After dinner, Rafka immediately went into his room.
The atmosphere of the small house had already begun to calm down, but from outside the window came the faint hum of nighttime vehicles, mixed with the glow of a futuristic city that never truly slept.
A bluish night sky stretched beyond the glass window, illuminated by the reflections of giant holographic advertisements slowly moving between towering buildings.
His room itself was far from the modern luxury typical of most teenagers in this city. The space was simple, even somewhat old-fashioned by their world's standards. The walls were painted a dull green, with several patches already faded by time.
There were no advanced holographic screens filling the room like in the bedrooms of rich kids, no personal AI assistant, no virtual projector, or automated furniture.
Instead, there was only an old wooden shelf in the corner that was slightly tilted, stacked so full with magazines that it looked like it might collapse at any moment.
Old ARMOR magazines filled the shelf, the study desk, and even the floor near the bed. Some of the covers were folded and yellowed at the corners from being read too often.
In addition, there were thick encyclopedias with worn hardcover bindings.
About Knights, about Lamia, about ARMOR history, about Anima Drive technology.
On his study desk lay books about aeronautics, fighter jets, aerial war fleets, and even an old poster of an early-generation fighter jet was stuck slightly crooked on the wall near the wardrobe.
The room felt like a mix between a bookworm's study space and a small retro military enthusiast's base.
An old desk fan still hummed softly in the corner, its mechanical sound contrasting with the outside world that had almost become fully automated.
Near the bed, an old box-shaped radio was neatly placed on a small table. Whether it still worked or not was unclear, but Rafka never threw it away because it was his father's keepsake.
His bed was just as simple, not too large. The blue bedsheet was slightly wrinkled from his habit of collapsing onto it after tiring days.
Yet despite looking cramped and outdated, the room felt warm and alive. It also reflected him perfectly.
***
Rafka walked toward the window and looked outside.
The view beyond was completely the opposite of his room, as the futuristic city stretched as far as his eyes could see.
Tall buildings were lined with blue and white neon lights, and aerial traffic lanes looked like thin streams of light moving in orderly paths between massive structures.
Delivery drones flew in neat routes, cleaning robots moved slowly along the sidewalks, and automated vehicles glided almost silently across the roads. Everything moved so efficiently and orderly that the night felt strangely quiet despite being so alive.
There were no car horns, no loud engine roars, no street vendors shouting like in cities of old. The only sounds were the faint hum of electric machines and the night wind slipping between skyscrapers.
Meanwhile, Rafka's room felt like a leftover piece of the past, standing still in the middle of a world that kept moving forward.
"Now I feel like this world … is too neat for my current thoughts," Rafka muttered softly. He gave a small laugh, but it quickly faded. "Hey," he continued quietly, almost as if talking to himself. "I know this can't be taken off, but if, just if, I could take it off, would everything that happened today just disappear right away?"
No answer. Of course, there was no one there.
"Well, it's obviously not possible to take it off anyway ...," His hand slowly clenched, then relaxed again. "this isn't a dream either."
He stared at the ceiling, as if searching for an explanation there. "If this is a dream, I should've woken up by now."
A brief pause.
"Or is this a dream that just doesn't want to end?"
***
After a long time of staring blankly out the window, Rafka finally dropped onto his bed. "So tired."
The thin mattress creaked softly under his weight.
He felt as though his body was far heavier than usual, as if all his strength and thoughts had been drained in a single day that felt longer than an entire week.
He sank into the crumpled dark blue bedsheet, staring blankly at the ceiling.
The old desk fan still spun slowly in the corner, producing a monotonous mechanical hum, but even that sound was drowned out by the noise inside his head.
Today was too crazy, too sudden, and too unbelievable.
He slowly raised his left hand, as if even his arm was exhausted. His eyes fell on the red ring shaped like a Garuda head still wrapped around his middle finger.
Agni, the power that had, in just one day, completely changed his life.
The reflection of the room light made the ring's metallic red surface look alive. Occasionally, the engraving shimmered faintly like embers that had not fully died out.
