The abandoned building was filled with broken pillars and dust likely.
Broken windows let in pale morning light, slicing through floating particles.
Old posters peeled from brick walls, corners curling as if trying to escape. Somewhere above, a loose beam creaked with every shift of wind.
The place had been empty long enough to forget its original purpose.
Henry wandered ahead, hands behind his head, boots echoing softly. He spotted a lone chair near a collapsed desk—three legs steady, one held together by stubbornness.
He dragged it across the floor with a shrill scrape and turned it toward Cagaro.
"Sit."
Cagaro blinked. "Ah—no, it is okay, sir. You can—"
Henry pushed the chair forward with his foot. "It was not a suggestion."
Cagaro hesitated, then sat, posture stiff and formal, hands on his knees like he was back in a lecture hall.
The chair groaned but held. Henry leaned against the wall instead, crossing his arms, studying the ceiling like it had secrets worth listening to.
"So," Henry said lightly, "Prada University. Is it still teaching people to die efficiently?"
Cagaro smiled despite himself. "They call it 'operational longevity.'"
Henry hummed. "That is worse now."
Silence settled awkwardly. Outside, distant city noise leaked in, muffled by concrete and neglect.
The building felt suspended between use and ruin, much like the two of them.
Cagaro glanced around. "Is this… a safe place?"
Henry shrugged. "Nothing is safe. But this place is honest at least. It doesn't pretend to be more than it is."
Cagaro nodded, absorbing that. "Blyke said you are… reliable."
Henry laughed quietly. "That's the nicest thing he's ever said about me."
Cagaro shifted in the chair, curiosity winning over restraint. "You don't act like a four-star."
Henry tilted his head. "Good. Acting gets people killed."
A beam creaked again. Dust fell down smoothly. Henry watched it drift, eyes distant but calm.
"You did fine earlier." he added casually.
"Asking questions. Wanting to go to base. That means you still believe in structure."
Cagaro looked up, surprised. "Is that bad?"
Henry smiled slightly, "No. It just means you haven't lost it yet."
The building listened as their conversation slowly began to take shape.
Henry leaned himself on the wall, then slid down the wall to sit on the floor across from Cagaro, legs stretched out, hands resting loosely at his sides.
His tone changed like a teacher who didn't enjoy repeating himself.
"You asked about the Organizations," he said. "So listen carefully. People tend to romanticize them. That gets them killed."
Cagaro straightened, eyes fixed, not interrupting.
"Centuries ago." Henry continued, "our planet; Kal'zhet—wasn't like this. Then an unknown comet entered orbit without any warning. It didn't just crash. It ruptured the world."
He tapped the floor lightly with his finger. "When it broke apart, it scattered Runic Stones across the planet. Billions of them. Buried in soil and lodged in cities. Sunk into oceans. At first, people thought they were just exotic minerals."
"They weren't actually." Henry said calmly. "The stones emit something you can call it radiation, call it resonance, call it a curse. Prolonged exposure causes disease, deformities, neurological collapse, organ reformation. The infected are called Impaired."
"There is no recover?" Cagaro asked softly.
"Only few may stabilize." Henry corrected. "Others don't." His gaze hardened slightly. "When the disease twists far enough, the body and mind break past a threshold… the Impaired can become something else."
He paused for a thinking about something.
"Those are called Grandiors."
"They are not uniform." Henry went on. "They have different breeds, different characteristics. Some are bestial. Some are intelligent. Others never were. The comet didn't just infect—it brought those unknown creatures from outer space."
Cagaro's fingers tightened on his knees. He didn't look away.
"The Organizations were formed for two main reason." Henry said. "Neutralize Grandiors. Second, Restore or seal Runic Stones before they poison more land."
He tilted his head slightly. "That's the official purpose. But because of different mindset, communication systems and behavior there are numerous organizations instead of one which works independently on their own."
"So how does it hide from public?" Cagaro asked.
Henry smiled faintly. "Power doesn't like single-use tools."
He leaned back, staring at the cracked ceiling. "Once you have armed groups trained to operate outside law, outside Strato boundaries, capable of rapid deployment… governments and corporations start borrowing them for military actions, black operations, resource control. Suppression."
"So Atlantis..." Cagaro began.
"is one of many." Henry finished.
Cagaro processed this in silence, eyes sharp, absorbing every word. "So ranking… stars… Astra…"
"All are connected." Henry said. "An Astra isn't just a weapon or relic. You don't inherit one unless the world agrees you are no longer disposable."
He finally looked directly at Cagaro. "That's why five-stars don't enter the base. It's not about trust."
Cagaro nodded slowly. "It's about risk."
Henry's smile returned, quiet and approving. "Good. You are paying attention."
Henry was quiet for a moment after finishing. Then he spoke again, softer, like he was choosing words that could not be taken back.
"There's one more thing," he said.
Cagaro looked up.
"All members of the Organizations," Henry continued, "every operative you have heard about, every four-star, zero-star, legend and failure—none of them are clean."
Cagaro frowned. "Clean?"
Henry tapped his chest once. "We are all Impaired."
The word landed harder than before.
"The difference," Henry went on calmly, "is control. Exposure happens one way or another. Battlefield residue, stone proximity, containment failure. The Organizations stopped pretending they could avoid it and started choosing how it happens."
Cagaro's throat tightened. "You mean… willingly?"
Henry nodded. "Runic Flow. Distilled essence from the stones. It causes the disease but also stabilizes it into something conditional. Powers, instincts, perception shifts. Everyone gets something different based on the aura overlapping."
He reached into his inner pocket and produced a slim syringe, symbols glowing along the glass like veins of light.
"I will not force you." Henry said. No pressure or drama. "But without it, you don't rank up. You don't inherit the nature of us. And sooner or later, you will face a Grandior without the means to survive."
Cagaro's mind raced. Images collided—his studies, his ambition, the boy he wanted to be, the world Henry had just laid bare. Fear screamed at him to refuse. Curiosity pulled just as hard.
But why does it matter at all...
If I don't take it, he thought, I stay normal, safe, small.
...In the end, everything I am going to lose...
He looked at Henry. At the scars that weren't visible. At the calm that didn't belong to an untouched man.
...is myself...
"…Do it." Cagaro said suddenly, breath unsteady but eyes brave enough to look up. "If I'm going to walk this path, I will not crawl."
Henry studied him for a long second. Then he smiled accepting it.
"Alright." he said. "Don't move."
Cagaro rolled up his sleeve. The needle slid in cleanly. Cold fire surged through his veins, sharp enough to steal his breath. Symbols flared once, then vanished.
Henry withdrew the syringe and stepped back.
"Welcome" he said quietly, "to the point where turning back stops being an option."
Cagaro's hands trembled. His heart hammered but beneath the pain something else stirred wholely.
He felt like a brand new person...