Schene shifts to 45 minutes later.The bell rang, drawing the long lesson to a close. The teacher straightened, chalk dust clinging faintly to his sleeve as he picked up the register again. His voice carried across the classroom with mechanical rhythm, calling out assignments and noting down the day's homework. Pens scratched, notebooks filled, and a collective sigh of relief passed through the students as the hour finally ended.
"Next period is P.T.," the teacher announced.
The room, once weary, instantly sprang to life. The air buzzed with chatter and movement as chairs scraped back and bags were zipped up. Excitement radiated through the students as they hurried toward the door in clusters, some already joking, others racing ahead.
Aghorik rose calmly from his seat and slipped into the flow of students. His steps were unhurried, his posture relaxed, yet behind his steady gaze thoughts stirred. His inner voice, quieter than the noise around him, began to weave its story.
The world I live in today… is the result of a war. Basically—
The scene darkened, fading from the hallway of the school into a memory not his own, but one etched deep into the bloodline of history.
Twenty years ago, the Ameri-Russ War began.
In his narration, the world rewound. The clash of superpowers tore across continents. The United States and Russia waged a conflict so devastating that nearly every country was pulled into its orbit, forced to choose sides. The war consumed not just soldiers but economies, cultures, and futures.
It should have ended sooner, Aghorik's voice continued, calm yet heavy. But it didn't… not until something else forced their hands.
An epidemic. A plague that swept mercilessly across the globe, sparing neither soldier nor civilian. It broke the stubbornness of nations faster than bullets ever could. Leaders, once drunk on power, found themselves staring into the abyss of annihilation.
And so, with desperation came a treaty—The Treaty of International Awareness.
The treaty declared that the world would unite under one banner: The United Earth. A single government, a single voice, ruling all. No more countries, only states, mini-states, and districts. But even then, people suffered. Scarred by war, stripped by famine, desperate to survive.
Where governments weakened, shadows rose. Mafia gangs grew like weeds in the cracks of a broken system. At first scattered, their power fragmented, until one figure appeared.
Cipher-X.
A name whispered like a phantom. An anonymous man who united the gangs under his control, weaving crime into the fabric of the new order. He corrupted the higher government officials, and through them, pulled the strings of the entire system. Power, influence, law—all became his toys.
Yet, not all bent the knee. A man named Julien Baudelaire stood against the tide. He gathered a circle of allies, forming what became known as The Detective Organisation. With brilliance and patience, they uncovered Cipher-X's manipulations. Outmatched in numbers but not in wit, Julien struck where Cipher-X least expected.
And when the world could no longer look away, a new treaty was forced into existence—The Treaty of International Awareness II.
This treaty did not unite but divide. The Earth was split into two realities: one ruled by government—The United Earth—and the other ruled by mafia groups—Mafia Landia. Neither was drawn on a map with neat borders. No, they coexisted in fragments, states interwoven, government and mafia sharing territory like predators circling the same prey. The world had not healed. It had only learned how to wear a mask.
Aghorik's narration trailed off. The echoes of history dissolved as the school corridor came back into focus. His steps slowed.
A hand clapped lightly against his shoulder.
He blinked, glancing sideways. Ganbold stood there, his usual grin stretched wide across his face. "Bro, you alright? You were spacing out. We're at the door of the PT room already."
Aghorik checked his watch, brows raising slightly. "It's only been thirty seconds… Did we really reach here so soon?"
Ganbold chuckled. "Yeah."
The door before them loomed large, the sounds of laughter and anticipation spilling faintly from within. Aghorik's hand lingered on the strap of his bag, the weight of his inner monologue still pressing against his mind.