The cafeteria was loud. Cadets from every section crowded the long metal tables, their voices bouncing off the walls. The elite class stood at the entrance, trays in hand, surveying the scene.
"I'm not eating here," Brenden said flatly.
"Same," Vor agreed.
They had tried. For weeks, they had endured the whispers, the stares, the barely-hidden hostility. But today, with deployment only fifteen days away, no one had the patience for it.
"Let's take the food back to the dorm," Arthur said.
No one argued.
---
The dorm's common room became their cafeteria. They pushed two tables together. Chairs were dragged from every corner. Food was spread out — sandwiches, protein bars, fruit, bottles of water and juice. It wasn't fancy, but it was theirs.
"No one staring at us," Warden said, settling into his chair. "No one whispering. This is nice."
"This is how it should be," Magnum added.
Brenden was already halfway through his first sandwich. "The food tastes better when I'm not being judged."
"You're always being judged," Damian said. "You just can't see it here."
"And I prefer it that way."
Oliver and Noah sat beside each other, eating quietly. They moved in sync — reaching for water at the same time, setting down their forks together. It was almost unsettling.
"Do you two practice that?" Vor asked, gesturing at them.
"Practice what?" Oliver asked.
"Moving at the same time. It's like watching mirrors."
Noah shrugged. "We grew up together. It happens."
"We also trained together," Oliver added. "Same martial arts. Same drills. Same everything."
"Until I changed my ability," Oliver said, a small smirk forming.
Noah's eye twitched. "Don't start."
"I wasn't starting anything."
"You were smirking."
"I always smirk."
"You were smirking specifically at me."
"Boys," Arthur said calmly, "if you're going to fight again, take it outside."
"He started it," Noah muttered.
"I didn't start anything. I just have a face."
"A smug face."
Brenden laughed, nearly choking on his sandwich. "Noah, you're still mad about the duel."
"I am not mad."
"You called him a salsa muncher," Damian pointed out.
The room went quiet. Then Vor snorted. Then Warden cracked. Then everyone was laughing — even Oliver, who rarely laughed, and Noah, who was trying very hard not to.
"Salsa muncher," Magnum repeated, wiping his eyes. "Where did that even come from?"
"I was concussed," Noah said defensively.
"You were burning. Literally on fire."
"The fire made me angry."
"The fire made you creative," Damian said.
Noah threw a protein bar at him. Damian caught it without looking.
"Show-off," Brenden muttered.
---
The laughter faded into comfortable conversation. Magnum was discussing vine techniques with Warden, gesturing with his hands to demonstrate grip positions. Warden listened intently, asking questions.
"You're getting better with the axes," Magnum said. "I watched you in Nox's class. Your downward strike has real weight now."
"Still feels slow," Warden admitted. "Compared to you guys, I mean."
"You're comparing yourself to people with Level 6 abilities," Magnum said. "You're Level 3. The fact that you're keeping up at all is impressive."
Warden looked down at his hands. "I just don't want to be the weak link. When we're out there, on the planet... I don't want to be the reason something goes wrong."
"You won't be," Arthur said. He hadn't been part of the conversation, but his voice cut through anyway. "You held your own against Captain Leo. You fought a hundred cadets with us. You're not a weak link, Warden. You never were."
Warden blinked. "Thanks, Arthur."
"Don't thank me. Just keep swinging those axes."
Brenden leaned back in his chair. "Speaking of the deployment — have you heard about Samantha's little alliance?"
Vor groaned. "Do we have to talk about her?"
"Yes," Brenden said, grinning. "It's funny."
"She's recruiting," Damian said. "Her, Alexia, that Leslie Miller girl. They're building a Student Council for the deployment. Sharing information, mutual protection, all of that."
"Mutual protection from what?" Oliver asked. "It's a yellow planet."
"That's what Arthur said to them."
"And they didn't listen?"
"They called him a bastard," Damian said. "Well, Alexia did."
"She's still bitter about Vor rejecting her," Brenden said.
Vor buried his face in his hands. "I didn't reject her. There was nothing to reject. She wanted a political engagement."
"She wanted your body," Brenden said.
"She wanted my rank."
"Same thing."
"It is not the same thing."
Arthur watched the exchange with a faint smile. "The alliance isn't a bad idea in principle. On higher danger planets, information sharing could save lives."
"But?" Damian prompted.
"But they're treating a yellow planet like it's a warzone. It makes them look weak."
"Or smart," Magnum offered. "Planning ahead."
"Planning ahead is smart. Panicking is not. They're panicking."
"Which works in our favor," Damian said. "If they're busy forming councils, they're not focused on us."
"They're always focused on us," Noah said quietly. "We're the elite class. Everything we do is watched."
"Then let them watch," Arthur said. "We'll give them something worth seeing."
---
The conversation drifted. Oliver and Noah spoke quietly to each other about armor materials. Magnum and Warden continued their technique discussion. Vor had closed his eyes, resting but not sleeping. Brenden was finishing his third sandwich.
