Order and Chaos

Zen's knees locked in place as a voice snapped him out of his daze.

"You're late."

The voice was sharp yet composed. Zen spun around, his pulse quickening as his eyes met a man clad in a sleek black coat, silver-rimmed glasses reflecting the dim hallway lights.

The man barely spared him a glance before sighing and adjusting his glasses.

"If you're here for a reassignment. Waiting room's that way. Move along."

He gestured towards a hallway without further acknowledgment, already shifting his focus elsewhere.

Zen hesitated. So this was it. His second chance.

With a slow nod, he followed the man's direction, his steps echoing through the hall. Unlike earlier, there were no groups of students, no excited chatter about which weapons had chosen them.

He was alone.

The air inside the hall felt different. Heavier.

On either side of him, massive display cases lined the path, encased in tempered glass and shimmering under soft overhead lights. Within them rested weapons—swords, axes, rifles—all forged from Geonite, their surfaces shifting ever so slightly, reacting to unseen forces in the room.

Zen's fingers twitched as he walked past a towering blade, its edge gleaming as it subtly adjusted its form, as though sensing his presence.

His gaze drifted further, settling on the statues standing between the cases.

Colossal and pristine, they depicted the Pillars—the highest-ranked warriors of the Exterminator Order.

The first statue bore the image of a man clad in plated armor, his great sword planted into the ground before him, expression set in unwavering determination.

The next, a woman with a scythe in one hand and the severed head of a golem in the other, her stone lips curled in a knowing smile.

And then, the most famous of them all—a warrior leaning against an axe beneath the shade of a cherry blossom tree, a fallen golem at his feet.

Zen exhaled sharply.

This place wasn't just a hall. It was a monument to those who had carved their names into history.

Before he could take in more, a voice called from behind.

"So, you finally decided to show up."

Zen tensed, immediately recognizing the voice.

Turning around, he found Vivian standing there, arms crossed, one brow raised in obvious disapproval.

"You really made them go through the trouble of setting up a separate appointment just for you huh?" she scoffed.

Zen winced. "Technically, I didn't ask for it…"

Vivian sighed, shaking her head. "You're lucky I did, then."

Zen blinked. "Yeah, thanks a lot."

She pulled a small black card from her pocket and flicked it against his forehead. "Yeah. You owe me."

Zen caught it before it could fall, his eyes widening. Unlike the standard selection cards, this one bore a golden insignia.

He hesitated. "Does this mean…?"

Vivian rolled her eyes. "You're the only one on the reassignment list. They were just going to dismiss you entirely, but I convinced them to give you a chance. Don't mess it up."

Zen swallowed hard.

Another chance.

A chance no one else got.

Vivian waved goodbye to him, not looking back before she sauntered off somewhere else.

He glanced at the double doors at the end of the hallway—the entrance to the Selection Chamber, where his fate would finally be decided.

With a deep breath, he stepped forward.

And then—

The ground trembled.

A violent quake surged through the building, rattling the glass displays and shaking dust from the high ceilings.

Zen nearly lost his footing, instinctively bracing himself against a nearby pillar. "The hell—?"

Another tremor. Then another. A deep, guttural rumble followed.

Zen could barely process what was happening before a deafening CRACK resounded from outside.

His head snapped toward the windows, where light streamed through newly-formed fissures splitting across the ground.

And then—they emerged.

From the chasm beyond the walls, jagged figures of stone and steel began to rise, their massive forms clawing their way out of the abyss.

Golems.

Zen could see them clearly through the towering windows—hulking creatures, their glowing cores pulsing like embers trapped within cages of blackened rock. Some were humanoid, others twisted and malformed, each one dragging itself up from the depths with slow, deliberate movements.

The attack was sudden. Unplanned. Like it had always been.

Zen exhaled sharply, a bizarre mix of confusion and annoyance crossing his face. "You have got to be ki—. Right now? Really?"

A massive tremor surged through the building, sending brutal shockwaves across the hall.

Zen barely had time to react before several boulders crashed down, sealing off the only visible exit.

He stared at the blockade, then at the shaking ceiling, then back at the exit.

