The hallway leading to the meeting room felt more like a gauntlet than a passageway. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the rhythmic clicks of my escort's boots and the faint hum of security scanners. Every step seemed to echo, amplifying the tension thrumming through my chest.
"Big meeting for a new awakener," the officer leading me commented, her voice flat but not unfriendly. "Not many people get called up here. Must've made quite an impression."
I didn't respond. What could I say? I didn't know what this was about, but the sheer weight of the security measures screamed importance. Retinal scanners lined the walls, their soft red lights flickering as we passed. Armed guards nodded at my escort but barely glanced at me.
Finally, we reached a door far more reinforced than the others. My escort gestured for me to step forward. "This is where we part ways. Good luck."
---
The door slid open with a faint hiss, revealing a room that felt more like the control deck of a spaceship than a meeting room. Holographic projections floated above a circular table: maps of Malice Zones, energy fluctuation graphs, and scattered data streams.
Seated at the head of the table was a figure who exuded authority, even at rest. The Director wasn't imposing in stature—late 50s, sharp eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses—but there was a calmness about them that demanded attention.
"Mr. Zeus," they said, standing to greet me. "Please, take a seat."
I hesitated briefly, scanning the room for any signs of traps or surveillance. Then again, if this was a trap, I probably wouldn't have made it through the door.
The chair was unnervingly comfortable.
"I'm Director Camilla Ortega," they continued, their tone professional but warm. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."
"Not like I had much of a choice," I replied, forcing a polite smile.
The Director chuckled, leaning back slightly. "Fair enough. Let's get to it, shall we?"
---
The conversation began predictably enough—vague comments about potential, observations of my neutral standing among factions, and the usual rehearsed politeness. Camilla's tone was professional, her words carefully measured, but I could sense there was more to her agenda.
"You demonstrated remarkable adaptability during your awakening," Camilla began, her gaze unwavering. "That kind of mindset is rare and highly valued."
I offered a polite nod. "I appreciate the recognition."
She studied me for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me, Mr. Zeus, what do you think of the Saints?"
The question caught me off guard, though I masked my surprise quickly. "The Saints? They're… powerful. Respected." I shrugged. "The world needs them."
Her expression remained unreadable as she nodded. "Do you think we need to depend on them as much as we do?"
I leaned back slightly, buying myself a moment to think. This wasn't a casual question—it was a test. "Depends on what you mean by 'depend.' Their power keeps Malice Zones in check, but if we rely on them too much, what happens if they're gone?"
Her lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes remained calculating. "An insightful answer."
The pause that followed felt deliberate, a tactic to let her statement sink in. Then she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Let me be candid, Mr. Zeus. The Hunter Association isn't as unified as it appears. It's divided into three factions: Loyalists, Independents, and Pragmatists."
---
The explanation was concise but revealing.
"The Loyalists," she began, "are steadfast in their allegiance to the Saints. To them, the Saints are humanity's saviors, and their guidance should dictate our decisions. They dominate areas rich in celestial energy, such as the Visayas and parts of Luzon."
Her tone remained neutral, but there was a subtle edge of disapproval.
"The Independents, on the other hand, advocate for self-reliance," she continued. "They argue that humanity cannot depend on celestial beings indefinitely. Their influence is strongest in regions like Mindanao, where survival instincts and self-sufficiency are paramount."
Her gaze flicked to me, gauging my reaction. "And then there are the Pragmatists, where I align myself. We believe in balance—leveraging the Saints' power while building human-led infrastructures that can stand on their own."
I nodded slowly, processing her words. The factions weren't just philosophical differences—they were deeply rooted power struggles shaping the Association's every decision.
"We don't broadcast these divisions," Camilla added, her tone firm. "But they influence everything we do, including who we trust with critical missions."
"Which brings us to me," I said, crossing my arms.
"Exactly," she replied, her expression calm but pointed. "Your neutral status makes you valuable. You're not tied to any faction, which allows you to operate without the baggage others carry. It's a rare quality."
---
Camilla then shifted the conversation to the mission proposal.
"A minor Malice Zone has been detected near Antipolo," she began, gesturing to a holographic map of Luzon. The red marker over Antipolo pulsed faintly, highlighting its proximity to celestial energy hotspots.
"Minor Malice Zones aren't unusual," she continued. "But this one is different. The energy signatures are unstable, suggesting a deeper imbalance. If left unchecked, it could escalate into something far worse."
Her tone remained calm, but the weight of her words was clear. "We need this Zone investigated and contained."
"Shouldn't that be the Saints' job?" I asked, leaning back.
"The Saints are focused on higher-priority Zones," she replied smoothly. "This requires a more surgical approach. That's where you come in."
She detailed the mission objectives: investigate the source of the imbalance, contain any potential threats, and report findings directly to the Association.
"You won't be doing this alone," Camilla added. "You'll be working with two other awakeners."
She brought up profiles of my future teammates:
Evelyn Reyes, a 17-year-old Rank A prodigy tied to the Loyalists. Her image showed a determined young woman with a sharp gaze and an air of confidence.
Dario Mendoza, a 21-year-old Rank B fighter representing the Independents. He had a more rugged appearance, his expression one of quiet defiance.
"They represent the factions at odds in the region," Camilla explained. "The mission will test not just your skills, but your ability to navigate factional dynamics."
"Great," I muttered. "Throw me into a powder keg and see if I survive."
Camilla chuckled softly, the sound tinged with amusement. "Consider it a chance to prove your neutrality—and your leadership."
"Or a chance to get caught in someone else's crossfire," I countered.
"That's always a risk," she admitted. "But if you want to make a difference, Mr. Zeus, you'll need to learn to navigate these dynamics. This mission begins in 45 days. In the meantime, you'll undergo combat and survival training to prepare."
I frowned, crossing my arms. "And if I refuse?"
"Then you miss an opportunity to shape your path," Camilla said simply, her gaze unflinching.
The weight behind her words was palpable. Refusing wasn't just about turning down a mission—it was about stepping back from the role she clearly believed I was meant to play.
---
As I left the room, my thoughts were a tangled mess. Factions, covert missions, and a team with clashing ideologies—it all felt too big for someone who'd barely scratched the surface of this new world.
But as I walked down the hallway, I noticed staff glancing at me, their whispers just audible:
"Who is he?"
"Someone important, clearly."
"Think he's a new Saint candidate?"
The words made me pause. Saint candidate? I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
By the time I returned to the apartment, Gale was already waiting, her expression a mix of excitement and worry.
"How'd it go?" she asked, handing me a glass of water.
"Complicated," I admitted, summarizing the meeting while carefully omitting the most sensitive details.
She frowned. "A mission like that sounds dangerous. Are you sure you're ready?"
"Guess I'll find out," I said, forcing a smile.
Later that evening, as I reviewed my System, a soft chime echoed in my mind.
Quest Log Update: Two New Side Quests Added.
I stared at the notification, curiosity sparking. "Side quests, huh?"
---