"
"No. Your mana itself," Dr. Hart said, leaning forward.
"My mana is healing mana. Every healer has healing mana."
"Not like yours."
Felix said nothing. Dr. Hart pulled up another display, rows of readings scrolling past.
"Your mana has a passive psychological effect."
"When you walk into a room, people become calmer and it happens even when you’re not actively healing anyone. Hostility drops. Stress drops. Anxiety drops."
"How much?"
"It varies."
"Can it control people?"
"No," Dr. Hart said, and Felix relaxed slightly at each answer.
"Then what does it do?"
"Have you ever stood outside on a quiet morning after a long day? Warm sun, a light breeze, nothing demanding your attention?"
"Sure."
"That’s the closest comparison we have."
Felix looked down at his own hands. "So people just feel comfortable around me."
"That’s extremely valuable in a prison," Gideon said, his expression turning grim. "They don’t trust anyone."
"Some of them haven’t spoken to a psychologist voluntarily in years," Dr. Hart said. "Some refuse treatment outright. Some provoke their guards on purpose. Some have tried to end their own lives. Others attack anyone who gets close."
"And you think they’ll talk to me."
"We don’t know."
"That’s reassuring."
"That’s why it’s an experiment."
"None of the other healers have your passive effect. We’ve tested the strongest candidates. Other healers can calm someone while actively treating them. Yours works just from being nearby."
Felix had always thought of it as a minor quirk: the thing that kept frightened children from crying, that let his team breathe easier after a bad fight. He’d never once considered it important.
Apparently, it was more than that.
He rubbed his chin. "So you want me spending my days talking to murderers."
"Two days a week."
"Thursday and Friday."
Felix gave her a flat look. "Thursday through Sunday is rest for my team. You’re asking for half of it."
It was standard Association policy, three days of raiding demanded four days of recovery afterward, mind and body both, and no hero was cleared for another gate until that window closed.
"You can refuse," Dr. Hart said. No pressure behind it, no hesitation either. Felix appreciated that.
He leaned back. "Then why should I say yes?"
"Now we’re getting to the important part," Elena said, and Felix nodded like she’d finally caught up to him.
"I already risk my life three days a week."
"We prepared compensation." Elena laid it out point by point: an additional thirty-five percent of his current pay for the duration of the program, his existing salary and raid assignments untouched, all medical and research costs related to his participation covered, priority access to rare healing materials and cutting-edge healing research, full discretion over his methods inside the facility’s safety regulations, and extra paid leave to make up for the weekends lost.
Felix’s mood improved with each item. "No committee looking over my shoulder?"
"No."
"No administrator interrupting every session?"
"No."
"Now you’re speaking my language."
Dr. Hart laughed quietly. Felix looked back down at the five files, and his smile faded.
"What exactly is expected of me?"
"Give them a chance to become something other than what they’ve been," Dr. Hart said.
Felix sat with that for a moment. "So I don’t have to promise success."
"And if I decide it’s hopeless?"
"You report it," Elena said.
If these five couldn’t be brought back, they wouldn’t be given time to try again.
Felix exhaled. "Fine."
Elena raised an eyebrow. "You’re accepting?"
"I’m agreeing to visit."
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" He stared at her.
"The program can’t begin without your assessment first."
He stood and turned for the door. "Fine. I’ll visit tomorrow."
"I’ll escort you personally," Gideon said behind him.
"Good. If anything goes wrong, I’m blaming you."
Felix walked out. Behind him, the three officials traded a glance.
The experiment had begun.
And tomorrow, Felix Valerius would go underground to meet the women judged too dangerous to let live and too valuable to simply kill.