Next Morning — Theory Class

  I arrived at the lecture hall a few minutes early.

  Professor Voss stood at the front, looking unusually pleased with himself — never a reassuring sign.

  “You will be working in groups of four,” he announced. “Each group will receive a randomly generated dungeon scenario. Over the coming week, I will teach analysis methods. You will prepare a full report and present it next Monday.”

  Unease spread through the room.

  Group work involving lethal environments was not comforting.

  “The group roster has been sent to your watches. You will not change groups.”

  Negotiation denied.

  I checked mine.

  Varek Valkor — Rank 2

  Korin Kai — Rank 431

  Hugh Darnell — Rank 813

  Jain Patel — Rank 1156

  I stared at the numbers.

  Then the pattern emerged.

  Total cadets: 1,200.

  Ranks: 1–1,200.

  Balanced grouping would distribute high and low ranks to equalize overall capability.

  2 + 431 + 813 + 1156 = 2402.

  Divide by four.

  Approximately 600.

  Exactly mid-range.

  Not random.

  Statistical balancing.

  No super-teams. No hopeless teams. Just evenly distributed survival probabilities.

  I wasn’t placed with Rank Two because I was special.

  I made the equation work.

  I activated Silent Eclipse in short pulses while Voss continued lecturing.

  Information clarified instantly. Concepts connected before he finished explaining them.

  Useful.

  Also unsettling.

  After Class

  My watch vibrated.

  Incoming message — Varek Valkor

  Gather at the combat hall gate immediately.

  Not please.

  Not when convenient.

  Immediate.

  Apparently Rank Two did not believe in subtlety.

  At the Gate

  Everyone else was already there.

  Varek stood at the center, arms crossed. Hugh looked like he was trying to disappear. Jain adjusted his glasses repeatedly.

  “You’re late,” Varek said.

  I checked the time.

  I wasn’t.

  Apparently punctuality meant arriving before him.

  “All of you don’t need to prepare anything,” he said. “I will handle the report.”

  Of course.

  “One of you will present it,” he continued. “Let’s decide.”

  His eyes stopped on me.

  “Korin. You’ll do it.”

  Logical.

  Highest rank after him.

  “Okay.”

  Arguing would achieve nothing.

  “And if you mess it up,” he added casually, “your four years here will be hell.”

  Good to know failure comes with a long-term penalty plan.

  Combat Class

  Students paired off for sparring.

  I was not assigned a partner.

  Hope briefly appeared.

  Instructor Thorn stopped in front of me.

  “You are physically weak. Individual conditioning program.”

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  Hope withdrawn.

  Running drills.

  Strength work.

  Balance exercises.

  Repeated until failure became routine.

  By the end, my limbs trembled even at rest.

  Recovery

  Back to the room.

  Collapse.

  Exactly one hour of sleep.

  Not comfort.

  Maintenance.

  When I woke, exhaustion had dulled enough to function.

  Which meant training continued.

  So I returned to the shooting range.

  Because luck and theory are not sustainable survival strategies.

  Routine

  Days blurred together.

  Train.

  Study.

  Recover.

  Repeat.

  By the fourth day, exhaustion no longer felt dramatic.

  It simply felt normal.

  Saturday morning, Professor Voss ended theory class with unusual enthusiasm — which, in my experience, was a clear warning sign.

  “Reminder,” he said, adjusting his glasses, “your dungeon analysis presentations are due Monday. Preparation quality will be reflected in your evaluation.”

  My watch vibrated immediately afterward.

  Varek Valkor: Review the data I sent. Be prepared. Do not embarrass the team.

  Charming.

  Motivational leadership at its finest.

  Synapse City — Apex Auction Hall

  Instead of the usual combat drills, Instructor Thorn led us through the transport gates into Synapse City, the commercial heart of Helix.

  Our destination dominated an entire district.

  Apex Auction Hall.

  The structure rose like a monument to excess — black marble and crystal glass layered into towering architecture that reflected the morning light. Massive banners hung from the upper tiers, displaying legendary past sales: dragon cores, ancient relics, sealed artifacts, weapons of fallen heroes.

  The place was famous across all five nations.

  The largest auction house in the world.

  Owned by Magnus Ravel, a merchant rumored to value profit above morality, legality, or common sense.

  “Cadets,” Instructor Thorn said, “you will observe artifact handling procedures and market classification systems. Tomorrow’s auction is open to invited guests only.”

  Right.

  Invitation-only.

  Except twelve hundred academy cadets had apparently been allowed inside.

  Free advertising to future heroes with absurd family money.

  Smart business.

  Very ethical, I’m sure.

  Inside, the hall resembled a museum more than a marketplace.

  Display chambers lined the interior, each sealed behind mana barriers and guarded by discreet security constructs. Artifact pedestals glowed under carefully calibrated lighting.

  Students were divided into groups and sent toward different sections.

  I wandered toward a quieter wing.

  Two familiar figures were already there.

  Aric Vayne stood examining a display case containing a crystalline blade fragment.

  Nearby, Iris Umbra leaned against the wall with her arms folded, expression neutral — as if nothing in the entire building deserved her full attention.

  Of course Rank One and Rank Three get the rare artifact section.

  Balanced distribution, as always.

  Danger

  My vision rolled upward.

  Not dizziness.

