February 1st. Busan, International Training Complex.

  Mira’s Assistant invited the next participant. Agnes, the leader of the American "Vanguard" group, entered the room. She moved with the grace of a predator, yet her gestures betrayed the weariness of someone who had remained in armor for far too long.

  "Hello, Agnes," the Assistant nodded toward the chair. "Tell us about yourself for our protocol."

  "I’m 33 years old, and 13 of those have been spent in Vanguard," Agnes began, her voice as dry as a desert wind. "Our organization is the shield of the States, and I’ve been in it almost my entire life. My suit… I inherited it from my predecessor. That guy used the 'Eye of the Typhoon' for too long. With prolonged use, that helmet turns a human brain into mush—the nervous system simply can't handle that speed of data processing. But I didn't have a choice."

  She glanced at her hands as if seeing invisible blood on them.

  "In our group, the contracts are harsh. The War Demon is a treacherous partner. At first, you don't notice the changes, but over time you realize you're losing your humanity. Your sanity slips. At first, killing is just a job to you, and then… then you start to derive pleasure from it. It’s a terrifying trap; you have to constantly keep yourself on a tight leash. Then there’s the Blood Demon. She demands control not only over your own blood but over others' as well. She needs offerings. We feed her liters of blood just like food, so she’ll allow us to fight. My limit right now is a 91% synchronization level."

  The Assistant made a note: High risk of psychosis.

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  "What can you tell us about your colleagues?"

  "Anna has been with us for four years. Like everyone else, she has a Dragon-level suit. She’s at 84%, and her stats are growing. She’s young, ambitious, and doesn't truly understand how dangerous the War Demon actually is. She thinks she’s in control of the situation, but that’s an illusion. You know… we don't have normal lives. You can't start a normal family with this job. We are tools."

  Agnes grew somber, recalling the team's most mysterious member:

  "The strangest among us is Strogonov. He’s always detached. Sometimes he seems alive, but mostly he’s just… sad. No one knows what kind of contract he made with the Immortality Demon or what he gave in return. He doesn't say. If the rumors in the Vanguard archives are to be believed, he’s about 1,400 years old."

  She sighed and continued:

  "John’s stats are stuck at 81%. He hit his ceiling and fell into a deep apathy. Alcoholism became both his only friend and his worst enemy. Archibald is our rookie—only six months with us. 82% sync. His suit is made from the flesh of an incredibly fast Kaiju. Archibald can’t develop that same speed yet, but he’s damn fast. I remember during the trials, he tried to break the sound barrier… he almost did it, but the suit overheated, and the kid just collapsed. We barely managed to resuscitate him."

  The Assistant turned the page on his tablet.

  "And one final question. How do you feel about Subject Zero?"

  Agnes smirked, and there was bitterness in that smirk.

  "Subject Zero… When I first joined Vanguard, I thought he was just a legend, an urban legend for recruits. But then I saw with my own eyes how he destroyed a Dragon-level Kaiju with a single blow. At first, I admired him like a god. But then… then I started asking myself: is this right? Should such unthinkable power belong to a single being?"

  She leaned forward, looking the Assistant straight in the eyes:

  "He would be much more useful if he helped us constantly, not just when the threat level goes off the charts. Why doesn't he train us? Why doesn't he teach us how to become just as strong? If we had even a fraction of his knowledge, we wouldn't lose people so often. I would very much like to meet him and talk. Not as a fan, but as soldier to soldier. If you give me that chance—I will be grateful."

  The Assistant switched off the recorder.

  "Thank you, Agnes. Your opinion will be taken into account."

  After the door closed behind her, the Assistant rubbed his temples. The coalition hadn't even started fighting yet, and the cracks in their unity were already becoming visible.