The echoes of Breaker’s Gauntlet still clung in the air.
Every bruise, every shout and clash of the cadets seemed to walk beside them as they filed out of Alpha Field.
But by the time they reached the cafeteria, the tension had shifted.
No announcers. No captains. No referees.
Only rows of steel tables: plain, heavy, functional, set on sliding frames.
Easy to move, yet always kept apart. Order by design.
Every team sat in their own space — no intermingling, no conversation above a whisper.
That was the way Veritas worked. That was the way it had always been.
Until now.
As Team Titan entered, Speedy sprang up from Team Pulse’s table and waved with both arms like he was flagging down a ship.
“Ayasha! Over here — I saved you a seat!”
Ayasha rolled her eyes.
The corner of her mouth betrayed her.
Before she could answer, Lior tilted toward her with a small grin.
“Let’s go. I’ll sit by him.”
Relief flashed across her face.
“Thank goodness.”
Together, the three walked right past the table meant for them.
The scrape of trays and the shuffle of boots faltered as cadets noticed.
Skipping your team’s assigned spot?
That wasn’t just unusual — it was unheard of.
Ayasha dropped onto the bench beside Perma, tray sliding into place.
CLUNK!
“I’m glad Sync got disqualified for that cheap hit.”
She snapped her tray down, the words carrying more bite than her smile.
“Serves him right.”
Perma’s brow lifted, green eyes glinting.
“He needed the reminder. I had him.”
The two girls slapped palms together in a crisp high-five.
“Boys will do anything to not lose to girls,” Ayasha added.
The laughter that followed wasn’t loud, but it was alive — sharp against the dead quiet of the cafeteria.
Heads turned.
Cadets stared.
Whispered.
Some frowned.
Because here, laughter wasn’t normal.
Perma’s words cut across the room.
Zayn Al-Fayeed — Codename: Sync — Team Edge — stiffened, teeth grinding as his tray rattled.
The youngest of them, short and wiry, he looked more like a kid who’d wandered into the wrong war than a cadet.
Yet the clipped cut of his black hair and the quiet burn in his amber eyes said he belonged here.
Logic usually kept his face blank, but the twitch in his jaw proved even circuits could spark when pride short-circuited.
The little snickers across the cafeteria didn’t help.
At Team Pulse’s table sat their third member.
Mateo Aranda — Codename: Blueprint — Team Pulse — straightened his tray with careful precision.
Fork aligned with spoon, napkin folded crisp.
The motion was quiet, deliberate — like he was rebuilding order in miniature.
Every line of his posture was controlled; shoulders squared, uniform crisp enough to cut glass.
Discipline masked the nerves beneath — born from someone who couldn’t stand when the world tilted even slightly out of place.
His dark eyes flicked across the table before settling on Cael as the boy slid into the seat beside him.
“I wish I could fight like that,” Mateo said, voice quiet but earnest.
Every word was measured, almost rehearsed, like he’d gone over it in his head three times before letting it leave his mouth.
Cael shook his head.
“I got lucky. I’m no martial artist.”
Mateo’s brow creased, a flicker of discomfort passing over his face.
“Luck isn’t real. There’s always structure. A reason things fall into place.”
His hands moved instinctively, arranging his utensils by height.
“I just… couldn’t see yours fast enough.”
Cael adjusted his glasses, studying him.
“Maybe. Or maybe sometimes you don’t need the whole plan — just the right piece at the right time.”
The words landed heavier than intended.
For a beat, Mateo froze, staring like Cael had brushed against something he kept locked too tightly inside.
Then he gave the smallest nod, as if filing it away.
At the far end of the bench, Speedy leaned across the table, eyes narrowing at Lior.
“I didn’t know you were such a party pooper.”
Lior blinked, halfway through sliding his tray into place.
“Party pooper?”
“Yeah,” Speedy shot back, pout sharp. “I had Ayasha first. So back off.”
Ayasha groaned, dragging a hand down her face.
Perma smirked, green eyes glinting as she brought her palm down.
WOMP!
“Don’t be jealous,” she teased, playful. “If anything, I wish we were all new. I’d love something ordinary.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
For a heartbeat the table fell quiet, softer than before.
Then Perma’s voice pulled it back, calm but steady.
“But hey — we’re here now. And Ayasha’s back.”
The quiet cracked into smiles, chatter resuming, a thread of camaraderie weaving through the cold steel space.
The cafeteria doors slid open again.
Team Seraph entered with the kind of presence that made even steel walls feel dressed up.
They didn’t stride so much as glide, each step poised, deliberate.
At their front was Solène Fay — Codename: Replica — Team Seraph.
Platinum-blonde hair, tied back with a ribbon that caught the light, framed her violet-gray eyes.
Her cape shimmered faintly with mirrored edges, a flourish only she could pull off without it looking arrogant.
Replica didn’t just walk into a room — she rearranged it.
Speedy’s tray clattered against the table as his jaw dropped.
“Heaven’s real,” he breathed. “What else could make somebody like her?”
Perma didn’t even look up, her tone cutting flat and clean.
“Yeah? Then why’d He make you too?”
