Forty minutes earlier -
Kiyokazu Lazar — POV
Only a few moments had passed since those two men walked out of the room, the brown-haired one trailing behind them.
„I suppose they're the ones in charge here."
The room had gone almost completely quiet since they left. Most people sat or lay on their beds without speaking, as though the pressure from earlier had taken something out of them that hadn't come back yet. A few voices still murmured in one corner, but quietly — careful, like people who weren't sure yet what the rules were.
My body still felt the faint echo of that pressure. A low vibration in the muscles, a residual heaviness that I had barely managed to hold against when it first hit.
"I guess that was a technique," Luiz said.
"A technique?"
"Don't tell me you dont know what that is."
I shook my head slowly.
He looked at me for a moment, then sat down on the bed I had woken up in.
"It's something someone can use at their own will," he said. "Unique to whoever learned it. No one else can just copy it and do the same."
"How did he make it feel like that? Like it was coming from everywhere at once?"
"I don't know," he said, raising both hands briefly. "I can't explain that."
"Hm." He turned his head slightly to the right, attention caught by something across the room.
"AAURRGH—" The man with the spiky hair was struggling to get up from where he'd been pressed to the floor, arms shaking with the effort.
"Can you move, four-eyes?" he called toward the man with the glasses, who was still on one knee nearby.
"Let's go help them," Luiz said, already rising.
"Yeah."
We crossed the room to where the man with the glasses knelt. He had made it to one knee by the time we reached him, his arms trembling slightly.
"It's like my body seized."
I crouched without saying anything and took hold of his right arm. Luiz doing the same with his left. The man with the glasses looked at me, his mouth opening slightly.
"Thanks," he said.
"On three," Luiz said. "One, two, three."
We lifted him together and walked him toward the bed. Behind us, the man with the spiky hair called after us.
"Hey — don't just leave me there."
I started turning around when someone grabbed me by my neck. I turned right and it was Luiz who did that, waving his head left-right.
His expression, from the brief angle I could see, was serious.
So I didn't turn back. We kept walking and set the man with the glasses down on the bed, the two of us sitting on either side of him.
"Thank you," he said again. "Both of you."
"It's nothing," Luiz said, with a faint smile.
"How does your body feel? Is it starting to come back?"
He looked down at his hands, opening and closing them slowly.
"It seems to be returning to the way it was before." He looked between us. "I haven't introduced myself — I'm Kieran Straten. Nice to meet you."
"I am Luiz Takami. Nice to meet you, Kieran."
"I am Lazar Kiyokazu."
"Lazar?" He put two fingers to his chin, tilting his head. "What an unusual name. I haven't heard it before — it might be coming from the eastern part of the continent."
"Maybe, who knows. I couldn't choose what my family would name me, Kieran."
"Fair point." He exhaled slowly. "It seems the pain is finally fading away. That's a relief." Then, without much transition: "I assume you both received invitations as well?"
"An invitation?"
"Yes," Luiz replied.
They both received invitations. I don't remember receiving one.
Maybe it is better to go along with it for now. I don't want them looking at me differently.
"Yeah," I said after a moment, nodding my head.
I lied. I didn't correct it. I feel like the truth might change the way they saw me, and I didn't want that—at least not yet. For now, staying close to them seems like the most sensible move I can make. At the very least, they don't seem dangerous to me.
"Huh?" Luiz glanced at me. "Is everything okay, Lazar?"
"Yeah. Don't worry about it."
"I've noticed you kept looking at my eyes," he said. Not accusatory — just observing. "I hope they don't bother you."
"No, they don't bother me at all. I've just never seen eyes that color before." I glanced at them briefly again. "They're striking. It must be a unique feeling to go through life with eyes like that."
He didn't answer right away. His gaze dropped to the floor.
"Yeah," he said finally, with a quiet smile.
"UUGH—"
A sudden sharp pain hit behind my eyes. I pressed my hand to my forehead before I'd consciously decided to, gritting my teeth against it.
"Lazar — are you all right?" Kieran put a hand on my right shoulder.
"Y-yeah," I said. Barely.
"Come here," he said, settling into bed. He raised his hands and placed them on my head.
"W-what are you doing?"
"Don't worry, just move your hand away. And relax."
I looked at him, then did as he asked — moved my hand, tried to let my shoulders drop.
Touch. Touch.
His fingers pressed gently against my scalp, first making slow, circular motions, then shifting slightly to the side of the place he pressed and repeated the same movement. Patiently, methodically.
The pain didn't disappear, but it slowly loosened. Pulled back from sharp to dull, from immediate to distant. I let my eyes close.
This feeling.
It reminded me of something. Of Sarah, sitting beside me, learning this from her mother, demonstrating it on me because she'd wanted to show me. Back then, it was a great lovely feeling.
But this, it was way better than that.
"Feeling any better?" Kieran asked.
"Yes. It's still there, but just a little now."
