For a moment, the void still had him.

  Crimson eyes. Unblinking. Certain.

  “Lior?”

  The voice cut through — Ayasha’s. At first faint, like an echo underwater. Then sharper. The hum of the equipment bay returned: charging pads buzzing, gauntlets clicking into place, cadets murmuring as they tested their gear.

  He blinked. Air rushed back into his lungs. His hand hovered over a reinforced glove on the workbench — he didn’t remember reaching for it.

  Ayasha leaned in, brow arched. Her half-smile carried that teasing edge only she could manage.

  “That yours?”

  He flinched, covering the hesitation with a nod.

  “Ye… yeah.”

  Cael adjusted his glasses, voice calm and precise as always.

  “That’s a reinforced Veritas weave. Carbon-knit fibers. It’ll complement your pulse output and reduce feedback loops.”

  Lior’s lips twitched faintly as he slid the gloves on.

  “I just liked how it felt.”

  Across the hall, Team Vitalis filed into their locker bay.

  Captain Vitalis scanned the room. “Where’s Jace?”

  Thorn Wexley — Codename: Stillpoint — Team Vitalis — broad-shouldered, wrists taped, always grinning like a fight was just another game — looked around, confused.

  “He was behind me the whole time.”

  Nira Velan — Codename: Silverline — Team Vitalis — calm, poised, humor hiding behind her eyes — shrugged.

  “If he isn’t here, then he snuck back to the room.”

  Then the cut was obvious.

  Jace Kaelun — Codename: Grid — Team Vitalis — sprawled on a bunk in the corner, headphones askew, lollipop stick dangling as he snored softly, unbothered by the chaos.

  Vitalis sighed, pinching her brow.

  “That boy…”

  Stillpoint chuckled under his breath. “I’ll get him before she blows a fuse.”

  Silverline smirked. “Some things never change.”

  ?

  Elsewhere, the other teams moved through the gear halls.

  Ironclad’s order came flat and final.

  “Your gear is in the changing room. I’ve chosen it.”

  Valor twirled in a cape, voice booming.

  “How do I look? …Like an American hero.”

  Ayasha muttered to Lior and Cael, deadpan.

  “If he had to save me, I’d take my chances with the villain.”

  Snapback’s team bustled noisily, their voices bouncing off the corridor walls.

  Among them, Myrí Jónsdóttir — Codename: Halo — Team Snapback — lingered quieter than the rest. Her voice carried like silk through the noise, keeping her team steady when tempers flared. She smiled faintly now, braid resting over her shoulder, green eyes warm despite the chaos.

  “I wish the captain was here,” she murmured. “I wanted his help.”

  Sunstrike crossed her arms, unimpressed.

  “He can’t take anything seriously. You’re better off asking those tech girls—”

  The door banged open — SLAM!

  A.C. burst in, goggles bouncing, sparks crackling at her fingertips.

  “Did someone call for tech support?!”

  The intercom crackled overhead, harsh and cold.

  BZZZT!

  “All cadets, report to Alpha Field immediately.”

  Titan turned to Lior, Ayasha, and Cael, voice low and steady as stone.

  “This matters. Carter and Rae are counting on all three of you.”

  Lior squinted. “How many areas do they even have here?”

  “Enough,” Titan replied, without breaking stride.

  ?

  Alpha Field sprawled before them — a vast turf ringed in steel and light, the ground itself thrumming like it was built to remember every battle fought upon it.

  Snapback stood at the center, arms folded loosely, smile broad like this was recess.

  WHAM!

  Sunstrike’s fist slammed into his gut, doubling him forward.

  “Halo needed you,” she snapped.

  Snapback winced, rubbing his stomach but keeping the grin. He turned to the quiet girl behind him.

  “Sorry, Glowbug.” His voice softened. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  Halo’s braid slipped forward as she shook her head, voice barely above a whisper.

  “It’s okay, Captain.”

  Snapback straightened, swagger sliding back into place.

  “No, I’ll get you. Promise.”

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Sunstrike scoffed, already walking away.

  “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  The speakers boomed again — VVVRRMM!

  “At 1600 hours, your first exercise begins: BREAKER’S GAUNTLET. No Niche usage. Return to Alpha Field in three hours.”

  Ayasha groaned. “Today already?”

  From across the field, Valor’s crooked grin stretched wide.

  When the announcer finished, he cupped his hands to his mouth.

  “What’s wrong, Team Titan? Not ready for a little contact?”

  Cael muttered, “He just likes hearing himself talk.”

  Ayasha added, “That makes two Niches then — ego and volume.”

  Valor’s smirk only deepened, cape snapping dramatically behind him.

  ?

  The cadets scattered, each team falling into rhythm.

  Stillpoint stretched until his shoulders cracked, grin easy.

  Silverline spoke softly with her captain.

  Grid was already asleep again, lollipop drooping at the edge of his mouth.

  Team Titan sparred in a corner. Titan shifted Cael’s stance with a sharp tug to the ankle.

