“I know you must be confused. After all, even a madman would stop after a hundred times. Well, I am no man, to begin with, so perhaps that explains my resilience.”

  The steel corridors of the academy’s research and monitoring facility were lifeless as always. Asashi wished there could be some windows along the walls, but alas, the only light source was the white artificial bulbs set into the steel ceiling. He realized his complaint was somewhat unjust. After all, if there were any windows, they would create a vulnerability in the stronghold's security against monsters.

  Plus, they were stationed outside the barrier, meaning they were not protected like the contestants were from high-level monsters. Granted, he was not really worried about their safety in that regard. Asashi had even heard from one of his associates that the structure could withstand a diamond-rank monster. Now, if that monster happened to be a gifted one with a Sense, then they might pose some trouble. However, that hypothetical was just that—a hypothetical. From his knowledge, none roamed in Japan or even the world, for that matter. A diamond-rank monster was already incredibly rare to encounter, but asking for a gifted one? Well, that was almost impossible.

  In Asashi’s whole life, he had only encountered a diamond-rank monster twice, and on both occasions, he and his knights managed to take them down. He recalled the brutal fight, a loud ringing starting to echo piercingly in his ear. It was nauseating.

  The cries—the screams—the sheer terror of his comrades were still fresh and palpable in his mind, as if it had just happened a few moments ago. Their final screams resonated, yet no matter how hard Asashi tried, he couldn’t remember their words. It brought him immeasurable shame, but maybe it was for the best that he couldn’t. Knowing him, if he remembered the words, he would be haunted by them. He didn't want to be awoken in the middle of the night to the clear whispers of his fallen comrades. He had enough of that.

  Asashi shook his head.

  His mind often drifted into unpleasant thoughts. However, he believed that was normal for someone with his experiences. He simply needed to cope with it. Not that he had a real choice, though.

  Asashi drifted through the hallways and ended up entering the food court. The large room had bench-like tables and seats lined symmetrically throughout as a dozen or so knights enjoyed their dinner and relaxation. To the left of the wall, a buffet counter was stationed, and a few knights lined up, waiting for their turn. Asashi suddenly became aware that all of them adorned the knights’ white academy attire, which meant he stood out like a sore thumb with his black trench coat. He felt their glares the moment he walked into the room, making him awfully uncomfortable. Asashi was never one to like being the center of attention. It was preferable to be on the sidelines and simply do his job. But his status made that very hard.

  “Good evening, Mr. Asashi,” a young knight greeted him from the side. By his badge, the knight seemed to be a silver rank, which was respectable at such a young age. Asashi nodded to him in acknowledgment and stepped aside to let the knight exit the room.

  I guess people know who I am now, Asashi sighed inwardly. I can’t say I’m surprised. After that fight… well, it wasn’t really a fight, in all fairness, but after I stopped that maniac Ryan from harassing that coffee girl, rumors of who I am spread quickly. Maybe I should use an extra uniform to blend in more so people stop bugging me, Asashi thought, then paused. Actually, on second thought, maybe not. Then my rank will show, so that won’t help much.

  It was a lose-lose for him, so as usual, he would just have to live with the peering eyes of people. Asashi had wanted to get some dinner, which was the main reason he was here in the first place, but after seeing how crowded it was, he was discouraged.

  “Seriously,” he murmured to himself. “Why is it so busy at ten o’clock at night? Maybe I’ll just starve.”

  He knew the answer to his question. The facility was constantly working twenty-four-seven to monitor the challenge. Even now, as a good chunk of knights were taking a break, many filled their shifts. There was no room for leniency in such a dangerous challenge—not when lives were on the line. However, despite that, sometimes, Asashi wondered why the AOK made such dangerous challenges in the first place. In his mind, a questionnaire would do just fine. Deep down, though, Asashi knew firsthand how demanding the job of a knight was. They simply couldn’t hand out the title to anyone, and it was imperative that the contestants were thoroughly tested to understand their capabilities. That way, unnecessary deaths of people unfit could be avoided.

  With a sigh, Asashi turned to exit the food court entrance, only to pause when a familiar green-haired woman blocked his path. Her square glasses judged him, and her arms folded demandingly. He decided to turn the other way again.

