"Hey! Wake up! Time to go!" A loud shout echoed through the enclosed space, jolting the children awake. It was still dark outside, the air thick with the scent of sweat and fear.
One by one, they lined up, groggy and hesitant, as they were counted once more. Without a word, they were herded back into the same truck that had brought them here. The vehicle rumbled to life, rolling forward for another thirty minutes before finally coming to a stop.
A man approached, unbolting the container doors with a sharp clang. The cold night air rushed in as he began dragging the children out.
What awaited them outside was an unsettling sight—the vast expanse of the sea and a large cargo ship docked at the pier. Realization struck them like a tidal wave. They were being transported to another country, for what purpose, they could only dread to imagine. Fear gripped their hearts tighter than ever before.
"Line up and start climbing!" a gruff voice commanded.
But no one moved. Paralyzed by terror, the children hesitated.
Seeing this, one of the men stepped forward and, without warning, delivered a brutal kick to a boy near the front. The child was sent sprawling to the ground, clutching his stomach as he coughed violently, struggling for air.
"Start climbing, you little bastards! Or next time, it'll be worse!" the man bellowed.
This time, the children scrambled into a line, hurriedly obeying out of fear. Panic coursed through them as they climbed the ramp onto the ship, their fates unknown.
Once aboard, they were corralled into a cramped, dimly lit room, no larger than three meters wide and four meters long. The air was stale, carrying the heavy scent of salt and damp metal.
Hours later, the ship lurched forward, setting sail. Silence settled over them.
At midday, food was distributed. Surprisingly, it was better than what they had received before, though none of them had the appetite to enjoy it.
For nearly a month, they remained in that small room. Food was provided twice a day, and no demands were made of them. As time stretched on, they began forming groups—alliances built on the desperate need for companionship. Three groups emerged: one with five members, another with six, and the largest with eight.
Only one child remained alone—Ye Feng.
It wasn't that he hadn't been approached. Others had invited him to join their circles, discussing plans of escape, dreams of working together, and other desperate hopes. But Ye Feng found their ideas naïve, their conversations foolish. He had no interest in empty fantasies.
After ten days, they stopped trying to include him.
One Month Later
The ship finally came to a halt, and for the first time in weeks, they saw land again. But instead of relief, dread filled them. Before them stretched an endless desert, the golden sand broken only by sparse patches of dry vegetation.
Once again, they were forced into a truck, which drove relentlessly for three days. Exhaustion blurred the passage of time. Hunger gnawed at their stomachs, and the suffocating heat drained what little energy they had left.
When they were finally unloaded, they found themselves in front of a massive compound—an enclosed military-style base.
Towering walls loomed over them, stretching as far as the eye could see. Armed guards dressed in black patrolled the perimeter, their rifles slung across their chests. Military vehicles lined the pathways, and from within the compound, the sounds of drills and shouting commands could be heard.
The children were counted and recorded once more.
Ye Feng's sharp eyes took in everything. The base spanned at least fifteen square kilometers, fortified with thick walls and advanced defense systems.
But what caught his attention the most were the others.
Scattered throughout the base were groups of children—some Asian, others European, American, and African. They were just like him. Captured. Trapped. Waiting.
The men overseeing them were just as diverse. Mercenaries, soldiers, and operatives from all over the world, bound together under one organization.
A group of men approached, each surveying the children before selecting those who belonged to their respective regions.
A man in a black suit stood before Ye Feng's group. He was around 5'8" with a muscular build and an aura of absolute authority.
"Line up," he commanded in Mandarin. His voice was steady, controlled, yet carried an undeniable weight of dominance.
The children obeyed immediately, falling into formation.
"From this day forward, this is your life. This is your home and your family. You will train, you will learn, and you will serve our organization. Disobedience will not be tolerated. Punishment will be swift and merciless."
His gaze swept over them, reading their fear, their hesitation.
"You will be provided food, education, and everything you need to survive. But your life now belongs to the organization. Betrayal will cost you everything. Fear is meaningless—nothing will come from it. Accept your reality."
A tense silence followed.
"Your training will be brutal. Many of you will not survive. Out of the 230 other children here, you make up the batch of 250. Every year, new recruits will arrive. Adapt, or you will be left behind."
He took a step closer, his piercing gaze locking onto each of them.
"I am Code-117. From today onward, you will call me Master. Your training begins tomorrow. Today, you will be assigned rooms. Rest while you can—because after today, you will not have that luxury again."
His final words lingered in the air like a looming threat.
"Engrave this into your heart: You are now a part of ZERO—until death claims you."
With that, he turned on his heel and walked away. The suffocating tension eased slightly, but the weight of his words remained heavy on their shoulders.
Ye Feng's sharp gaze flickered around the compound. Similar speeches had been delivered to the other groups. In mere minutes, their fates had been sealed.
After a brief wait, older recruits—boys around seventeen or eighteen—arrived to escort them. As Ye Feng followed, he observed his surroundings carefully.
The base was a war machine. Operatives patrolled with firearms and knives, dressed in black combat suits marked with a red dagger encircled on their chest—a symbol of Zero. Some wore masks, others did not, but all exuded a ruthless efficiency.
After five minutes of walking, they arrived in front of a four-story building. Inside, each recruit was assigned a private room.
Ye Feng stepped into his quarters, taking in the sight of the small yet clean space—a bed, a desk, and an attached bathroom. For the first time in his young life, he had a room of his own.
A packet of food was left on his table. He ate in silence, then lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. For the first time, he allowed himself to feel a sliver of something close to satisfaction. It wasn't comfort, nor safety—but it was better than anything he'd had before.
Sleep claimed him quickly.
The First Day of Training
At precisely 6:00 AM, an alarm blared through the corridors. The recruits rushed out of their rooms, confusion and fatigue in their expressions.
corted to the mess hall, provided a meal, and then led to the open training grounds.
There stood Code-117.
"From today onward, you will call me Master. Your training begins now. Follow my schedule or face punishment."
What followed was the beginning of their transformation—gruelling runs, relentless exercises, combat lessons, and language studies.
For most, it was hell. For Ye Feng, it was merely another step forward.
And he would make sure he survived.