For a moment the table froze — just silence, Speedy blinking like he’d been slapped.
Then Ayasha cracked first, milk spilling from her nose, and Cael’s shoulders shook as he tried and failed to hide his laugh.
Even Blueprint smirked behind his tray.
The laughter spilled out of them, sharp and loud, bouncing off the steel walls — not whispers, not mutters. Real laughter.
Across the cafeteria, cadets turned, trays paused mid-bite.
At Veritas, cadets didn’t laugh like that.
They kept quiet, locked in their own teams, eating in silence as if even meals were just another drill.
But here — Team Titan and Team Pulse sat crammed shoulder-to-shoulder, skipping the empty tables set aside for them and sliding their trays together like they’d always shared the same bench.
Across the room, Replica’s smile flickered wider, a glimmer of approval passing through her eyes before she turned away.
The laughter lingered long after their trays were cleared, echoing in their heads even as the cafeteria emptied back into silence.
By the time night fell and the cadets returned to their dorms, it already felt like a memory — fragile, out of place, as if it didn’t belong to Veritas at all.
?
When dawn broke, the dream was over.
The first light stretched over the top of the training field, painting the ground in pale orange.
Titan stood waiting, arms folded, boots planted firm.
His team lined up before him — bleary-eyed, shoulders sagging.
“Just because they gave you today off,” Titan said, voice flat and cutting, “doesn’t mean you get one that same leniency from me.”
Ayasha leaned toward Lior and Cael, muttering under her breath, dark circles under her eyes.
“I still don’t see what that has to do with him waking us up at five.”
Titan’s head turned slightly.
He’d heard her.
But instead of snapping, he spoke — voice even sharper now.
“You want to understand your Niches? Stop thinking they’re tricks or weapons. They’re not.”
His arms lowered, stance stoic.
“Every Niche begins with emotion. That spark inside you — anger, grief, joy, love — whatever cracked you open first… that’s the true core of your power.”
Ayasha’s eyes dropped to the dirt.
Cael pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Even Lior’s hands flexed faintly at his sides.
“Most people never learn to control that part of themselves,” Titan continued.
“They fight with force, not honesty. That’s why their Niches stagnate. That’s why they burn out.”
He paused just long enough for the wind to whistle through the field.
“The truth is, the emotion that drives you is usually the one you can’t stand to face.
Abandonment. Failure. Being forgotten. Whatever it is, you’d rather bury it.
But bury it, and your Niche stays buried too.”
The silence that followed was heavier than any lecture — breath, dirt, and morning wind filling the space.
“When you learn to face it,” Titan finished, voice quiet but edged with steel,
“to accept it and still move forward… then you’ll find strength training alone can never give you.”
For a long moment, none of them moved.
Then Ayasha straightened her stance; Cael’s jaw tightened.
The fatigue in their shoulders thinned.
“Good. Now — Niche control drills. Let’s go.”
?
The drills dragged on until the first light of dawn had burned fully into morning.
Titan never once eased them — laps, focus exercises, control drills until sweat slicked their uniforms and their breaths came sharp.
By the time he dismissed them, their bodies ached and their thoughts buzzed like wires pulled too tight.
The three cadets trudged down the corridor together, boots echoing against the steel floor.
Ayasha rolled her shoulders with a groan.
“Pretty sure my arms aren’t attached anymore.”
Cael adjusted his glasses, steady even through the exhaustion.
“Then maybe we should stop by Captain Vitalis after breakfast. At the rate Titan’s pushing us, we’ll need her more than once.”
Ayasha muttered something unrepeatable under her breath, but she didn’t argue.
Lior slowed his steps, glancing between them with a faint smile.
“I’ll catch up. Bathroom.”
Ayasha gave a lazy wave, too tired to argue.
“Don’t disappear.”
?
Inside, the Veritas bathroom gleamed with sterile tiles and chrome, every corner too clean to feel human.
At the sink stood Valor, cape draped behind him even here, hands braced on porcelain like it was a stage.
His eyes flicked up when the door opened.
“Well, well…”
His voice slid sharp, mocking.
“Pamper boy.”
Lior ignored him, moving to the stall.
“They say your dad was a legend,” Valor went on, lips curled into a grin that never touched his eyes.
“But kingdoms fall when men put too much faith in bloodlines.
From what I’ve heard? You’re nothing like him.”
Lior finished and walked over to the sink near Valor.
Water hissed as Lior washed his hands with calm precision.
He looked at Valor, gaze steady.
“My father was my father. I’m me. …Who are you trying to be?”
He dried his hands and walked past.
Valor’s smirk lingered for a breath… until the door slid open and Lior’s shadow carried out into the hall.
Ayasha and Cael were waiting by the railing.
Ayasha’s curiosity sharpened.
“What did I hear from the bathroom?”
Lior smiled.
“Nothing worth repeating.”
Ayasha’s laugh cut faintly in reply as the two walked away.
Alone now, Valor’s smirk slipped into a frown.
His fist clenched tight against the sink.
The words hissed through his teeth.
“The prophecy can only carry you so far. You’ll run out of luck.”
End of Chapter 22
Which moment stood out the most?
