The command hall occupied the largest interior space in Sanctuary's administrative complex—a circular room fifteen meters in diameter with walls constructed from stone blocks quarried from the valley itself. The ceiling rose to a dome four meters at its peak, acoustic design that allowed voices from anywhere in the room to carry clearly to all other positions. Functional rather than ornamental, like everything the Liberators built.
Twelve chairs arranged in semicircle around a central speaking area. Ten were occupied: Commander Voss at the center position, Bjorn Halverson to his right despite the instructor's general disdain for administrative meetings, Zara three seats left representing field operations, and seven others who comprised Sanctuary's leadership council. Two chairs remained empty—reserved for regional coordinators currently deployed in eastern territories.
The air in the room carried the smell of oil lamps and the particular mustiness that came from underground spaces with insufficient ventilation. A map table occupied the room's southern quadrant, its surface covered with hand-drawn cartography depicting three continents, marked with symbols indicating Liberator positions, Order facilities, and the complex network of supply routes connecting them.
Bjorn was speaking, his voice carrying the irritation of someone forced to deliver reports when he'd rather be training recruits. "Cohort Seventeen—the mining extraction survivors plus three transfers from agricultural rescues. Total complement: eight trainees, ages ten to sixteen. Ninety-one days in program, forty-four days remaining before graduation assessment."
He gestured at papers spread across the map table, training evaluations written in his crude handwriting that suggested someone who'd learned literacy late and never prioritized penmanship. "Kace—seventeen years old, manifested strength Uncos on day thirty-seven. Classification: combat enhancement, moderate grade. Physical conditioning is adequate, improving with proper nutrition. Combat technique is raw but teachable. Recommendation: Vanguard placement, frontline assault specialist."
Voss nodded, making a notation in his own ledger. "Approved. Next."
"Tai—sixteen years old, manifested metal manipulation Uncos on day forty-two. Classification: crafting specialty, high grade. Can reshape iron without heat, precise control down to millimeter tolerances. He's been working with the Forgers already, producing blade modifications that exceed our standard quality." Bjorn's tone carried grudging approval. "Recommendation: immediate transfer to Forger division, apprenticeship under Master Torren."
"Approved."
"Senna—thirteen years old, manifested water manipulation Uncos on day fifty-six. Classification: combat support, moderate grade. Limited offensive capability—can't generate enough volume for direct attack—but excellent defensive applications. Can create water barriers, manipulate existing moisture for obscurement, maintain hydration during extended operations." Bjorn flipped to another page. "Recommendation: Vanguard placement, support specialist within five-person tactical teams."
Voss hesitated, his pen hovering over the ledger. "She's young for field deployment. Combat readiness assessment?"
"She's hesitant," Bjorn admitted. "Takes too long to commit to actions during sparring. But that's correctable with exposure to controlled-risk scenarios. Give her six months of low-stakes operations, she'll develop the necessary decisiveness."
"Low-stakes operations don't exist," Zara interjected from her position three seats left. Her arms were crossed, body language suggesting disagreement with the assessment. "Every operation risks lives. Hesitant operators get their teammates killed."
"Which is why she needs graduated exposure rather than being thrown into high-intensity scenarios immediately," Bjorn countered. "You put someone who's uncertain in their first combat situation against a heavily defended target, they freeze and someone dies. You give them three or four successful supply disruptions, confidence builds, hesitation reduces."
Voss made his notation. "Approved for Vanguard, with mandatory participation in minimum five low-risk operations before consideration for elevated-threat assignments. Next trainee."
Bjorn continued through the roster: Lena—ten years old, manifested earth sensing Uncos on day sixty-three, recommended for Architect placement due to tactical applications of underground awareness. Ryk—fourteen years old, manifested enhanced reflexes Uncos on day seventy-one, recommended for Vanguard scout specialist. Two others with various minor manifestations, all assigned to appropriate roles based on their capabilities and psychological profiles.
Then Bjorn reached the final evaluation sheet, and his expression shifted from professional assessment to something more complex. "Amari Zanders. Twelve years old. No Uncos manifestation after ninety-one days. Complete absence of detectable mana—verified by three separate Architect-level mana readers over the past month. Not low mana, not suppressed mana. Zero baseline presence."
