The green-eyed boy extended his hand with a friendly smile. "I'm Asher. I hope we can get along for the next few months."
Kai smirked, clasping the offered hand. "I'm Kai. I'll try, but no promises."
Their conversation was just beginning to flow when a sharp chime echoed across the school grounds. A clear, automated voice followed.
"Team assignments have been finalized. All recruits, please report to Training Yard B to receive your team details and update your badges."
Asher raised an eyebrow. "Guess it's time to see who we're stuck with," he said, standing up and motioning for Kai to follow.
Kai nodded, pocketing his hands casually. "Let's hope for decent teammates. No promises there, either."
Kai and Asher arrived at the training yard, joining the throng of students already gathered. The recruits were split into two groups: one for those who had passed Miss Deyvinne's test and another for those who hadn't. With fifty teams in total, it was clear that the training for each group would differ.
Kai scanned the roster board, his eyes darting through the names until they finally landed on his own. Next to it were two other names: one familiar, Asher Thayne, and another he recognized from the top of the physical tests, Amaya Young.
Kai raised an eyebrow, nudging Asher. "Looks like we're stuck together. Amaya's our third. Recognize the name?"
Asher grinned, running a hand through his blond hair. "Oh, I recognize it. She smoked everyone in the fitness tests. Lucky us, huh?"
Kai crossed his arms, glancing toward the other students. "Yeah, lucky. Let's hope her attitude matches her performance."
Kai and Asher approached the instructors' table, handing over the badges they had received during orientation. The badges were scanned one by one, a faint beep confirming their information before being handed back. They clipped the badges onto their uniforms and moved toward their assigned group station, where a sign labeled their team number stood.
Waiting there was a girl slightly shorter than both of them. She had striking white hair, pale skin, and piercing purple eyes that seemed to glimmer in the sunlight. Her gaze, however, was anything but welcoming. She fixed a disapproving look on them—or more specifically, on Kai.
Kai exchanged a quick glance with Asher, who offered a wry grin. "Looks like someone's already sizing you up."
Kai sighed, adjusting his badge. "Yeah, well, let's hope she's better at teamwork than giving stink-eyes."
The girl crossed her arms, her expression unchanging. "You're Kai Mendoza, right?" she asked, her voice sharp and direct.
Kai nodded slowly. "That's me. And you must be Amaya Young."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if appraising him. "Don't slow me down. I didn't get this far to carry dead weight."
Kai's lips curled into a half-smirk, his tone cool. "Don't worry. I'm not planning on getting carried."
Asher stepped between them with a laugh, holding up his hands. "Alright, let's save the sparring for the training field, yeah? We're all on the same team now."
Amaya gave him a curt nod, though her gaze lingered on Kai for a moment longer before she turned away.
As the other students lined up at their assigned stations, Amaya turned to Kai, her expression sharp and skeptical. "So, the Mendoza family. I never thought I'd see the day they'd let one of their own into this organization."
Kai raised an eyebrow, confused. "The hell are you talking about? I'm not from some big family or anything. Mendoza's a common last name. I'm from the outskirts, and I'm here purely by coincidence."
Amaya's purple eyes narrowed, her gaze filled with doubt. "You expect me to believe that? You got a gold recommendation from Grandmaster Nathan Dark, and you want me to believe you have nothing to do with the Mendoza family? Sounds like nepotism to me."
Kai chuckled, shaking his head. "I mean, sure, you could call it nepotism if you stretch the definition. But I didn't even want to come here in the first place, and I definitely don't have ties to some rich, important family. Like I said, Mendoza isn't exactly a rare name."
Amaya studied him for a moment, as if trying to read between the lines. Finally, she sighed and looked away.
Kai glanced at Asher, confused, only to see his teammate staring back with a surprised expression. It was clear Asher believed the same thing Amaya did—that Kai was hiding some connection to the Mendoza family.
"Damn," Kai muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Everyone here probably thinks the same thing. This is going to be a pain in the ass."
Asher raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, the silence between them thick with unspoken questions. Kai sighed, already dreading the uphill battle to prove himself to people who had made up their minds before even knowing him.
After everyone finished lining up, Kai noticed the familiar competitive glances being thrown his way. He let out a weary sigh, already feeling the weight of their assumptions.
It was probably best if he kept quiet about the fact that he technically did have a connection to the Mendoza family. After all, his dad had been disowned when he married Kai's mom, severing any ties they might have had. Kai doubted it would matter much to these people anyway.
Still, he hoped the truth would eventually come to light. Once people saw for themselves that he had no real connection to the wealthy and powerful Mendoza family, maybe the whispers and assumptions would stop.
A man stepped out of a sleek black hovercraft adorned with the A.M.I. logo emblazoned on its side. His jet-black hair matched his eerie, pupil-less eyes and pale complexion, while a metallic prosthetic arm added to his foreboding appearance. This was Nathan Dark, one of the highest-ranking leaders in the A.M.I., a figure both feared and respected.
Walking with unwavering confidence, Nathan approached the gates of a sprawling mansion. The guards stationed there didn't even flinch as he passed, granting him entry without a word. Inside, he was met by a tall, muscular woman with fair skin, long black hair cascading down her back, and sharp almond-shaped eyes. She stood with a commanding presence, though her expression revealed a clear sense of irritation.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Dark?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Nathan's lips curled into a sharp, unsettling smile. "I've got some news that I think you'll find... entertaining."
The woman crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly, signaling for him to continue.
"Your estranged nephew has made his way into the A.M.I. training program," Nathan said, his voice teasing. "Somehow, he's awakened a mask ability."
The woman's brows furrowed in confusion. "My nephews? That's impossible. I'm in regular contact with all of them, and they've been training their faceless abilities for years. Besides, it's unheard of for a Mendoza to awaken a mask. My great-grandfather ensured that centuries ago."
Nathan's grin widened, his amusement practically radiating off him. "Not one of the nephews you dote on. I'm talking about Alon's son—the one Rick has been looking after. You know, the boy you met just once."
The woman's expression shifted to something unreadable, her body language cold and dismissive. She turned her back on Nathan and began to walk away. "I have no interest in the affairs of that child," she said flatly. "I don't know how he managed to bypass the seal my great-grandfather placed on our bloodline and awaken a mask ability, but it doesn't concern me. Unless he starts throwing around the Mendoza name for his own gain, he's none of my business. Don't waste my time with this trivial nonsense again."
Nathan chuckled softly, his gaze following her as she disappeared into the mansion's vast halls. "As you wish," he murmured, his tone laced with amusement.
The woman stepped into her room, her expression softening as the door closed behind her. Walking over to a small, ornate desk, she opened a drawer and pulled out an old photograph. The picture showed her younger brother, his smile carefree and full of life.
Her fingers brushed over the image, lingering on his face. He had been an innocent casualty in the brutal fight for succession—needlessly killed, despite having no interest in power or the family's treacherous politics.
A faint smile touched her lips, bittersweet and fleeting. "At least he's doing fine," she murmured to herself, the words heavy with unspoken emotions.
She placed the photograph gently on the desk, her thoughts drifting to her estranged nephew. Though she had met him only once, she was relieved to know he was living outside the suffocating grip of the Mendoza family and its endless, senseless infighting.
"I hope he has a good life," she whispered, a quiet wish carried by the stillness of the room. For once, she found solace in the idea that someone in their bloodline might escape the cycle of ambition, betrayal, and loss that had defined their legacy.