  On second thought, maybe getting food isn’t a bad idea.

  “Hello?” Zizu said behind him as he cringed.

  “Yes, how can I help you today?”

  Zizu eyed him flatly, unamused. “Asashi, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I’m still your temporary assistant, you know. I can’t have you walking around willy-nilly all over the facility.”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” Asashi waved his hand dismissively. “I was simply getting some dinner. Can a man eat in peace?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you’re quite blunt, aren’t you?” Asashi said, then looked at Zizu’s cold glare and sighed. “Fine, fine, you can eat with me if you want.”

  Zizu raised her brow. “What? No, I don’t care about that. I just don’t like it when you run off—”

  “Looks like the no food got you a little hangry,” Asashi joked. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t like it too much. “Tough crowd…”

  However, regardless of Zizu’s hard eyes, she did not deny his invitation. So, after waiting in line for a few painstaking minutes, they both sat down at one of the many tables in the room with their dinner—if he could even call it that at this hour. He had decided on a few chicken cutlets with a side of rice and curry. In the cold mountains of November, it was a rather comforting food—the flavor, on the other hand, was a bit generic, but if it wasn’t broken, there was no reason to fix it.

  “Why so little?” Asashi asked between bites, gawking at Zizu’s plate, which had a very small portion of salmon and an even more pathetic side of vegetables and rice. Zizu’s fork paused a short distance from her mouth, and she scowled at him.

  “I have to watch my weight. My figure doesn’t just mold together out of thin air, you know.”

  “Ah, I see,” Asashi tried to hold himself back from retorting. He suspected that another one of his remarks would land him a good sucker punch to the face. Not that it would do anything, though.

  “You wouldn’t understand my struggle,” Zizu let out an exasperated sigh. “I heard you folks with Touch can stay lean pretty easily and grow muscle practically by thinking about it. Oh, how I wish I were gifted with that privilege.”

  Asashi took another mouthful of rice and curry, then followed it with a bite of chicken cutlet. “Well, it is easier to put on muscle when you have Touch, that’s true, but it still takes time and dedication. Have you ever seen a fat person with Touch?” he asked.

  Zizu put a finger on her chin in thought, then shook her head. He sighed at that, knowing it didn’t really support his point. “Well, I definitely have. I’ll just leave it at that. In fact, it’s more common for someone with Touch to be a little bulky since they eat more to restore their Sense Energy.”

  “Maybe, but overall, I’m just saying that you people…”

  Asashi raised a brow as Zizu trailed off. “What do you mean by ‘you people’? What are you, Sensecist?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I am not Sensecist, you idiot, but let’s not ignore the privilege that comes with receiving Touch.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Asashi had never considered it a privilege—quite the opposite. From the moment he awakened his Sense in his early years, it had brought him nothing but stress and burden. If he had never had it, he most likely would never have enrolled in the AOK in the first place. Back then, he had been swayed by his ego and confidence in his superior power—but without it, he might have led a much more peaceful and mundane life, one without the mental agony that haunted him still.

  Noticing Asashi’s change in mood, Zizu cleared her throat. “Ahem… I didn’t mean it like that, sorry.”

  Asashi shook his head with a slight chuckle. “Ah, it’s alright. I know how cancel culture is, so don’t worry about it. You’re just jealous,” he teased.

  There was no point in getting upset over a simple poor choice of words, so he decided to make light of it instead.

  “Cancel culture?” Zizu snorted, though he could see the relief in her eyes that he hadn’t taken offense. “I’m the last person who supports that.”

  “That’s true, because you’d be the first one canceled,” Asashi agreed.

  He expected her to deny it, but surprisingly, she nodded. “Well, you’re not wrong. I’m just glad the AOK didn’t see the text messages I used to send my friends when I was a teenager. If they did, I’d probably be blacklisted.”

  “I think we’d all be blacklisted, in all honesty.”

  Zizu chuckled at his comment. “Anyway, have you been watching the challenge at all?” she asked.

  Asashi gave a hesitant nod. “Maybe a little too closely, to be honest. I’ve been cooped up in my office for what feels like days, watching my daughter’s team and especially that... boy.” His tone turned bitter.

  “Still trying to kick him out, huh?”

