The arena's energy still hummed in the air long after the match had ended — the ghost of plasma fire, the echo of cheering students, the tang of heated Cultech alloy. The scoreboard now pulsed softly above the observation deck, scrolling the results of the last bout:
Iron Pulse – 79%. Crimson Vector – 68%.
A quiet buzz of conversation rippled through the gathered coalitions.
In the far corner, Forgeborn sat clustered around a long steel table in the academy's combat preparation hall — a space alive with the murmur of tools, holographic projections, and flickering Cultech diagrams. A dozen screens floated around them, filled with streams of movement data and energy graphs.
Kai Zore leaned over the table, a hand pressed to his chin, eyes darting between lines of analysis. "Iron Pulse kept their power network local," he said finally. "Everything revolved around Drake's gauntlet. If that had overloaded, they'd have dropped like a disconnected relay node."
Oliver Vance rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a low whistle. "Right. But that guy doesn't overload. His system stability was ridiculous. He must have micro-venting channels embedded under the kinetic plates."
"Seventeen of them," Selena Korr replied automatically, her eyes reflecting a scrolling data feed. "His energy flow pattern followed a fractal stabilizer design — it redirects power through small vents to balance heat buildup. Not even I've seen that level of control outside military prototypes."
Valerie Aster's voice floated from behind them, where she sat cross-legged atop a crate, sketching modifications into her holo-slate. "So we're dealing with walking tanks and lightning dancers. Lovely."
Kai looked up at her. "You sound excited."
"I'm terrified," Valerie said with a grin. "That's the fun part."
Around them, the rest of the Forgeborn coalition — ten more members, each with their own peculiar rhythm — had turned the prep bay into something between a workshop and a war room. Rynn Toras was calibrating a portable energy meter, muttering about "core harmonics." Eliar Cross sat near the wall, flipping a coin of solid plasma alloy between his fingers. Mira Tave and Sera Wyn had laid out fragments of holo-blueprints across the floor, debating the merits of arc-blade propulsion systems. Aiko Nend and Cass Vel were in the middle of an argument about whether adaptive plating should shift according to physical or psychic resonance.
"You can't just make armor feel emotion," Cass said, exasperated.
"Why not?" Aiko countered, flipping her braid. "If it reacts to bioenergy patterns, emotional fluctuations are energy fluctuations."
"By that logic, my boots should start crying every time I run uphill," Cass shot back.
The entire group burst into laughter. Even Kai cracked a grin.
It was Mira who finally raised her voice. "Alright, focus, people. We're up next after the next round of recalibrations. We need a strategy that doesn't end with us vaporized by plasma cannons or punched through a wall."
"Good point," said Valerie. "I like existing."
Selena swiped her holo-tablet, casting a glowing diagram into the air above the table. The hologram resolved into a rough 3D model of their suits — the early Apex prototypes they'd been assembling over the past weeks. Thin, angular frames of Cultech alloy shimmered in shifting hues, energy conduits like veins running through them.
"Okay," she began, her tone shifting into professional clarity, "let's review what we actually have. Oliver's adaptive kinetic weave gives us impact resistance at 68% efficiency — good, but not perfect. My Synaptic Core can distribute external energy surges between the team, balancing output in case of overloads."
"Meaning," said Oliver, "we can technically hit harder than Iron Pulse if we sync right."
"Technically," Selena confirmed. "But it requires perfect timing. One slip, and the system will fry our energy flow."
Rynn looked up from his diagnostics. "And we're still running on prototype diverters. We can't afford total burnout — not unless someone wants to scrape themselves off the wall."
Kai stared at the hologram, fingers twitching like he was already redesigning it in his mind. His Divergent Core — the heart of their system — pulsed faintly in the center of the projection, irregular, chaotic, and alive.
"I've got an idea," he said quietly.
Oliver sighed. "You always have an idea."
"This one's good," Kai insisted, straightening up. "We'll modify the Divergent Core's feedback matrix. Right now, it's optimizing for balanced power — that's why it spikes when Selena's system overcorrects. But what if instead of smoothing the fluctuations…" He smirked. "We lean into them?"
Valerie's eyes widened. "You want to ride the instability?"
Kai nodded. "Exactly. It's what makes the Divergent Core unique. It thrives on imbalance. If we can redirect the spikes into burst potential — short, explosive bursts of speed or impact — we can outmaneuver even Iron Pulse's anchor formation."
Selena frowned. "That's… borderline reckless."
He grinned. "Borderline genius, too."
Eliar flipped his coin again. "So, suicidal, but creative. Sounds about right for us."
A ripple of laughter ran through the group again, and the tension broke just enough to breathe.
From across the prep hall, an instructor's voice called out over the intercom. "Coalition Forgeborn, report to Simulation Deck C in fifteen minutes. Final calibration check."
Kai exhaled slowly. "Alright, everyone. Last tweaks. This is our proving round."
Valerie hopped off her crate, flicking her stylus shut. "Oh good. I was just getting bored of not almost dying."
Rynn shot her a look. "Optimism looks weird on you."
"Right?" she said cheerfully.
As the team moved to gather their equipment, the surrounding coalitions continued their own preparations. Across the hall, Crimson Vector's members were patching their armor plating; Iron Pulse was discussing heat dispersion systems with a few faculty observers. Even Blue Horizon's engineers were swapping out power cores in a frenzy of glowing tools and laughter.
Kai paused a moment before joining his group, watching the other students — all of them brilliant, determined, exhausted. Every one of them had the same look in their eyes: hunger.
Selena noticed. "Thinking big again?"
"Always," Kai said softly. "This academy… it's bigger than I thought. It's not just competition. It's evolution."
She smiled, half amused, half proud. "Then let's make sure Forgeborn evolves first."
They moved together — the twelve of them — toward the waiting simulation chamber. The door slid open with a low hiss, revealing the glowing interior of the training deck: a vast circular platform surrounded by transparent walls, lit by a dozen suspended orbs of white light.
Instructor Zhao's voice came over the loudspeaker, calm and clipped. "Forgeborn Coalition — synchronization test: Apex Prototype Configuration 1.5. You will face an adaptive AI opponent calibrated to your recorded energy profiles. Proceed when ready."
Valerie raised a hand. "Wait, did he just say adaptive AI?"
Oliver groaned. "We're doomed."
Kai smiled faintly, stepping into the ring as his armor began to hum. "Nah. We're Forgeborn."
The walls sealed shut behind them, and the floor began to glow with pulsing blue veins of light — energy conduits connecting the platform to the central system. The hum deepened, like the world itself was drawing a breath.
Then, the lights shifted to red.
The AI opponent materialized.
And suddenly, the air around them was filled with the whine of plasma and the spark of battle waiting to ignite.