Ken, no, ‘Ken’ woke up in a room covered in white padding.

The square foam-like material seemed to be a place for the mentally deranged, with nothing available to the eye besides the padded interior.

He scanned his surroundings, noting that his phone, papers about Minerva, and other knickknacks had been taken.

Thinking about his situation, he tensed up when that man walked in.

Ken hadn’t known his face or looks, but that scent, musky, like a wild predator who gave three shits about a disguise, made him easily distinguishable from others.

Getting a good look at the man, Ken noted his features.

A muscular black-haired man who one may mistake for a bodybuilder had a robust body, sturdy abs, and wore a sleeveless black t-shirt.

His girthy arm was bigger than Ken's cranium, and the rough look made him akin to a wolf.

“Good, you're awake.”

The man took a seat on the ground, resting his body on the white bubbled pads that surrounded this room that looked like it came out of a sci-fi movie.

He was unafraid that they would break, suggesting that even a full-force attack from himself wouldn't break through; maybe not even a dent would remain.

“I found you at the site, and seeing as you interfered with my mission, I should have killed you as collateral.”

Ken's heart sank, just now coming to terms with how close to death he was.

Even though he didn’t consider himself weaker than the mysterious man, a ghoul wasn’t immortal, especially one who didn’t get to eat recently and hadn’t completely grown up.

One clean strike to the heart, and without his ‘will’ to stir the rest of his energy to regenerate, he’d have died.

"And I planned on it until ‘you’ actually fought her.”

He was talking about Ken, this Ken in control, not the wimp who only deserved to sit in the back seat and watch as the grownups did work.

At least, that's what's running through ‘his’ mind right now.

“Kid, I’ll tell you the details if you pass. But short story: fight me, impress me, aim to kill me; if you do and I find you satisfactory, you pass, but if not–”

The words ‘You’ll die’ were left out but had been heavily implied.

Not wasting a moment, he burst off from his current spot; if he couldn't break out of here, then cause a ruckus, killing their boss, and stealing his key, which Ken observed from the lock on the door, was how he got in here.

That wasn’t that bad of a plan.

But as if he could see the scene in slowed time, a precise tilt to the head and the man sitting down were unfazed by the fierce assault by Ken, the latter's leg that shot out now landing on the wall.

“Tch”

Using it as a platform, he jumped back to the center as the man stood up, looming over Ken, daring him to move.

And Ken did.

With a quick pupil change from black to red and two Rinkaku coming to assist from each side, the battle continued.

Ken used the small space and his small size to his advantage, jumping from side to side.

The Rinkaku tested the man's defense, finding the unsatisfactory result that his muscles were just too stiff for shallow marks to pierce through.

Still, building up kinetic energy and releasing it at once would allow Ken to pierce through his opponent, who, by the way, wasn’t standing still.

Though it was apparent he wasn’t trying hard, he did make efforts to grasp the slippery eel that was Ken.

‘Hmph, arrogance will be his downfall.’

Ken had jumped from the wall to the roof of the square room; he was now upside down to the man.

Jumping straight towards him this time, he prepared his attack. Two blood-red tendrils, combined, headed towards the head below him.

Then, at the critical juncture, once his enemy had already made preparations to receive the attack, they separated, now targeting the eyes and throat.

This did cause the burly man to be surprised.

So much so that he entered a heightened state and released the restraints he’d been placing on himself.

He sent a kick that Ken could barely react to, and the boy's small body was flung to the other side of the room.

No remorse showed in his eyes; instead, he trailed that figure, wanting to find out even more information.

Picking himself up, Ken looked up, taking a grim look at things.

‘He dodged, blocked, or ignored my attempts at winning. With him not even using his full power, I don't think I can win.’

“You're strong; I’ll lift the amp a little bit.”

So a professional beating ensued.

Ken was outmatched—strength, speed, all of it. He was pushed around, yet he didn't give up.

Utilizing an opportunity that he got from reading the flow of the man's repetitive movements, Ken used his superhuman instincts and dodged to the left, then applied the tendrils to his arms like a drill.

He once again went for an assault, not caring for the damages he would take on.

