"My name is Haruto," he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper in the sterile, white-walled room.
The woman in front of him, appearing to be in her early thirties, scrutinized him with a piercing gaze that seemed to strip away every layer of his defenses. Her expression was unreadable, as though she expected more than just a name—she wanted proof, an explanation he wasn't sure he could give.
"Haruto Takahashi," he added quickly, his voice quivering slightly. "What… what do you want with me?"
The woman's lips twisted into a faint smile, one that was anything but warm. "I want to know if you're lying, Mr. Takahashi. About the '900 years' claim," she said, her tone skeptical yet cautious, as though entertaining the possibility.
Haruto felt a shiver run down his spine. The woman continued before he could muster a response.
"You're not the first to go through something like this," she said coolly. "Only eight others have experienced what you have—the coma, the complete preservation of the body. They're known as the 'chosen few,' and they could hold the key to human survival."
She turned to a young boy in an oversized lab coat, barely more than a child, with round glasses that kept sliding down his nose. "Hey! Run his name. Let's see if we have any data on him."
The boy, likely no older than fourteen, nodded eagerly. He adjusted his glasses and turned to a holographic screen and keyboard that hovered in mid-air—an advanced technology Haruto had never seen before. The faint glow illuminated the boy's face as he typed, his fingers moving swiftly.
"The name's Yuki Takamura," the woman introduced herself, her stern expression softening just a fraction as she glanced at the boy. "And this little assistant here is—"
"Satoru Nakamura!" the boy finished with enthusiasm, beaming as he typed. But the excitement quickly faded from his face, replaced by an expression of shock as his gaze locked on the data he'd pulled up. His eyes darted to Yuki, disbelief plain on his face.
"Haruto's… he's not lying," Satoru whispered, his voice barely audible.
Yuki's eyes widened, and she stepped closer to the holographic display, studying the data with a mixture of awe and trepidation. "The ninth," she murmured, almost to herself, the weight of that single word sinking into the silence of the room.
Turning back to Haruto, Yuki's expression shifted, tinged with something close to reverence—or fear. "If you truly are the ninth," she began slowly, "then there's a lot you need to know. We'll bring you up to speed on the world's current situation."
She took a deep breath, as if steadying herself. "Three hundred years after you fell asleep, a race of cold-hearted colonizers came to Earth. Their only objective was to conquer, to claim Earth as their own."
Haruto's mind reeled, struggling to process the idea that aliens had invaded Earth. Yuki continued, her tone laced with bitterness.
"These creatures—far stronger, faster, and more advanced than us—are called the Tyralk. They're monstrous beings, capable of altering their forms to appear human while retaining their inhuman strength and abilities. We quickly learned that conventional weapons were useless against them."
"To combat this threat, humanity developed specialized military factions dedicated solely to fighting the Tyralk," Yuki explained. "Our soldiers wear advanced mech suits designed to level the playing field."
Haruto listened, trying to wrap his head around the implications of her words. He could barely imagine what it must be like to face off against these Tyralk beings.
"But there's a catch," Yuki continued grimly. "To operate these powerful suits, a soldier must first consume Tyralk blood. It's the only thing that can attune a human body to the suits' power systems. But the process is… risky. Forty percent of people who consume the blood survive; the rest… don't. Their hearts simply stop."
Haruto's stomach twisted at the thought, but he forced himself to listen.
"Currently, you're in the 8th Division," Yuki went on, gesturing around the sterile room. "There are 108 divisions in total, with the 1st Division being the best of the best, the elite force. The lower the division number, the stronger the faction."
She rattled off this information so quickly that Haruto could barely keep up, each revelation sinking in like a weight pressing down on his chest.
"And because you've stumbled upon one of our military divisions and, more importantly, because you are such a… rare case," Yuki said, her eyes narrowing as she met his gaze, "I'm giving you no choice."
Haruto stiffened, sensing the finality in her voice.
"You'll enroll in our military academy," she said with a hint of satisfaction. "You'll train. You'll become a soldier, and you'll fight."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. The room fell into a tense silence, Yuki's unyielding gaze fixed on him as he tried to process her ultimatum.
Finally, Haruto found his voice. "And… what if I refuse?"
Yuki's eyes hardened. "Then you'll be sent back to isolation. Permanently."
Haruto swallowed, realizing that he had no real options here.