NOVEL NEXT Chapter 18: Child of the void
Miss Brooks eyes caught the flatlined vitals of one of her students on the monitor. For a moment, everything else—the hum of the engines, the banter of her colleagues—faded into nothingness. The cold, unflinching line mocked her, cutting deep into her composure. Her face betrayed no emotion; years of military discipline held her features in an impassive mask. But deep within her, a wave of terror surged, threatening to drown her in its grip.
'No,' she thought, her mind racing. 'This can't be happening. Not on my watch. Not this early.'
Vane's boisterous attitude evaporated in an instant. He leaned forward, his smirk replaced with a grim seriousness. "Maybe we pushed them too hard," he admitted reluctantly, his usual arrogance nowhere to be found. "This evaluation might've been too soon. Your class… perhaps they weren't ready."
Rourke, who had been lounging in his chair, was now on his feet, his rugged demeanor shadowed by concern. "We should call it," he said gruffly, nodding toward the monitors. "End it here. Recall everyone. This isn't worth a kid's life."
Vane crossed his arms, glancing at his own students' vitals on another screen. His hesitation was brief but palpable. "It's a shame, really. My class was on track to break the academy's record for beast cores collected in a single field exam."
Brooks ignored their chatter, her eyes fixed on the monitor displaying the flatline. Her heart pounded in her chest, the steady rhythm of her own pulse at odds with the cold stillness of the screen.
'Noah,' she thought, quickly scanning through her memory. She had read up files on her students, memorizing certain ones. Prominent figures, outstanding performers at the entrance exams and anything that just stood out.
Noah, he wasn't the strongest in her class, not by a long shot, but his aptitude test results had stood out. Where brawn failed him, his intelligence shone. Strategic thinking, quick analysis, adaptability—he'd been ranked among the top five in cognitive assessment. If anyone could outmaneuver a threat, it should have been him.
'So how… how did this happen?'
The file she'd memorized on him replayed in her mind like a haunting mantra. His physical scores were average at best, but that shouldn't have mattered. Not here. Not with the gear they'd been issued, not with the month-long entrance exam that had supposedly prepared them. This field was populated by Level 1 and Level 2 beasts—creatures meant to test but not overwhelm.
'A Level 1 beast? No… even a Level 2 shouldn't have been able to do this. Not with the equipment he had. Not after everything we drilled into them.'
Her thoughts spiraled, running through every possible scenario. Had there been a mistake in the scouting reports? An anomaly in the field? Or had Noah's intelligence—his greatest strength—failed him at the critical moment?
She clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to force the emotions back down.
Vane's voice cut through her thoughts, softer this time. "Brooks?"
She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. Her movements were rigid, almost mechanical, as she turned on her heel and strode out of the room without a word.
"Brooks!" Rourke called after her, his tone more urgent.
"Miss Brooks, where are you going?" Vane added, his usual smugness replaced with genuine concern.
She didn't respond, her mind too clouded with unanswered questions and unspoken fears.
The door to a private room slid shut behind her, leaving Vane and Rourke alone in the monitoring room. They exchanged glances, their earlier rivalry forgotten.
Rourke sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's taking this harder than I thought."
Vane nodded, his gaze returning to the monitors. "It's not just her. This doesn't make sense. Even 1C's performing better. Whatever happened out there… it's not adding up."
Inside the private room, Brooks leaned against the door, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her carefully constructed mask of indifference was cracking, and she couldn't stop it.
'Noah,' she thought again, the boy's file flashing through her mind. 'What went wrong? What did I miss?'
Her fists unclenched as she stared down at her trembling hands. Somewhere deep inside, doubt began to creep in, insidious and unrelenting.
'Was Vane right? Are they… are they just weak nobodies? Did I fail them before they even had a chance to prove themselves?'
The thought made her stomach churn. She didn't need weaklings. The world didn't need weaklings. And yet…
Her eyes closed as she fought to steady her breathing. The monitor with Noah's flatlined vitals burned in her memory, a cruel reminder of the stakes they all faced.