The man sent a rough punch to the solar plexus before Ken could even arrive with his gauntlets of destruction.

That punch ended the match with Ken blacking out.

.

.

.

Ken felt like he was dreaming; he remembered he 'saw' a fight; ‘his’ body was battling some grizzly bear-like man.

Like a movie Ken watched the ‘screen’ inside his mind, showing the contents.

His body seemed to struggle to make the man even react to his attacks—that was until he sent an attack for both the throat and eyeballs.

‘How sinister.’

Despite that, Ken believed the fight was over. After all, the attack and its recipient were less than 3 meters away, not to mention he was facing a ghoul.

But amid surprise, the man, who seemed like the victim of Ken’s ruthless barrages, sent Ken's body and its host crashing into the padded walls!

‘Was he…holding back all this time?’

That thought horrified Ken, someone who could take a ghoul's barrages casually with no injuries, on their own, and even counterattack the ghoul with one move, instantly defeating them.

'This is something only those at the very top could do. Does this mean this man is at the level of Arima?'

Horrified by his thoughts, Ken was proven right; the opponent seemed like he was trying; he moved faster, punched stronger, and pushed Ken’s body more and more.

Watching this like a spectator, Ken was unusually silent, like in a ring where you know who’s going to win but you want to support the underdog.

But in this ring, unlike in the movies, the underdog stood no chance.

It wasn’t a matter of comparing 57 to 80; it was the difference from a 34 to a 579!

That proved true when even Ken's final attack was knocked down instantly before it even arrived, showing that the man still had much more power than he even showed.

After that, the screen went black, and the living room he’d been watching the show in started crumbling before he returned to the pitch-black void.

His mind once again went hazy for the eleventh time. The inaudible words that always seemed to accompany his departing figure could be identified this time.

“Tch, I didn't get my fill. Oh well, your turn. Word of advice: try not to die.”

So the ominous words were what Ken woke up to in his body; injuries could be felt, and the space around him told him that the ‘TV’ he watched was simply the view through ‘his’ eyes.

The one in control at that moment should have been the voice.

Gripping his head, Ken grunted at the influx of memories—a first-person perspective on the fight with that man.

‘How nice of ‘him’ to transfer them over.’

After the pain calmed down, Ken looked around. He was on a couch, sitting in some sort of break room.

Papers detailing who’s shift was when coffee beans, which elicited Ken's hunger, sat on the shelves.

With no hesitation, Ken grabbed the jar of coffee beans and then stuffed them inside his mouth.

They weren't the best, tasteless as they were, but they did satiate him for now.

Something he needed as his kill and lunch were stolen.

Ken frowned, partially from his subconscious thinking of Minerva as his lunch but more so from the fact that he would need to ‘procure’ food again.

Not to mention he wouldn’t get his money from Giran for completing the mission, though the cost of failing a mission could be offset by the picture on his phone, which Ken found on himself once again.

As Ken was thinking things, sitting on the skin of yellow and dark brown checkered tiles, eating coffee beans straight out of a jar while looking around absentmindedly, he was walked in upon.

His foe, who’d beaten this body in a fight, appeared, and his burly face was surprised if his eyes were anything to go for.

He wordlessly sighed, as if this wasn’t something he wanted to waste any more thoughts on.

“Come.”

Was all he said before Ken followed him? With the beans still in his hand.

They walked out of the break room and down a hallway that was sparsely lit by lights.

Then,  opening the steel door, the man walked down the gloomy flight of stairs, which appeared to be endless.

His eyes twitched when he caught sight of Ken, who was stuffing his cheeks full of coffee beans, afraid it was going to be taken.

“You can have the jar.”

Ken calmed down and slowed his eating after that.

‘This kid-’

Continuing, the man said,

“You’ve passed the test; you're now a part of our group. We’ve needed a new member for a while, and you just barely passed the test. This is our base and shop; you’ll learn more about that when the time comes, but for now, let's introduce you to the team.”

With that, they reached the end of the corridor, and a curtain separated the stairs from the room behind.

With a bright fluorescent light, the man opened Ken up to a whole new world.

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