I was pushed through the double doors, which slid open silently like the jaws of a metal beast. I found myself in a long corridor illuminated by the same sterile white light. The walls were smooth to the touch, made of a material resembling hard plastic or a light alloy, and intersected by thin lines of faint blue light. There were no windows, only other doors at regular intervals, bearing incomprehensible symbols and numbers. The air was colder here, and the low hum of machinery was more distinct.
The Peacekeepers led me down the corridor, their rhythmic footsteps echoing slightly on the polished floor. We passed a few other individuals in the same white coats; they ignored us completely, absorbed in their transparent tablet devices or speaking quietly into small communication devices fitted over their ears. No one seemed interested in my presence or my strange, torn clothes. I was just another piece on the assembly line.
We stopped before one of the doors marked "IS-03." A Peacekeeper swiped a card over a panel beside the door, and it slid open to reveal a small, square room. The room was completely empty except for a single metal chair bolted to the center and a large glass panel covering the wall opposite the door.
"Enter. Sit in the chair," the metallic voice commanded.
I hesitated for a moment. The room looked like a cage, the chair like some kind of restraint device. But a quick glance back at the Peacekeepers, their hands hovering near their strange weapons, convinced me that resistance at this stage would be pure folly.
I entered the room and sat on the cold chair. As soon as my weight settled, the door slid shut behind me with a firm click, leaving me alone in near-total silence, save for the faint hum of ventilation. I felt smooth metal restraints emerge from the chair's arms, wrapping around my wrists and ankles, securing me in place. They weren't painful, but they were unmistakably strong.
I looked at the large glass panel before me. It was dark at first, then slowly illuminated, revealing another room behind it – a control room, apparently. I saw two figures in white coats sitting before complex consoles filled with lights, buttons, and screens. I couldn't see their faces clearly due to the dim lighting in the control room and the glare reflecting off the glass.
"Initiating preliminary biometric scan, target IS-03," said a calm, neutral voice, seemingly coming from hidden speakers in my room. It wasn't automated like the Peacekeepers' voices, but human, yet devoid of any emotion.
Hidden devices in the walls and ceiling began to emit faint whirring and clicking sounds. I felt an invisible beam of light pass over my body, from head to toe, then back again. On the screens in the control room, 3D images of my body appeared, streams of data scrolling rapidly beside them.
"Vital signs within normal parameters... some minor physical stress noted," the voice stated. "No registered cybernetic or biological modifications detected. Odd."
"Run a Level 2 magical energy scan," said another voice from the control room, sounding slightly more curious.
I felt a faint tingling spread through my body, different from the first scan. It was like a very weak electrical current, but it was probing something deeper. I felt my magic, the faint metal magic within me, react to this scan, as if stirring slightly, tensing under observation.
In the control room, I saw one of the technicians lean forward, eyes wide as he stared at his screen. "Abnormal energy reading! Elevated... and unclassified! Doesn't match any known magical signature in the database."
"Unclassified?" the first voice repeated, this time with clear surprise in its tone. "Engage the Level 4 deep scanner. I want a full spectral analysis of this signature."
The humming in the room grew louder, and the tingling in my body intensified slightly. I felt my inner power being drawn out and analyzed in a way I'd never experienced. It was unnerving, like having my innermost secrets laid bare.
Quietly, I began to focus on the metal magic within me. I didn't try to resist directly; that might arouse suspicion or trigger harsher measures. Instead, I tried to calm my power, mask its true depth, make it seem like a minor anomaly, a glitch in the reading, rather than an ancient, potent force from another era. I recalled my training as a guard, how to control my breathing, my heartbeat, the flow of my inner energy.
"The reading... it's fluctuating," the technician in the control room said, sounding confused. "It's... settling at a lower level now. Maybe it was just interference or an error in the initial scan?"
"There are no errors in Level 2 scanners," the first voice said sternly. "But the current reading... it looks like raw, unformed energy, perhaps residual from exposure to an unstable power source. Log it as 'Energy Anomaly of Unknown Origin, requires monitoring'."
I felt a small wave of relief. It seemed I had managed to deceive them... at least for now.
"Alright, no ID, no mods, a vague energy anomaly..." the first voice sighed. "Looks like a standard John Doe case from the lower sectors. Probably a vagrant or a runner from some unregistered border conflict zone."
"What's the disposition?" the technician asked. "Send him to Public Rehabilitation? Or place him in temporary detention for further investigation due to the energy anomaly?"
A short silence fell in the control room as the two reviewed the data on their screens. I waited, my heart beating with controlled steadiness, wondering about my fate. Would I be thrown into a dark cell, or forced into hard labor somewhere unknown?
"Hold on," the first voice said suddenly. "There's a flag just popped up on his temporary file. An automated tag from the Academic Distribution System."
"The Academic Distribution System?" the technician repeated, surprised. "Why would the System care about someone like him?"
"I don't know, but the flag indicates... potential interest from Arcanum Tech Academy. Because of the unclassified energy anomaly. Seems they have a protocol for scouting new or unusual power sources."
Arcanum Tech? The name sounded vaguely familiar. Where had I heard it before? Then I remembered... the story summary that had flashed through my mind before I lost consciousness... the academy filled with dangerous students... the reincarnated Devil...
"Arcanum Tech?" the technician said, his tone a mixture of awe and derision. "That school for psychos and deviant geniuses? They really want this... this nobody?"
"The System says yes," the first voice replied coolly. "'Raw Talent Acquisition' protocol. He's to be transferred to the Arcanum Tech Reception Center for deeper evaluation. Send the data. And classify him provisionally as 'Potential Recruit - Under Review'."
The restraints released my wrists and ankles as quickly as they had appeared. The door behind me slid open again. One of the Peacekeepers stood in the doorway.
"Get up. You're coming with us," the metallic voice said.
I stood on slightly stiff legs. My mind was spinning. Arcanum Tech. The place where I was supposed to find the reincarnated Devil, the place filled with danger, according to what I understood. Was this a better fate than prison or forced labor? I didn't know. But it was... a path. A path that might lead me to understand this world, and maybe... maybe find a way back. Or at least, a way to survive.
"Where are we going now?" I asked the Peacekeeper, trying to inject some confidence into my voice.
It didn't answer. It merely gestured with its armored hand down the corridor. I started walking, the Peacekeeper following closely behind. I felt like I had just escaped the frying pan... only to fall directly into the fire. A fire called Arcanum Tech.