The classroom lights flickered again.

  A low buzz pulsed from the walls, just long enough for a few students to glance up. Then everything returned to normal, or close enough to pretend.

  Kael Veyl sat near the back of the tiered lecture room, notebook open, pen idle between his fingers. A large display across the front wall scrolled slowly through datasets: Imprint registration rates, compatibility failure charts, and a red-highlighted section titled "Override Compliance Deviation."

  The instructor, a thin man with silver-rimmed glasses named Professor Halden, cleared his throat.

  “Today we’ll be discussing the ethical limits of system-integrated override protocols.”

  A groan rippled through the class.

  “Yes,” Halden said. “It’s dry. That doesn’t make it less important. Especially not now.”

  He tapped the display. A clip played: a soldier mid-combat, eyes glowing, aura flaring—until he froze. Completely. Collapse followed. The feed cut to black.

  “Three days ago,” Halden said. “Eastern front. Tactical override triggered without command input. Nexus denies fault.”

  That got their attention.

  “So they can shut us off like that?” someone asked.

  Emma Velren raised her hand. Didn’t wait to be called on.

  “What stops them from doing it to any of us?” she asked. “If our Imprints are synced to the Nexus, that means they have kill switches.”

  Halden gave a tight nod. “The override exists to protect civilian life and prevent power loss events. It’s supposed to be fail-safe.”

  “Yeah,” Emma muttered. “Until it fails the wrong direction.”

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  Kael didn’t speak. He watched. Listened.

  Someone in the front said, “Didn’t they try to make someone immune to overrides? Some experimental subject a while back? I read about it on one of the old boards.”

  Halden stiffened. “You read rumors.”

  “Still,” the student pushed, “word is he walked through a full shutdown trial and kept moving. Like his mind wasn’t even on Nexus sync anymore.”

  Kael felt something tighten in his chest. Just for a second.

  Halden changed the topic.

  After class, Kael walked with Annabelle through the upper courtyard.

  The sky was turning gray. Stormfronts on the horizon. A few security drones floated overhead, scanning in slow rotations.

  Annabelle sipped her drink, quiet at first. Then: “You hear about that sim crash in Farid Sector?”

  Kael nodded. “Daniel mentioned it. Said a whole power division lost control of their Imprints for fifteen seconds.”

  “Fifteen seconds is a long time in combat,” Annabelle said.

  Kael didn’t reply.

  She studied him sideways. “You’re quieter than usual.”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t sleep much.”

  Annabelle didn’t push. Just walked beside him in silence as thunder rolled in the distance.

  That night, Kael sat in the dorm commons, logged into the sim archive on one of the unused terminals. The lights were dim. Most of the other cadets were either asleep or out. Quiet time.

  He pulled up his last Tactical Simulation recording. The same one from earlier in the week—the one that had glitched.

  It loaded. Frame by frame. Normal movements. Normal parameters.

  Then it happened.

  A flash—not even half a second. The spiral. Carved into the grid floor, almost like a burn-in image. Like something deeper than the simulation had pressed through the skin of the system.

  Kael froze the frame. Enhanced. The shape held.

  The console beeped.

  "System integrity compromised. Auto-purge initiated."

  Kael moved fast, fingers flying over the terminal.

  Override command. Archive duplication. Local file cache.

  The image disappeared a moment later. Wiped from system view.

  But not before he saved it.

  He stared at the still image now saved on his personal slate.

  It hadn’t been a glitch.

  It was real.

  And now he had proof.

  Kael waited until lights-out.

  The hallways of the academy were cold at night. Lit only by amber emergency strips and the red eyes of patrolling maintenance drones.

  He walked slow. Deliberate. Breath quiet.

  Past the atrium. Past Block C.

  To the double doors of the Tactical Sim Chamber.

  Locked.

  He tapped into the panel. Manual override. Faculty logins still cached from earlier in the day.

  The door slid open with a soft hiss.

  Kael stepped forward— a shadow behind him shifted.

  “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  He froze.