Ian’s legs straddled the man’s hips, bent on each side. He pulled away.

“I want to reach the Center Tower.”

The tower that stood in Zone 0, was a beacon of hope and representative of the base’s strongest force. There was a person there that Ian wanted to find. It wasn’t his ultimate or main goal, but it was one of them.

That person who remained bright in his distant memories. It was foolish to expect that person to remember him, but he had hope.

He wanted to believe that there was another person out there who remembered her. Her—the intelligent, wondrous, and the beautifully kind—his sister.

His sister died in a Rift many years ago.

Ian had many suspicions about her death, and her strangeness leading up to them, but he lacked answers. All he had was burning resentment of the system that forced her to participate, forced her end.

If that person who said they were from the Center, the child of a high-ranking family, had the power to access the records of what happened that day—

Ian didn’t know what he would do.

All he knew was that for years he’d harboured simmering anger, that the rage coiled in his stomach and scratched the inside of his skin in reminder. Vengeance wasn’t always sweet or satisfying, that didn’t stop him from wanting it.

“The Center?” The Esper flipped Ian’s hand over, pressing on his fingers. “You won’t reach it as you are. Your only opportunity would be the ceremony for the top-ranking Guide-Esper teams.”

“Ceremony?”

“Once a year. A farce to broadcast a reminder to the base that they are protected by the strongest.”

Ian scoffed. “So it’s our job to play mascots too.”

A hand made its way to his bandaged waist, resting on the uninjured portion lightly. Ian glanced down for a second before looking back up, the warm lampshade casting an illusion of comfort.

“Presently, you’re nothing more than a smear of the wall,” mused the Esper quietly. “The government chooses its most valuable resources—the you right now, are you worth anything?”

Ian opened his mouth and closed it, displeased. There was nobody who knew how much he was lacking more than himself.

The hand on his waist pressed firmer. “I don’t work with inexperienced fools. If I need relief from the degeneration of energy, I have plenty of options. Tell me, reckless Guide, why would I take an infant that’s never seen sun into a battlefield?”

He accurately assessed Ian’s unspoken desires. Indeed, he wanted an Esper that could bring him to the Center—and if acknowledgment of his abilities was key, then he needed to team up with somebody powerful.

“My name isn’t Guide, it’s Ian.” He hesitated. “ And because I passed your game.”

“Game? Not test?”

“No.” The black eyes settled, hesitation dissipating. “It’s all a game for you. This. What I do next. You’re not hoping for my success or failure.”

There was nothing real or genuine in those cold, blue eyes.

“Is that how it appears?”

A smile. Perhaps some could find it enchanting or charming, some could fall into the illusion of magnetism.

Ian narrowed his eyes and suddenly leaned forward, tugging the Esper towards him as his lips parted, pressing against the other. There was no resistance as the Esper smiled, opening his mouth as he allowed Ian’s relentless attack.

Their breaths intertwined, bleeding into each other, melting into the endless pool of energy that knotted their scents together.

Intimacy between a Guide and an Esper was more than sharing warmth; it was the direct penetration of energy, and comfort on the deepest levels.

He pulled away gasping, a heat flushing his cheeks.

Ian stared at the now disheveled man underneath him, his calm breath a touch ragged as his damp hair tangled, mused by the movements. The cold eyes regarded him with scrutiny.

“Bet on me. Bet that I won’t become a boring game to watch.” Ian’s shoulders rose and fell. The Esper before him saw him as something lower, something insignificant. Less than a toy.

It wouldn’t stay that way.

“Bring me back to the surface.”

It was a single demand—one that he had no right to make. But his chin remained set, body stable and the mist that had covered his eyes from his breathless actions served as a reflection of determination, settling over the pure black.

He didn’t need the Esper’s affection or respect, although he had a gnawing desire to be acknowledged by this empty gaze.

Ian hated Espers—it was discriminatory, but the majority he’d met weren’t kind or honest. Some participated in terrible cruelties, and for the raised Guides whose purpose was to meet those demands, he had no good opinions.

This Esper was no different. Arrogant, superior—but strong.

Undeniably so.

Ian had a violent desire to trample over his self-assurance and indifference.

The Esper let out a breath of a chuckle, his lips moistened by Ian’s earlier assault. “I’ll concede, but I won’t enter a Rift with you.”

“That—“

“Six months. Become somebody I’d have to wait in line to stand with.”

In that lonesome room with four standing cement walls, allowing the faintest glimpse of starlight far above, two unequals made an agreement. Without affection and without trust, only anticipation bound the fragile contract.

The Guide stared steadily ahead. “Fine. Tell me your name, Esper.”

Only later would they understand the significance.

The Esper smiled coldly. “Victor.”

Only later would humanity understand that one meaningless evening—

—was the birth of the first destruction Guide.