  Not fatigue.

  Recognition.

  Danger.

  Silent Eclipse activated before conscious thought formed.

  I moved.

  One step.

  Two.

  A lunge behind a thick support pillar.

  — BOOM —

  The outer wall exploded inward.

  Stone, metal, and reinforced glass detonated across the chamber. Dust surged outward like a shockwave. Students screamed as debris rained down.

  The main entrance collapsed completely.

  Exit sealed.

  Aric and Iris disappeared beneath fragments of the fallen structure.

  A silhouette stepped through the dust.

  Male.

  Tall.

  Still.

  Wrong.

  His eyes were entirely black.

  No iris.

  No white.

  Just empty darkness.

  When he spoke, his voice echoed strangely, like two voices layered imperfectly together.

  “Found you.”

  My breath stalled.

  His mana signature pulsed unevenly — warped and out of sync with the environment.

  Exactly like Tyrion and Kade.

  Not stronger.

  Not brighter.

  Just…

  Incorrect.

  He held a small sphere in one hand.

  Dull gray.

  Unremarkable.

  Like something that shouldn’t matter.

  Which meant it absolutely did.

  Stone shifted.

  Aric burst free from the rubble, sword already drawn.

  Iris rose behind him, her bow forming in her grip with fluid precision.

  Her eyes locked on the intruder.

  “Hollowed.”

  So that’s what this is called.

  Fantastic.

  Aric stepped forward without hesitation, blade steady.

  The man grinned.

  Then—

  A sword erupted through his abdomen from behind.

  He froze, confused, staring down at the steel protruding from his stomach.

  Before he could react, the blade flashed upward.

  Clean.

  Precise.

  His body split in two.

  Both halves dissolved into dark particles before hitting the ground.

  Only the gray sphere remained, rolling slightly before coming to rest.

  Silence.

  A woman stood where he had been.

  Late twenties.

  Tall.

  Strikingly beautiful.

  Completely expressionless.

  Not cold.

  Not calm.

  Just empty.

  She looked down at the sphere.

  “What’s this… he came here for this?”

  Aric didn’t lower his weapon.

  Iris’s bow remained drawn.

  “Who are you?” Iris demanded. “Friend or foe?”

  The woman didn’t even look at them.

  “I’m neither. Mind your own business.”

  She stepped toward the sphere.

  An arrow slammed into the floor in front of her.

  “Don’t move,” Iris said. “That was a warning.”

  The woman paused.

  Then continued forward anyway.

  Aric lunged.

  Fast.

  Precise.

  She moved faster.

  Her body blurred sideways. His sword sliced through empty air.

  Her heel drove into his abdomen with brutal efficiency.

  The impact launched him backward across the floor.

  Iris didn’t hesitate.

  Her bow snapped upward.

  Three arrows released in a single breath.

  Not sequential.

  Simultaneous.

  Each one humming with compressed mana.

  The woman tilted her head slightly.

  Steel flashed.

  Clang. Clang. Clang.

  All three arrows split cleanly in midair.

  Iris’s eyes narrowed.

  She drew again.

  Five arrows.

  Then eight.

  Then a continuous stream.

  Each shot glowed brighter than the last as mana condensed along the shafts. The air whistled under the pressure of their passage.

  To an ordinary observer, it would have looked like a storm of light.

  The woman stepped forward.

  Her sword moved almost lazily.

  Not swinging.

  Not striking.

  Intercepting.

  Every arrow met steel and died.

  Fragments of glowing wood and mana scattered across the floor like sparks from a forge.

  Not one reached her.

  Iris released a final shot.

  Heavier.

  Brighter.

  The bow creaked under the strain.

  The woman’s eyes flicked to it for the first time.

  She angled her blade.

  The impact rang through the chamber like a bell.

  The arrow split in half and skidded harmlessly across the stone behind her.

  The woman exhaled, almost bored.

  “You should listen when someone older than you gives advice.”

  Iris didn’t lower her bow.

  Good.

  Someone here has standards.

  The woman resumed walking toward the sphere.

  Then she stopped.

  Turned.

  Studied Iris more closely.

  “You look familiar,” she said. “What’s your name?”

  No response.

  In the next instant she was directly in front of Iris.

  Not fast.

  Instant.

  She grabbed Iris’s ID card and scanned it.

  The change was immediate.

  Her face twisted.

  Not anger.

  Not shock.

  Something deeper.

  Her body moved before her expression finished forming.

  Blade raised.

  Strike incoming.

  I didn’t think.

  “Stop!”

  The word left my mouth before strategy could veto it.

  The woman froze.

  Blinking.

  As if waking up.

  I moved again.

  Grabbed the sphere.

  Threw it toward her.

  “You came for this, didn’t you?”

  Please let this be correct.

  She caught it easily.

  Stared at me.

  Then at the sphere.

  A slow breath left her lungs.

  She placed it carefully into a pouch at her waist.

  Crisis…

  Apparently contained.

  Her gaze returned to Iris.

  Something like resentment flickered in her eyes.

  Without another word, she leapt upward—

  —and vanished through the shattered ceiling.

  Silence returned.

  Dust drifted slowly through the air.

  My heart finally remembered to resume normal function.

  Well.

  That escalated quickly.

  From artifact field trip to assassination attempt in under ten minutes.