Damian leaned toward Arthur. "You've been quiet. Not your usual quiet. Different quiet."
Arthur glanced at him. "Different how?"
"You're thinking about something. Something you're not saying."
Arthur was silent for a moment. "I'm thinking about the deployment."
"We all are."
"Not like this." Arthur set down his water. "This is the first time we're going into the field. Real missions. Real consequences. If I make a mistake out there, people could die. Our people."
"You're worried about losing control," Damian said. "The fourth skill."
"Among other things."
"You'll figure it out. Leo's training you."
"Leo can train me all he wants. But until I can use Sanguine Genesis without blacking out, I'm a liability in a real fight." Arthur's voice was calm, but his words were heavy. "I can't be a liability. Not out there."
"You won't be," Damian said. "You're the strongest of us. Even when you lose control, your body fights with tactics. Leo said so."
"That's not good enough."
"It will be." Damian's voice was steady. "We still have fifteen days."
Arthur nodded slowly. "Fifteen days."
---
The weapons class with Captain Nox was held in the training hall. Weapons lined the walls — spears, blades, axes, whips, daggers. The cadets stood in a loose semicircle as Nox addressed them.
"Listen carefully," Nox said. "You've all improved significantly in the last month. Your martial arts are sharper. Your weapon handling is cleaner. Your bodies are stronger."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"But improvement comes with a cost. Some of you have been training too hard. Pushing too far. That ends now."
Brenden opened his mouth to protest. Nox silenced him with a look.
"I'm not telling you to stop training. I'm telling you to train smart. In fifteen days, you will be deployed. You need to be in perfect shape — no injuries, no fatigue, no burnout. If you break yourself now, you'll be useless out there."
"So what do we do?" Vor asked.
"Light practice only. Refine what you already know. Stretch. Spar at half speed. Review your forms. Keep your bodies warm and your minds sharp. Do not — " he looked directly at Brenden, " — push yourself to exhaustion because you think more pain equals more gain."
Brenden looked slightly offended. "Why is everyone looking at me?"
"Because you're the one who trained until you collapsed last week," Damian said.
"I was fine."
"You were unconscious."
"I was resting."
Nox shook his head. "Light practice. That's an order. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," the class said in unison.
---
They spread out across the training hall. Oliver and Noah paired off immediately, moving through their shadow forms at half speed. Their movements were fluid, precise — like a dance they had performed a thousand times. Magnum practiced whip techniques against a dummy, focusing on accuracy rather than power. Warden ran through axe drills, his movements slower but more controlled than before. Brenden practiced his Tang blade stances, flowing from one position to the next.
Vor and Damian sparred lightly with practice spears. No abilities. No force. Just footwork and form.
Arthur stood apart, moving through the Blood Prince's Blood Bath forms alone. His daggers were sheathed at his sides. He didn't draw them. He didn't need to. His body remembered every strike, every faint, every lethal angle.
After a while, Oliver approached him. Damian followed.
"You're thinking again," Oliver said.
"You say that like it's unusual."
"It's unusual when you're doing it this much." Oliver tilted his head. "What's on your mind?"
Arthur finished his form before answering. "The deployment."
"We figured that much," Damian said. "What specifically?"
Arthur lowered his hands. "The tasks. We don't know what we'll be assigned. Combat missions? Patrol? Escort? Specimen retrieval? Each one requires different preparation. Different strategies. If we go in blind, we're already behind."
"You've been thinking about this a lot," Oliver observed.
"Someone has to."
Damian crossed his arms. "I can find out."
Arthur looked at him. "Find out what?"
"What tasks we'll be given. Which planet we're going to. The other classes probably don't have access to that information. But us? We're the elite class. Leo and Nox have pull. If I ask the right questions to the right people, I can get answers."
"You'd do that?" Oliver asked.
"I'm curious too," Damian said. "And Arthur's right. Going in blind is stupid. If we know what's coming, we can prepare properly."
Arthur considered this. "Be careful. Don't make it obvious that we're digging for information."
Damian smiled. "I'm always careful."
"That's a lie," Oliver said.
"It's a strategic misrepresentation."
"That's also a lie."
Arthur shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Find out what you can. Quietly."
"I will." Damian turned to go, then paused. "Arthur?"
"What?"
"You're not just worried about the tasks. There's something else."
Arthur met his gaze. "The deployment is my first real risk. First time my decisions could cost us something real. I'm not afraid of fighting. I'm not afraid of dying. But I am afraid of failing you. All of you."
The admission hung in the air.
Oliver spoke first. "You won't fail us."
"You don't know that."
"I know you," Oliver said. "You're Arthur Reinhart. You don't fail."
Damian nodded. "We've all got your back. Just like you've got ours. That's how this works."
Arthur looked between them — the shadow assassin and the mind-reading genius. His brothers. His family.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Let's get to work."
They returned to their practice. Light. Controlled. Precise. Fifteen days until deployment. Every moment mattered.
And they would be ready