  “Not anymore. I gave up on that,” Asashi sighed. “Storm is doing everything in his power to ensure that Sen is allowed to continue the challenge. There’s really nothing I can do right now except keep an eye on him.”

  “And how’s that going for you?”

  “Great,” he said sarcastically. “I’m growing more and more convinced of my worries as time goes on, and I’m helpless to stop it. It’s infuriating.”

  It felt like being the captain of a sinking ship in a storm. No matter how much he commanded and tried to save his crew, the waves would eventually consume them. He’d been keeping a close eye on Sen, and all the signs led to the same conclusion—

  “I still don’t get what you meant back then,” Zizu said, poking at her food with a yawn. “Something about him not being a failed vessel or something…”

  She trailed off once she saw his flaring eyes.

  “Um, I'd prefer if we didn't talk about that part in public,” Asashi said through gritted teeth.

  Zizu flushed, fidgeting with her thin square glasses. “Sorry. In any case, I’m sure things will work out,” she said. “I mean, we’re already closing in on the fourth day in a few hours. It’ll be over before you know it.”

  Asashi glanced at his watch. The screen showed that it was 10:13 p.m.—less than two hours until the fourth day officially began. He felt uneasy, like something was going to happen, yet he didn’t know exactly when, or even if it would. Still, an inaudible whisper told him so.

  His shoes tapped the metal floor impatiently as he sat, too preoccupied to even finish his meal, regardless of his empty stomach.

  Something felt off about the atmosphere. Like a sudden pressure was enveloping the world—or the uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching him. Stalking him.

  “Zizu, do you feel odd?” Asashi asked.

  She looked up at him from her plate with a frown. “I always do.”

  “I’m serious. Do you feel any abnormalities at all?”

  Noticing his serious expression, Zizu exhaled and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. Her eyes closed in deep thought. “I... don’t know, maybe. I guess my head feels a bit heavier than usual, but that’s probably just stress and—”

  “How does the heaviness feel?” Asashi sat up from his chair, his hands pressing against the table urgently.

  She was slightly taken aback by his odd fixation on her feelings, and his attentive stare made Zizu avert her eyes. “It’s like a pressure weighing down on me. It feels ominous, yet familiar, for some reason. I really can’t explain it—it’s like asking how stress feels.” She shrugged indifferently.

  “Familiar…” Asashi breathed, and Zizu tilted her head in confusion. “That’s right. It does feel familiar.”

  “Asashi, I think the lack of sleep is getting to you again. You should take a nap—”

  His watch beeped urgently, interrupting Zizu. He quickly pulled back the sleeve of his trench coat to reveal the flashing screen—a semi-translucent red alert projected from it.

  Zizu sat up in concern, but above all else, confusion, since he was the only one who received the alert. Every knight in the food court eyed him as the beeping continued to persist.

  “Is that…” Zizu trailed off.

  “Yeah,” Asashi gritted his teeth, feeling a cold sweat. “It’s an emergency from the control center.”

  Asashi ran through the steel corridors, his dress shoes clanking against the floor with every hurried stride, the back of his trench coat fluttering. Behind him, Zizu followed closely, albeit out of breath. Asashi couldn’t blame her; keeping up with him in heels was quite the challenge. He turned sharply to the left, following another soulless steel corridor, and pushed past startled knights who glared at him with narrowed eyes. He would offer an apology, but he simply had no time.

  Asashi feared his suspicions were slowly materializing. The worst part? If they turned out to be true, it would mean he could have prevented them to some degree, despite his lack of authority on the matter. I truly hope I’m wrong. For everyone’s sake—and least importantly, for my pride.

  He turned left again, and the corridor suddenly opened into a large room filled with hundreds of screens displaying real-time footage of the forest. Dozens of workers assigned to monitor the challenge scrambled beside a large steel counter along the left wall, frantically tinkering with various modules and buttons he didn’t understand. One operative with short brown hair and glasses slammed his fists on a hologram keyboard, cursing in frustration.

  “This doesn’t make any sense!” the man exclaimed to his coworker. “We’ve never had this problem since we started using them. I checked for internal server damage, but I found none. I simply can’t accept that this is the drones’ failure.”

