The world was changing, and it began with a flash of camera bulbs in a room that smelled of old wood and new power.
The East Room of the White House was packed to its gilded rafters. Over three hundred journalists from every continent stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their breath held in a collective silence. At the center of the stage stood the President of the United States, his posture projecting an image of unshakable confidence.
Behind him, seated on a sprawling, cream-colored velvet sofa, were three figures who held the strings of the European continent. Erik Stahl, the Chancellor of Germany, sat with his hands clasped, his face a mask of Prussian steel. To his left, Victor, the UK's Prime Minister, leaned back with a charismatic, almost predatory grace. Beside him was Ronan, the Italian head, whose sharp eyes scanned the room like a hawk looking for a thermal.
The President stepped toward the forest of microphones.
"Citizens of the global community," he began, his voice resonant and honeyed. "Today, we stand at the precipice of a new era. For decades, we have spoken of 'alliances.' Today, we speak of 'unity.' The American market is no longer a fortress; it is a garden, and the gates are wide open to every business icon and visionary in this room and beyond."
He paused for effect, letting the weight of his next words sink in.
"We have dismantled the old structures. We are slashing import and export taxes to levels never seen in the modern age. I am proud to announce a unified global tariff of just 3%. Only three percent! This is not just a policy; it is an invitation. To the industrialists, the tech giants, and the creators—if you come to our shores, you will find 'Golden Benefits' designed to ensure your success is unparalleled."
A flurry of shutters clicked. The President gestured vaguely toward a map on the screen behind him.
"You may ask, what does America gain? Look at our countrysides, our small towns that have been left behind by the march of time. We are initiating a massive wave of industrialization in these underdeveloped sectors. We are creating jobs where there was only silence. And in this great endeavor, Germany, the UK, and Italy stand as our brothers-in-arms. We all face the specter of unemployment; together, we shall slay it. From this day forward, we are a single economic unit. Our motive is simple: to provide the world's workers with a better place to live and the world's businesses with a better place to thrive. Thank you for being here; we will now move to our private sessions, and soon, we will unveil the specifics of these golden opportunities."
As the leaders stood to shake hands, the image was beamed to billions of screens. It was a masterpiece of political theater, a "Golden Opportunity" that masked a thousand hidden agendas.
While the world celebrated a fake peace, a very real tension was brewing in the hidden depths of the W.S.O. Society Hub.Arjun had been transferred back from the public hospital under a veil of extreme secrecy. He lay on the same high-tech medical bed where he had spent his first days at the facility, surrounded by the hum of cooling fans and the rhythmic beep of monitors.
Tanaya stood over him, holding a digital tablet and a specialized medical knife. She was tasked with removing his old, blood-stained clothes to prepare him for a fresh set of scans. To her, Arjun was still a mystery—a high-value asset she barely knew, a boy who had survived an impossible attack. She worked with a clinical, detached focus, her face set in a line of professional duty.
As she leaned in, the humming blade nearing the fabric of his T-shirt, Arjun's eyes suddenly snapped open.
"BHUUUUU!"
Tanaya let out a sharp gasp, her shoulders jumping nearly to her ears. The medical knife slipped from her gloved hand, clattering loudly onto the metal floor. She stumbled back, her heart hammering against her ribs, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and pure, unadulterated annoyance.
Arjun burst into a fit of mischievous laughter, clutching his side as he sat up. "You... you should have seen your face! Total panic!"
Tanaya didn't laugh. She stood perfectly still, her head slowly turning to look at him with a murderous, sideways glare. She didn't know him well enough to find this charming; she only knew that this "asset" was a massive headache. She stared at him with squinted eyes, her silence more threatening than any shout.
Just then, the door slid open and Lizzy stepped in. He stopped dead, looking at Arjun, who was still chuckling, and then at Tanaya, who looked ready to snap the gurney in half.
"What in the...?" Lizzy blinked, his brain struggling to process the scene. "Arjun? You're... awake? Tanaya, I knew you were efficient, but this? How did he recover this fast?"
Tanaya crossed her arms, her voice tight and cold. "I didn't do anything, Lizzy. The 'patient' was apparently awake the whole time and thought it would be a brilliant idea to try and give me a heart attack while I was holding a blade."
She shot Arjun another sideways glance—sharp and disapproving. She didn't see a hero; she saw a troublemaker who had just made her job ten times harder.
Lizzy, still baffled but relieved the boy was alive, escorted Arjun to the Head's office. The walk was tense; Lizzy kept glancing at Arjun as if expecting him to vanish or burst into flames.
When they entered the inner sanctum, the Head of W.S.O. was staring at a wall of monitors. He turned, and for a split second, his stoic face crumbled into genuine shock. "Arjun? You're walking? Lizzy, how is this possible?"