The room's attention sharpened. Even in a world where Uncos abilities varied wildly in strength and utility, complete mana absence was remarkable. Every human possessed mana as fundamental biological reality—the energy that interfaced with Uncos abilities existed in all living tissue, generated by cellular processes that had evolved specifically to channel power from the Supreme Gods' system. Individuals could have low mana, could have mana suppressed by injury or curse marks, but biological absence was theoretically impossible.
One of the council members—a woman named Iris who managed Sanctuary's medical operations—leaned forward. "That's not medically possible. Mana generation is tied to cellular respiration. Zero mana means his cells aren't producing energy, which means he'd be dead."
"His cells are producing energy," Bjorn said. "He's healthy—malnourishment is resolving with proper nutrition, old injuries are healing appropriately, growth is tracking normally for his age. But whatever energy his cells produce, it's not interfacing with the mana network. It's something else."
"Ki cultivation?" This from an older man named Torren—the Master Forger Bjorn had mentioned earlier, a specialist in both traditional crafting and Uncos-enhanced manufacturing. "Ancient techniques, predates the Supreme Gods' system. Uses life force directly rather than channeling through mana."
"That's my assessment," Bjorn confirmed. "And he's exceptional at it. Better than anyone I've trained in two decades. His spatial awareness, his reflexes, his ability to predict opponent movements—all of it indicates high-level ki enhancement that most practitioners don't achieve until their thirties."
Voss set down his pen, giving Bjorn his full attention. "Explain."
Bjorn shuffled through his evaluation sheets until he found the relevant combat reports. "Standard training protocol: all recruits participate in group sparring sessions, three times per week, incrementally increasing difficulty as their skills develop. Amari has participated in seventeen sessions over the past three months." He looked up, his functional eye meeting Voss's gaze directly. "He's won fourteen of them. Against opponents with Uncos abilities. Against multiple opponents simultaneously. Against trainees who have significant size and strength advantages."
Zara's arms uncrossed, her body language shifting from skepticism to interest. "How?"
"Pattern recognition and tactical prediction. He reads body language—micro-movements that telegraph intentions before conscious action. He positions himself optimally, uses environmental obstacles, exploits his opponents' overconfidence in their Uncos abilities." Bjorn's tone carried something that might have been pride. "Last week I put him against four opponents simultaneously—two with combat enhancement Uncos, two with elemental abilities. Told them the objective was to land a single clean hit on him within five minutes. He evaded for seven minutes before I called the exercise."
Iris was shaking her head, expression caught between impressed and concerned. "He's twelve years old. That level of combat awareness shouldn't be developmentally possible regardless of training."
"And yet," Bjorn said simply.
Voss leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his face in the gesture he used when processing complex decisions. "Information retention?"
"Perfect recall. I demonstrate a technique once, he replicates it. I explain a tactical concept once, he applies it in subsequent scenarios. I've never seen learning curve that steep." Bjorn paused, then added: "It's almost like he's not learning. It's like he already knows and just needs reminding."
The room went quiet. Several council members exchanged glances that suggested shared concern about implications that nobody wanted to articulate directly.
Voss broke the silence. "Recommendation?"
"He's ready for field deployment." Bjorn stated it without hesitation. "More ready than any twelve-year-old should be, more ready than most adults I've trained. His lack of Uncos is a tactical limitation, but his combat ability and situational awareness more than compensate. Assign him to a five-person team with solid Uncos support, he'll perform at or above Vanguard standard."
"No." Zara's voice was flat, absolute. "He's a child. Exceptional child, granted, but still a child. We put him in combat against Order forces, he's going to face adults with training, experience, and Uncos abilities. His skill ceiling is impressive but his physical limitations are insurmountable—he doesn't have the strength or reach to survive extended engagement."
"Then don't put him in extended engagements," Bjorn countered. "Use him for what he's good at—infiltration, reconnaissance, tactical planning support. His sensory awareness is better than most of our scouts. Put him in situations that leverage his advantages rather than exposing his weaknesses."
Another council member spoke—a younger man named Darius who coordinated supply operations. "What about Lena? She manifested strong Uncos, plant-based healing and energy drain. That's combat-viable, provides team support, and she's got clear motivation from her background. She's the obvious choice for first deployment from this cohort."
