Chapter 3:Life Changing Aidias

00:00 AM in District 1

....

In the dim light, shadows stretched long as three individuals sat rigidly facing each other, the tension in the air palpable.

The only thing separating them was a radiant silver table that glowed softly, its surface reflecting the sporadic flicker of a bulb that seemed to be nearing the end of its life—or filament, at least.

The unstable light of the bulb danced across the three faces, casting an eerie chiaroscuro that transformed furrowed brows and clenched jaws.

The lean man with blue-violet eyes leaned forward, his expression one of barely controlled anger, like a volcano encased in a three-piece suit.

Across from him sat a dark-haired woman with curly hair, her lips pursed so tightly they could be mistaken for a poorly sewn wound.

The third person, an older man with grey-streaked hair and a scowl so deep it could be used as a canyon, looked between the two like a referee reluctantly conscripted into a heavyweight fight.

The room was silent, punctuated only by the rare, almost apologetic hum of the bulb.

Their staring eyes seemed to grapple in mid-air, each pair radiating enough intensity to fuel a small city.

Small movements—the tightening of hands around clasped fingers and the shifting of stances—hinted at a seething battle that could soon boil over.

It was as if the room itself were waiting with bated breath, hoping that the walls would not have to witness the impending explosion.

Then, like a cue from a science fiction director with a flair for the dramatic, a bluish beam of light sliced through the room.

It grew steadily, widening to three inches in diameter and eighty inches in length.

The old man's eyes widened, like a child watching his first magic show. He swayed with excitement, feeling a relief wash over him as figures began to emerge from the glowing gateway. Finally, he was saved.

The dark silhouettes of the newcomers were encircled by the unearthly radiance. Despite the suspended expectation hanging in the air, it was a beautiful spectacle.

They emerged one by one, blinking in the dim room and exchanging bewildered glances.

The nine had completed the unit, their numbers almost an afterthought compared to the two still locked in a battle of wills, each seeming ready to claim victory in a game the others did not understand.

The rest took their seats nervously, like tardy students in a class where they weren't sure if the teacher was eccentric or outright crazy.

They cast suspicious glances at one another, their eyes flicking back and forth between the focal figures. The silence grew heavier, suspended in the air like an elastic band ready to snap.

Any sound—even a sneeze—seemed capable of igniting the underlying tension into a raging inferno.

At last, the dark-haired woman spoke, clearing her throat with a theatricality that commanded attention.

Her piercing blue eyes scanned the room before she began, her voice imbued with authority and a hint of exasperation.

"Welcome, everyone," she said, her tone as even as a metronome. "I've called you here today because we are facing a serious problem that demands our collective and earnest attention."

The room fell silent, hanging onto each of her words as if she had just announced that happy hour was over. Her deliberate pauses only heightened the urgency, imbuing her words with the gravity of a prophet declaring foul weather.

"We need to work together," she continued, her gaze sharp as a knife blade.

"We must face what lies ahead with complete dedication and vision."

Her eyes darted between the men. First, they landed on a hulking, muscle-bound man whose bald head gleamed in the dim light like a newly oiled bowling ball.

He nodded gravely, his quiet confidence tempered slightly by the soft squeak of his leather chair.

Then she glanced at a middle-aged woman whose kind face and crisp white blazer formed an incongruous pair, the headmistress trading classrooms for war rooms. This woman, too, nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, in District 1, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension and unyielding anticipation. Dim light filtered into the room, casting elongated shadows that took shape around three individuals seated in a rigid circle, each one a stark contrast to the others. The air felt heavy, as if even the slightest movement would provoke an explosion of emotion.

At the center of this unsettling gathering lay a radiant silver table, its polished surface shimmering softly under the flickering light of an old bulb, which sputtered like a weary soldier on the brink of surrender. The unstable glow clung to their faces, creating an eerie chiaroscuro effect that deepened the furrows etched into their brows and heightened the tension in their clenched jaws.

One man, lean and sharp-featured with piercing blue-violet eyes, leaned forward with an intensity that suggested he was on the edge of eruption—his demeanor akin to a dormant volcano waiting for the right moment to erupt. Opposite him sat a dark-haired woman, her curly locks framing a face marred by her tightly pursed lips, as if she were desperately holding back a torrent of words or emotions; her expression was a barrage of suppressed frustration.

