Jin had every reason to fail them.

  And if he’d followed his first instinct, Wong Ka Fei and Emilia van Lowenhald would’ve been scrubbed from the list – or the whole exam itself – before they even entered the RIFT. Such an attitude was not tolerated, especially when it was a new party, and everyone was a stranger.

  But he hadn’t. He hoped for better. Second chances and all.

  “They came this close,” Jin explained to Chairman Heihachi. “First, they disobeyed direct and simple orders. Two, and what I cannot forgive is that those three damned fools nearly killed Sid’s crew. I don’t care who the fuck their families or parents are, or who’s backing them, you do that in my team, and I’ll get rid of you.”

  Ironshield lurched forward, his chair caught on the carpeted floor. “Frank, do you have any idea who–”

  A raised hand from the Chairman silenced him. “Explain.”

  Jin smirked. “You gave me free rein, right? My way or highway? Aptitude over attitude. Teamwork over being glory-hunting and aura-farming bastards? To get rid of the example we set when we let disrespectful brats with connections represent SeComm’s future? That’s them.”

  “So, why did you not?” The Chairman’s deep and regal voice cut through the room. “I’ve reviewed Ironshield’s report. Despite what you said, you held the team together.”

  “What choice do I have? Fail them, and still, they’ll pass sooner or later. If not me, someone else will. And then what will happen?”

  “What will happen?” Ironshield asked with a hollow tone, knowing full well what Jin was alluding to.

  The man replied, his tone bore the cold, hard truth. One he had seen so often in his life. “And then they’ll fuck off into another team. With those shit attitudes, they’ll get themselves and their party slaughtered faster than you can say bye-bye. I don’t need another ‘ketchup’ in my work. So, whether I like it or not, I have to teach them lessons they will never forget.”

  “I know one who will never forget your ‘special’ lessons for the rest of her life,” Old Man Sid chimed in with a big grin. “Not only did you tame her, but you even got yourself a sloppy kiss and all.”

  “Are you kidding, Sid?!” Ironshield shot up from his seat; his eyes were about to pop out of his socket.

  Chairman Heihachi’s eyes widened, but then he let out a hearty laugh. “The fire of youth never ceased to amaze me,” he said. “But what amazed me more is what you did with the evolved Boss Monster. Surviving the e-RIFT is one thing, but leading a raid party and successfully defeating it at your level? It seems that I was not wrong to put my faith in you, Frank.”

  Ironshield cracked out a big, wide smile, nodding at the Chairman’s every word.

  Chairman Heihachi set his wineglass down, his eyes locking onto Jin. “So, your final verdict on the three candidates?”

  Jin leaned back, unfazed by the attention. “After all that trouble I went through? They passed. Flying colours and all.”

  Ironshield slumped in his chair; the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders. “Finally…”

  “Patience is a virtue,” Jin said, chuckling as he glanced at Ironshield’s barely contained fatigue. “Turns out, even shit can polish up under pressure.”

  “You mean coal to diamond,” Ironshield replied.

  The Chairman exhaled, leaning back. “Then it’s settled. I’ll inform the families. Ironshield, process their licenses.” He took a sip of wine, stood up, but then paused as Jin cleared his throat. “Is there something else you want to talk to me about, Frank?”

  “You know, Mister Chairman,” Jin said, unperturbed by who he was speaking to. “I find this whole system of assessing and evaluating a Player is nothing but a joke. Broken to its core.”

  Once again, Ironshield stood up, and this time, the chair did fall backwards. His voice was a mix of surprise and anger. “What the hell, Frank? You calling us incompetent? Saying our instructors are garbage? Or that the candidates are trash, like you said?”

  Jin didn’t flinch. “Why are you getting so worked up? All I’m saying is that the system’s flawed.” He then raised three fingers. “Phase One was nothing more than a dick measuring contest. In Phase Two, you send Players to fight without actually assessing whether they can fight or want to fight. And for the Third Phase? Tell me, Ironshield, how many more arms are you willing to lose? Or people die under veteran Players? If it’s not for me standing my ground and telling you off, we might have more casualties.”

  Ironshield’s face darkened. “Worked up? Of course, I am fucking worked up. You don’t get to throw that in my face.” His good hand clenched Jin’s collar, the knuckles turned white. “Not you!”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  The Chairman’s voice cut through, calm but firm. “Stand down. Frank has a point. Let us hear it.”

  Jin didn’t bother prying Ironshield’s fingers loose. “We got lucky this time. Minimal losses. But what happens when we don’t? When some noble’s kid dies in a Level 100 evolved RIFT because we tossed them in with a shit system, a prayer and a pat on the back?” He locked eyes with Chairman Heihachi. “You want to be the one telling their family it was a ‘good experience’? All part of growing up? The dead do not grow up!”

  Silence. Even Ironshield’s grip loosened, his breath heavy.

  Jin pressed on. “You credited my leadership for our survival. Fine. But luck runs out sooner or later. What if next time, ‘God’ isn’t listening? Or worse, some of these ‘Gods’ want to kill you off?”

  The Chairman set his glass down with deliberate slowness. For a long moment, the only sound was the hum of the residence’s climate control. Then he turned, his back to them both, and spoke to no one. Yet the intention was clear. “You are not wrong. But talk is cheap. Do you have a solution for this?”

  Jin exhaled as he leaned back against his seat, his arms crossed. “Set up a dedicated training centre. Not one a once-a-month activity. An academy, if you want to call it that way.”

  Ironshield’s hand dropped. “You mean a school?”