  “Have you tried looking at the red gate frame and restarting it?” another asked.

  “Yes, I tried, but it made no difference. If that were the issue, all of them would lose connection. However, only a small portion in a specific area is affected…” The operative trailed off once he noticed Asashi staring at them, dumbfounded. “Oh… I-I apologize for my brash behavior, Mr. Asashi—”

  “Never mind that, Scott,” Asashi interjected, glancing at the man’s name tag. “Tell me what’s going on. And in simple terms, please.”

  Scott nodded nervously, trying his best to stay composed. “Okay, I’ll try. To summarize, a small portion of the insect drones suddenly lost connection out of nowhere. And all of them seem to be in one specific part of the forest, as if it were coordinated.” Scott pointed at a few monitors displaying static grey screens. “We’ve run every protocol we can think of, but none are working. Worse, when malfunctions occur, data about the cause is usually sent to our server. This time, nothing.”

  “Maybe the drones are defective,” Asashi suggested.

  Scott shook his head frantically. “No, sir, that doesn’t make sense! Why would they all shut down in only one part of the forest? It’s like there’s a small barrier preventing them from entering.”

  A barrier? The word unsettled Asashi, though he couldn’t pinpoint why.

  “Then what do you think is the cause—” Asashi’s question was cut off by a loud gasp from one of the operators beside him—a woman with brunette hair tied in a ponytail. She covered her mouth, staring at a monitor with wide eyes, as if she had seen a ghost.

  “This… this can’t be real,” she muttered.

  Asashi stalked over and leaned down to look at the screen. It displayed a map of the forest, with a red circle indicating the placement of the barrier. Inside the circle, countless small red dots moved across the map—those represented the monsters selected by the AOK. The Blue dots marked the contestants.

  “What’s wrong?” Asashi asked.

  The woman pointed at some of the red dots. They were oddly…

  “They’re disappearing?”

  “Yes,” she slowly nodded. “Someone is slaying them.”

  “Who? And more importantly, how? I just saw two—no, three—dots vanish in seconds!”

  “I… I don’t know who. There seems to be something interfering with tracking, just like the drones Scott mentioned,” she deduced.

  Scott’s eyes widened in shock. “Don’t tell me…” he whispered. “Don’t tell me the monsters are being killed in the same area where the drones lost connection?”

  The woman reluctantly nodded, causing Scott to scramble beside her, gaping at the map with a growing conviction that his suspicion was right.

  “Wait a minute...” the lady said. “Although I can’t track the person who is killing all of these monsters, I can look at all the team's points to see which ones have grown substantially more. The point system that is integrated with the techno watches, as well as the monsters themselves, shouldn’t be affected by this weird error because the data is not being transferred to the servers, but rather, it’s being stored on its own. So, when we try to search for the team’s points, the techno watches should still populate the points regardless of the interference.”

  Asashi hesitated. “So… can you figure out who’s doing it?”

  The woman didn’t answer immediately. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she checked various monitors. Asashi didn’t even attempt to understand what she was doing—he simply waited.

  “There!” she finally exclaimed, pointing at the screen. “This is the list of teams and their points, and one of them has…” She paused, as if double-checking the numbers. “Five... Five hundred and twenty points. A–And it’s still rising.”

  Asashi’s gaze landed on the name of the team—and he froze.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  His heart pounded in his chest. He wondered if his eyes were deceiving him, but at this point, he was half expecting it.

  He turned immediately to Zizu, who stood against the wall, waiting for orders. Asashi took a deep breath to steady himself, his expression shifting into cold confidence and authority. It was an odd reaction to what he was feeling. Maybe his years of leading knights had trained him to suppress the stress to focus. Deep down, however, he was angry—and above all else, fearful.

  “Zizu, put me in contact with the one in charge of deploying knights,” he said bluntly.

  She blinked in confusion. “S-sure, but for what reason?”

  Asashi turned back to the screen displaying the team rankings. His eyes locked onto the top name:

  (Team Baru—526 points)

  “…I need to tell him we need a squad deployed in that area immediately,” he said, turning sharply to exit the control room, his trench coat lifting slightly with the movement. His emerald-green eyes were cold and placid.

  “As a security and safety precaution, of course.”