The room was dim, cold, and unfamiliar. Gabriel stood at the threshold, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Katarina motioned him forward.

  "Sit down," she said—calm, almost distant.

  A large screen buzzed to life, flooding the room with flickering light. No sound. No narration. Just memories—his memories.

  The first clip rolled.

  They were familiar. Too familiar. Each frame cut deeper than the last.

  The day he left his parents and siblings for a dream. He remembered his father’s last words:

  “Pabayaan nyo sya sa buhay nya. Kung gusto nyang magsundalo kesa mag-araro, hayaan nyo. Tatanda nalang akong mag-isa dito sa bukid.”

  The day he missed his daughter’s school play. “Daddy, I thought you were gonna watch me…”

  The day he shot terrorists without hesitation. “Sir! Wag po—may pamilya po ako!”

  The day he killed Alikasheed Jalani—right in front of the man's little girl. “Papa, papaaaaa!”

  The day his comrade betrayed him. “Tangina, bok. Sagot mo ko dito. Ayaw kong makulong.”

  The day he was dragged away in chains. “Inaaresto ka namin sa salang pagpatay, Mr. Santos.”

  The day his family abandoned him. “Pinagpalit mo kami sa serbisyo. Ayoko na, Gabriel.”

  The day his siblings stopped calling. The day the world moved on.

  “Wala ng naniniwala sayo, kuya.”

  Each clip was a blade. Katarina handed him a slip of paper after every one.

  Same question, black ink: "If you could revisit the past, what should you have done?"

  Gabriel stared. Trembled. Wrote the same words again and again:

  “I’m sorry.”

  By the fifth video, his composure broke. Tears came silent. His chest rose and fell like he was drowning.

  “Can I… take some air?”

  Katarina nodded. “Ten minutes.”

  Outside, Gabriel leaned against the wall. The memories played on a loop. Screaming at him.

  You’re a disgrace. A failed son. A ghost of a father. A hollowed-out soldier.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  When he returned, he said nothing. Watched every clip again.

  Katarina observed in silence.

  Again, the paper. Again, the question.

  She repeated the process. Again. And again.

  Each answer was selfish. Vague. Too sensitive. Too human.

  Until finally, Gabriel’s pen stopped shaking. He wrote:

  “I will not change any decision I made. But one day, I will pay for those sins.”

  Katarina’s gaze lingered. Then she nodded. “Good. That’s enough for today.”

  The screen went black.

  From noon to 5:38 PM, Gabriel sat through emotional hell.

  He stood. “Thank you.” His voice was hollow.

  Without warning, Katarina struck his shoulder with a padded stick.

  He didn’t flinch.

  She blinked.

  He’s gone past pain, she thought. The body breaks—but his mind is somewhere else now. Rebuilding.

  ---

  That night, Gabriel skipped dinner. Drex knocked twice. No answer.

  Inside, Gabriel sat alone. He didn’t cry. Didn’t scream.

  He whispered to the dark:

  I am the villain of my own life. But villains can bleed for redemption. And you can’t kill a man who’s already buried himself.

  ---

  Next Day

  4:00 AM—physical training. Gabriel ran. No complaint.

  8:00 AM—Katarina stood waiting.

  “Today,” she said, “we learn control. Rage is loud. Precision is silent.”

  They sparred. Katarina taunted with every move.

  “You left your daughter for war. How noble.”

  Gabriel’s fists grew sloppy. Rage flared. Then faded. Then flared again.

  She swept him to the ground. “Still weak.”

  Again. And again. No breaks.

  “You won’t stop until you land a clean hit,” she said.

  Gabriel breathed. Focused. Adapted.

  He started dodging. Cleaner. Sharper.

  Then—a shoulder graze.

  She blocked the next. Smiled.

  Another taunt. Another trigger. But this time—he stayed calm.

  Katarina pinned him down, her forearm against his throat.

  “Good job, Gab. Break time. Later, I’ll teach you how to move like a ghost.”

  ---

  That afternoon and the next day, Katarina drilled him harder. Every mistake earned a smack.

  He learned to strike without being seen. To breathe between moves. To vanish into motion.

  By Wednesday 6:00 PM, she dismissed him.

  “Friday’s activity will be easy for a scout ranger,” she said. “But be careful. No surveillance out there. Anything that happens—it’s on you.”

  Gabriel left the training room bruised, bandaged, and starving. He invited Drex to dinner.

  They spent their points on stir-fry tofu. Real food. Finally.

  “Hey Gabriel, you look terrible,” Drex said.

  Gabriel smirked. “Yeah. Instructor’s a nightmare. But hey—you don’t stutter anymore.”

  Drex grinned. “Master Theo says clarity brings confidence. Once I knew my strengths, fear left.”

  Gabriel nodded, proud. “You’ve changed a lot.”

  “Thanks! Theo’s lab is insane. He’s got gadgets for everything. Even cloaking tools!”

  Gabriel listened. For once, truly listened.

  ---

  Earlier That Day

  Drex was overwhelmed. His mentor was energetic, unpredictable—almost chaotic.

  Theo smiled wide. “I’m Theo. Been here since 18. I’m a techie, just like you. Actually, I sent you the email. You almost cracked my server. Impressive.”

  Today’s goal: strengthen the body. Theo pointed to a pod.

  “Hop in. I’ll scan you to design your suit.”

  Drex entered. Lights flickered. Minutes passed. Then—his custom suit.

  “Tight fit,” Theo grinned. “This suit pushes your limits. It alerts you if your vitals spike—panic, stress, breath, heart rate.”

  Training began. Yoga first. Then martial arts.

  Theo was strict on form but relaxed on spirit. They laughed. They failed. They pushed forward.

  Theo taught him how to think like an assassin. Showed him a nanotech blade—sleek, silent, deadly.

  Drex was amazed.

  “You’ll build your own,” Theo said.

  Together, they crafted a prototype gauntlet. It delivered electric shocks. Crude—but promising.

  “Use it only when you must,” Theo warned.

  ---

  Back at dinner, Gabriel smiled. “I’m proud of who you’re becoming, Drex.”

  Drex smiled, tears fall from his cheeks.

  "No one ever said that to me before"

  "Thank you"