The next day, the cadets of Class 13-Z were summoned to the Tactical Rotation Hall, a cavernous building lined with training arenas, labs, and classrooms. Unlike the main institute towers, this section of campus felt neglected. Cracked stone tiles. Dust on the monitors. Empty halls echoing with the past.
Kael walked through it in silence, flanked by Lira, Dane, and Renna.
"I feel like we're being led into an abandoned bunker," Dane muttered. "Is this where they store the failures?"
"No," Lira said. "This is where they store the secrets."
At the far end of the hall stood a reinforced door. As they approached, it hissed open with a sudden blast of pressure, revealing a massive lecture chamber. There, three instructors waited.
Not ordinary faculty.
These were specialists.
The first was a tall, lean man with a long coat and a neutral expression. His face was pale, half-covered by a silver cybernetic interface that wrapped from his temple to his jaw.
"Name's Instructor Vale," he said, stepping forward. "Tactical analysis and ranking psychology. I'll teach you how this system works—and how it can kill you."
Kael noted the sharpness in his tone. Vale's eyes weren't just analytical—they were hungry. Like he wanted to dissect everyone in the room.
"The world you live in is ranked," Vale continued. "Every decision, every relationship, every future path—you're defined by a color-coded number. But what if I told you the rankings aren't just indicators of power?"
He smiled faintly.
"They're control mechanisms."
Whispers passed through the cadets.
Kael didn't move.
Vale's eyes landed on him. "Ah. The famous Unranked."
He circled Kael once, then stopped. "You've made quite a mess of our predictive models. They still haven't found a classification for you. That means you either have no potential... or unlimited potential. We're watching closely."
Kael held his gaze. "You'll see it soon enough."
Vale's smirk deepened. "I look forward to it."
The second instructor stepped up—broad-shouldered, arms folded, face weathered and scarred.
"I am Instructor Breshk. You've met me already. My job is simple: I break what doesn't work, and forge what does."
He scanned the group.
"You're in Class 13-Z because the system doesn't know what to do with you. You're wildcards. Defects. Outliers. That's why you're mine now."
Dane grinned. "You really know how to make us feel welcome."
Breshk ignored him. "Each of you will undergo isolated physical conditioning tailored to your weaknesses. You'll hate it. You'll want to quit. And that's how I'll know it's working."
Kael asked, "And if it doesn't?"
"Then you'll break. And I'll replace you."
The silence afterward was deafening.
Then, the third instructor stepped forward.
She was smaller than the others—maybe mid-thirties—with glasses, a white lab coat, and a datapad in one hand. Her name was whispered in faculty halls.
Doctor Elsyn.
She spoke softly, but clearly. "I am in charge of ability diagnostics. I scan what's hidden. I study what shouldn't exist. That means most of you."
Her eyes landed on Kael, then drifted across the others.
"Some of you have abilities that fluctuate. Others, like Cadet Vire, appear to have no ability at all... and yet display performance far beyond your projected tier."
She tapped her pad. "My scans show Kael's genetic markers shift under stress. That's impossible. But here he is."
Kael asked, "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying your genome is behaving like a self-learning program. You're not just evolving—you're adapting in response to the system itself."
"Is that a problem?" Lira asked.
"For Regis?" Elsyn said. "It's a threat."
After the lecture, Elsyn requested a private diagnostic for Kael.
He sat in a cold, sterile chamber beneath the lab, surrounded by scanning beams and nano-tethered probes. The machine hummed around him.
"I'm not here to test your strength," Elsyn said from the control room. "I'm here to test your boundaries."
The probes activated, simulating various combat triggers—temperature shifts, atmospheric pressure, heartbeat surges. Each one caused Kael's vitals to spike, but not chaotically.
They stabilized faster than any subject on file.
"Your stress responses are controlled," Elsyn said. "But not naturally. It's as if your body is rewriting its own rules every time you're pushed."
She hesitated, then added, "There's only one other subject I've seen who adapted like this."
Kael turned his head slightly. "Who?"
Her expression darkened behind the glass.
"Your father."
Kael froze.
"What?"
"I don't know his name. The records were sealed. But twenty years ago, I analyzed a soldier during the war—someone whose growth rate outpaced his entire squad by a factor of ten. He was classified as non-viable."
"What happened to him?"
"They purged his unit. They called him a genetic hazard."
Kael said nothing.
"You're the only living match to that sample," Elsyn said. "Whatever they feared then… they're going to fear again."
The scan shut down.
Kael stepped out of the chamber, drenched in sweat. But he wasn't tired.
He was focused.
That night, back in the dorm, Kael sat alone with the pendant in his hand.
The crescent glow was brighter than ever. It pulsed softly in his palm, almost like it was breathing with him.
He thought of the instructors.
Vale, who wanted to understand him.Breshk, who wanted to push him.Elsyn, who might be the only one trying to protect him.
He had no allies beyond his squad. No legacy.
But what he had was momentum.
And for someone with a growth ability, momentum was everything.
He didn't need a rank.
He was becoming something more than they could measure.
And he was just getting started.