Bjorn's expression soured. "Lena has power but lacks commitment. She hesitates. In sparring yesterday, she had clean opportunity to execute a disabling technique against her opponent and pulled back at the last second. When I asked why, she said she didn't want to hurt anyone." He set down his evaluation papers with more force than necessary. "That mentality gets people killed in actual operations. She needs more time developing the psychological conditioning to use her abilities decisively."
"Small missions build that conditioning," Darius argued. "Low-stakes operations where hesitation doesn't have catastrophic consequences, gradually increasing pressure until the psychological barriers break down."
"Or," Zara said, "we wait until she's developmentally ready rather than forcing her through traumatic experiences while her brain is still forming. She's ten years old. Let her be ten."
Voss raised his hand, cutting off the developing argument. "Darius, you mentioned using Lena for a small mission. What specifically?"
Darius pulled a different document from the stack on the map table—intelligence reports from Order monitoring operations in the southern territories. "Military depot, two days southeast from here. Small facility, maybe twenty personnel, primarily used for equipment storage rather than active operations. They're receiving a weapons shipment in five days—rifles, ammunition, some explosive ordnance. Low-grade material, nothing cutting-edge, but still useful for our operations."
He traced a route on the map with his finger. "Standard three-person infiltration team: one Architect for planning and real-time tactical adjustment, two Vanguard for execution. Entry during shift change when security is transitional, grab what we can carry, extract before response can organize. Risk assessment: moderate. Probability of casualties: low if executed properly."
"And you want to assign Lena to this operation," Voss said.
"She fits the profile. Her plant Uncos provides both offensive and defensive capabilities. The energy drain aspect can disable guards non-lethally, the healing aspect provides insurance if something goes wrong. And the operation's scope is limited enough that even if she hesitates, the consequences are manageable."
Voss looked at Bjorn. "Your assessment of Lena's readiness for this specific scenario?"
Bjorn was quiet for three seconds, his expression suggesting internal debate. "She'd probably survive it. Team composition would need to account for her uncertainty—pair her with experienced Vanguard who can compensate if she freezes. But yeah, she could execute it."
"And Amari?"
Bjorn's response was immediate. "He'd excel at it. His sensory awareness would identify optimal entry points and guard positions better than most of our Architects can calculate. His combat skills would handle any unexpected confrontations. His information processing would adapt to changing conditions in real-time. If you're asking me who I'd rather have on this operation from a purely tactical perspective, Amari is the superior choice."
Voss turned his attention to Zara. "Field operations perspective?"
Zara's expression remained skeptical. "Bjorn's assessment of Amari's capabilities is probably accurate—he doesn't exaggerate during evaluations. But capability and appropriateness are different considerations. We put a twelve-year-old on a military depot infiltration, we're making a statement about what the Liberators are willing to sacrifice for tactical advantage. That statement has consequences for morale, recruitment, and how our people conceptualize their mission."
"The mission is ending The Order's control systems," Torren interjected. "By whatever means are effective. If a twelve-year-old prodigy is more effective than a hesitant ten-year-old with good Uncos, the tactical mathematics are clear."
"Tactical mathematics don't account for psychological cost," Iris said. "Both to Amari himself and to the organization that chooses to weaponize children."
Voss was quiet, his eyes tracking across the map table's cartography. When he spoke, his tone carried the weight of command decision rather than collaborative discussion. "We're already weaponizing children. Every trainee in this cohort is under seventeen, most are under fifteen. We extracted them from slavery and offered them three choices—two of which are combat-adjacent. We don't get to pretend we're protecting their innocence when we've already armed them and taught them how to kill."
He stood, walking to the map table to examine the depot's marked location. "The question isn't whether it's appropriate to use Amari in operations. We've already made that choice by accepting him into Vanguard training. The question is whether this specific operation is the right introduction to field work, and whether the team composition can support his limitations while leveraging his advantages."
Bjorn moved to stand beside Voss at the map table. "Give me thirty seconds to outline a team structure."
Voss gestured permission.