'This isn't over,' she told herself firmly. 'I'll find out what happened. I'll make sure it never happens again.'
***
Noah floated in a vast expanse of blackness, his consciousness a fragile spark drifting in an ocean of nothing. His last memory before the void engulfed him was a single message:
Congratulations, you have awakened the void.
Those words repeated in his mind like a faint echo as he wandered aimlessly, his thoughts sluggish and disconnected. There was no sense of time, no sense of place—just him and the oppressive darkness that surrounded him.
Then, in the distance, a faint sparkle of light appeared. It shimmered, small but bright, a beacon cutting through the emptiness. Noah's instincts stirred, urging him forward. His feet—or whatever semblance of a body he still had—began moving, pulling him toward the light.
As he approached, more blue, transparent messages appeared in front of him:
[The void has seen your efforts.]
[The void sympathizes with you.]
[The void knows you have been left alone in this world.]
[But the void would like to change that.]
[Become a child of the void? Yes or No]
Noah stopped in his tracks, staring at the final question. 'Child of the void?' The words hung in the air, weighty and ominous.
"What does that even mean?" he muttered, though no sound escaped his lips.
The answer came immediately, the words forming in sharp, clear letters before him:
[To become a child of the void is to forge a connection between you and the void. With this connection, you will never be alone again. You will never be mocked again. You will never have to… die.]
The last word lingered longer than the others, sending a shiver through him.
Noah glanced around, but the darkness offered no solace, no clarity. His chest flickered with a faint glow, barely noticeable against the void's endless black. Curious, he focused on it.
"What is that?" he thought.
[Your life force.]
The response came immediately, crisp and unyielding. Noah's gaze dropped to the glow in his chest. The light pulsed weakly, like a candle struggling against a gust of wind.
"This is… my life force?" His voice trembled. "Why is it flickering like that?"
[You are about to pass on. There isn't enough time. Accept to be the child of the void or die.]
The system's tone shifted suddenly, becoming harsh and demanding.
Noah recoiled, his mind spinning. "Wait, what? I thought you said I'd never die! Now you're saying I'll die if I don't accept?!"
The messages didn't answer his protests. Instead, another prompt appeared, each word sharp and unrelenting:
[Five seconds until total passing on.]
Panic surged through Noah as he glanced at the faint light in his chest. "What other option do I even have?" he whispered to himself, his voice cracking.
His gaze snapped back to the floating message. "Okay… fine! But how do I accept?"
The response came cold and unyielding:
[You must sign a contract. With your life force.]
Noah's stomach churned. His life force—the flickering, dying flame in his chest? He hesitated, doubt clawing at his mind. "You want this?" he asked, pointing to his chest.
The void gave no answer.
[Four seconds.]
"Wait!"
[Three seconds.]
Noah clenched his fists. "Alright, alright! But I want to know—what are you getting in return for helping me?!"
This time, the void responded with brutal honesty:
[You do not matter in the grand scheme of things. Are you accepting or not?]
The bluntness of the reply left Noah stunned. His lips tightened into a grim line. "You really lack patience," he muttered under his breath. "Fine. I'll do it."
He exhaled heavily, his decision sinking in like lead. "I… accept."
The moment the words left his mouth, the flickering flame in his chest vanished completely, extinguished like a snuffed-out candle.
The light ahead surged forward, piercing through the darkness and slamming into his chest. It was cold and hot all at once, a sensation that spread through him like molten fire. He stumbled, his senses overwhelmed.
When he looked down at his chest, the light had changed. A new flame had taken its place—white, but streaked with black veins that shimmered like molten ember. The black wasn't just dark; it had a reddish hue, almost like darkened magma.
"What… is this?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
The void offered no immediate response. Instead, another message appeared, stark and unrelenting:
[Void -> Host convergence has begun. Time remaining: 24:00:59.]
Noah stared at the timer, the numbers counting down with cold precision. He barely had time to process the message before his vision blurred, the world around him collapsing into darkness once more.
When he blinked, he was gone.