  “A school, yes,” Jin confirmed. “Like the one civilian has. That kind of school. But for Players with structured training. Seek them out and draft them early. Appoint dedicated instructors instead of plucking whatever poor sap who got a free afternoon. And then replace all those stupid phases with proper assessment and evaluation. Do that, or else, we keep gambling with lives. Ours and the future generation.”

  “And don’t forget the Cleaners too,” Old Man Sid’s voice cut in, almost laughing at Jin’s notion.

  The man nodded. “Ah, yes. The Cleaners are our backbone. To be honest, this is about everyone who steps into a RIFT. Players and Cleaners alike.” He tapped the armrest. “And then we time-gated the training. A year, maybe three. Enough to ensure they don’t only survive but thrive.”

  The Chairman’s shoulders tensed. “Are you proposing a full overhaul of the SeComm’s training system?”

  “Call it whatever you want. I just want us to stop sending our children and our future generations into the slaughterhouse, unprepared, unexperienced, untrained and then calling it a test. Making sure what happened to Ironshield and his old party or us never happens again.”

  Ironshield’s laughter boomed as he clapped Jin’s shoulder hard enough to rattle his teeth. “Damn. Knew you were sharp, but this? This is next-level.” His expression relaxed. “Apologies for my outburst, Frank.”

  Jin rubbed his shoulder, but his smile didn’t waver. “Call it… personal investment. I’ve got a daugh-” He caught himself on time. “I mean, a niece who went to one of those fancy schools. Never finished mine, but even I know this much. You don’t throw someone into a warzone and call it ‘on-the-job training.’”

  Ironshield blinked. “Wait. You’re not kidding when you said you never went to school? You’re Neo-Tokyo born and bred! Unless you’re from the Unregistered zones, the system shoves education down your throat.”

  Jin shrugged, playing it off. “Let’s assume I had other priorities. Chasing skirts, mostly.”

  “Explains a lot,” Ironshield muttered as he held onto his laughter. “Lila, Daisy, and now you’ve got the Lowenhald princess eating out of your-mmpff!”

  The hulking man doubled over as Jin caught him in the ribs with an ‘accidental’ elbow. The room finally settled. Jin’s gaze flickered toward the ceiling, just for a second.

  Eleana.

  This wasn’t about Emilia, Eustace or Ka Fei or the next wide-eyed recruit. It was about his daughter. About ensuring it was not too late for her to learn what she was supposed to learn. White Raven might be an impressive company with top-level Players, but Jin wasn’t going to take that chance.

  The Chairman’s voice broke the brief respite. “Your proposal has merit.” He went to his desk and poured himself another glass of wine. “But passion alone will not build an academy. We would need resources. Structures. People who can turn this”–he gestured between them with his crystal glass– “into more than a pipe dream.”

  Jin beamed. Ironshield straightened himself up. Old Man Sid leaned forward. All were anticipating the Chairman's next few words. To those who knew him, that was as close to a ‘yes’ as they’d get.

  The Chairman’s smile was razor-thin. “Three challenges, Frank. First, since this is your brainchild, are you willing to take the leadership role and bear the full responsibility for this? Or will you be another empty promise who came before me?”

  Jin’s stomach twisted. He’d wanted to plant the seed, not water it. Eleana’s face flashed behind his eyes. His plate was already overflowing. He wasn’t a leader. He was a survivor. But the Chairman’s gaze was unyielding, and the silence stretched like a noose.

  Ironshield patted Jin’s shoulder, his grin wide. Almost too wide. “Well? You’re the one who started this. Own it.”

  Old Man Sid failed to stifle a laugh. “Oh, this’ll be good. Go on, Frank. Walk the talk.”

  Trapped. Jin exhaled, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But I’m not doing it alone. I pick my team.”

  The Chairman nodded. “Granted.”

  “Ironshield. Sid.” Jin pointed at them, his own smirk etched across his face. “You both will be my main guys.”

  Ironshield’s protest died in his throat.

  Old Man Sid groaned. “You’re the devil himself, Frank.”

  “And if either of you refuses,” Jin added, his voice sweet as poison, “I’ll cut Cleaners from the program and ban Ironshield from teaching. Enjoy unemployment, one-armed baldie.”

  Ironshield scowled. “Oi. That was uncalled for.” A beat of pause followed. “Fine... I’m in.”

  Old Man Sid threw his hands up. “Like I had a choice.”

  “Excellent,” the Chairman said, raising a toast for the newly formed ‘academy team’. “Second challenge? Resources. SeComm will provide the facility and instructors. The rest? Location, funding, curriculum, politics and others?” He pointed at Jin with his crystal glass. “Your problem.”

  Once again, Jin’s stomach dropped. The old sly fox kept giving him work! And this?

  This was a disaster waiting to happen. To build a school from scratch. To juggle this with Eleana and the von Engelhardt, all while he needed to gather strength and power for himself. Not to mention there were loads of unsettled issues that he needed to solve first. He was already drowning, and worst, the Chairman had thrown him an anchor with no escape in sight.

  But he’d already stepped into the sea.

  At best, he’d drown alone. At worst? He’s sunk to the bottom of the endless waves of work and lost it all, failing everything that he set out for. Also, by now, he’d learnt his lesson not to talk willy-nilly. Especially not in front of someone like Chairman Heihachi.

  “And the third?” The Chairman shot out a big smile. As if he was to enjoy what he was about to say next. “Three years. That’s your deadline.”

  Air left Jin’s lungs. The shit had gotten shittier.