Garos sat at his desk, sleeves rolled up, coat draped over the chair behind him. His office was dim, the only light coming from the small lamp beside a stack of reports he hadn’t touched in hours. The screen in front of him buzzed for a second, and then Athena’s face came up.
"Yeah?" he said, voice flat.
She didn’t waste time. "It’s done. Class Zero just finished their set."
Garos leaned back, eyes narrowing a bit. "How bad?"
Athena blinked. "Not bad."
"I wouldn’t be calling if I wasn’t."
Garos turned in his chair slowly, glancing at the second monitor that tracked performance ratings in real time. "You know how many people are watching this week."
"I do," she said. "That’s why I’m calling."
Garos leaned forward again. "Talk."
Athena crossed her arms, exhaling lightly. "Reia blew the field wide open with raw speed and hand-to-hand control. Evelyn’s replication evolved mid-fight—completely unscripted. Silas got creative, actually worked with her instead of freelancing. Vyn... didn’t talk much, as usual, but I’ve never seen someone make that many clean strikes in a row."
"Didn’t get touched?"
Garos scratched his beard, gaze flicking to the side. "Lucian?"
There was a pause. Athena’s expression didn’t change, but something in her voice lowered.
"He didn’t lose a single exchange."
Garos’s brow twitched. "No injuries?"
She watched him in silence for a second.
"I thought the same thing," she added. "But watching it unfold? The kid was calm. Calculated. Like he was just testing footing."
Garos closed the file in front of him. "So what, he’s holding back?"
They didn’t say anything after that for a moment.
Outside, the city lights of Kraydon’s central district flickered through the tall windows. The hum of floating transports passed in the background. Everything felt muted in that moment between them.
"I already got three messages from recruiters," Athena said. "One from the Einar group. One from the Von Albrecht faction. And someone from the Association’s Upper Division’s watching from the fifth ring. Told me to keep them updated."
Garos leaned his elbows on the desk. "And you think any of them could offer something worth his time?"
She gave a small shake of her head. "No. But they’ll still try."
He scoffed. "Of course they will."
Athena glanced off screen, as if something caught her attention in the background. Probably more messages flooding her terminal.
"I’ll hold them off for now," she said. "But once the final round begins, we’re going to have trouble keeping him off their radar."
Garos sighed through his nose, long and heavy.
"What about the others?" he asked. "The rest of the Class?"
"They’re fine. But Class Zero isn’t really a class anymore. It’s something else now."
That made Garos look up again. "Elaborate."
"They don’t hesitate. That’s the difference. Everyone else, even the older kids, even the recommendeds—they still hesitate when something shifts. These ones... they just move."
Garos sat there, jaw tight, thumb brushing against the armrest.
"...And the chemistry?"
Athena nodded slowly. "There’s trust. Not the fake kind you get from drills. It’s instinct. Natural alignment. Evelyn and Silas adapted mid-run without speaking. Vyn covered them without blinking. Reia tracked three people at once. Lucian never looked back once—but they all still moved around him like he was the anchor."
Athena lowered her voice just slightly.
"You were right to let me take them."
He gave a dry chuckle. "You act like I had a choice."
"You always have a choice," she said. "You just made the right one for once."
Garos leaned back again, eyes half-lidded now.
"They’re going to cause a stir," he muttered. "All of them. Not just him."
Athena didn’t disagree.
Outside, the wind shifted again. The moon hung low above the city, casting a faint glow through the glass.
Garos tapped a few keys, bringing up a separate file. Not the reports—something older.
A profile. No name. Just a series of access-locked data logs, some corrupted, some deliberately wiped. The screen pulsed faintly, then faded.
"They’re not ready for what’s coming," he said.
"Which ones?" Athena asked.
He glanced at the screen again.
Athena was quiet, then added, "Lucian already knows that. He’s just watching."
Garos gave her a look. "And you’re okay with that?"
"I’m not his leash," she said. "I’m just here to see what happens when he stops watching."
For once, Garos didn’t argue.
He rubbed the side of his face, then said, "What about the final rounds?"
"They’ll pass. All of them."
Garos stared at her for a while. "You’re not telling me everything."
"I don’t need to," she replied. "Not yet."
He let the silence settle. Then clicked off the screen.
Athena’s image vanished, and Garos was alone again.
But he didn’t feel relaxed. Not even close.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds before he reached under the desk and pulled out a different terminal—one not linked to the Academy’s public grid.
"Monitor Class Zero. Full blackout protocol. Log but don’t interfere."
Then a soft beep confirmed it.
Garos leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a long time.
"...This is gonna get messy," he muttered.
Outside, the city didn’t slow. Zenith Week was just beginning.
And in the middle of it all... were kids who didn’t feel like kids anymore.
The next day, the arena buzzed louder than usual.
Spectators filled every row, voices climbing into a steady roar as the morning announcements scrolled across the holograms. The center of the field shimmered, waiting for the first simulation to load in.
Then a new line flashed across the main screen—sharp, bold, unmistakable.
"Special Challenge Request: Target – Class Zero (Hunter Academy)"
The crowd reacted instantly. Whispers snapped into gasps. Even the instructors from other academies sat forward.
Inside the prep corridor, Lucian raised a brow. Silas clicked his tongue. Reia tilted her head slightly. Evelyn just smiled.
Vyn didn’t say anything. As usual.
Back up on the leaderboard, the rankings updated. Sharp, digital, no drama—just facts.
[Class Zero – Hunter Academy – Rank 1 – 99.8% Composite Score]
Beneath them, the second place team lagged almost five points behind. No one else was close.
A new notification followed the challenge request: "Accepted."
Lucian stood, stretching slightly. No one asked who they were fighting.
Everyone wanted to see what happened when the top team stopped holding back.
And today... the whole damn arena was watching.