"Wow Kieran," Luiz said, watching from the side. "You look like a professional, Lazar looks like he is about to fall asleep."
"Oh, this?" Kieran gave a quiet, easy laugh. "My sister used to have terrible troubles with headaches. I massaged her head to help with them. And, slowly as I did it more and more I learned how to massage better — she's the one who started calling these as she calls them 'god-like massaging hands.'"
"You have a sister?"
"Yeah, a younger one. She's just like an angel." Something softened in his voice. "I can't wait to go home after this and see her face again."
"That's good to hear," Luiz said simply.
"OY!" A voice cut across the room from somewhere behind us. It was the brown-haired one. "Where are those two idiots who fought earlier?"
"Who are you calling idiot, you fool?" The man with the spiky hair shot to his feet from his bed.
"They want both of you there — go." The brown-haired one pointed with his palm at the door, then turned and started making his way back toward his own bed.
"I should go now," Kieran said, standing from the bed. He looked at me. "If the pain comes back, just say so."
"It's mostly gone, Kieran. Thank you."
He nodded, smile still across his face. Then turned and started walking towards the doors of the room.
He met the man with the spiky hair in the middle of the room, near the stairs. They stood face to face for a moment — not hostile exactly, but not easy either. The spiky-haired one was grinning, showing teeth, looking down at Kieran with something between amusement and challenge. Kieran's expression was the same serious, composed look he'd worn during the fight.
Some kind of understanding passed between them. Then they pushed through the doors together and left.
The brown-haired one settled back onto his bed and leaned against the wall, exactly as before. His eyes moved to me briefly, without expression, then away.
Luiz was staring at him. Directly. His red eyes fixed and steady.
Luiz stood and walked toward him.
The brown-haired one noticed and slowly leaned forward, one foot moving to the floor — preparing, just in case.
I could only see a sliver of Luiz's face from since his body was turned towards him. But it was enough. His expression was serious in a way I hadn't seen from him yet.
"Hey," Luiz called.
The brown-haired one looked up without moving from his position.
"Hm? What do you want?" Flat.
Luiz raised his right hand, palm open. An offer to shake.
"I'll forgive what you did," he said, his tone dropping, becoming less confrontational. "If you just tell me your name."
He shoved his hand aside.
"Get lost, worm. You aren't worthy of shaking my hand."
"I shook your forearm earlier. Didn't I?" Luiz said calmly.
"You were just lucky. I didn't expect you to step in. Next time you won't be so lucky."
Luiz tilted his head slightly.
"I'll be looking forward to see that then."
With that said he turned and walked back towards me.
"If I was you I wouldn't want that."
Luiz didn't answer to that. He sat down on my bed and leaned back against the white wall. I settled in beside him.
A few moments passed in quiet.
"Why did you try to shake his hand?" I asked.
"Because I don't like unnecessary enemies."
"I don't think he sees either of us as anything other than enemies."
"Most likely."
I looked at the floor between my feet.
He made an enemy because of me. If I hadn't drawn attention to myself, none of that would have happened.
"I'm sorry, Luiz."
"What are you apologizing for?"
"You got into trouble with him because of me."
"What are you talking about?"
"You said you don't like unnecessary—"
"That's not what I meant." He said it simply, without heat. "I wasn't trying to make friends with him or something like that. I was hoping for something less hostile — nothing more than that."
Even if we'd started off on good terms from the beginning, I still would've stepped in when he grabbed you like that. He went too far. I can't just stand by and watch something like that happen."
"I see."
"Besides—" He looked up at the underside of the bunk above us. "Just as that bearded guy said, we'll be spending our next two months here—eating together, sleeping together, spending time, and doing plenty of other things together. It would be strange not to talk to him during that time and to only remain strangers."
"The next two months."
"You're right."
I sat up straighter and looked around the room, counting quietly. Twenty-nine people visible at the moment. Add Kieran and the spiky-haired one who'd just left, plus the two who'd been removed — that is thirty-three in total.
"Why are there so many of them? Did they all get invited the way Kieran and Luiz said they did?"
As I counted, I noticed that three or four people from different sides of the room were looking at Luiz. Not all at once—some glanced occasionally, while others held their gaze for several seconds before looking somewhere else. None of them had a friendly look. Mostly they were either wary glances or alert, as if they were watching him.
"It seems you finally noticed them, did you?" Luiz said, looking at the bed above us rather than the room.
"Yeah. I wonder how long have they looked at you like this?"
"They've been watching me ever since I got here. You were the only one who didn't — because you were asleep."
"Doesn't it bother you? When they look at you like that?"
"I'm used to it."
A short silence.
"Do you have any siblings?" he asked, without much buildup.
"No. Why?"
"I was thinking about what Kieran said. Thought I'd ask."
"My family…"
"No siblings. What about you?"
"Same. It's just me."
