Inside the M.A.T.A. Training Hall, the air buzzed with anticipation. From the glass-paneled deck above, General Rama, Pillar Dayang, Pillar Ganz, Pillar Djin, and young agents—including Ali, Alicia, and Khai—watched intently.

At the center stood Ejen Rizwan: back straight, hands clasped, expression unreadable as always.

Dayang smirked at her console. “Ejen Rizwan, you’ll be the first to test my latest creation—NeuroFlies. They connect to the subject and reveal their greatest fear. Imagine the effect on enemies—it will break their morale instantly.”

Ali whispered to Khai, “Rizwan? He doesn’t even look afraid of anything.”

Khai shrugged. “That’s why Dayang picked him. If it works on him, it’ll work on anyone.”

Beside them stood the medic, quiet and gentle, her worried gaze fixed on Rizwan.

Dayang released a silver fly. It hovered, then latched onto Rizwan’s forehead. His world shifted.

The illusion swallowed him.

Explosions roared. Smoke filled the air. It was that night—the ambush on a secret quarters. Rizwan remembered every detail: the fire, the rubble, the chaos.

“Stay sharp! Hold the line!” his past self barked. But his chest tightened for another reason.

Through the smoke, he saw her.

The medic lay broken, her uniform torn, her skin bruised and bleeding. Lifeless. Her warm eyes shut forever, her gentle hands cold in his grip.

“No…” Rizwan dropped to his knees, clutching her. His voice cracked, trembling with raw fear. “Not you… I swore I’d protect—”

From the deck above, silence fell.

Pillar Djin frowned. “So… this is his fear?”

Ali’s eyes widened. “He’s afraid of losing… her?”

Alicia whispered, stunned. “The medic?”

Khai muttered, “Because she means more to him than he lets on.”

General Rama’s voice cut through, firm. “Enough. This is sensitive.”

The medic stood frozen, hand pressed to the glass, heart pounding as she watched herself lifeless in his arms.

The illusion ended. Rizwan straightened instantly, his jaw locked, fists clenched. His breathing slowed until his composure returned.

“The test is complete,” he said curtly, ignoring their stares. Without another word, he turned and walked out, boots striking hard against the floor.

That night, the corridors were quiet. Rizwan strode briskly, but stopped when a soft voice called after him.

He turned. The medic stood there, hands clasped nervously, her presence heavy with what she had seen.

Rizwan’s gaze hardened, though his eyes flickered with emotion. “…Forget it. What you saw was nothing but an illusion.”

His fists tightened. For the first time, he looked away. “…A medic shouldn’t be on the battlefield. And yet you are. Every mission, you risk yourself. That day proved how easily I could fail.”

His voice dropped, strained. “I cannot afford to lose you.”

For Rizwan—cold, disciplined Rizwan—to admit that shattered the armor he wore more than any battle could.

He finally met her gaze, walls faltering for a fleeting moment. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say more… but he straightened, pulling composure back like armor.

“…Get some rest, medic.” His voice, for once, was soft.

Behind the steel walls of M.A.T.A.’s most disciplined agent… Rizwan’s greatest fear was losing her.