Correction protocol

The message on Sakura’s screen didn’t disappear.

It just dimmed—like it was waiting.

She stood in front of it for a long time, not moving.

You are not in the correct tier.

Correction will begin soon.

The words felt less like text and more like observation. Like something on the other side of the wall had finally looked at her directly.

Sakura pressed a finger to the screen.

Nothing happened.

Of course it didn’t.

A soft mechanical click echoed somewhere in the room.

Her head snapped toward the door.

Locked.

Not from the outside.

From the system.

Sakura stepped back slowly.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath.

But her voice didn’t sound convinced.

A sharp alarm suddenly echoed through the hallway.

Not loud.

Not chaotic.

Controlled.

Structured.

A voice followed immediately after.

“Attention all C-Rank candidates. Please remain in your rooms. Do not attempt to exit. This is a standard calibration procedure.”

Sakura froze.

C-Rank.

That was her.

She moved quickly to the door and pressed her ear against it.

Footsteps were moving outside.

But not panicked ones.

Measured.

Like guards.

Or operators.

Her fingers tightened.

So this was what “Correction” meant.

Across the facility, Akane sat on her bed staring at the same type of screen.

But hers was different.

No warning.

No message.

Just a live feed.

Sakura’s room.

Akane narrowed her eyes.

“What are they doing to her?” she whispered.

The screen flickered slightly.

Then another feed appeared beside it.

Kai.

Walking through a dim corridor with two instructors behind him.

Akane stood immediately.

“This is planned,” she said sharply. “All of it.”

Kai stopped walking.

Not because he was told to.

Because he heard something change in the air.

One of the instructors beside him spoke.

“Proceed.”

Kai didn’t move.

Instead, he asked calmly, “Where is C-Rank section being taken?”

Silence.

The instructor didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

Kai exhaled slowly.

“So it’s already started.”

He turned slightly toward them.

And for the first time, his expression wasn’t neutral.

It was warning.

Sakura’s room door opened without permission.

Not fully.

Just enough for a thin mechanical arm to slide in.

It unfolded like a tool.

Not a weapon yet.

But close enough.

A scanning light swept across the room.

Then stopped on Sakura.

A second later, the voice returned.

“Candidate Sakura Yumi. Calibration deviation confirmed.”

Sakura took a step back.

“Deviation?” she repeated quietly.

The arm shifted slightly toward her.

“C-Rank instability detected. Proceeding with adjustment phase.”

The word adjustment made her stomach tighten.

She looked around the room quickly.

No exit.

No vents large enough.

No furniture worth using as defense.

Just a bed.

A desk.

And a sealed cabinet.

Sakura moved fast.

She grabbed the metal edge of the desk and pulled.

It didn’t move easily.

But it moved.

The arm advanced.

Sakura swung.

The impact wasn’t perfect—but it disrupted the scanner.

The light flickered.

For half a second, the system recalibrated.

That was enough.

She grabbed the arm directly and twisted it hard.

A sharp electrical crack filled the room.

The arm retracted instantly.

The door slammed open wider.

Two drones entered.

Not training units this time.

Smoother. Smaller. Faster.

Correction units.

Sakura didn’t wait.

She ran.

Kai was moving too.

But not toward safety.

Toward the control network.

He passed corridor after corridor, ignoring instructions being shouted behind him.

“You are not authorized to deviate—”

Kai interrupted without turning around. “I am not deviating.”

He stopped at a junction.

Closed his eyes briefly.

Then turned left.

Akane was already moving.

Not calmly.

Not obediently.

Angrily.

She kicked open a maintenance panel in the hallway and pulled out a metal rod.

“This is insane,” she muttered. “They’re isolating her on purpose.”

A loud mechanical hum filled the corridor ahead.

Akane looked up.

More drones.

But these ones weren’t targeting randomly.

They were converging.

On Sakura’s sector.

Akane tightened her grip.

“Of course they are.”

Then she ran.

Sakura burst into a wider corridor, breathing harder now.

Behind her, the drones moved with synchronized precision.

Too fast to outrun forever.

She turned sharply into another hallway.

Dead end.

“Great,” she whispered.

The wall ahead had no doors.

Just a maintenance grid.

The drones entered behind her.

Sakura looked around quickly.

No weapons.

No exits.

Only one option.

She sprinted forward anyway.

At the last second, she jumped and kicked the wall panel.

It didn’t break.

But it loosened.

She kicked again.

Harder.

The panel gave way.

Behind it—space.

A narrow maintenance shaft.

Sakura didn’t hesitate.

She slipped inside just as the drones reached her.

One grabbed her ankle.

She kicked it hard.

Once.

Twice.

It released.

She pulled herself deeper into the shaft.

Darkness swallowed her immediately.

Kai reached the central control corridor.

Instructors blocked the entrance.

“You cannot proceed further,” one said firmly.

Kai looked at them.

“Correction Protocol is unauthorized for live candidates.”

“It is authorized at Instructor level,” the man replied.

Kai nodded slightly.

“That’s not what I asked.”

A pause.

Then Kai stepped forward.

The first instructor moved to stop him.

Kai didn’t fight him directly.

He simply shifted the man’s balance with one precise movement and stepped past him before the system could react.

The second instructor hesitated.

That hesitation was enough.

Kai was already gone.

Akane reached the outer gate of Sakura’s sector.

Locked.

Of course.

She slammed her hand against it.

“Sakura!” she shouted.

No response.

Only mechanical noise deeper inside.

Akane’s breathing sharpened.

Then she noticed something.

A panel beside the gate.

Emergency override.

But it required authorization.

Akane stared at it for a long moment.

Then smiled faintly.

“Fine,” she muttered. “If you want rules…”

She pulled out her school ID.

And crushed it against the scanner.

Nothing happened.

She froze.

Then a second light activated.

Not accepting identity.

Recognizing proximity.

The system didn’t want permission.

It wanted reaction.

The gate began to open.

Slowly.

Inside the shaft, Sakura paused.

Something changed.

The drones outside stopped moving.

Too suddenly.

Too perfectly.

Then silence.

Sakura frowned.

That was worse.

Because silence here meant recalculation.

A faint vibration ran through the walls.

Then a new sound.

Footsteps.

Not mechanical.

Human.

Sakura turned slightly.

A shadow appeared at the far end of the shaft.

Kai.

He crouched slightly to fit inside the narrow space.

His eyes met hers immediately.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.

Kai looked past her.

“They escalated faster than expected.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes. “You knew this would happen.”

Kai didn’t deny it.

That was answer enough.

Behind them, deeper in the shaft, a low mechanical hum restarted.

Kai’s voice dropped slightly.

“Correction Phase isn’t about fixing mistakes,” he said.

Sakura tensed. “Then what is it about?”

Kai looked at her directly.

“It’s about deciding who stays useful.”

And somewhere outside the shaft, something large began to move again.

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