The black sedan glided toward the Southern Tower, a monolith of glass and steel that pierced the clouds like a giant obsidian shard.
As they approached, the sheer scale of the building became overwhelming.
At the base, the entrance was a hive of activity; people moved in and out with a frantic, rhythmic energy, their faces set in expressions of intense focus.
"We're here," Robert said, pulling the car to a smooth stop.
"Let's head inside."
As Ash stepped out onto the pavement, he felt a subtle, vibrating pressure in the air.
He looked around and realized that almost every person in the vicinity carried a faint aura of power.
They were all Chosen. Most were clad in high-tech, skin-tight tactical suits—mesh-like armor that was both flexible and robust, designed to highlight their athletic builds while offering maximum protection.
Ash withdrew his gaze, not wanting to seem disrespectful by staring, even though most people ignored him entirely.
He was a ghost in a sea of titans. Robert tapped his shoulder, gesturing for him to follow.
They approached the entrance, but instead of a solid door, the entryway was covered by a thin, shimmering film of light.
Robert stepped through it as if walking through air. Ash hesitated for a heartbeat, then followed.
PLOP—
The sound of a bubble bursting echoed in his ears. When Ash opened his eyes, he gasped.
The interior was impossible. It was a cavernous, sprawling hall that defied the external dimensions of the building.
People bustled between rows of service counters, and above him, a dizzying spiral of walkways and transparent offices rose into the heights.
"Ash! Over here!"
He looked toward the sound. Robert was waving from a distance. Ash hurried to catch up, his boots clicking against the polished floor.
"Try to keep pace," Robert teased, though his eyes remained kind.
"If I lose you in this crowd, it'll take half a day to find you again."
"My apologies," Ash replied, his face a mask of calm.
"It's... larger than I imagined."
"Space-expansion technology," Robert explained with a hint of pride.
"4D spatial folding. It makes the interior three times larger than the exterior footprint. It's one of the perks of being at the heart of the city."
Ash felt a twinge of bittersweet realization.
For eighteen years, he had lived in the dirt and shadows of the Ash Area, oblivious to the fact that humanity had mastered the very fabric of space.
They arrived at a small metallic gate flanked by a panel of buttons numbered 1 to 300.
Robert pressed '100,' and a blue shimmering portal appeared within the frame.
"Stay close," Robert warned before stepping in.
Ash followed. In an instant, the bustling hall vanished. He was standing in a quiet corridor with matte-black walls.
"In this building," Robert began as they walked,
"floors 1 through 70 are for public commissions, private contracts, and general inquiries. Floors 71 to 100 are administrative—registration, documentation, and data processing. 101 to 150 are the barracks for security personnel. And from 151 upward? Those are restricted levels. Confidential even to people like me."
They stopped in front of a room roughly thirty square meters in size.
In the center stood a sleek, metallic pod that looked like a giant chrome chrysalis. Robert pressed a console, and the pod began to hum, a soft azure light glowing from its seams.
"This is the Soul-Sync Scanner," Robert said.
"It registers your personal data into the city's mainframe. By scanning your soul, it extracts your name, age, and Core type. It won't reveal your specific skills, so don't worry about privacy. Once registered, you'll be able to receive System notifications anywhere in the world, not just inside a Door."
The pod hissed as its door slid open.
"Step inside."
Ash hesitated. A cold dread pooled in his stomach.
If he entered that machine, would it reveal the Core of Void?
If such information leaked, he wouldn't just be an Opener; he would be a lab rat for the ambitious and the powerful.
"Don't be nervous," Robert urged, misinterpreting his silence. "It's painless. It takes only a second."
'I have no choice,' Ash thought. He took a deep breath and stepped into the cold interior of the pod.
The door sealed shut with a heavy thud. Inside, thin beams of blue light began to dance over his skin, scanning him from head to toe.
Then, a concentrated ray focused directly on his chest—aiming for his heart, his Core, his very soul. Ash clenched his teeth, his mind racing through dark possibilities of his future.
Suddenly, the lights flickered and died. The hum faded into silence, and the door slid open.
Ash stepped out, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Robert was staring at a piece of parchment that had just printed from the console, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"What... what is this?"
Ash tightened his fists, preparing for the worst.
"Uhm, Opener Ashfei... you should see this for yourself," Robert said, handing him the paper.
Ash took it, his eyes widening.
[Name: ——— Age: ——— Parents: ——— Blood Type: ——— Rank: ——— Core Type: ———]
The page was a sea of blank lines. Not a single piece of data had been recorded.
Robert sighed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
"Don't look at me like that. I'm just as shocked as you are. This machine is over two hundred years old; it must have finally kicked the bucket. I'll have to call the maintenance crew."
He looked at Ash apologetically.
"Look, if you remember your details, you can just fill them in manually. As for your blood type, the machine has a manual needle for that. It's a bit old-fashioned, but it works."
Robert pressed a button, and a small, sterile needle popped out from the console.
"Just a drop of blood for the type, then fill out the rest. I'm going to go find the repair team. Stay here."
As soon as the door closed behind Robert, Ash collapsed onto a nearby chair, letting out a long, shaky breath.
'Luck was on my side... but why couldn't it scan me?'
He pondered the mystery for a moment until a realization struck him.
The machine scanned the soul to find the person.
But his skill, [Soul of the Void], had rendered his soul hollow—a literal nothingness. There was no "data" for the machine to read.
'So this is the true power of the Void,' he whispered to himself.
'I am invisible to the machine.'
Without wasting more time, he picked up a pen. He needed a cover story. He couldn't leave the Core section blank.
He scanned his memory for the ten basic Core types Robert had mentioned.
'Manipulation,' he thought.
'It's broad, vague, and can explain away almost any strange phenomenon I might cause.'
He filled in the blanks:
[Name: Ashfei
Age: 18
Parents: Deceased
Blood Type: O
Core Type: Core of Manipulation]
A few minutes later, Robert returned, looking harried.
"The repair crew is on their way. Have you finished?"
Ash nodded and handed over the paper. Robert skimmed it quickly.
"Core of Manipulation, eh? Rare and versatile. Good choice—I mean, good for you."
He walked to the console and fed the paper into a horizontal slot. The machine devoured the page with a mechanical groan.
A moment later, a sleek, metallic wristwatch popped out of a side compartment.
"Here," Robert said, handing it to Ash.
"This is your Identity Chronograph. It displays your status, city announcements, and your rights and duties as a Chosen. It's keyed to your bio-signature."
Ash strapped the watch to his wrist. It tightened automatically, fitting perfectly. A neutral voice echoed in his mind—the same voice from the Door, but clearer.
[Welcome, Opener Ashfei.]
"It's synced to the System," Robert explained.
"Only you can hear it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm buried in work. You can find answers to any other questions through the watch's AI. Welcome to the New Age, Ashfei."
Ash thanked him and made his way back to the teleportation gate.
As he left the building, he passed the repair crew heading toward the room he had just vacated.
Hours later, the technicians finished their inspection.
They found absolutely nothing wrong with the machine. However, fearing they wouldn't get paid if they reported "no issues," they claimed they had replaced several "corrupted sensors" and filed for a hefty service fee.
And so, by a stroke of mundane human greed, the secret of the boy with the hollow soul remained buried in the noise of the city.