The doors opened slowly across the room. Kieran came back through, the spiky-haired one walking behind him.
"Luiz!" Kieran's voice carried across the quiet. "You're next. They want you."
Luiz pushed off the bed.
"Be careful until I get back, Lazar," he said.
I nodded.
He walked past Kiran and headed straight for the stairs, without slowing down. The gazes that had followed him earlier followed him now as well—only there were more of them than before, and some remained fixed on him until he had passed completely through the doors.
Kieran watched the crowd for a moment.
"It seems Luiz got a little popular," he said.
"Seems like it." I paused. "How was it out there?"
"Nothing special. They ask a few questions, write down what you say, and that's it."
"That's all?"
"That's all."
"Is your head still all right? I can go again if you need."
"No, Kieran. It's good. Thank you."
"Where do you think we are?" I asked.
"No idea. I had a blindfold on until I walked into this building."
"It's the same case as with Luiz. I guess everyone here was brought with the blindfold on."
"What do we do now?"
"Nothing, we'll probably have to wait until everyone is questioned"
"What is going to happen after everyone gets questioned?"
"I don't know, maybe the trainings starts? Just as that man said."
I leaned back against the wall and rested a hand on my forehead, closing my eyes.
"Is the pain back?" Kieran asked.
"No. It's not"
"Then why are you putting your hand over your forehead?"
"I'm just tired. I didn't sleep well."
"Rest then. I'll leave you alone for a bit."
I nodded. My eyes still closed.
"I woke up in a white room. I'm wearing clothes I don't recognize — a black shirt that fits too tight, white pants that aren't mine."
"Those two men walked in and said we'd hate them before this was over. That the training would be hell. That the weak weren't welcome here."
"They want effort, order, sweat, and knowledge. Those who cannot fulfill what they ask are thrown out, just as those two guys."
"Could I be put up somewhere? In some training camp or something like that?"
"I'm trying to remember what came before this, but the memories keep sliding away. Something green. Something large and murky. And before that—"
"My head."
"The village. Fire coming from every direction. The roof of our house, gone. The smell of blood."
"My arm breaking. The troll's face above me. Cold getting onto my skin through my sweater."
"But my arm isn't broken now."
"Mom…"
"Dad…"
"I—"
A wave of exhaustion hit me like something tangible—sudden and absolute. I stopped fighting it and surrendered to the feeling.
Everything slowed.
Then stopped.
"K...i...z...u."
"Hey."
A muffled voice called. Then, the touch of a hand on my shoulder—it gave a slight shake.
"Wake up." The voice now understandable.
I opened my eyes. The room swam for a moment before settling. Red eyes were looking at me from the floor. Someone was crouching in front of me, one of his hands still resting on mine.
"Oh." I blinked. "I seem to fell asleep."
It was Luiz who woke me up.
"It's your turn. Come on." He shook me, this more aggressively then before.
"Okay. Here I come."
"Once you're through the door, go straight down the hallway. There'll be a door on your right, close by. That's where they are."
"Thanks."
I got up. Looking around the room as I crossed toward the stairs, I wonder how long has it been since I fell asleep. The mood in the room had shifted slightly — the quiet still held, but it felt different now. More settled. Less tense.
It didn't matter though. I climbed the stairs and pushed through the half-open door into the hallway.
The first time I'd left that room since waking up.
The corridor didn't differ much from the room where I had woken up—the same white walls, with small cracks here and there revealing a color other than white. I turned left—the only possible direction—and started walking.
A brown door appeared on my right after a few steps.
"There'll be a door to your right."
I raised my hand and knocked twice. A steady voice answered from inside.
I opened the door.
The room was smaller than the one I'd come from, and it had clearly seen some activity recently — papers spread across the desk, dust disturbed in places, the particular disorder of a space that had been worked in for hours. Two men sat behind the desk. The one on the right held a pen, a notebook open in front of him. The one on the left had his arms crossed.
Behind them, on the left, was a window through which sunlight streamed, illuminating the entire room; it was the only source of light. And beneath the window, in a small pile, lay two books with a thin layer of dust on their covers.
I walked forward slowly and sat in the small wooden chair facing the desk.
They both looked at me for a few seconds. Then at each other. Then back at me.
"They asked us some questions, write our answers into a notebook and that's it." I remembered Kieran's words.
"Name?" the one with the pen said.
"Lazar Kiyokazu."
Both of their faces shifted almost simultaneously — something between mild surprise and the particular look of people hearing something unusual for the first time.
"It seems that my name is really strange, since this is already the second time it's happened today."
The interview moved quickly. A minute, maybe two. The questions were simple and I answered them simply.
But I noticed, as I stood to leave, that the one with the pen hadn't written anything in the notebook since I'd sat down.
"Was I not cooperative enough? Or did Kieran exaggerate?"
I let it go. It didn't change much either way.
I stepped back into the hallway, through the half-open door, and into the white room.
Back to the others.