The Heart of Zero

A chilling voice pierced the stillness: "Here you are!"

Shingin stopped abruptly, his head snapping upward. Perched atop a streetlamp, shrouded in its halo of light, was the mysterious boy. His cold gaze bore into Shingin with a mocking smirk. The oversized, ragged coat billowed faintly in the night breeze, adding an air of mystery to the boy's small figure. Yet, his expression was anything but childish—his eyes held an ancient depth, as though they had witnessed lifetimes of hardship and truth.

Before Shingin could react, the boy leapt effortlessly from the streetlamp. He landed soundlessly, defying gravity, as though he were no more than a shadow stepping into reality. Standing before Shingin, his piercing gaze locked on him, the boy smirked with a tinge of disdain. "Well? Have you realized yet?"

Shingin's chest tightened, alarm bells ringing in his head. He struggled to steady his voice, which betrayed his unease. "Who are you?"

The boy sneered, taking a step closer. Despite his small frame, his presence radiated an unsettling intensity. His voice was low, measured, and cutting, each word sharp as steel. "The name is Rayl. Once, I was a warrior—a man in his prime. But thanks to the enemy's cursed powers, I was reduced to this... form."

"Reduced?" Shingin's brows furrowed, disbelief etched across his face. "You mean... you were turned into a child?"

Rayl nodded solemnly, his eyes narrowing. "Their power doesn't kill; it dismantles. It renders you weak, powerless, insignificant. They call it 'Body Sealing.'"

Shingin stared at Rayl, his mind racing to piece together this surreal revelation. "Why are you telling me this? I don't even know you."

Rayl's smirk deepened, though his eyes betrayed a glint of something far heavier than amusement. "Because you're involved whether you like it or not. You, Shingin, are destined for something far greater. You've been chosen to become the eighth-generation leader of our organization."

Shingin's heart skipped a beat. The words struck a familiar chord; they echoed the warning given by the man who had attacked him. His voice trembled slightly as he replied, "Me? That doesn't make sense... I'm just a regular guy. Why would I—"

"Regular?" Rayl cut him off with a cold chuckle. "Do you think someone ordinary would've been hunted down by the Monitors? Do you think a regular guy would've survived their encounter?" He tilted his head, his gaze scrutinizing. "You're anything but ordinary, Shingin. Whether you accept it or not, your life will never go back to what it was."

"Monitors?" Shingin echoed, the word foreign yet ominous.

Rayl's face darkened, his tone turning grave. "The Monitors are an elite force controlling the world's order. They eliminate any threat to their power—us, the Ability Holders, are their sworn enemies. They destroy us through assassination, manipulation, or fear. You met one of them already—Agent 25. He's just the beginning."

The weight of Rayl's words pressed heavily on Shingin's chest. Memories of the attack replayed vividly in his mind, each detail casting doubt on his denial of the impossible. His voice faltered as he asked, "Why me? I don't understand... I'm no fighter."

Rayl's icy demeanor softened, just barely. He regarded Shingin with something akin to pity. "Sometimes, the answer doesn't come right away. Destiny doesn't owe you an explanation, Shingin." His voice lowered, laced with forewarning. "But know this: from this moment on, you're a target. The people close to you—your family, your friends—they're already in danger."

Shingin's breath hitched. His mother's smile flashed in his mind, followed swiftly by Riyugi's gentle expression and their quiet, shared moments earlier that evening. His fists clenched as an unspoken fear took root in his heart.

Noticing the tension in Shingin's posture, Rayl's lips curled into a knowing smile, sharp and cutting. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper, like the hiss of a blade unsheathing. "Tell me, Shingin. Are you ready to protect them? Do you have the resolve to fight for what matters?"

Resolve. The word echoed like a hammer strike against stone, reverberating through Shingin's mind. He stood frozen, suffocated by doubt, fear, and uncertainty. His body trembled under the invisible weight of Rayl's question.

But Rayl didn't stop there. His smirk turned razor-sharp as he added, "If not... then be prepared. You may never hear from your mother again. And the next time you see Riyugi might be at her funeral."

The words struck like lightning, splitting Shingin's world in two. His pulse quickened, cold sweat dripping down his temples as images of Riyugi's and his mother's faces flashed in his mind. His stomach churned with a sickening mix of anger, dread, and helplessness.

Rayl straightened, watching Shingin's struggle with detached amusement. "Good," he said, almost tauntingly. "Let it sink in. Let it eat at you. Because until you find your resolve, you're just a pawn waiting to be knocked off the board."

Shingin's voice caught in his throat, unable to form the torrent of emotions into words. Rayl studied him for a moment longer, then turned to leave. As he walked away, his voice drifted back, cold and final. "Think about it, Shingin. What can you protect? What are you willing to sacrifice? I'll be watching."

The night air grew colder in the silence that followed. Shingin stood alone under the faint glow of the streetlamp, his shadow stretching long and thin across the ground. His fists were clenched tightly, nails digging into his palms. He tilted his head skyward, the stars above offering no answers, only a quiet, indifferent presence.

Resolve. Could he find it? Could he fight for the people he loved?

The doubts swirled endlessly in his mind, but amidst the chaos, a faint ember of determination began to flicker. It was fragile, barely noticeable, but it was there—a spark that, if nurtured, could one day ignite into a flame.

Shingin took a deep breath, forcing his trembling hands to steady. For now, there was no certainty, only questions. But he understood one thing: running wasn't an option anymore.