The aroma of iron and oil hung heavy in the air. Benny and Isabella stood off to the side, their gazes fixed on the long dining table of teens, their expressions split between concern and intrigue.
"Look at all these recruits you've gathered," Benny said, crossing his arms as his eyes swept the group.
Isabella said nothing at first. She brought a mug to her lips, letting the steam drift into her face. The warmth settled into her chest before she finally answered quietly.
"They're from Artimia..."
"Artimia? That's quite a distance from here."
"Yeah... unfortunately, it was under attack when we came across it yesterday."
"Under attack? Who could've—?"
But Benny's thought finished itself. There was only one person capable of such swift, cruel devastation in Sector Five.
"Section Commander Sedgwick, I presume?" he muttered.
Isabella nodded. Her fingers tightened around the mug.
"In an instant, they lost everything that held meaning to them."
Her eyes lingered on the swirling steam as if the past rose with it.
"Benny, they're still so young. Why are they even here?" she asked softly, her voice trembling with empathy despite the steel she tried to maintain.
Benny didn't answer immediately. His voice, when it came, was low but gentle.
"Bella, I'm sure that deep down, each of them has their own reasons."
She frowned. "What? Revenge? If that's the only reason—the only thing fueling them—they're as good as dead. Don't you think?"
"This world... is ruthless. It doesn't wait for the youth to grow up," Benny replied. "It shapes them in fire. You and I both know that well. We don't get to choose the moment when innocence ends."
He let out a sigh, eyes drifting back to the recruits. "And we sure as hell don't know what brought them here. Assuming without asking? That's a bad habit, Bella."
"I know..." Isabella grumbled.
Benny placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Even if it's revenge that brought them here, that doesn't mean they're all rushing toward death. We're not oracles, Bella. We're simply just People of the Wastelands."
She smiled faintly. "You're right. Thank you, Benny."
She looked toward the recruits. They were laughing now—Bryce flicking leftovers at Arthur, who swatted at them with fury.
For a second, they just looked like kids.
"Though I will say... at first glance, they don't look like much," Benny added.
A familiar voice answered before Isabella could respond.
"Let's see if you can repeat those words in three months."
Nozomu strolled up behind them with a confident smirk.
Benny chuckled. "That's assuming they survive the hell you call training."
Before Nozomu could reply back, Curtis raised his hand.
"Sorry to interrupt, but we wanted to say thank you for the food."
He rose from his seat, offering a slight nod of respect.
"No need to worry about it, son. It's my pleasure," Benny said, waving him off.
Curtis turned toward Isabella. "Bella, you mentioned earlier... that you'd tell us more about the KCs. Honestly, we're all curious."
"Oh, right." Isabella tapped her chin. "I did say that, didn't I?"
She looked at Nozomu, silently asking permission. "Is this a good time?"
He nodded. "I was going to wait until we got back to base, but there's no harm in starting now."
He stepped forward, facing the group of recruits.
"Let me start by clarifying the true purpose of the microchips implanted in your necks."
The room fell into silence. Forks froze mid-air. Conversations died instantly.
"The KCs," Nozomu began, "or King's Chains... are what they call them. Every Person of the Wastelands is branded with one from birth.."
He let his words settle before continuing.
"Across all Five Sectors, plenty of rumors and theories float around. Some think the KCs are surveillance tools—ways for the Mad King to monitor our every move. Others think they're bombs, just waiting to go off. A few even believe they allow him to read our minds."
He paused, letting the tension build.
"All of them are wrong."
He raised his hand.
A warm light bloomed in his palm, bathing the room in its glow. Energy surged, coiling like smoke, forming a glowing orb that pulsed gently in his grasp.
"The truth... is that the King's Chains were designed to cut you off from this..."
The recruits gasped collectively.
"The Dyna System," he said, "is the power you were never meant to wield. And the King's Chains were put there to make sure of it."
"They really went through all that trouble just to keep us weak?" Curtis muttered under his breath.
Theo leaned in, eyes wide, staring at the swirling orb of energy. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath.
For years, they'd heard whispers, rumors, but never facts. No one in the Wastelands had any answers behind the KCs.
Not scholars.
Not guards.
Not even his parents.
All he'd ever been told was that it was punishment—payment for crimes long forgotten.
"So... we've been locked away from this power our entire lives?" Arthur asked quietly.