"Great. Just great."

The walls groaned as the shaking continued, more debris falling from above. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed beyond the collapsed entrance.

Zen rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as an eerie calm settled over him.

"Guess I'm fighting my way out."

Zen took a deep breath, trying to assess the situation. The entrance was blocked, the ceiling above him creaked ominously, and the chaos outside was the last place he wanted to be.

His eyes darted around the room, scanning for anything useful.

There.

A fire emergency kit mounted on the wall.

Without hesitation, he slammed his elbow against the glass, shattering it instantly.

Ignoring the small cuts on his arm, he reached inside and grabbed the axe—just a standard fireman's tool, nothing special—but at least it was better than bare hands.

He then yanked out a coil of rope, its fibers rough and sturdy in his grip.

Zen turned toward the large windows lining the hall. Beyond the reinforced glass, the battle raged on.

Golems clashed with the Exterminator Order's personnel, weapons shifting and sparking with energy as metal met stone. Gunfire and the sharp clang of steel rang out, barely muffled by the thick walls.

Zen let out a slow exhale, gripping the axe tightly.

Jumping was an option—but not a good one.

The fall itself wouldn't kill him—probably—but landing in the middle of a battlefield, surrounded by bloodthirsty stone giants and gunfire?

Yeah. No. Hard pass.

His fingers tapped against the axe handle as he glanced back toward the blocked entrance.

If the way out was gone… he'd have to make his own.

Gripping the weapon, he turned toward the hallway, mind already racing for another way out.

Zen barely had time to settle on a plan before the sharp crash of shattering glass snapped his attention behind him.

His body stiffened.

Through the broken window, a cluster of dirt golems had crawled their way inside, their jagged, crumbling bodies shedding debris with each movement.

Some of them were injured from the drop, their limbs cracked and barely holding together, but that didn't stop them. Their glowing, hollow eyes locked onto him.

Zen stared.

"…Oh, come on."

The moment he muttered those words, they lunged.

Adrenaline hit like a thunderclap.

Zen spun on his heel, bolting in the opposite direction. His boots slammed against the tile floor, axe gripped tight in one hand, the coiled rope bouncing against his hip as he ran.

The golems gave chase, their jagged forms scraping against the walls as they leave a trail of dust and debris in their trail.

Zen was fast—but not faster than a living landslide.

His mind raced.

No exits. No backup. No Geonite weapon.

For the first time in his life, he was face-to-face with a real monster—and all he had was a fire axe and sheer luck. 

"It's times like these where I really need to have those kinds of weapons" he thought to himself while sprinting through the halls

Zen's breath came in ragged gasps as he sprinted down the narrow hallway, the heavy footsteps of the dirt golems pounding behind him. The ground shook with every lurching step they took, and their screeching movement was enough to make his blood run cold.

There had to be somewhere to hide.

His mind raced, his legs aching as they carried him forward without thought, barely noticing that he had entered a restricted area, he looked around, searching for anything—anything—that could shield him from the oncoming beasts.

Then, just ahead, he saw it—a door.

A room.

It looked like any other utility door, but to Zen, it was his only shot.

He slammed his shoulder into it with all his might. The metal door groaned and buckled under the force, but it didn't open. Damnit.

With no time to lose, he twisted the door's handle, desperate. A quick twist, and it cracked open.

Zen didn't even think—he just slipped inside.

He slammed the door behind him, making him flinch.

Inside, the room was eerily silent—almost untouched.

It was a storage room, dimly lit, cluttered with old equipment. A stack of empty crates stood at one end, and several unused mannequins leaned against the walls.

Good enough.

Zen dropped to his knees, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his brow.

He was alone. No weapon. No backup.

And those golems were not going to stop.

"Crap, what now?" he muttered to himself, his fingers tapping against the handle of the axe still gripped tightly in his hand.

He felt the pulse of the golems' movement vibrating through the walls of the building.

His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.

The sound of the golems' footsteps moved past the door, then paused, like they were waiting for something.

Zen pressed his back against the wall, his thoughts scrambled as he tried to come up with a way to get out.

