When the sun rose and morning arrived, Adyr’s Earth body prepared breakfast with his family, ate, and then headed to the Player Headquarters.
Once in his room, he changed into clean, comfortable pajamas and swapped his usual Crocs for the training shoes assigned to him. Just as he finished, a notification blinked on his wristband.
When he opened it, he saw that it was from the Player Administration Office. It confird the approval of the status request he had submitted earlier.
This kind of request usually didn’t take long. Eren, for instance, had received his approval the sa day he submitted it. But in Adyr’s case, the process seed to have taken a different route—more deliberate, almost as if it had gone through extra evaluation.
He doubted it had anything to do with Dr. Conrad, the psychologist who’d visited him. The request had been submitted even before the Cannibal incident.
There could only be one reason for the delay. And that reason made itself known a few seconds later when the wristband vibrated again.
Adyr glanced at the digital display. The caller was Defense Minister Henry Bates.
"Hello, Mr. Bates. How can I help you?" Adyr answered with a dry chuckle, his eyes resting on Henry’s image floating above the screen.
He hadn’t spoken to him since delivering the Cannibal’s corpse. Henry, for his part, hadn’t reached out until now, so there had to be a reason behind this call.
"Adyr, you look healthier and more energetic than the last ti I saw you," Henry replied with a grin.
Clearly, Adyr’s earlier show of strength and subtle power play hadn’t changed Henry’s deanor. He still spoke in his usual easygoing tone.
"I can’t say the sa about you, Mr. Bates," Adyr said, pointing out the dark circles under his eyes and his generally worn-out appearance.
Henry Bates wasn’t just a bureaucrat. As a mutant, he was likely as powerful as an STF officer. Public records listed him as a forr active-duty soldier, which ant he hadn’t gotten his position through favoritism but through personal rit and battlefield experience.
Even so, the fatigue on his face made it clear just how heavy the responsibilities he carried must have been.
"You sound like my wife now," Henry muttered with a dry sigh, then got to the point. "Since you look well, I’ll keep this short. I assu you’ve just seen the approval ssage for your status request."
Adyr nodded.
"You’re probably wondering why it took so long," Henry said. "It was because of the City Manager. After the researchers, he’s been the one monitoring your developnt most closely. He wanted to offer you a special privilege."
He smiled slightly, clearly signaling that the news was more good than bad.
"A privilege like delaying my request?" Adyr replied, a subtle jab in his tone.
"I know. And if that caused you any inconvenience, he personally wants to apologize. He’s also aware of your mother’s condition. That’s why he authorized the highest-tier clearance for mutant genetic operations for your family. They can visit the Central Hospital whenever they’re ready. Your mother will receive full VIP treatnt, entirely free of charge. Her lost arm can be fully restored, as good as new."
He seed confident that Adyr would be pleased.
Even among second-generation mutants, the success and intensity of these procedures varied. The highest-level clearance was usually reserved for STF mbers or individuals with significant authority. The fact that Adyr’s family now qualified for it was a clear sign that he’d crossed into that upper echelon.
"And the reason your status approval was delayed is actually about your surna," Henry said with a playful tone this ti.
"What is this about? I thought anyone with status automatically gets the right to a surna. Why is mine different?" Adyr asked, genuinely confused.
Normally, once status was granted, the system automatically assigned a surna that didn’t conflict with the archive. Adyr had expected the sa. He didn’t care which one he got—it was usually selected from a general pool anyway.
But then, sothing clicked in his mind. A detail he had picked up a few days earlier during a casual chat with the receptionist.
There had been rumors that the City Manager was planning a public press conference soon. A public address about the other world and the newly ford PTF. And Henry’s next words confird it.
"You probably haven’t heard, but the City Manager is preparing to hold a press conference soon. He plans to publicly announce what’s been happening regarding the other world. This won’t just be for Shelter City 9. All 12 City Managers will deliver the sa ssage to their own populations," Henry said, now with a more serious tone.
"Our City Manager wants to put soone on stage. Soone who’s been to the other world and can represent the entire PTF. Soone the people can see and relate to," he added with another grin. "And of course, that soone is you. As for the surna, well, he’s leaving that choice to the public. Cool, right?"
Henry looked like he was enjoying the whole thing. Adyr rely gave a brief chuckle.
It was unfolding exactly as he had suspected. And unfortunately, he couldn’t even bla the City Manager for taking this approach.
Back in his old world, in his old life, if the president suddenly appeared on live television and claid they had discovered another world and were sending a team to explore and occupy it, his first thought would have been that it was bullshit.
People with more balanced minds, of course, would feel a mix of fear and excitent. And the best way to suppress that fear while feeding the excitent would be to put soone who had personally walked the other world in front of the caras.
Also, letting the public choose soone’s surna had beco sothing of a ritual in this world.
The best example Adyr could recall was Rhys Graves, the most well-known STF operative; though now aging, he still served as an active commander.
When Rhys first gained his status, a random surna had been assigned to him. But during his pri, he and his team had located and neutralized a series of explosive-laden trucks disguised as cargo vehicles, preventing a massive terrorist attack and saving thousands of lives. His quick thinking and unmatched abilities had turned him into a living legend.
He was declared a hero by the public, and as his past operations and life story beca widely known—eventually compiled into books and shared online—the people unanimously chose a surna for him: Graves. A na that reflected both the teammates he had lost and the countless enemies he had buried.
"I wonder what they’ll end up calling you," Henry said, a thoughtful look on his face. He genuinely seed intrigued by the idea.
"Well, I’m fine with anything as long as it isn’t sothing too cringeworthy," Adyr replied with a slight laugh.
It wasn’t all that different from his past life, really. As a notorious serial killer, he’d once been branded with a nickna by the public—one that eventually eclipsed his real na. The fact that he was receiving a similar kind of attention in this world, albeit under different circumstances, stirred a faint sense of déjà vu and nostalgia.
Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all, Adyr thought, mildly amused.
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