  “Balance. Again.”

  Ayasha jumped rope in place, sweat already forming on her brow.

  Lior moved through his kata in silence, each strike deliberate — focused.

  Across the corridor, Valor spun in his cape again.

  “How do I look?”

  No one answered.

  Across the hall, Hiroshi and Speedy leaned so far toward Team Seraph it looked like gravity had given up — until Perma’s hands clamped their collars, dragging both back.

  “Eyes off. Focus.”

  Selena Myles — Codename: Whisper — Team Null — trailed behind her teammates, her uniform swallowing her frame, steps quiet and uncertain.

  Ahead, Renna Kale — Codename: Gale — Team Null — walked with that same practiced model’s stride, brunette hair swinging, earrings glinting. She caught a seam in the floor and stumbled, then scoffed,

  “Meant to do that.”

  At her side, Molly Truitt — Codename: Ditto — Team Null — mimicked the stumble a beat later, laughing too loud. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  The two leaned close, whispering just loud enough to sting.

  Selena’s gaze flicked once toward Lior — then dropped again, quiet as shadow.

  Ironclad passed by like a machine, Varric’s single order — “Formation” — enough to snap Rex, Brin, and Deke into perfect step.

  And then lightning cracked the silence.

  Thiago Almeida — Codename: Arcline — Team Snapback — swaggered into view. His grin was blinding, his pose exaggerated, muscles flexing under gold-trimmed fabric begging to be seen.

  “Three hours? That’s plenty of time for me to win twice.”

  A.C. clapped instantly, goggles bouncing.

  “How’s the fit? I lined it with poly-ionic fiber mesh. It should help diffuse any feedback from the elect—”

  Arcline cut her off with a sharp grin.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll put this to good use when it’s time.”

  But when he turned away, his grin faltered for a fraction of a second.

  The intercom cracked again — BZZZT!

  “All cadets, report to Alpha Field immediately.”

  The team moved with the tide of boots echoing off steel.

  Lior’s chest tightened as the field came into view — a vast circle of turf, ringed in pale light, the ground humming like it remembered every blow it had ever taken.

  So it begins.

  Not just the match. A chapter. The start of something I can’t yet name.

  ?

  The announcer’s voice filled the hall.

  “Breaker’s Gauntlet will test what remains when your Niches are stripped away. Hands, feet, body — all permitted. Niches are forbidden.”

  The tone deepened.

  “There will be times when your power fails you. Times when instinct must carry the fight. Today, we measure who you are when nothing else answers.”

  Murmurs rippled through the stands.

  “Scoring is tallied by control, endurance, and victory. Matches end at the timer, by knockout… or when one cadet’s back hits the ground.”

  The lights above flared white.

  “First battle — Lior Takayama, Team Titan… vs. Arcline, Team Snapback. Cadets… descend to the Circle.”

  They walked opposite spirals toward the mat.

  Arcline’s stride was a swagger, energy bursting at the seams.

  Lior’s steps were steady — not fear, but quiet focus pressing behind his eyes.

  “Opponents, to the Circle. All others to your sides.”

  The announcer raised his hand.

  Silence pressed in — the whole field holding its breath.

  From the Vitalis section, Grid leaned forward, lollipop stick shifting as a grin crept in.

  “Wow… they want to see what he’s got just as much as we do.”

  Across the bleachers, Valor chuckled under his breath, cape draped lazily behind him.

  “There’s no way he beats Arcline,” he told his team. “He’s one of the strongest of us. This’ll snuff that ego of his out real quick.”

  From higher up, Captain Hiroshi put both hands on his cane, voice low — more to himself than anyone else.

  “Let’s see what your boy can do, Echo.”

  The murmurs rippled through the stands. The new kid… the prophecy they’d heard about was taking center stage.

  Lior turned his head just enough to meet Arcline’s eyes.

  “Good luck.”

  The words were simple. Too simple.

  Arcline froze. For half a heartbeat, his grin faltered. In Veritas, no one said that. Not here. Not to another team. You crushed your opponent. You endured them. You didn’t wish them luck.

  Something tightened in his chest — the warmth landing sharp and unfamiliar. He forced the grin back, but his eyes lingered.

  “…You’re different,” he muttered.

  The referee stepped between them, whistle already in his mouth. His voice carried, half-muffled by the plastic.

  “Listen up! No Niches — just your bodies. Hands, legs, head — whatever you’ve got, use it. Let’s have a clean fight, cadets.”

  He raised his arm.

  The whistle shrieked — FWEEEEEEET! — cutting through the noise of the cadets in the stands.

  Every sound fell away.

  Lior and Arcline locked eyes, still as statues.

  The referee’s hand hung in the air for one long heartbeat — then dropped.

  THOOM!

  End of Chapter 20

  This one’s meant to settle the stage before the fights start, quiet rhythm, team motion, and that feeling right before the first bell rings.

  No Niches. No safety net. Just raw will.