"Ask him," Lizzy muttered, trying to keep his own composure. "He's been awake for a while, apparently."
The Head sat behind his massive desk, his eyes narrowing. "Explain, Arjun. You were in a deep coma. Your vitals were failing. When did you regain consciousness?"
Arjun rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of the Head's gaze. The playful energy he used to scare Tanaya vanished. "Actually... I think it was the day after I got to the hospital. I was awake, but I wasn't... here. Everything felt heavy."
Lizzy's jaw tightened. He stepped forward, his voice a mix of a lecture and genuine confusion. "Then why didn't you wake up then? You knew we were scrambling to keep you alive!"
"I needed to process it," Arjun replied, looking at his hands. "Everything that happened at the site... the attack... my brain felt like it was crashing. I figured if I stayed 'asleep,' I could figure out what was happening to me."
The Head leaned forward, his hands interlaced. "But your heart rate, Arjun. It was impossibly slow. Your wounds weren't healing. And then, suddenly, you're perfectly fine. Explain the biological jump."
Arjun hesitated. The memory of the dream flashed through his mind—the vast, shimmering scales of the Water Dragon and the mysterious man standing in the mist.
"I had dreams," Arjun said slowly. "A Water Dragon. And a man... they were talking to me. I don't know how, but I felt like I learned how to control my own body from the inside. I learned how to slow my heart to save energy, and how to push my cells to heal. It just... clicked."
The Head's eyes sharpened. This was a breakthrough. "The man with the dragon... what did he look like? Give me every detail."
Arjun opened his mouth to describe him, but a sudden, chilling memory of the man's voice echoed in his mind: "Our conversation stays between us. Do not reveal the shadow."
Arjun realized he had said too much. He couldn't trust the W.S.O. with the identity of the person in the dream—not yet.
"I... I can't remember," Arjun lied, shaking his head. "It's like a dream when you wake up—the more I try to grab it, the faster it fades. It's all just a blur now. I just remember the feeling of the water."
The Head watched him for a long, silent minute. He knew Arjun was holding back, but he also knew he couldn't force a memory out of a boy who had just cheated death. "Very well. If it comes back to you, you tell us immediately. For now, you need to go home. We'll handle your mother's questions."
As Arjun walked out of the office, he saw Tanaya standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall with her tablet. She wasn't looking at him with any warmth; she was staring at him like a scientist looks at a particularly annoying lab rat.
Arjun caught her eye and gave her a small, smug grin, as if to say 'Still mad?'
The Head walked out behind him. "Tanaya, please prepare the transport. I want Arjun home safely. I was saying, could you—"
Before the Head could even finish his sentence, Tanaya's thumb jabbed a button on her tablet with sudden, aggressive precision.
CLICK.
Arjun didn't even have time to blink. His nervous system received a remote signal from the chip Tanaya had been monitoring, and his eyes instantly rolled back. He collapsed forward like a sack of grain.
The Head stared at the unconscious boy on the floor, then at Tanaya. He realized she had been waiting for the exact moment the Head gave the order just to get her revenge for the scare earlier.
"A bit fast on the trigger, wasn't it?" the Head asked.
"He needs to be kept under control for transport, sir," Tanaya said flatly, her face a mask of professional indifference, though she felt a small spike of satisfaction. "I've already called the transport team."
She signaled to the hallway. Two 'Men in Purple'—the elite, silent guards of the
W.S.O.—stepped out of the shadows. They lifted Arjun with mechanical efficiency. Lizzy watched them go, scratching his head.
"Note to self," Lizzy whispered. "Don't mess with the medical lead's workflow."
[A.P.O. MAIN HUB]
In a room filled with flickering monitors, the Chief of A.P.O. paced restlessly. He was obsessed with the W.S.O.'s latest move.
"Why attack their own boy?" he muttered. "Why the hospital? What are they hiding?"
He grabbed his secure line and dialed Spy A. "Report. Where is the boy? Is he still in the ICU?"
"Yes, Chief," Spy A replied, standing in the hospital corridor. "I'm looking right at the doors. He's still in a coma. His mother and that girl from his family came by earlier, but they left. No change."
"Don't take your eyes off those doors," the Chief growled and hung up.
Spy A tucked his phone away and started walking down the hallway toward the exit. He felt confident. The boy was a vegetable.
But as he turned the corner near the service elevator, he froze.
Coming toward him were two men in purple suits. They were carrying a limp figure between them. As they passed, the boy's head lolled to the side.
For a split second, Arjun's eyes opened. They weren't the eyes of a sick boy. They were sharp, clear, and glowing with an unsettling blue tint. He looked directly at Spy A—not with fear, but with a cold, predatory recognition.
The Men in Purple kept walking,
disappearing into the elevator before Spy A could even breathe. The spy stood paralyzed, his hand trembling as he realized the report he just gave his Chief was a lie.