That red glow reflected in his pupils, as if something truly alive existed within it.
Rafka stared at it for a long time, hoping that the longer he looked, the more everything would start making sense.
But the result was the opposite.
The more he stared, the more unreal everything felt.
This morning, he was still an ordinary high school student who almost arrived late to school, still running in panic, still afraid of being punished by the teacher on duty, still complaining about math class, still just an ordinary boy whose life revolved around school, ARMOR, and staying up late reading Knight articles.
And now?
He had become part of ARMOR.
A real Knight, and not just any Knight.
A Mythical Knight, Agni.
And all of it happened in just one day.
"Does anyone's life really change this fast?" he muttered softly. "Or am I just the one who isn't ready?"
He closed his eyes for a moment. "If other people were chosen too … would they just feel happy?"
He opened them again. "I am happy. But why am I also scared?"
Silence.
"Happy!" he said firmly. "I should be happy ...! And proud … right?" His voice softened again.
His mind was filled with fragments of memories that kept replaying endlessly.
Lamia, the terrifying giant creature he had seen up close for the first time. The monster's roar still echoed in his ears.
Then his first battle.
The red flames from his sword, the explosive heat as his attack struck the Lamia.
The panicked faces of civilians, and the glow of phone cameras recording him.
"Everyone saw me back then," he muttered softly. "If I messed up even a little … I could've ended up as bad news." A hollow laugh escaped him.
Then Ayu.
"She's so calm," Rafka murmured. "Like this is … normal for her."
"She was chosen too, right? Has she ever felt as confused as I am?" He chuckled faintly. "Probably not. Her face is always blank."
Then Captain Rangga. The Fourth Division headquarters. That massive man's embrace.
Everything had happened too fast for his brain to keep up.
"And those people …," Rafka exhaled slowly. "did they really just trust me that quickly? I don't even fully understand what's going on."
What if I mess up later?
Rafka shifted slightly while still staring at the ring. "This is insane," he muttered. "Agni …," His hand slowly reached out, touching the Garuda engraving. "if you chose me because I'm compatible, then please give me some kind of clue."
He went silent for a long moment.
"I still think …," he continued more quietly, "this is unfair. Other people struggle so much, even crying over their dreams because they failed."
"But me?"
He remembered Ayu's words, that she also entered ARMOR through a non-standard selection route.
"She's also in through a direct appointment …," he muttered. "so I'm not the only weird one … but why do I still feel like I'm the least prepared?"
Why me? Rafka thought.
Out of all the people in the world, why did Agni choose him?
That question kept circling in his mind.
His eyes fell on the red ring again, its faint glow reflecting in his pupils.
"Fate?" he muttered while looking up at the ceiling. "Fate, huh? Is that even possible for a boring guy like me?"
Rafka let out a long sigh. "Whatever."
His brain was too tired to think about grand theories tonight. His body felt heavy, and his eyelids slowly began to droop.
But right before falling asleep, his thoughts drifted to one person, his father.
He imagined how his father would react if he were still alive and saw him now.
His gaze drifted to the old radio his father left behind, sitting quietly on the small table, untouched yet always present, as if silently listening to everything he said in this room.
Rafka gave a faint smile. "Dad … I became a Knight. Would you be proud? Or would you have preferred I became a mechanic like you?"
Rafka stayed silent for a moment longer.
The weight in his chest slowly eased, replaced by a quiet exhaustion that settled into every corner of his body.
His eyelids grew heavier.
Outside, the futuristic city continued to glow endlessly, indifferent to his thoughts, as if tomorrow would arrive no matter what he felt tonight.
But inside this small, worn-out room, time felt softer, safer, even more distant.
"I'll think about it tomorrow," he muttered faintly, there was no strength left in his voice.
His hand slowly slipped away from the ring, falling onto the bed.
The steady hum of the old desk fan became softer and softer until even his thoughts began to blur.
Rafka turned slightly on his side, his breathing slowing into a steady rhythm.
The red glow of the ring dimmed in the darkness, as if resting together with him.
And finally, he fell asleep.