Her voice trailed off, and her tiny eyes suddenly widened, trembling as if she'd just seen something impossible.
"Dots?" Elias asked, his tone sharp with concern. "Dots, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Before she could answer, Elias's world lurched. The plate he'd been washing slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor with a crash. But he barely noticed it as his vision blurred, colors swirling around him. The kitchen vanished, replaced by an infinite expanse of soft blue light that felt both alien and oddly familiar.
"W-wait," Elias stammered, turning in place. "This is… this is where we talked the first time. Why did you pull me here again?"
"I didn't," Dot whispered, her voice barely audible. She floated motionless, staring straight ahead. The faint blue glow reflected on her face, revealing the form of an old man limping toward them. His lab coat hung in tatters, streaked with dried blood that clung to his grizzled beard. He leaned heavily on a cane, each step deliberate and slow.
"Well," the man said, his voice rasping with age, "it's good to see you again, my Ikona. I trust it didn't take too long to activate and find a host."
Elias stared, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. "Who… what are you?" he demanded, noticing the faint glow of his shard illuminating the man's figure.
"I am sorry, host," the man said, his tone calm but unyielding. "I cannot answer your questions—not until you prove yourself worthy. As we speak, the other ninety-nine are receiving the same message."
"Ninety-nine?" Elias echoed, his fists tightening at his sides.
The man tapped his cane once, and Elias felt a pressure build in his chest. "The shard has activated your core metrics: Strength, Speed, and Intelligence." A faint display materialized in front of Elias:
{ Requirements Needed to Advance }
Strength: 15/100
Speed: 15/100
Intelligence: 5/100
Endurance: 10/100
Perception: 12/100
Instinct: 18/100
-
"Every twenty-four hours, give or take," the man said, his voice steady as he leaned on his cane, "the shard inside you and your Ikona will trigger. A marker will be taken to see if you've met the requirements to move forward." He gave a dry cough, tapping the cane lightly on the ground. "I can't give you more information, but I'll say this—start working on yourself if you hope to live a long life. Take it from me, all the years are worth it."
Elias remained silent for too long, his thoughts swirling. When he finally spoke, his voice was laced with frustration. "Okay. But what is all of this for? This creature… Ikona, or whatever it is, doesn't even know why it came in contact with me."
The old man's expression didn't change. "Once again, host, I am sorry. I cannot answer your questions. Continue your journey, fulfill what is in your heart, and that will lead you to the best path in your life."
The cane struck the ground again, and the soft blue glow enveloped Elias. He blinked, and in an instant, he was back in the kitchen. His phone buzzed on the counter, pulling him from the daze, but his attention was caught by a translucent screen that appeared before his eyes:
Strength: 5/100
Speed: 3/100
Intelligence: 25/100
Endurance: 25/100
Perception: 2/100
Instinct: 50/100
The numbers faded slowly as Dot floated in front of him, her usual energy dimmed. She looked up at him, her small frame carrying a weight of sadness. "Dots," Elias said softly, "I assume that was the doctor you mentioned?"
Dot hesitated, her voice trembling. "Y-yes… I don't know why, but seeing him gives me this deep ache, like my chest is breaking. But I also feel this… burning desire to see him again. To make him proud. Can we work on making that a reality?"
Elias exhaled deeply, nodding. "Yeah. I—" His phone buzzed again, cutting him off. He grabbed it, and before he could say hello, Elara's voice came through, frantic but controlled.
"Elias? Did it… did it happen to you too?" she asked, her breathing uneven. "I'm trying to process everything, but I didn't know who else to call."
"Yeah," Elias said, leaning against the counter. "I got the same thing. It's a lot to take in, but it seems pretty cut and dry. Meet the mark or don't. I can't imagine how this is shaking up the government right now."
There was a knock at the door, sharp and deliberate. Elias glanced toward it, gripping the phone tighter. "Listen, Elara, I think it's time we figure out where this leads. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
Before she could reply, he hung up and moved toward the door. Dot hovered beside him, her voice low. "What are you planning to do?"
Elias hesitated, hand on the doorknob. "Follow my heart," he said simply. "If nothing else, it feels like life's giving me a second chance."
He turned the knob and opened the door to find two PCA officers standing in sleek Jeans and tucked shirt with PCA badges, their faces unreadable behind dark sunglasses. The taller of the two stepped forward, holding out a rectangular postcard.
"Elias Kael?" the officer asked.
"Yep, that's me."
The officer handed him the card. "Geras instructed this to be delivered to you if you were still present. A truck will arrive in one hour to collect soldier candidates. You're invited to ride along, but upon arrival at the training center, you will be pulled aside for individual processing."
Elias turned the card over in his hand, studying its minimalist design. It bore only a set of coordinates and a timestamp, as though that was all he needed to decide the next steps of his life. He glanced back at Dot, who floated silently above his shoulder, her expression unusually somber. She nodded faintly, her antennae dipping in quiet affirmation.
"I feel bad," Elias muttered, his voice heavy with resignation. "I really enjoyed that job. Years of grinding, working my way up to become a chef people actually respected… and the pay was finally good, too."
He sighed, the weight of what he was leaving behind sinking in, then turned and walked toward his room. He crouched in front of the closet, pulling out an old, dirt-streaked camo backpack that had seen better days. As he packed a few shirts, socks, and other essentials, he paused for a moment, staring at the bag as if it held the answer to everything. Finally, he zipped it closed and swung it over his shoulder.
He stopped by the nightstand, where a small, framed photograph of his father rested. The edges of the picture were worn, and the glass had a faint crack running diagonally across it, but it still captured the man's steady gaze and faint smile perfectly. Elias brought his hands together, resting his fingertips lightly against the frame.
"I hope I can make you proud, Dad," he murmured. "With this second chance, I'll do my best."
Dot hovered silently nearby, watching him with a quiet, unreadable expression. For the first time, she felt a strange tightness in her chest, though she didn't fully understand why. There were no memories to explain the feeling—only the growing bond she shared with him, and an unshakable sense of his resolve.
Elias straightened, grabbed the backpack, and slung it over his shoulder. Without another glance at the apartment that had once been his sanctuary, he headed toward the door. The air outside was cool as he stepped into the quiet night, the faint hum of the city streets his only companion. Dot floated just behind him, her small glow a quiet presence in the darkness.