There was no escaping this.

Zen's heart still raced in his chest, but his instincts were starting to take over.

The silence of the storage room was almost too much, but it gave him the time he needed to think—just long enough to realize: the golems had passed him by.

For now.

He carefully crept toward the back of the room.

The golems would eventually tear the building apart trying to find him, and if they were still hunting, they would check every door, every room.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, something caught his attention.

At the far end of the storage room was a large, reinforced metal door, standing slightly ajar. It seemed odd—an access door this close to the main building wasn't supposed to be there.

The door looked almost like a high-security vault—barely touched by what was going on outside, as though it had been designed for something important, maybe even top-secret.

Zen hesitated for a moment, but his curiosity won out. He had to know.

Without a sound, he carefully approached the door. His fingers brushed against the cool metal, and as he pulled it open just enough to peek inside, he found a scene that made his breath hitch.

In the center of the room, encased inside a thick, reinforced glass container, was a Geonite broadblade—its massive, wide blade resting horizontally, the soft hum of energy radiating from the very core of the weapon. The glass was so thick, it was as though the weapon was being kept in a secure vault, its purpose hidden from view.

Zen stepped closer, his footsteps almost silent against the polished floor.

His gaze locked on the weapon, and though it was contained, he could feel the faint tug of resonance—a connection that hummed faintly.

But as he approached, something felt… off. The broadblade, despite its aura, didn't look anything like the sleek, sharp-edged weapons he'd seen before.

"What are you even supposed to be?"

Zen's brow furrowed as he squinted at the weapon, a feeling of confusion creeping in.

To him, it looked like a coal popsicle.

The blade itself was blunt, far from the honed edge of a weapon built for precision. It was dull, almost as if someone had taken a massive chunk of rock and just shaped it with sheer force.

The shape was far bulky, the wide surface appearing more like a club than anything remotely resembling a blade.

The cracks.

Zen's eyes zeroed in on the noticeable crack creeping from the hilt, running along the length of the blade all the way to its tip.

It wasn't just a cosmetic flaw either—it seemed to pulse, as though the blade was holding back something. A weight? A pressure?

But that feeling—that faint tug—came next. It was like an invisible thread pulling at him, a feeling that resonated deep within him. A strange connection hummed faintly between him and the weapon.

Geonite.

Zen's fingers twitched, his hand drawn to the hilt of the sword.

Still, Zen couldn't help but look at it strangely. If anything, it seemed more like a broken relic, not something capable of shifting and cutting through the toughest of golems.

The crack in the blade seemed to grow, extending with an almost ominous slowness, as though the weapon itself were alive—and somehow, Zen understood. The weapon had been worn down, its resonance tainted.

Zen stared at the dull, heavy weapon before him, unsure if he should be wary or relieved that it was the only thing left in the room. His gaze flickered from the blade to the wall—nothing but silence surrounding him.

But still, that faint connection called to him.

He stepped closer, the hum in the air growing louder as his hand reached too close against the thick glass encasing the blade, his fingers itching to unlock it.

Zen's fingers brushed lightly against the thick glass, the faintest touch, but as soon as his skin made contact, the change was instant. The broadblade—or what he had thought was a blunt, dull club—began to vibrate violently within its glass cage.

A deep, unsettling hum filled the room, resonating from the very core of the weapon. The cracks that ran along the blade's length, previously faint and dormant, began to glow—a pale yellow light that flickered like an old lantern struggling to stay alight.

The light pulsed, spreading from the cracks and across the blade's surface, a strange energy building from within.

Zen's breath caught in his throat as the room itself seemed to breathe with the weapon. A sudden tremor coursed through the ground, a rumble so fierce that it threw Zen off balance. His legs buckled, and he stumbled backward, barely managing to catch himself on the edge of a shelf.

The whole building seemed to groan under the force of whatever was happening, and Zen could feel the walls shift as though they were alive.

Before he could even react, a blinding flash of light erupted from the cracks.

"Ughh, the fu—"

and in that very moment, the glass shattered—not like it had been blasted apart, but as if it had been violently unmade, each shard splitting in on itself. The sound was deafening, the shards falling around him in a chaotic shower, but there was no explosion, no forceful outward blast.