Between them hovered an older man, his hair streaked with grey and his expression a scowl so deep it seemed carved into his features. He acted as a reluctant referee caught in a heavyweight bout, his wary eyes darting between the two combatants, clearly aware of the underlying storm brewing in the room.

Silence reigned, punctuated only by the occasional, almost apologetic hum of the flickering bulb. It felt as though the very walls surrounding them held their breath, bracing for the inevitable eruption of conflict. The two adversaries engaged in a silent contest of will, their gazes locked in a fierce struggle, radiating enough ferocity to power an entire city.

Subtle movements betrayed the agitation simmering within: fists tightening around clasped fingers, bodies shifting uncomfortably as they prepared for the potential fallout of their confrontation. The palpable tension built with each passing moment, as if the very atmosphere were an elastic band stretched to its limit, on the verge of snapping.

Just then, as if scripted by a master filmmaker intent on amplifying the drama, a bluish beam of light sliced through the room, suddenly illuminating their tense faces. It grew steadily in width and length, expanding to a striking three inches in diameter and a staggering eighty inches long. The older man's eyes widened, sparkling with a childlike excitement as a wave of relief washed over him; at last, salvation had arrived.

Figures began to emerge from the glowing portal, their silhouettes framed by the unearthly luminescence. Despite the heightened anticipation, it was undeniably a captivating spectacle. One by one, the newcomers stepped into the dim room, blinking in confusion and exchanging wary glances as if they had just stumbled into an unfamiliar theater midway through a gripping performance.

The nine had finally completed the unit, their presence a stark contrast to the lingering standoff still occupying the center of the room. The others hesitated, taking their seats with a nervousness akin to tardy students entering a classroom filled with an eccentric, unpredictable teacher.

Shared glances conveyed their unease, darting back and forth from the focal figures at the table—each with their own air of authority and uncertainty—while the atmosphere thickened like fog rolling in off the sea. The weight of silence grew heavy, poised to shatter at the slightest disruption; even a sound as small as a sneeze could ignite the tension into an all-consuming inferno.

Finally, the dark-haired woman spoke, her voice cutting through the tension with the weight of authority. She cleared her throat theatrically, capturing the attention of all present. Her piercing blue eyes surveyed the room with a commanding presence, her tone unwavering and charged with urgency. 

"Welcome, everyone," she began, her words falling into the silence like stones dropped into a still pond, creating ripples of anticipation. "I have brought you together today to address a serious issue that demands our collective attention and action."

The room fell utterly silent, absorbing her words with rapt attention as if she had just announced a significant transition in their lives. Her thoughtful pauses only served to intensify the gravity of her message, making it feel as though she were a prophet warning of impending storms.

"We must unite our efforts," she urged, her gaze sharp as she scanned the room. "We need to face the challenges ahead with unwavering dedication and clear vision."

Her eyes shifted toward a hulking figure with a bald head that glinted in the dim light like polished marble. He nodded solemnly, his powerful frame radiating a determined calm, though even he succumbed to the creaking squeak of his leather chair as he leaned forward.

Next, her gaze fell upon a middle-aged woman whose kind demeanor contrasted sharply with her crisp white blazer—an unlikely combination of the headmistress turned strategist. This woman too nodded in agreement, her expression reflecting understanding.

Finally, her eyes landed on a girl in loud, expressive attire, who brazenly declared, "I'm fun, but I also pay my taxes!" Each nod of acknowledgment from the group solidified a shared commitment to the high stakes of the gathering.

"They've been spotted in Earth territory," the dark-haired woman pressed on, her voice slicing through the air with the precision of a chef's knife cutting through overcooked steak. "While no conflicts have yet arisen, we can't ignore the escalating tension; a confrontation seems inevitable."

Suddenly, the blond man, who had been maintaining his composure despite the rising intensity, erupted with emotion. His blue eyes flashed a haunting crimson, transforming his previously calm expression into one of raw fury, desperation, and a hint of a deep-seated ailment. "They are children!" he exclaimed, his voice a tumult of anguish and indignation. "So many lives were sacrificed to ensure this strategy would never be employed again!"

The dark-haired woman stood resolute; she didn't flinch. In fact, her posture grew firmer, almost statuesque, her tranquil resolve radiating an aura of authority. "I never act without meticulously weighing every possible option," she declared, her tone steady enough to serve as the foundation for the important decisions that lay ahead.