The silence of the library was absolute, a heavy shroud that felt physical. In the pitch black, Ren's other senses expanded. He could smell the faint metallic scent of gun oil, the ozone of the electronic locks, and the rhythmic, controlled breathing of three professionals.
These weren't students. These were men who had killed before.
Ren stood perfectly still behind a heavy oak shelf in the Philosophy section. His heart rate didn't spike; instead, it slowed, dropping to a steady forty-five beats per minute. This was the "Low-State," a physiological trance drilled into him back in the White Room. In this state, time didn't flow—it crawled.
Three targets. Sub-machine guns, likely suppressed. Thermal optics.
He looked down at his grey cadet uniform. To a thermal sensor, he was a glowing beacon of heat. He needed to change the environment, or he was a dead man.
The first agent rounded the corner, the red glow of his night-vision goggles cutting through the dark like the eyes of a demon. He moved with a predator's grace, his weapon leveled at chest height.
Ren didn't retreat. He reached out and silently pulled a thick, leather-bound volume from the shelf: The Art of War. A cliché, perhaps, but the weight was perfect.
As the agent passed, Ren didn't strike. He dropped the book.
The thud echoed through the hollow hall. The agent spun, his finger tightening on the trigger, spraying a suppressed volley into the shadows where the book had fallen. Puff-puff-puff.
In that split second of redirected focus, Ren moved.
He didn't run; he blurred. He closed the four-meter gap before the shell casings even hit the floor. His palm struck the agent's chin, snapping the head back and rattling the brain against the skull. Simultaneously, his other hand gripped the suppressor of the weapon, redirecting the barrel upward.
The agent tried to cry out, but Ren's fingers found the carotid artery, applying precise pressure. Ten seconds. That's all it took for the "Elite" guard to go limp in his arms.
Ren lowered him silently, stripped the man of his thermal goggles, and took a small, jagged combat knife from the guard's tactical vest.
He didn't take the gun. A gun made noise. A gun left ballistics. A knife was silent. A knife was personal.
[TACTICAL STATUS: 1 TARGET NEUTRALIZED. 2 REMAINING.]
"Alpha? Report," a voice crackled from the downed man's earpiece.
Ren didn't answer. He adjusted the thermal goggles over his eyes. The world turned into a landscape of shifting blues and greens. He saw the other two agents near the History section, flanking the main aisle. They were moving in a pincer formation, realizing their comrade was silent.
Ren knew the library's layout perfectly—he'd memorized the blueprints the moment he arrived at the academy. He climbed the shelves, his fingers digging into the wood, moving upward into the rafters like a shadow.
From five meters above, he watched them. They were nervous now. They were realizing that the "Rank-F" student was something else entirely.
"He's a ghost," one whispered, his voice trembling slightly.
"Shut up," the leader hissed. "He's a kid. A lab rat. Flush him out."
The leader pulled a flashbang from his belt. He intended to blind the entire section.
Ren didn't wait. He launched himself from the rafters.
He descended like a falling star, his knees slamming into the leader's shoulders. The force of the impact drove the man into the marble floor with a bone-crunching sound. Before the second agent could even pivot his weapon, Ren rolled, came up on one knee, and threw the combat knife.
The blade spun twice in the air before burying itself deep into the second agent's shoulder, pinning him to a wooden pillar. The man screamed, his weapon clattering to the floor.
Ren stood up, his face as cold and emotionless as a statue. He walked toward the pinned agent, who was hyperventilating, his eyes wide with terror.
"Who sent you?" Ren asked. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an icy authority that felt heavier than the guns.
"F-fuck you, 004," the agent spat, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. "You think you escaped? You're just a dog on a longer leash. The Headmaster… he's just the caretaker. The Board wants you back."
Ren leaned in closer, his shadow looming over the dying light in the man's eyes. "The Board is in the capital. You are in my library. Give me a reason not to finish this."
The agent laughed, a wet, hacking sound. "Look at the screen, kid. It's already done."
Ren frowned and looked at the downed leader's tactical tablet, which had fallen face-up on the floor.
The screen wasn't showing tactical data. It was showing a live feed of the Bronce VII dorm room.
Anya, Gage, and Lena were asleep in their bunks. But standing over them was a figure in a white lab coat, holding a syringe filled with a glowing blue liquid.
Ren's eyes widened. A rare flash of genuine emotion—rage—flickered in his gaze.
"The test wasn't about the PAT, Ren," the agent wheezed. "It was to see who you cared about. To find your leverage. Project 004 doesn't work without a 'tether'. We just found yours."
Suddenly, the library doors didn't just unlock—they were blown off their hinges.
A squad of a dozen more men, heavily armed and wearing gas masks, flooded the room. A thick, sweet-smelling vapor began to fill the air.
Soporific gas. Military grade.
Ren felt his limbs grow heavy. His "Low-State" was being overridden by pure chemistry. He looked at the tablet one last time. The figure in the lab coat looked directly into the camera, tilted their head, and pulled back their hood.
It was the "Old Friend."
A girl with pale skin and eyes that matched Ren's—cold, analytical, and utterly devoid of mercy. She held the syringe over Anya's neck.
"Sleep well, brother," her voice came through the tablet's speakers, distorted and haunting.
Ren's vision blurred. The floor rushed up to meet him. As his consciousness faded, he saw a pair of polished black boots stop in front of his face.
The Headmaster's voice echoed in the dying light. "Clean up the mess. And prepare the girls for 'Integration'. If 004 won't cooperate for himself, he'll do it for his new family."