The gym pulsed with quiet intensity—padded strikes, the hum of measured movement, the clash of steel against magically-reinforced wood. It was a space of habit, refinement, and quiet competition. Sona's peerage moved through the large space in practiced duos, each one refining their form while keeping a loose eye on the solo outlier at the far end of the room.
Sam.
Even though no one said it aloud, he had everyone's attention. Not always directly. Not with staring. But in glances, in quiet nods, and in the way none of them fully turned their backs to him. He wasn't part of their unit—not yet—but he was in the space now. Part of the orbit.
And today, they were watching the storm.
--Yura and Meguri--
Yura's fists met Meguri's shinai in a crack of blunt resistance, the impact sending a pulse through her forearms. They moved in close quarters—striker against swordswoman—testing each other's tempo.
Meguri spun to the side and reset, sword high again. "You're punching harder."
"Am I?" Yura asked, exhaling through her teeth.
She wasn't lying. Something in her blood buzzed today. Not annoyance. Not aggression. Just energy.
Their sparring circle gave them a decent view of Sam at the far end. He was cycling through his armored form again—activating it with a breath, holding it for a stretch, then letting it fade back into his skin like mist.
Meguri spoke first. "That armor… it doesn't act like a spell or gear. It folds into him like muscle."
"I noticed," Yura replied, bouncing on her toes. "Saw it retract into his body before he even stepped into the gym. It's… creepy cool."
Meguri offered a half-nod. "And functional."
Yura's gaze lingered on him. "He took a punch from Saji earlier today. Not armored at the time either."
Meguri raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"Didn't fold. Didn't counter. Just took it, and then activated." She wiped sweat from her brow. "But that's not even the thing."
Meguri leaned in slightly, curiosity piqued.
"He killed a Fallen Angel. In a fistfight. No holy sword. No sacred gear."
Meguri blinked. "I heard about it but...Seriously?"
"Dead serious. It wasn't even a clean fight—he got wrecked. But he won. Clawed the bastard to death."
A beat passed. Meguri's guard lowered slightly. "Okay. That's impressive."
"Yeah." Yura's smirk was sharp and real. "That's why I wanna spar him next. Anyone who takes on a Fallen bare-handed and wins? I need to see how he moves."
Meguri glanced at Sam again—armor on, this time—and nodded. "Then we'd better train harder."
They dove back into the clash.
--Momo and Reya--
On the quieter edge of the gym, Momo sat on the edge of a long bench with her clipboard half-balanced on her knees. It was technically her job to log training feedback today, but her pen hovered above the page like it had stage fright.
Across from her, Reya idly twirled her staff with one hand, legs crossed, eyes half-lidded.
"You're watching him again," Reya said casually.
Momo blinked. "No, I'm—okay, yes."
She didn't even try to deflect.
Sam was pacing through his drills now, not with urgency, but with a precision that demanded attention. He would summon that armor—an exoskeleton that glowed faintly at the edges—hold it, move in it, stretch it… then let it dissolve.
"He's refining it," Reya noted.
"Yeah," Momo murmured. "I've never seen anything like it. It doesn't move like summoned armor. There's no lag. No weight shift."
Reya tilted her head. "Could be a Sacred Gear. Or something similar."
"Maybe…" Momo trailed off, eyes tracking Sam's shoulder rotation. "But it doesn't feel like devil magic. Or holy. It's just... his."
Reya looked at her for a long second. "You like him."
Momo's ears turned red. "That's not—It's not just that. He's interesting."
Reya smiled. "And broody. And apparently bulletproof."
"That's not what I—okay, maybe a little," Momo admitted, her voice softening.
She watched as Sam shifted, breathing slowly, his hand twitching as he funneled some unseen energy through his chest.
Momo lowered her clipboard. "There's something different about him. Something human, but more."
Reya hummed. "You going to ask him to lunch next time?"
Momo groaned and dropped her head into her hands. "Stop."
Reya just laughed.
--Tsubaki and Saji--
Their spar was more formal. Naginata versus enchanted tether. Tsubaki struck low, then high—each arc precise, her grip elegant and purposeful. Saji blocked with his bracer, countering with a short jab of his tail-like Sacred Gear.
Tsubaki spoke without breaking rhythm. "So. You punched him."
Saji winced mid-block. "You heard about that?"
"I was there."
"Oh. Right."
Their weapons clashed again—harder this time.
"You shouldn't have done that," she said, coolly.
"I know. I just… I felt something weird on him. A trace of holy energy. I panicked."
Tsubaki slid back, eyes narrowing. "He didn't retaliate."
Saji shrugged, frustrated. "He didn't need to. Took the hit like a brick wall. Then he armored up. That was new."
"It was effective," she said. "And controlled."
Saji looked toward Sam. "He could've leveled me. But he didn't."
"Self-restraint is a strength," Tsubaki replied. "You should remember that."
Saji grumbled, turning his focus back to their bout. "Think he'll join a faction?"
Tsubaki didn't answer immediately.
"No," she finally said. "But he's becoming someone we'll have to account for."
--Sona Shitori--
Sona stood apart from the rest, arms crossed, her glasses catching the low gym light as she watched it all unfold. Her peerage moved through their drills like clockwork. But her eyes were fixed on Sam.
His form wasn't elegant—but it was efficient. His strength wasn't magical—but it was real. And his control?
That was the part that caught her interest.
He wasn't using magic, but his energy radiated in quiet waves. Unrefined. Human. But not small.
Sona's brows pinched slightly.
Not devil. Not fallen. Not anything sanctioned.
And yet…
Her thoughts cut off as a sudden pulse hit the air. A thick static charge pressed against her skin like the warning before a storm.
The entire gym froze.
Sam was standing in the circle again, armor gone. Energy radiated from his chest—light crackling beneath his skin as he opened his mouth and inhaled deeply.
A white-blue glow built behind his teeth.
Then—
Just before it surged outward, the lightning shifted—from pale electric white to brilliant white-gold, flaring with raw intensity.
BOOM.
A surge of golden lightning blasted forward, vaporizing the training dummy in front of him and scorching a wide path of the gym's protective wards. The walls shuddered.
Silence.
Everyone stared.
"…What the hell was that?!" Yura finally shouted.
Sam coughed, then raised a hand weakly.
"Whoops," he muttered. "My bad."