Walking alongside Sid under the city's lampposts, I broke the silence: "Sid, I don't know if you've noticed, but we're actually quite a lot alike now." I let out a low laugh, trying to ease the tension. He looked at my new arm and gave a crooked smile. "True enough. Now you've got a tin arm just like mine. Welcome to the scrap club, kid." "Sid, one more thing… I want to go to Class City. I've got friends waiting for me there. I want to join the secret operation."
Sid stopped abruptly. His face darkened, turning deathly serious. He started walking again, but his voice was cold. "Arata, forget it. If Uncle finds out you want to go there, he'll stop you at any cost. Especially if he knows you're trying to shove your way into his secret operation." "But Sid—" "No 'buts'!" He cut me off firmly. "Forget it for now. I agree with Uncle; he doesn't want you there until everything is settled with the city president. It's too dangerous."
I continued walking in silence, keeping pace with him, but my mind was screaming the opposite. If I can't get help from Uncle or Sid, I'll have to get into this operation on my own. "Understand, Arata?" Sid asked, wanting to drop the subject. "Yeah…" I lied.
After a while, Sid dropped me off at our Uncle's house. I said my goodbyes and sat on the bed, waiting for the minutes to tick by until I was sure he was far enough away. "It's time. Let's figure out how to get into this secret operation." I climbed out through the window, landing silently on the ground. My mind was racing: How the hell do I get into a secret operation? The name says it all: it's secret. I need a contact… someone Uncle respects. Sid and Uncle are out. Who else? Think, Arata…
An image flashed in my memory. The bar. The smoke. And that blonde woman who radiated an overwhelming pressure.
The bar was noisy as usual, with men shouting "TRUCO!" between gulps of cheap beer. I entered, trying not to draw attention. My theory was simple: someone that strong wouldn't be ignored by my Uncle. If she was part of the city's elite, she would frequent this place. My eyes locked onto the glint of blonde hair in the back. It was her. Even after all this time, her presence was still striking. I approached and stood in front of her. She raised her arm, ignoring me as she took a sip of her drink. "Excuse me, miss… I wanted to ask you something…" "Sorry, kid, but aren't you a bit too young to be hitting on a woman like me?" she said, without taking her eyes off her glass. "It's not that! I just wanted to know if—" "I don't give money to beggars," she cut me off again, turning to glare at me with disdain. "Nor to cripples missing an arm. Besides, you stink. You're ruining the aroma of my beer." "PLEASE, JUST LET ME FINISH TALKING!" I shouted, losing my patience.
The bar went silent for a second. She stood up slowly, her aura weighing down the air. "If you've got something to say to me, let's settle it outside."
In the dark alley behind the bar, she walked a few paces ahead of me, her back turned, hiding her hands. "I wanted to say that you're strong. If you're part of some operation, I wanted to j—" Before I could finish the sentence, a punch tore through the air toward me. With the System acting at its limit, I managed to dodge by millimeters. "Hey! Calm down! I didn't come here to hurt you! I just want to ask some questions, you crazy woman!"
She ignored me, dropping into a perfect combat stance. Her hands were encased in short black gloves. She began to bounce lightly on her feet, tossing her hair back. "Kid, don't take this the wrong way, but you ruined my night when you interrupted my beer. I'm a busy woman, and I can tell you're not ordinary. Let's get this over with."
In the blink of an eye, she vanished. The System failed; she was too fast for my eyes to track. She reappeared on the side wall, using it to kick off for a brutal descending strike. The blow hit my shoulder, slamming me into the ground. The pain was sharp, but I'd suffered worse. I hauled myself up, charging with everything I had. I managed to grab her arms, holding on with all the strength my new mechanical arm allowed. She didn't flinch. She looked at me with an icy coldness and whispered: "75% activate…"
A kick came from below, hitting my chin with devastating force. My vision darkened, blood sprayed, but I didn't let go. In a final act of desperation, I delivered a violent headbutt to her forehead, creating a lump and gaining some space. The pain in my jaw became unbearable. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the filthy alley floor. The last thing I heard before consciousness slipped away was her voice, now holding a tone of respect: "Kid… you fight pretty well. My senior soldiers pass out at the first hit. You withstood 75% of my strength. Maybe you'll be useful for that operation you want to join so badly. By the way, my name is Kagatsa…"
Time passed in a blur of shadows and pain until my eyes finally flickered open. "God damn it… I urgently need to stop passing out and waking up in unknown places." The air was dry, with a residual taste of limestone that scratched my throat. I left the room—a white concrete cell that felt like a psychiatric ward—and leaned against the cast-iron railing. The place was a massive military gallery, carved directly into the living rock. In front of me, a central void revealed three tiers of circular corridors surrounding a training courtyard down below.
