Don said nothing. Neither did Charles. Both of them simply looked at the man—this unknown figure who filled the office more than the furniture ever could. Don’s confusion lasted a second longer before his vision flickered. The lenses in his eyes lit faintly at the edges, a cluster of minimized icons blooming in the corner. Person of interest identified. Compiling data... Load profile? Yes/No. He lingered on it, gaze flat. Before he could decide, Charles shifted. He crossed his arms, eyes flicking briefly toward the office walls as if weighing the room itself before speaking. "May I ask who you are?" The man chuckled. Deep, rough around the edges, but genuine in its amusement. He drew in another pull from his cigar, the ember glowing bright for a moment before he exhaled a slow stream. "I suppose my presence here is a bit abrupt," he said. His voice carried like gravel pressed into form. "But let’s just say so are my circumstances. That’s beyond the point to you all." The cigar met the desk with a quiet tap, then was crushed out against the edge. Light pressure, surprisingly delicate for a frame that looked capable of snapping steel. Sanchez flinched anyway. The dean had stationed himself to the side of the desk, posture bent as if he were some assistant, hands wringing uselessly at his trousers. Don took the moment to flick his gaze toward the prompt. He selected Yes. The profile opened immediately—overlaying the man in cleaner attire: a full dress uniform, medals across his chest. Position: Major General – United Provinces Superhuman Defense Forces Promoted By: President Howard J. Kessler. Commander of: 5th S.E Command Division ("Iron Vanguard"). Service Record: Veteran of 8 Superhuman Class Wars. 2 Global in Nature. Class: Unknown / Classified. Don almost narrowed his eyes. Almost. The data snapped closed, vanishing as quickly as it appeared, leaving him to watch as the man—Strauman—continued. His words had already pulled the attention of the room. Xiao sat back, smirk as steady as ever, clearly entertained. Strauman’s gaze wandered, unhurried, until it landed on Don. It lingered. Just long enough for Don to notice. Don didn’t react. Neither did Charles. The room waited. "My name is Lance Strauman," the man finally said. "And I am a Director General on the council of the United Provinces Superhuman Defense Force." The words landed like weight thrown into water—ripples shifting across everyone present. Frostbite’s brows knitted faintly, her posture straightening in her chair though her composure never broke. Phantom Strike’s head tilted up slightly, shoulders stiffened. Thunderclap’s arms tightened further across his chest, his visor angling toward the general. Sanchez, however, was incapable of subtlety. His eyes bulged, mouth opening like a fish caught out of water. Don was less shaken. He knew the UPSDF. Everyone in the world did. But knowing the organization wasn’t the same as knowing all thirty-four council members. Strauman’s face hadn’t been on his radar until now. And truthfully? Don hadn’t expected to be in the same room with one. Not yet. Not in his current position. Then again—he hadn’t expected to spend weeks being hounded for mudering hundreds of people. Strauman didn’t slow. The weight of the room shifted with him as he spoke, tone carrying a kind of authority that didn’t need force. "I’m here today on a matter of national security." The words hadn’t even finished before Thunderclap’s usual frown broke. His mouth tugged upward, his visor dipping slightly as his body leaned forward with the kind of anticipation you didn’t fake. Genuine excitement, raw enough to almost look out of place on him. He opened his mouth to speak— "This isn’t a recruitment." Strauman hadn’t even turned his head. His voice cut clean across Thunderclap’s intent like a blade through air. He froze, mouth still parted but no words leaving. His lips pressed shut after a second, and he looked away, faint color creeping into his cheeks beneath the visor. Strauman didn’t acknowledge it. He simply drew in another breath, voice steady. "But it’s the next best thing for young talents like yourself." He shifted, stepping away from the desk. "As I’m sure you know, under normal circumstances the UPSDF doesn’t recruit combat-class superhumans below the age of twenty-five. But as the public will soon be informed, things have changed. Special recruitment will occur—strictly for those aged sixteen to twenty-four." His words stretched across the office, even, practiced, but with an undercurrent that almost carried conviction. "And unlike regular recruitment, we’re not simply looking to fill numbers. The UPSDF already has ways to achieve that." He paced now, relighting the cigar, smoke trailing faintly in his wake. Hands locked behind his back, posture upright, voice rolling with a rhythm that carried years of command. "What we’re looking for is to train and educate the next generation of heroes who will defend this great country." Don didn’t move. But he caught the faint curl at Xiao’s lip in his peripheral. Smug satisfaction radiated from him like perfume. What was happening? Strauman continued, his boots pressing down firm against the stone floor. "To be quite honest, much of what you’d need to know to understand this program is classified. What the UPSDF wants to know as of now is whether or not you’re even interested in joining before any form of resource is wasted on you. My presence here should make it clear the gravity of this situation." He paused briefly, gaze moving across the room. Don felt it skim past him again, lingering just long enough to register. "As for why young talents like yourself would consider..." Strauman’s voice dipped. "Well, aside from joining the ranks of the world’s very best superhuman military for training and mentoring, I guarantee you—no other place will drive you to your absolute peaks as superhumans." For the first time, he grinned. Wide, confident, brazen. Not a single person looked doubtful. Even Starboy, who leaned with arms folded and that gold chain glinting, had straightened, aviators fixed firmly forward now. Frostbite’s hand stopped tapping against her pearl necklace. Phantom Strike’s arms dropped from his chest, his hood shifting as his body squared. Strauman let the moment hang, then gave his final words. "If you’re interested, inform Mr. Xiao by the deadline that will be communicated. There’s far more to cover than I can say—but you, and the public, will be made aware soon. At that time, I’m sure you’ll be eager to make your decision." He turned then, boots dragging against the floor with the scrape of weight. Don and Charles stepped slightly aside as he passed, both silent, both measuring. But Strauman stopped mid-step. A shift in his shoulders. He smirked faintly as he turned back. "Right. I almost forgot." The grin widened, cigar stub caught loosely between his fingers. "Two of you have already been considered as eligible for entry by the committee of this program." His gaze swept, then fixed. The source of thɪs content is novel·fıre·net "You," he said, chin tilting toward Starboy. Then he shifted again. "And you." His eyes locked on Don, grin widening by a fraction. The ember of the cigar burned low before he tapped it out against his palm and let it fall. He didn’t even look at Sanchez. "Until next time, William." He left without another word, the door clicking shut~ behind him. The silence he left in his wake was different. Eyes moved. First to Starboy, then to Don. Starboy smirked faintly, but his jaw was set tight beneath it. Don said nothing. He didn’t need to. Only Xiao broke the stillness, his arms spreading wide as if to embrace the moment. His smile was a crescent cut into his face. "Well..." he said smoothly. "Isn’t this a wonderful way to begin your return to academia?" HUGE THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT.