I’ll be the Red Ranger
Chapter 114 – Negotiation Room

- Oliver -

Unlike the other selected candidates, who were merely directed toward a corridor at the back of the arena, Oliver was always accompanied by two soldiers. They flanked him closely, leaving no room for him to move out of their sight, even for a moment.

As they walked down the seemingly endless corridor, Oliver noticed dozens—if not hundreds—of rooms lining the walls. Through the small windows set into each door, he glimpsed other candidates seated alone, each confined to their own sterile chamber.

The rooms were spartan, almost austere. Most contained just a table and two chairs, no other furnishings, and no windows to the outside world.

‘All this just to decide which division we'll join?’ Oliver thought his brow furrowing as he took in the stark surroundings.

Reaching the end of the corridor, they entered a vast hall furnished with rows of chairs. Several candidates who had gone before him were already seated, their expressions a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

One of the soldiers instructed firmly, "Sit in one of the chairs and wait for your name to be called. "

Oliver nodded and chose a seat toward the back, settling in with the expectation of a long wait—especially since he'd been one of the last to arrive.

However, barely had he seated himself when a holographic display flickered to life at the front of the hall.

"Oliver Nameless, proceed to Room 14," an automated voice announced.

Surprised, Oliver stood up quickly, feeling the weight of numerous eyes turning toward him. He didn't need telepathic abilities to sense their thoughts; the envious and puzzled glances made it clear they were wondering why he'd been summoned so swiftly.

As he made his way toward the indicated room, the two soldiers resumed their positions at his sides, matching his pace step for step. Their unwavering presence began to unsettle him. Oliver couldn't help but notice that none of the other candidates were receiving such attentive supervision.

‘Is this because of the eighty-two percent?’ he wondered, referring to his unusually high synchronization score. Perhaps that was why he was being treated differently. He hoped Athena might chime in with some insight, but ever since he'd touched the crystal, she had remained conspicuously silent.

Arriving at Room 14, one of the soldiers pressed a panel next to the door, which slid open soundlessly. Inside was a modest room—just like the others he'd glimpsed—with a single table and two chairs facing each other. The lighting was muted, casting soft shadows against the bare walls.

"Please enter," the soldier said, his tone devoid of emotion.

Oliver hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping inside. The door closed behind him with a quiet hiss, leaving him alone in the silence. He took a seat, his mind racing with questions. What awaited him here? Why the special treatment?

He glanced around the room, searching for clues, but there was nothing—no screens, data ports, or even a clock. Just the table, the chairs, and the faint sound of his own breathing.

‘Athena?’ Oliver asked silently, hoping for a response from the enigmatic presence that had guided him before. But there was only silence.

Seated in one of the chairs, Oliver waited. Minutes passed slowly, each one stretching longer than the last. Just as he began tapping his fingers nervously on the table, the door slid open with a soft hiss.

A tall man entered, his footsteps echoing lightly against the floor. His metallic spectacles gleamed under the lighting, reflecting a myriad of data streams as he glanced down at his gauntlet. A broad smile stretched across his face as he looked up.

"Hello!" the man greeted warmly. "Oliver. You're Nameless, correct?"

"Yes," Oliver replied cautiously, not quite understanding the emphasis.

"Excellent. This should be quick, then," the man said, settling into the chair opposite him. "I'm one of the recruitment captains. My responsibility is to record your desired division, finalize your contract as a Ranger with the NEA, and then explain your next steps."

"All right," Oliver nodded.

"So, let's proceed. You'll be signing on as a Blue Ranger, correct?" the captain inquired, his fingers poised over a holographic interface emanating from his gauntlet.

"No, I want to be a Red Ranger," Oliver stated firmly.

The captain blinked, caught off guard. "But your best performance was as a Blue Ranger," he pointed out, tapping a few times on his display. "Your synchronization with the Blue Crystal is exceptional."

"Even so, I prefer to join the Red Division," Oliver insisted, his gaze unwavering.

"With an 82% synchronization, you'd be among the elite in the Blue Division. At 20% with the Red, you'll be just another Ranger. Do you understand that?" The captain's tone held a note of incredulity.

"Perhaps not fully, but my decision stands. I wish to be a Red Ranger," Oliver replied.

The captain rubbed his temple, clearly perplexed. "Is there anything we can offer that might change your mind?"

Oliver hesitated, considering his words. ‘Maybe I could mention what I'm seeking? But he's just a captain. Besides, I could have more problems—I'd have to explain about my past.’

"No, I'm decided," Oliver said firmly.

The captain studied him for a long moment, his mouth opening as if to argue before he closed it again with a sigh. "Very well. I'll need to step out for a moment."

As the door slid shut behind the departing captain, Oliver found himself alone again. The silence was oppressive. He tapped at his gauntlet, hoping to access updates from the arena or messages from his friends, but the device seemed inert. Aside from his basic status screen, none of the functions responded.

"Great," Oliver muttered under his breath. "Just perfect."

Time dragged, each minute feeling like ten. He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the featureless ceiling. Just when the wait became nearly unbearable, the door opened again.

This time, it wasn't the captain.

A man stepped inside wearing semi-activated blue armor. His eyes were sharp behind a pair of sleek glasses, and a well-kept white beard framed his calm expression. Oliver recognized him instantly—it was General Wiz, the leader of the Blue Division. He had addressed them all during the announcements after the second trial.

Caught off guard, Oliver sprang to his feet and snapped to attention, offering a salute.

"At ease," General Wiz said with a brief nod. "Have a seat, son."

Oliver sat down, but his posture remained stiff, his senses alert. Questions swirled in his mind as he tried to grasp why the head of the Blue Division would take the time to speak with him personally.

"Oliver, I oversee the entire Blue Division," Wiz began, his gaze steady and probing. "One of my captains informed me that you wish to join the Red Division. I understand that it often carries more prestige and perhaps greater opportunities." He paused as if weighing his next words. "However, with your level of connection to the Blue Crystal, you could achieve all that and more within our division."

"Sir, with all due respect," Oliver replied carefully, "those factors aren't what's most important to me. They're certainly appealing, but I have other reasons for my choice."

General Wiz leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving Oliver's face. It felt as if the man could see straight through him, reading every flicker of emotion. "I see that you haven't shared what you're seeking. If you can't tell me directly, perhaps you can indicate if there's something I could offer that would make you reconsider."

Oliver swallowed, an uneasy knot forming in his stomach. How could he explain without revealing too much? His reasons were personal, intricately tied to a past he wasn't ready to share—not with a General he barely knew.

"Sir, I'm searching for information," Oliver said carefully.

"I see." General Wiz paused as he regarded Oliver thoughtfully. "Information that even the Blue Rangers don't have access to, I presume? Remember, we're the division responsible for technology and intelligence operations. It seems we align precisely with what you're seeking."

"Even so, it's something I won't be able to access as a Blue Ranger," Oliver replied, his gaze steady.

"Hmm." Wiz leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he considered the young man's words. "Let me explain your situation. If you're set on selecting the Red Division, there's a significant chance that General Quinn will disqualify you. She's already exceeded her quota of Rangers. The other divisions are the ones currently in need of reinforcement."

"But from what I understand—and given your presence here—my high score makes me valuable enough that a General is willing to negotiate," Oliver countered.

Wiz's lips curved into a subtle smile, a glint of admiration in his eyes. "After verifying that your results were genuine, yes. You've moved from being a problematic candidate in the second exam to one of the most coveted selections."

"So what will happen to me if I continue on the path I'm on?" Oliver asked.

"I can't say for certain. It may come down to a vote among the Generals. You might be accepted into the Red Division, or you might be blocked entirely. In any case, losing someone of your potential would be foolish," Wiz admitted candidly.

"Especially since other Houses might already have an interest in me," Oliver added, subtly reminding the General of his newfound leverage.

"Certainly." Wiz's smile widened, reflecting a mix of respect and strategic consideration. "Unless you'd be open to a negotiation."

"And what would that be?" Oliver inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"I may not know exactly what you're seeking, but I can offer you my support," Wiz proposed. "In return, you join the Blue Division."

Before Oliver could voice his objections, the General continued.

"Serve with us for two years," Wiz said, his tone earnest. "During that time, I'll personally assist you in obtaining the information you desire. Afterward, I'll arrange for your transfer to the Red Division. You'll gain a powerful ally and ultimately arrive where you wish to be without the risk of being rejected. What do you say?"

He extended his hand toward Oliver, the gesture both inviting and challenging.