Nozomu nodded.
"But then... how do we use it? How do we get rid of the KCs?" Aeda asked.
"There's a way," Nozomu said. "But it's dangerous."
Curtis stepped closer, eyes fixed on the orb. "Can I touch it?"
Nozomu shut his hand with a snap. "Not unless you want to lose your hand."
He turned and pointed at a steel chest plate resting on a nearby rack. A beam of Dyna exploded from his finger and blasted through the armor in a single shot.
The back of the plate shattered, shards flying across the floor.
Curtis stumbled back. "What the hell was that!?"
Arthur and Bryce ran over to inspect the armored plate.
"It went clean through!" Arthur shouted.
"Yo, this thing's toast," Bryce added, holding up a mangled piece of metal.
Benny stormed over, eyes blazing.
"Nozomu! Are you mad!? That was a perfectly good piece of armor! Do you have any idea how long it takes to forge something like that!?"
"It was just one piece of armor, old man. You can make another."
"One piece!? Make another!? You—!"
Benny grabbed Nozomu by the collar and shook him violently.
"You barge into my home and destroy my people's work!? Show some damn respect! This isn't your playground!"
Nozomu dangled in Benny's grip like a misbehaving cat, his expression utterly blank—eyes half-lidded, mouth a straight line as if his soul had quietly left the building.
"...Are you done?" he asked.
Benny shook him harder.
Nozomu sighed. "Guess not."
Theo leaned toward David. "Yo, this Dyna System... Have you heard of it before?"
David was furiously scribbling in a notebook small enough to fit in his pocket.
"This is the first I've heard of it," he mumbled.
"Same here," Theo muttered. "Wait, you're seriously taking notes right now?"
"One of us has to."
Benny finally released Nozomu, and he cleared his throat, reclaiming the room.
"Back to what I was saying... So far, we've found only one method to break the King's Chains. It involves forcing a surge of Dyna through the implant."
Theo's hands trembled slightly. The memory of his parents, their final moments, flashed in his mind like a lightning strike.
He stood abruptly and slammed both fists against the table.
"You can't do that!"
Everyone turned toward him.
"I mean... I'm sorry," Theo said, sitting down quickly. "I didn't mean to shout. It's just—"
Nozomu held up a hand. "It's fine. And I understand. But this isn't what you saw back in Artimia."
He met Theo's eyes directly.
"The King's Chains are only deadly when tampered with the wrong way. The Section Commanders call it 'Mind Wipe.' It's a scare tactic. If you force Dyna through it too early... your brain shuts down. You die."
He looked at them one by one.
"But if you train—if you strengthen your mind and body—the Dyna within you will grow. And one day, the surge that was once deadly... will set you free."
A soft breeze slipped through the thin cracks along the windowsill—so faint it might've gone unnoticed by anyone else.
But Nozomu felt it.
The draft spiraled in unnaturally, not brushing past him but funneling deliberately—curling behind his ear like a breath made of wind.
It didn't speak in words. It spoke in pressure. Urgency. The kind of warning that gripped the instincts before the mind could catch up.
Nozomu's posture changed. He went still, shoulders tensing, eyes darkening.
The wind whispered again, brushing deeper into his ear.
His gaze slowly drifted toward the window.
"Nozomu?" Isabella asked, taking a step forward to him. "What's wrong?"
He didn't answer.
His eyes locked on the window like he could see through the distance beyond.
Another pulse of wind slithered in through the cracks.
His fingers twitched.
Then—his voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Everyone—get down! Now!"
The windows detonated inward.
A screech of wind roared through the room like a monster's howl, glass exploding into glittering shrapnel.
Isabella moved before any of the recruits could react. With a single stomp, she threw her palm out in front of them.
In the blink of an eye, the air in front of her shimmered—condensation beading from nowhere.
Then, with a surge of force, water erupted in a wide arc from her hand. A cascading wall of water spiraled up like a living shield, catching the glass mid-air. The shards slammed into it with sharp tinks and pings, embedding themselves in the rushing current instead of flesh.
Her eyes were cold steel against the wind of the blast. "No one moves!"
Shards sliced through the air as chairs overturned and dinnerware shattered.
Plates crashed. Lights flickered. The gale swallowed the room in chaos.
And above it all, the wind kept howling—louder now, almost furious.
Something was coming.