"Amari as primary infiltrator," Bjorn began, his finger tracing potential approach vectors on the map. "He enters first, scouts guard positions, identifies optimal entry point, relays information back to team. He doesn't engage unless absolutely necessary—his role is intelligence gathering and route clearance. Pair him with two experienced Vanguard: someone with combat precognition Uncos for threat detection, someone with strength enhancement for handling any heavy resistance. Add an Architect with barrier Uncos for emergency extraction if the situation deteriorates. Four-person team instead of three, weighted heavily toward protection and support rather than putting pressure on Amari to perform beyond his physical capacity."
He looked up from the map, meeting Voss's eyes. "That composition gives us the tactical advantage of his sensory abilities while minimizing his exposure to direct combat. If everything goes according to plan, he never draws a weapon. If it doesn't, he's got three experienced operators whose primary job is keeping him alive while he feeds them the information they need to adapt."
Voss considered this for approximately ten seconds. Then he turned to address the full council. "We're assigning Amari to the depot operation. Bjorn's team composition with one modification: Zara leads the operation. She's got enough field experience to compensate for any gaps in Amari's judgment, and her presence sends the message that we're taking his first deployment seriously rather than treating it as routine."
Zara's expression suggested she wanted to object but recognized a command decision when she heard one. "Acknowledged. I'll need forty-eight hours to brief the team and run simulation exercises."
"You have seventy-two hours," Voss said. "Operation window opens in five days—that gives us time to prepare properly rather than rushing preparation to meet an arbitrary timeline." He returned his attention to Bjorn. "Inform Amari after today's training session. Make clear that this is evaluation of field readiness, not confirmation of permanent deployment. His performance on this operation determines whether we continue using him in the field or redirect him to support roles."
Bjorn nodded. "Understood."
The meeting continued for another thirty minutes, covering logistics and resource allocation for other operations, but the significant decision had been made. When the council finally dismissed, Bjorn left the command hall and crossed Sanctuary's central area toward the training grounds, arriving just as the afternoon sparring session was reaching its conclusion.
The training ground was chaos. Controlled chaos, but chaos nonetheless. Fifteen trainees engaged in what Bjorn called "crucible exercises"—multi-opponent scenarios designed to simulate the confusion and unpredictability of actual combat. No rules about fair engagement, no restrictions on Uncos usage, no safety protocols beyond "don't kill anyone." The objective was simple: last trainee standing won.
Currently, eight trainees remained active. Bjorn's eye tracked across the field, identifying positions and tactical situations. Kace was grappling with two opponents simultaneously, his strength Uncos allowing him to hold them despite their numerical advantage. Senna was behind a defensive water barrier, using the obscurement to reposition. Three others were scattered across the training ground in various stages of engagement.
And in the center of the field, surrounded by dissipating smoke from someone's fire Uncos, Amari stood alone with twin daggers held in reverse grip.
Four trainees lay on the ground around him—not injured seriously but eliminated from the exercise, their surrender indicated by lying flat rather than continuing to fight. Bjorn recognized their faces: all of them were older than Amari, all of them had manifested Uncos abilities, all of them had decent combat fundamentals.
All of them had lost.
The smoke continued clearing, revealing Amari's position in detail. He was breathing hard—the exercise had pushed his cardiovascular system—but his stance remained balanced, his weapon positioning defensive but ready to transition to offense. His clothes were torn in three places where attacks had come close but not connected. His face showed no expression, just the neutral focus of someone completely present in the moment.
He'd been outnumbered four to one against opponents with supernatural abilities, and he'd won.
From across the training ground, Amari's eyes found Bjorn. The boy didn't wave or acknowledge the instructor's presence with any obvious gesture. He just looked, held eye contact for two seconds, then returned his attention to the remaining opponents who were reassessing whether to continue the exercise or concede.
Bjorn understood the look. It was the look of someone asking a question without words: Am I ready?
The answer, Bjorn reflected as he watched Amari shift his stance in preparation for the next engagement, was complicated. By conventional standards—age, physical development, emotional maturity—absolutely not. By tactical capability and combat effectiveness, he was more ready than most adults Bjorn had trained.
The question wasn't whether Amari was ready. The question was whether the Liberators were ready to use him.
Commander Voss had made that decision. Now they'd all live with the consequences.