Dawn struck Iron Sector Zero with a metallic chill, the kind that clung to steel and bone alike. The clang of
reinforced doors shattered the silence, echoing across the central training hall—an immense chamber
carved into the heart of the sector. Rows of cadets snapped to attention, their expressions tight, their boots
planted as though the floor might vanish beneath them at any moment.
The air smelled of disinfectant and hot circuitry.
Auren stood among them, pulse steady but sharp. The earlier battle in the Neuro-Reflex Arena still lingered
in him—its rhythm, its awakening. His muscles remembered the fire even if his mind could barely grasp it.
Ahead, massive machines lined the walls, each one hissing with silver vapors.
The instructor paced forward, voice carrying the weight of his station.
"Welcome to the first phase of your physical fortification program. These chambers will test your limits
under increased gravitational pressure while injecting a stabilizer compound into your system. Survive, and
your body will evolve. Fail… and you'll learn what weakness feels like on a cellular level."
Tension rippled through the ranks.
One by one the cadets were secured inside the sleek metal harnesses. Auren felt cold steel latch against his
spine, tubes snaking onto his skin with a hiss. Blue fluid pulsed through them, threading cold fire through
his veins.
Then gravity multiplied.
His bones creaked. Breath turned to molten lead. Each heartbeat felt like it might burst him open from the
inside. The world dimmed at its edges—yet Auren held, jaw clenched.
"Grade A tolerance," the examiner muttered, as if mildly irritated.
Then came Alys.
She stepped into the machine like it was a throne awaiting her. When the pressure kicked in, she didn't so
much as blink. Her hair didn't shift. Her expression stayed carved from frost.
Auren watched her through the haze of pain and felt something sharp twist in him—not envy, not fear.
Recognition. She was powerful—unnaturally so.
When the session ended, most cadets sagged, blood mixing with sweat. Alys stepped out elegant and
unruffled.
1
A week blurred by—steel corridors, bruised muscles, nights of too little sleep. Then came the next ordeal.
A vast chamber pulsed with green light. The floor hummed with energy. At its center stood a cylindrical
device that looked less like technology and more like something grown.
"The Bio-Fortitude Analyzer," the instructor announced. "It measures your resistance against collapse,
corruption, and fear."
Alys didn't wait for her name.
She placed her hand on the sensor; blue energy spiraled up her arm. Numbers rose on the display: 25%.
31%. 37%. Then froze.
"Thirty-seven percent. Highest so far." The instructor's voice cracked just a little—respect, perhaps.
Alys's lips curved in a small, victorious line. As she stepped back, her eyes—icy and sharp—found Auren. Her
message was clear: stay in your place.
Then it was his turn.
Auren steadied himself, hand touching the cool surface of the sensor.
Blue light surged.
41%… 58%… 60%.
Whispers spread like sparks.
The instructor leaned forward, intrigued. "Remarkable—"
Auren's vision tilted. Heat tore through his chest. Something inside him twisted awake—violently, hungrily.
The numbers crashed.
50%. 37%. 20%. 9%. 4%.
Silence crashed into the room.
"Machine diagnostics?" someone barked.
"All green. No errors."
Auren staggered, breath torn from him. It felt like something was feeding on him—devouring the very
essence the machine had touched.
2
"Final reading: Alys Virellis, thirty-seven percent. Lowest: Auren Kael, four percent."
Alys stepped past him, close enough for him to feel her breath.
"A flicker pretending to be a flame," she whispered. "Some of us lead. Some of us break."
Her smile came sharp. She walked away.
Auren tried to follow her with his eyes, but a jolt like lightning shot through his core. His vision melted. Heat
devoured his breath.
"Kael!" the instructor shouted, catching him as he fell.
He never reached the floor.
White light. Antiseptic. The soft hum of medical machinery.
A doctor stared at Auren's scans, his face tinged with awe—and fear.
"I've never seen this before," he murmured. "His body holds a dormant energy—massive in scale. But his
vessel can't handle it. It's tearing him apart."
The instructor's voice tightened. "Why now? What triggered it?"
"Not sudden," the doctor said. "He's carried it for years. Perhaps a near-death experience awakened it
slightly. Today's fortitude test… broke the final seal."
His voice dimmed.
"It's a tragedy. This kind of power should be a blessing—but instead, it's killing him."
The room dimmed into silence, as if mourning.
Auren lay unconscious, breaths uneven. A candle fighting a storm.
And somewhere deep inside him, the hidden fire stirred again.
3