Oil torches and persistent-flame lamps were fixed to the walls, casting dancing shadows. There were no windows; only the distant sound of echoing water droplets and the hum of voices. I looked down and saw soldiers in reinforced leather uniforms, carrying spears and heavy shields. As I walked, the tone of the conversations changed. "Is that him? The brat the Commander dragged in from the alley?" one soldier whispered. "They say he withstood her 'Seventy-Five'," a woman replied, cleaning a dagger. "Impossible. He looks like a dry twig. Must have some System mutation." "Look at his arm…" another remarked. "Pure metal. What's a Recreationist doing in the serpent's nest?"
I quickened my pace, feeling their stares burning into my back. At the end of the corridor, I knocked on two massive, reinforced wooden doors. "Come in, brat. And try not to pass out on my rug," Kagatsa's voice came from inside, authoritative.
The office was vast and spartan, filled with parchment maps and stacks of paper. Kagatsa was sitting behind a massive desk, wearing only a white tank top that displayed the battle scars on her shoulders. She didn't even look up from the report she was reading. "You slept for ten hours. Your bones healed too fast… which confirms my theory. Your System isn't ordinary, Arata." She finally looked at me. The purple lump on her forehead from my headbutt was still there, giving me a small sense of internal satisfaction. "You wanted into the Secret Operation? Fine. Consider yourself recruited. But know this: down here, your Uncle is nobody. If you falter, I'll throw you into the pit myself."
She pushed a black iron brooch across the table, engraved with a broken gear. I took the cold metal and pinned it to my clothes. "Miss, I—" "Call me Chief, I told you. You're a damn fly in the trash heap down here. You want my respect? Then show me you earn it." "Yes, Chief…" I swallowed hard. "I wanted to ask you not to tell my Uncle I'm here. He'll pull me out of the operation and lock me at home."
Kagatsa propped her fist against her cheek, analyzing me with boredom. "I'll keep my mouth shut… if you show me what I get in return." My mind raced. What could I offer? I remembered the books and, in a sudden move, I knelt down, bowing my head. "I offer my eternal loyalty."
The silence was cut by her mocking laugh. "What the hell are you doing? Who said I want your loyalty?" She stood up and stopped in front of me. "You think I'm so desperate that I need a piece of crap like you swearing eternal love? Loyalty doesn't win wars, Arata. Results do." She grabbed me by the collar, forcing me to face her. "Down here, 'loyalty' is a weak man's excuse. I want you to use that System and that tin arm to complete my objectives. If you survive the first mission, maybe I'll consider that you owe me something. Now, get up and stop embarrassing yourself. Go to the courtyard. Find the weapons instructor. Tell him the 'She-Wolf' sent you to begin your baptism."
In the courtyard, I found a man surrounded by crates of weaponry. He spat on the ground when he saw me. "Why are you approaching me? Did I give you permission? Is this a playground?" "I… I was sent by the She-Wolf for the baptism. Or at least to survive it."
His posture shifted instantly. "Ah, makes sense. Don't worry, it won't even hurt. Choose your weapon: rifle, sniper, glock, katana, or crossbow?" "I already use a pistol… but from my fingers. I can recreate bullets and fire them, but I lose too much blood if I overdo it." The instructor frowned. "Interesting. System-bearers are rare down here. I was military; I only use what steel gives me. The Chief has Body Fortification; that's why she uses the 'percentages'. But listen: a soldier who relies only on tricks is a dead soldier. We trust gunpowder because it doesn't get tired."
He kicked a crate, revealing trench knives and heavy pistols. "If you already have 'the shot', you need something for when the enemy gets too close. Let's start with the basics: Kinetic Survival."
I spent hours repeating movements under the torches. "Posture, Arata!" he shouted, correcting my arm with a slap. "No use having the power of a cannon if you have the balance of a newborn calf. The kickback of your own ability will knock you down if you don't plant your feet!" I practiced quick-drawing, alternating between creating a bullet in my finger and drawing the knife in seconds. "Again! The System gives the power, but the brain gives the order!" "Look at the target," he said, his voice suddenly low. "Don't fire where the enemy is. Fire where he's going to be. The System gives you the aim, but the patience… that, you have to create yourself."
I breathed deeply. I felt the weight of the pistol in my right hand and the vibration of the mechanical arm in my left. I aimed at the straw dummy. POW! The projectile tore through the dummy's head. The instructor raised an eyebrow, impressed, but quickly scowled. "Not bad for a 'piece of trash'. But don't get cocky. The baptism only ends when you can do that while I'm trying to hit you with this training staff. En garde!"
For the first time, I didn't feel fear. The Arata who cried in the tower was still there, but the Arata who would survive Class City was taking over.