Zain remained silent, his body tense as Martha stared at him, frustration evident in her sharp gaze. She had been interrogating him for some time, but he hadn't given her any useful answers. Even so, she didn't press further.
She knew something was different about him.
Her ability, Foresight, which had never failed her before, had shown her nothing when she found him lying on the battlefield, on the verge of death. That alone was enough to make him an anomaly.
She had saved him not out of kindness but because she had never encountered someone whose future she couldn't see.
With her perfect-grade ability, she had climbed the military ranks faster than anyone, evading countless dangers by glimpsing what lay ahead. She had foreseen the fates of tier-8 and even tier-9 warriors, yet before her was a mere tier-0 boy, someone who had nearly died fighting a lowly Crawler, and she couldn't see even a fragment of his future.
It was unsettling.
Martha sighed, stepping toward Zain. He flinched slightly as she reached down, grabbing him by his torn collar and lifting him to his feet. His entire body trembled, whether from exhaustion or fear, she wasn't sure.
But what she did notice was the raw hatred burning in his uncovered eye.
One of his eyes was concealed beneath a bloodstained bandage, while the other, glowing purple fixed on her with barely restrained fury. There was something dangerous in his stare, something that sent a faint shiver down her spine.
She scoffed. Hmph. The weak have no right to glare at the strong.
"Hmph! Keep that attitude," she said, a smirk tugging at her lips. "I want to see that same look when I meet you again."
Then, without warning, she released him.
Zain collapsed to the ground, gritting his teeth as his weakened body refused to obey him. His hands curled into fists against the cold floor, nails digging into his palms as he glared up at her.
There was no mistaking it. If looks could kill, she would be dead by now.
But inside, his mind was in turmoil.
Why am I so angry?
She mocked me, but that shouldn't matter. Then why, why do I want to kill her?
Zain's breathing grew uneven. A burning sensation coiled in his chest, spreading like wildfire.
This isn't me.
His father had never taught him to be angry. His entire life, he had learned to suppress emotions, to endure, to be patient. And yet, right now, a violent rage was consuming him, making his heart pound furiously in his chest.
His fingers dug into his scalp as he murmured under his breath.
"This isn't me… I am kind… I am a coward…"
The words spilled from his lips like a desperate prayer, but the moment they did, something inside him shifted.
Shock. Then sorrow. Then...
A twisted grin stretched across his face.
A low, unsettling chuckle escaped his throat.
"Hehehe…"
Zain tilted his head slightly, his glowing eye narrowing as clarity washed over him.
I know what I have to do from now on. I have to change. I have to become strong!
Martha watched him with a curious expression. His reaction was… odd. But to her, Zain was just another broken soldier, another piece of the war-torn battlefield.
And yet, he intrigued her.
She had seen countless men shatter under pressure, but Zain… he was still standing, still fighting something within himself.
But what truly fascinated her was the Tyrant Axe, the weapon he wielded. A cursed relic that should have driven him mad. And yet, he remained sane.
For now.
Her eyes narrowed. "Tell me, who are you? Where did you come from? What's your legion number? And where did you get that axe?"
Zain's eerie grin faded, replaced by his usual impassive look.
"I've already told you everything I know," he said flatly. "As for my legion… I don't know. I have no memories, except for my name."
He wasn't lying.
Martha frowned, watching him closely. He had already figured out that she wouldn't kill him, not immediately, at least. That meant he was thinking. He wasn't some clueless idiot trapped in a dangerous situation.
So why did I save him?
She tapped her fingers against her arm, deep in thought.
It wasn't out of pity. That much was certain.
No, there was something about him. Something different. Something that even her Foresight couldn't touch.
What kind of existence was he?
Her frustration boiled over.
"You expect me to believe that bullshit?" she snapped, her patience wearing thin. "You have no memories except your name?"
Zain remained silent.
She exhaled sharply through her nose. This was infuriating.
"F*ck!" she cursed, kicking the nearby table hard enough to send it skidding across the room.
Zain watched her, his previous fury giving way to something else. Amusement.
Seeing her irritated and flustered calmed him in a way he couldn't explain.
Martha pinched the bridge of her nose before sighing.
"Fine. I'm admitting you into my legion. From now on, you're my soldier."
She glanced at him.
"Your name is Zain. Only Zain. Don't use your family name anymore."
He stiffened slightly at that, but she didn't wait for a response.
She raised her hands, and a soft green glow surrounded them as she began chanting.
"Floravita Exsurgam."
Vines, thick and vibrant, sprouted from her palms, twisting in the air before coiling around Zain's body. Red, rose-like flowers bloomed along the tendrils, releasing a faint, soothing aroma.
Warmth seeped into his flesh.
His pain dulled, fading into nothing. His wounds sealed, both inside and out.
Zain stared, barely able to process the sensation.
It was… stronger than his own Regeneration. Far more potent.
A minute passed, and the vines suddenly withered, crumbling into black dust as they lost their vitality.
Martha observed his expression, reading his astonishment with mild satisfaction.
"Are you really not a spy?" she asked.
Zain met her gaze. Her eyes were deep, like endless abysses, and for a moment, he felt himself being pulled in.
A strange feeling crept into his chest.
He quickly looked away.
Just moments ago, he had been planning to kill her. The thought now felt absurd.
He sighed, forcing himself to focus. "Was that an ability?"
"That was my Wood Healing Magic," Martha replied casually. "I'm a sorcerer.
Zain nodded slowly. He was impressed… and maybe a little jealous.
Her ability was so versatile. Meanwhile, his Regeneration could only heal himself—and at a much slower rate.
Still, it was better than nothing.
Then, he met her gaze again. "Why do you want me under you?"
Martha tilted her head, as if amused by the question.
"I could just say you're unique."
She studied him, her expression unreadable.
"Zain… you have great resilience, but you lack strength." Her voice softened slightly. "Why not train under my squad? If you join my legion, you'll receive a cultivation technique and a weapon manual. You can train under me."
She smirked. "Didn't I hear you muttering in your sleep… I want to be strong?"
Zain stiffened.
He didn't have a habit of sleep-talking.
Had he developed it after dying?
Still, the offer was tempting. The Book of Pandora had spoken of cultivation, but not the techniques themselves.
He exhaled. "What's the cost?"
Martha raised a single finger, pointing directly at him.
"I want you, Zain."
Her expression darkened.
"Become mine.
Or die."