The most prominent building in Azure City was the gray-black Lord’s Spire rising from the heart of the central district.
At the top of the tower, Frederick sat in the main chair, watching the man across from him settle into his seat and place his data pad on the table.
His movements were unhurried, like he owned the place.
Zevran spoke.
His voice was not loud, but it carried the weight of a blunt instrument.
Not sharp, but heavy when it landed.
“I don’t beat around the bush, Frederick.”
“Then get to the point.”
Frederick did not move.
His hand rested casually on the armrest, but there was nothing casual in his eyes.
Zevran slid the data pad across the table.
“Six months ago, the organization distributed the Otherworld Summoning Initiative to select cities in the Hundred Cities Federation.” The screen displayed an official directive, emblazoned with the Undercurrent insignia.
“This isn’t just Azure City’s problem. Each city carries a different weight.”
Frederick glanced down at the screen, but did not reach for the data pad.
“I know what it says.”
Zevran paused, then pulled the data pad back.
“Then you also know how much of your stockpiles Azure City burned through to run this experiment. Energy reserves dropped by nearly forty percent. We still haven’t fully closed the gap in strategic materials.” He paused.
“And all you have to show for it is six months of zero progress and an Otherworld Lifeform who hasn’t even achieved basic awakening.”
“The experiment failed,” Frederick said.
“It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.”
“Failed.” Zevran’s voice was flat.
“Azure City dipped into your city’s strategic reserves. You requested technical support from the organization. And now you hand me a single word. Failed.”
“Zevran.” Frederick’s voice did not rise, but there was something cold and compressed beneath it.
“When Undercurrent distributed this initiative, it was made crystal clear that each city would bear its own experimental risks. Azure City took it on, and we bore the consequences. The experiment failed. That’s our loss, not a debt we owe the organization.”
Zevran did not reply immediately.
“The organization will not hold you accountable for your losses,” he said.
“But the fact that the Otherworld Lifeform is still alive changes everything.”
“He’s alive, but he shows no signs of awakening. He’s no different from an ordinary human.” Frederick looked at him steadily.
“What makes this worth a personal trip?”
“Because no other city has gotten this far.” Zevran flipped to another page and slid the data pad back across.
“Every other summoning attempt either failed during the process or the summoned individual died shortly after arrival. Only Azure City has produced a living, functioning Otherworld Lifeform. And you’ve kept him alive for six full months.”
Frederick glanced at the screen and said nothing.
“According to the organization’s data, Otherworld Lifeforms are never ordinary humans.” Zevran’s voice remained level, but there was pressure building beneath it.
“Six months of no progress doesn’t mean he has no potential. It just means you might not have found the right method. Or…”
He looked directly at Frederick.
“You found it, and you didn’t tell us.”
The room fell silent for several seconds.
Frederick did not speak immediately.
He just looked at Zevran.
After a few seconds, he replied.
“You should have read Azure City’s files more carefully before you came. Rufina is responsible for his daily training and observation. Cyrus runs all the core testing. Six months of data, submitted weekly. Not a single report missing.” He paused.
“If we had found something, why would we hide it from the organization?”
“Whether it’s necessary or not isn’t for you to decide.”
“And it’s not for you to decide either.” Frederick’s gaze was calm, but it carried the unshakable weight of authority.
“Azure City and Undercurrent are partners, Zevran. Not subordinates. You want to conduct an inspection? Fine. I’ll cooperate. But let’s be clear. This is a courtesy I’m extending you. Not a right you’re entitled to.”
Zevran was silent for a moment.
He closed the data pad and stood up.
“Then I expect your full cooperation, Frederick,” he said, his tone unchanged.
“I want to see this Otherworld Lifeform in person.”
Frederick looked at him, was silent for a moment, then nodded.
“Cyrus will take you to him.”
The door to the maintenance bay slammed open.
Keran was crouched on the floor, staring at a disassembled circuit box.
Six men flooded through the doorway, their guns raised.
Their boots thudded against the metal floor, and the air in the entire maintenance bay turned thick and heavy in an instant.
“Stand up.”
Keran stood slowly.
In that single second, he did one thing: he tugged the hem of his shirt downward, making sure no edge of the armor was showing, then steadied his breathing and emptied his mind.
Zevran walked in and stood in the center of the room, looking around.
The maintenance bay was a mess.
Tools were scattered everywhere.
Metal shavings covered the floor.
Several guns marked for repair sat on the workbench. This story is hosted at g.com.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
His eyes lingered on the guns for a moment, then settled on Keran.
Keran looked like someone who’d just been woken up and hadn’t quite processed what was happening.
His clothes were baggy.
The armor underneath clung tight to his body.
The pistol was pressed against his lower back, the knife hidden along his calf.
Both were completely concealed by the fabric, with no telltale bulges.
An assistant stepped forward, raised a scanner, and ran it over him from head to toe.
The low hum of the device was loud in the silent maintenance bay.
The assistant stared at his screen.
“Energy factor density. F-minus. Matches the files. Vital signs. Within normal parameters.”
Zevran’s expression did not change.
“Signs of awakening?”
“None.”
He took two steps forward and stopped less than a meter away from Keran.
Keran just stood there, his eyes unfocused.