It was like the glass had simply given in, as if it couldn't withstand the energy flooding from the blade anymore.

Zen sat on the floor, eyes wide, frozen in disbelief as he watched the shards scatter across the room. But the weapon? It lay undisturbed in the center, now free—completely free.

"Well that was totally not weird at all, that's for sure" he sarcastically remarked.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the faint buzzing still lingering in the air. Zen could feel the weight of the blade's presence in a way that left him uneasy but entranced.

It was calling him. The faint resonance he'd felt earlier was pulling him in.

The weapon was alive—at least in some strange way—and it was now exposed, ready to be wielded. But by who?

Zen slowly, almost cautiously, pushed himself back onto his feet, his pulse hammering in his ears. His fingers twitched toward the hilt, every instinct screaming at him to take hold of it.

His resonance with the weapon was undeniable. The Geonite was responding to him, beckoning.

But Zen couldn't shake the unease gnawing at him. The blade was powerful, no doubt. Yet, it still looked like a broken relic—its cracked surface, dull and uneven. Would it even be worth it?

"I mean, I probably shouldn't but..."

The vibration continued, low and steady, as if the blade was waiting for him to make a decision.

Zen inhaled deeply, steadying his breath. With no other option, he stepped forward and wrapped his fingers around the hilt.

The moment his hand made contact with the Geonite weapon, a shock ran through his body—a wave of energy flooding him as the connection snapped into place.

a voice crawled up his ears, buzzing.

[Lifeforce Resonating...]

"did it finally?... "

[Resonance Success!

! Caution: Wielder lacks sufficient lifeforce

Power output decreased (-)

Layer 2-8 locked ]

His vision blurred for a fraction of a second, the world around him vibrating in sync with the blade's pulse.

The cracks glowed brighter, almost blindingly so, as if the weapon itself had been reawakened.

Zen tightened his grip on the hilt, steadying himself, as a strange sense of power surged through him. He had no idea what this weapon could truly do, or even how to control it fully. But one thing was certain: this Geonite broadblade, once dormant and seemingly useless, was now alive.

"Power Output decreased, was there always such a thing?"

His grip tightened on the hilt as if carving the sensation into his memory.

"so this is how it feels to hold a shifted weapon huh?"

Zen stood frozen for a moment, his fingers lingering on the Geonite broadblade. Despite its dull, cracked appearance, it still emanated a faint vibration from the handle, a subtle pulse that seemed to respond to his touch.

Before he couldthink about it further, a loud slam shattered his thoughts.

Zen sprinted back into the storage room and his head snapped toward the storage room. The golems—two of them—were there, their hulking figures pushing against the metal, shaking the walls with each strike.

They'd found him, most likely drawn by the faint energy surge the blade had emitted when it began to hum. They must have sensed it—there was no other explanation.

The Geonite had a strange resonance, and these creatures bred from the very material, must've felt it, just like he did.

The door groaned, shuddering from the force of their blows.

Zen could already see the ropes he had tied around the handles straining under the pressure. The axe handle he had wedged in the doorframe was bending, creaking under the weight of the relentless pounding. He had to act fast—he could already feel the ropes giving way, one fraying after another.

Another slam.

The door buckled, the metal handles warping, and Zen saw the first signs of cracks forming along the edges. The golems were closing in on him with a terrifying persistence.

The ropes stretched taut, then snapped. The last defense he had was falling apart.

Zen glanced back at the Geonite broad blade in his hands.

Another slam.

The door was nearly done for. Zen could hear the grinding of metal against metal, the frame warping further, the handles close to giving out. There was only a split second left before it would shatter.

Zen didn't hesitate. He gripped the broad blade's hilt tighter, his pulse thudding in his ears, knowing the only choice was to face what was coming.

The ropes were gone, and the door could no longer hold.

"Shit..."

With a final crash, the door split apart, the sound deafening, and Zen found himself face-to-face with the looming shadows of the golems—powerful, unstoppable, and drawn to the energy in the room.

The moment of truth had arrived.