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The next morning came too quietly.
Riley woke to the soft glow of his wall interface, blinking "06:00." But there was no announcement. No instructions.
Just a message on the holo device screen.
"Report to Training Hall 3. Mandatory."
Across the dorms, the others moved in silence. No one spoke about the White Room. No one spoke about Kai. But they all noticed the bandages around his wrist.
He didn't hide them.
He didn't explain either.
And no one asked.
Riley stepped into the training dome, a soft hiss sliding the doors closed behind him. Light poured from the ceiling in angled beams, highlighting the scale of the chamber—hexagonal and cloud gray, wide enough to swallow a battlefield.
He paused.
The last two days felt like fragments—like he'd blinked and everything had shifted.
Luna's expression. Leilani's guarded tone. Kai's return.
He hadn't asked. Not directly. But the tension hadn't gone unnoticed. And neither had the way they'd all started watching each other a little longer after the White Room trial.
Maybe he'd ask later.
Or maybe the answers were better found through action.
"Vectors," the PA system echoed crisply, snapping his focus back. "Today begins Phase Two. You are now authorized for Artifical Valthon Unit trials. Each of you will receive your AVU chassis—an AI-integrated modular exosuit designed to operate at neural-level sync."
A mechanical hum rippled across the floor.
In front of each recruit, a round pedestal rose. On it—a flat metallic disc the size of a shield. Sleek. Featureless. Like a plate waiting to become something more.
"These are base plates," the admin continued. "To activate, place the core to your chest and double-tap. Try not resist the sync. The suit will adapt."
Riley watched the plates float toward them, but his mind was still on the previous night.
On Kai.
On how none of them could say what they were really thinking.
Riley stepped forward, the disc warm against his palms. He brought it to his chest.
Tap. Tap.
With a faint whir, the metal spread outward like liquid steel, wrapping over his shoulders, arms, legs—forming into a seamless armored shell that hugged his body without restriction. It was matte black with faint blue streaks tracing the joints like veins.
The fit was… perfect. Comfortable. Even the inside adjusted with his breathing.
Then, a voice echoed in his mind.
:: Sync initializing. Neural pathways open. Memory imprint compatible. ::
A pause.
:: ...Hello, Riley Grant. ::
His eyes twitched. The voice was clear. Smooth. Masculine—almost human.
"Are you my suit's AI?" he asked under his breath.
:: Technically, I am your partner. Not a tool. You may name me. ::
Riley blinked. He wasn't expecting that.
He thought for a moment. Then, quietly: "How about, Orion?"
:: Name accepted. Orion registered. Hello again, Riley. I look forward to working with you. ::
The next hour passed in a blur of testing.
The suits were adaptive—interactive. Each had a heads-up display projected into the Vectors' line of sight. Real-time vitals. Power output. Vision enhancements. Suit diagnostics. Riley scrolled through with slow blinks, learning the HUD piece by piece.
Other recruits moved around the arena, whispering to their suits, trying things out. Some ran laps. Others sloppy kicks and punches in the air. One even tried to backflip—barely even landing it.
"Can I do anything to… attack?" Riley asked quietly.
::Yes, there are many possible ways to engage in combat. Try to create your first trigger. It is the foundation of your AVU's output. Think of it as a technique. A movement embedded into your system. Physical thought, refined. Think of something you want the suit to manifest as nano-machine technology and I will do the rest. ::
"Sounds like a martial arts kata."
:: With far more flexibility. Focus. Picture what you want your body to do—and hold it. ::
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Riley exhaled. Stepped forward.
He clenched his fist and visualized energy building around his arm. A coiled punch with enough force to crush a mountain. His stance lowered. His mind tightened.
He threw it.
Nothing.
Riley clenched his fist again. Pictured the strike. Tried to hold the image— But again. Nothing.
Orion's voice came through, still composed.
:: You're forcing the outcome. Your mind is racing ahead of your motion. ::
"I'm trying," Riley muttered.
:: Unsynchronized thought leads to trigger misfire. And misfires come at a cost. ::
Riley paused.
:: Attempting a Trigger while unfocused drains core output at 3.2 times the normal rate. If that continues, you can burn out. ::
He took a breath. Slowed his heart.
"Alright... I'll slow it down."
He pictured his arm coiling—not the punch, but the charge behind it. Energy, guided—not forced.
