"Phase One of the Test is over… Michael Grant… you pass."
Isaak's voice cracked as it boomed through the dome, his tone carrying strength but not stability. The words rang hollow against the concrete walls, reverberating into silence. Mikey stood at the center of the blood-slicked stage, his green eyes never leaving the elevated stand where Isaak and the Brass sat. The last drops of blood finished raining down on him, leaving his thin frame drenched from head to boots. His gaze was unblinking, hard, a fire alive inside him that refused to be drowned out by crimson. The crowd froze in their seats, hushed and trembling in disbelief at what they had just seen. Then, like a spark catching dry grass, one voice broke through.
"YES!!!"
Bobo's roar cracked across the dome like thunder, and the stillness shattered. The crowd erupted, their cheers a tidal wave of disbelief and relief, voices layering in shock and awe. Bobo and Luce didn't hesitate. They vaulted the railing and landed on the stage with heavy thuds, sprinting toward him. Amelia exhaled a laugh that trembled with relief, her heart finally unclenching. She glanced at Tobi, who stood stiff with wide eyes, before he shrugged, muttered something under his breath, and leapt over the rail to follow them. Amelia smiled and went too, her boots striking the concrete as she joined the charge.
Only Ryosuke remained seated, his sharp face tilted down, shadows cutting across it. His fist curled tightly on his knee, a single knuckle whitening with the force of it. His breathing was low, measured, but when he spoke, his words held a reverence rarely heard from him.
"Young man…" His voice was calm, but his expression betrayed him. His eyes were wide, alive with rare pride, and a grin broke across his face, wicked and sharp.
Mikey turned just as Bobo thundered into him.
"Wait—wait—"
Too late.
The man tackled him into the floor, his laughter rumbling like gravel in a barrel. "You did it, kid! Goddammit, you did it!"
Pinned beneath, Mikey wheezed between his own chuckles. "Bobo… you're crushing me…"
Luce yanked Bobo back by his ear with a practiced tug. "Get off him, you ox!" She hauled Mikey up with surprising gentleness and slipped Bobo's massive jacket from his shoulders, wrapping it around the boy's thin, blood-soaked frame. The jacket swallowed him whole, but the warmth of it was grounding. Her smile broke through, watery at the edges. "Mikey… I'm so proud of you."
"It was nothing..."
She embraced him with a fierce hug, pulling him tight into her chest. Over the months, Mikey had become something more than a boy who lived under her roof—he was family, a son she nurtured through grief, someone she scolded and fed and kept alive.
Mikey hugged her back, awkward but grateful.
"You crying, Luce?"
"No," she sniffled into his shirt, holding him tighter. "I was just worried, is all."
When she pulled away, still smiling through the tears, Bobo swept them both into his arms in one massive motion, laughing like a madman.
"Bo, put us down!" Luce squealed through her laughter.
"Old man, you're squeezing my ribs!" Mikey groaned, still laughing.
"Don't matter!" Bobo bellowed, shaking them both as he held them high. "Don't matter at all!"
Up above, Isaak's gaze lingered on the group. His expression softened, though no one could read what war raged behind his eyes. Mikey, covered in blood, still managed to laugh and smile, wrapped in the arms of people who cared for him. Isaak's throat tightened. Regret laced his stare, shame pulling deep lines into his face. Then a hand gripped his shoulder, fingers firm and commanding. Isaak stiffened at the touch, at the voice that came low, steady, and venom-laced beneath its softness.
"Isaak… your next test better break the boy. Or your time in the Brass is over."
Isaak's eyes widened, his head snapping sideways to see the man standing behind him. An older man—short, grey-bearded, long white hair cascading down his shoulders. His hazel eyes glinted with calm cruelty, and though his voice was kind, every word stung like a blade dipped in poison.
"Y-yes…" Isaak swallowed hard, shame pooling in his gut. "…I won't fail, Father."
"I know you won't," the old man murmured, turning to walk away, hands clasped neatly behind his back. "Break him."
Isaak's breath caught in his throat, but he said nothing as the man returned to the Brass seats, blending back into their ranks like a ghost among wolves. Down below, Bobo finally set Mikey and Luce down, laughing as if he hadn't a care in the world. Tobi picked his way across the stage, avoiding the splattered remains of the Blood Bear. His face twisted, eyes squeezed half-shut until he reached Mikey, where he finally looked.
"Mikey."
"Tobi."
"Not bad."
"Thanks."
The two bumped knuckles. Behind them, Bobo hoisted the largest piece of the bear's remains—the grotesque half of its face.
"Oh, Tobsss…" Bobo shook it toward him with mock menace.
Tobi's eyes bulged. "AH! No, no, no!" He squealed and bolted, Bobo chasing after him with the bloody trophy. Luce's laughter filled the space, the sound lightening the tension that still hung in the air. Mikey smiled faintly to himself—until the sound of quiet, deliberate footsteps drew his attention. Turning his head he saw her, Amelia.
"Hey…" Her voice was soft, uncertain.
Mikey's cheeks warmed instantly. He tugged the jacket up, trying to wipe his face clean of the drying blood.
"Hey."
"You, uh… you did good out there."
"Thanks—"
Before he could say more, her arms wrapped around him. His body went rigid, his eyes wide, his face redder than the blood still staining him. Her hair brushed his cheek, and he could feel the hammer of her heartbeat against his chest.
"I'm glad you're okay…" she whispered into him, her voice trembling. "I thought you were going to—"
He cut her off, arms slowly rising to return the embrace.
"Thank you for helping me. I couldn't have done it without you… Nadia."
She blushed, pressing her face harder against him.
"Stop calling me that."
"Sorry." Mikey chuckled. "It's just the first name I knew you by. Feels natural sometimes."
"Whatever…" she muttered, though the color in her cheeks betrayed her.
From across the stage, Luce glanced over mid-laugh, noticing the two of them locked in that embrace. She smiled softly to herself.
"Would you look at that…"
Amelia and Mikey both pulled away at the same time, awkward, both fumbling with nervous glances. But Amelia's face hardened with resolve as she looked at him again.
"After all the tests are over… there's something I need to say to you."
Her thoughts burned behind her eyes: 'I need to apologize. I said so many things at the bonfire… I was so selfish.'
Mikey smiled, though puzzled.
"Yeah. Sure thing. I'll be here."
Ryosuke approached then, his presence cutting through the moment like a blade. His voice was low, controlled, but pride flickered beneath his sharp edges.
"Young man, it is time for us to return to the waiting room. We have three hours of intermission, and your wounds must be treated."
Mikey nodded, waving goodbye to the others. He followed Ryosuke back toward the tunnel, his limp returning as the adrenaline ebbed, each step grew heavier, each ache sharper. Above, Isaak still stood, his eyes softening once more—before narrowing, hardening. Whatever came next, whatever test was waiting, it would not simply challenge Mikey's skill.
It would test the very core of who he was.