Like he was half asleep, or had no idea what was going on.
There was no tension around his eyes.
His shoulders were slightly hunched, his posture timid and defensive.
Exactly how an ordinary human would react when surrounded by armed men.
Zevran stared directly into his eyes, unblinking, for a very long time.
It was a basic interrogation technique.
Most people couldn’t last ten seconds under that kind of gaze.
Their hearts would race, their eyes would dart away, or they would start talking just to fill the silence.
Keran did nothing.
He just stared back at Zevran, his eyes empty.
Like he was looking at a wall.
“Do you know who we are?” Zevran asked.
Keran thought for a moment, then shook his head.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“No.” His voice was flat.
No tremor, but no forced calm either.
Just ordinary confusion.
“Are you afraid?”
This time Keran hesitated for much longer.
Then he nodded.
Zevran looked away and turned to his assistant.
“Mental scan.”
This was what Keran had been expecting.
And it was the hardest part.
The assistant swapped to a smaller device, pressed it against Keran’s temple, and hit the activate button.
Mental scans didn’t measure physical stats.
They measured consciousness activity and the complexity of thought patterns.
Someone hiding a secret had a completely different mental signature from someone with nothing on their mind.
[You are being subjected to a Low-Grade Mental Scan. Scanning in progress… Minor Willpower Enhancement activated. Your core thoughts are protected. No valid information obtained from this scan.]
Thank god for that stupid willpower talent.
Keran breathed a silent sigh of relief, but his face gave nothing away.
For that brief moment, he could feel it clearly.
An invisible hand reaching into his consciousness, rifling through his memories and thoughts.
Without the willpower protection, he had no doubt they would have discovered the System Panel instantly.
And dug up every single one of his hidden plans.
After a few seconds, the assistant frowned.
He pulled the device away, pressed it back against Keran’s temple, and scanned him again.
Same result.
“Within normal parameters,” the assistant said, sounding confused.
“Mental activity is below average. Consciousness level matches that of an average adult. No anomalous signs.”
Zevran did not speak immediately.
He looked back at Keran, this time for even longer.
Keran stood there, his eyelids drooping, looking tired from all the fuss.
Zevran could find nothing.
Nothing at all.
Without warning, he grabbed a wrench off the workbench and hurled it straight at Keran.
Whoosh!
The wrench flew past Keran’s ear and slammed into the wall behind him.
Bang!
“I… did I do something wrong?”
Zevran stared at him for two more seconds, then finally looked away.
“Inventory every tool and material in this maintenance bay.”
He turned and walked toward the door.
Rufina was leaning against the wall in the hallway.
When she saw Zevran come out, she crossed her arms tighter over her chest.
“What’s the verdict?”
“Matches the reports,” Zevran said, not breaking stride.
“Then there’s no problem.”
“No problem.” Zevran walked two more steps, then stopped and turned his head.
“But I’m still taking him.”
Rufina’s eyelid twitched.
“You’re still taking him even though you found nothing wrong?”
“Organization protocol,” Zevran said.
“All individuals obtained via Otherworld Summoning fall under the final jurisdiction of headquarters. This isn’t about the inspection results. It’s about procedure.”
He continued walking.
Rufina stood in the hallway, watching his back.
Her fingers tightened around her arm.
She said nothing.
A crowd had gathered in Azure City’s central square.
The transport plane sat in the middle, its engines humming low, weighing the air around it down into a heavy stillness.
These planes were a rare sight.
Most people in Azure City had seen ground transports, but few had ever witnessed one flying in from outside.
Keran was led out in handcuffs.
His wrists were bound in power restraints, faint blue electricity flickering at the clasps.
He walked slowly, his eyes sweeping over the crowd without lingering.
They stared back at him, their faces mostly blank.
Like they were watching a piece of cargo being loaded onto a truck.
“That’s the Otherworld Lifeform?”
“He looks just like a regular guy.”
“I thought he’d have three eyes or something.”
“I heard they summoned him from another world.”
Frederick stood on the steps of the Lord’s Spire.
He did not come down.
Their eyes met for a single second.
Then Frederick looked away.
Rufina stood beside the transport plane.
She said nothing.
She just watched him walk toward her, then past her.
Keran slowed his step for a fraction of a second as he passed her.
So slight it was almost impossible to see.
Six months ago, she’d been the one who’d pulled him off that operating table.
Now she was the one seeing him off.
He did not look back.
The ramp closed.
The light from outside vanished.
The cabin was lit only by emergency lights, casting everything in dim, yellow shadow.
Zevran sat across from him, reading through files, not looking up.
Two Operatives sat on either side, their guns slung over their shoulders, relaxed.
The engine roar rose.
The plane began to accelerate.
Then came the moment of liftoff.
Gravity shifted, pulling Keran down hard into his seat, then let go.
Keran leaned back against the cabin wall and closed his eyes.
Through the vibration of the fuselage, he could feel them gaining altitude.
Azure City’s hundred-meter alloy walls shrank beneath them.
The wasteland stretched out in all directions, all the way to the horizon.
As the plane passed over the city walls, something in the cabin trembled faintly.
Like they had crossed the boundary of some invisible force field.
A notification popped up on his System Panel.
[You have left Azure City’s territory.]