Then—
His right fist shimmered faintly—blue sparks dancing up his forearm. A surge fired out like a compressed shockwave, hardly controlled. It flew into the air ahead of him, light bursting through it like a ripple of water .
It was unstable. But it worked.
His lips parted.
Orion responded.
:: Trigger acquired. Arm Trigger: Type: Shockwave. Range: Close-Mid. Trigger Potential: Scaleable. Expansion possible with repetition and stability. ::
Riley grinned. "That felt... new."
:: It was. You are beginning to resonate. ::
Ten more minutes passed. Vectors were scattered around the arena, exploring their suits, adjusting to the new weight. Riley shifted his stance, feeling the movement echo down to his toes.
"Yo," Jade's voice came from behind him.
Riley turned, momentarily surprised.
Jade's suit was brighter—gunmetal grey with streaks of deep violet tracing the sides like veins. Stylized. More elegant.
"You already tweaked yours?" Riley asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Ash said I could customize some visual elements. Figured I'd try something flashy." Jade smirked, rotating his wrist. "Still figuring out how to do things without knocking myself over."
Riley exhaled a soft laugh. "Try focusing on a Trigger."
"A what now?"
Riley raised a hand. Blue static coiled around his forearm.
"Something like this. It's like… a mental command for a specific action. You imagine it, hold it, and execute. Think of it as a shortcut between your intent and the suit's tech."
Jade watched with wide eyes. "You figured that out already?"
"Orion helped. He teaches fast."
A soft beep echoed from Riley's HUD.
:: Statement logged. Thank you. ::
Riley winced. "Yeah… and he listens to everything."
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"Combat trials begin in ten minutes," the voice announced again.
The center of the chamber lowered, revealing a combat ring. Sparring matches. Observation.
Riley stood at the edge, watching as Vectors stepped into the arena—most clunky in their suits, struggling with balance or flaring energy without control. Trial and error. Unpolished. It was expected.
His name came up. He stepped forward.
The surface shifted beneath his boots, the arena lighting flickering as his opponent entered—a taller Vector with thick arms, fists already clenched, bouncing on his toes like a boxer. Controlled breathing. Eyes locked.
A brawler. Confident.
:: Incoming subject detected. Forward burst highly probable. Recommend side deflection and evasive pivot. Follow with Trigger strike. Do not engage directly. ::
"Got it.."
The whistle blew.
The vector came in fast—faster than Riley expected. A right hook laced with force and something else—the air crackled near his fist.
:: Warning. Subject may be using Physical Amplifier trigger. Strength increased. ::
Riley tried to sidestep. He felt the heat of the swing graze his visor.
Too close.
"Damn—"
:: Don't panic. Breathe. Reorient left. He's overextended. ::
Riley twisted—pivoting low and around the arm. He dropped into a crouch.
Now.
"Arm Trigger: Shockwave."
His fist lit blue. Electricity coiled from shoulder to knuckles. He drove it straight into the exposed ribs.
Boom.
The energy exploded on contact. Not clean. Raw. A burst of light and sound. The brawler flew backwards across the ring—slammed into the wall with a thud that made nearby Vectors flinch.
Dust settled.
The brawler groaned—conscious, but down.
Silence held for a beat.
Then:
:: Target subdued. Trigger efficiency: 51%. Core strain minimal. Neural latency—acceptable. ::
Riley exhaled, chest rising fast.
"That was only fifty-one percent?"
:: Raw energy. Poor direction. But impressive instinct. We can sharpen it. ::
He stepped off the platform, still catching his breath. Jade was watching from the edge—arms folded, eyes narrowed.
For the first time all morning… Jade looked impressed.
And somewhere above, behind black glass, A man in a coat—unknown, unnamed. His fingers tapped once on a digital tablet.
:: Subject GRANT-3A, Sync Level: 80%. AVU Name: ORION. Suit Response: High. ::
:: Neural Link compatibility is stable. Trigger aptitude confirmed. ::
He highlighted the entry and typed a single word beneath it:
Promising.
Another line blinked open under the data.
Subject eligible for directive testing.
After-Session Report – Riley Grant
AVU Name: Orion
AI Relationship: Analytical Mentor
Sync Rate: 70%
Trigger Arsenal: Arm Trigger: Shockwave
Trigger Mastery: Intermediate
Driver Mods: None
Suit Output: Stable
Predicted Growth Trajectory: Unknown