68 – The Chamber
Somewhere in a hidden location—deep, secure, and known to only the highest of officials—a chamber thrummed with life.
It was vast. Towering ceilings arched overhead, lined with glowing, circuit-veined metal. Holographic displays flickered in mid-air. Automated drones drifted silently above the training floor, scanning, observing, recording.
On the ground below, hundreds of trainees pushed their bodies far beyond their natural limits. The chamber echoed with grunts, labored breaths, and the sharp metallic clinks of machines adjusting intensity.
Every trainee wore the same regulation green tracksuit, now soaked in sweat and clinging to their bodies like second skin. Muscles rippled, legs buckled, spines bent under pressure as they performed drills without pause—under conditions that would instantly kill a normal human.
The air itself felt heavy—thick with heat, tension, and the scent of burning effort.
High above them, the massive digital screen ticked steadily:
"500"
It represented not time, but the gravity multiplier.
500 times Earth's gravity.
And still rising.
Most of the figures struggling beneath that crushing force bore hair in shades of white or red—clear indicators of their bloodline, their clan origin. In this place, clan genetics weren't just visible—they were weaponized, upgraded, pushed to the brink.
But then there were four who didn't belong.
Amid the red and white, they stood like shadows at sunset:
Black-haired.
On the surface, black hair was the most common in the world. But here, inside this controlled and curated gene pool, it was like a glitch in a perfect system. A flaw. An anomaly.
One of them—Ruby Hale—was trembling.
She was on the floor, shoulders shaking violently as she struggled to push herself up one more time.
Just one more.
Her body hovered inches from the ground, arms locked in a bent position. Sweat dripped from her chin like rain. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. Each inhale sounded like broken glass in her lungs.
She was doing push-ups—but not under normal conditions.
Each rep meant lifting her body against 500 times the gravity of Earth. It felt like trying to push a mountain off her chest… over and over and over.
Her arms were raw. Skin had peeled off in layers. Blood and sweat mingled on the floor beneath her, turning the metal beneath her hands slick and dark.
But still, she counted.
"...50100... 50101... 50103..."
Her voice was low and cracked, barely audible over the hum of the chamber. Her throat felt like sandpaper. She had no idea how long she'd been speaking. Ten hours? Maybe more. She had long stopped counting time. Only the repetitions mattered now.
Her vision blurred. Muscles screamed. Her nervous system was on fire.
But still—she did not stop.
She couldn't.
Because stopping meant weakness.
And weakness had no place here.
---
Until—
"...50107..."
Something inside her snapped.
Her arms gave out, folding beneath her like wet paper. Her chest hit the ground with a dull thud. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her eyes rolled upward, sight fading to static.
Everything turned black.
---
Two humanoid robots stationed along the chamber's perimeter responded within seconds. Their tall, sleek frames moved with silent precision—no hesitation, no wasted motion. Their eyes glowed soft blue as they reached her, gently scanning her vitals before lifting her limp body from the floor.
One cradled her by the torso, the other supported her legs.
There was no fanfare. No panic. Just cold, calculated care.
They carried her to the nearest Sleeping Tube, a cylindrical pod embedded into the chamber wall. The glass lid slid open with a quiet hiss, releasing a faint mist.
Inside was a soft, cushioned bed of memory-gel—a cradle designed to mimic a mother's warmth.
The robots laid her inside. Her head tilted slightly to the side, a trickle of blood running from her fingertips to the edge of the pod.
The moment the lid closed, restoration protocols activated.
A pale blue light bathed her body. Healing runes—inscribed into the internal shell—flickered to life, releasing ancient magic enhanced by cutting-edge tech. Tissues began to knit. Skin reformed. Her heartbeat steadied.
Outside the pod, the training continued. No one paused. No one looked her way.
Here, collapsing wasn't a failure.
It was routine.
And in a few hours, she'd wake up.
And do it all again.
For the past week, this had been the routine.
Train until you drop. Heal. Then return and do it again.
Pain wasn't avoided here—it was the requirement.
From the side, Minji Xiao watched it all, her breath hitching slightly as Ruby passed out.
She held out longer than yesterday, Minji thought. But… how much more can she take?
Minji had only joined the chamber four hours ago. Already, her arms ached. Her lungs burned. And yet, this was normal here. Everyone was breaking.
Nearby, a list on the wall ranked the top performers in endurance training. Names like:
Kaleb Hale
Xiao Ziyang
Xiao Fengjin
Ryo Hale
Ken Xiao
Shi Xiao
Ruby Hale
Minji Xiao
Minji couldn't believe her own name had climbed so fast.
But at what cost? she wondered, wiping sweat from her brow.
I just hope Ruby doesn't suffer long-term damage.
---
Across the chamber, Ken Xiao and Shi Xiao—the only two others with black hair besides Ruby and James—were still going strong. Their movements were precise. Efficient. Almost… unnatural.
Notably, James had already spent the last eight hours inside a healing tube—his body too battered to continue. It made sense. These training levels were designed to shatter human limits.
Then—suddenly—an alarm blared. A soft whirring hum shifted the atmosphere.
And then came the voice.
"This is Velina Hale speaking."
Her voice echoed calmly across the room, rich with authority.
> "Endurance training is officially concluded. You all have performed exceptionally. For the next three days, you are free to rest and enjoy your recovery.
Those of you who submitted your Bondings for training—please retrieve them from the Bonding Chambers. They too are granted rest.
We'll reconvene for Resistance Training after this break."
A collective sigh of relief swept the room. For the first time in days, the chamber's gravity recalibrated to normal Earth levels. The crushing pressure lifted, and everyone suddenly felt… weightless.
Laughs echoed. Shoulders loosened.
A few trainees even dropped to the floor just to feel lightness again.
They wiped sweat from their skin with towels and began moving toward the dorms—each had been assigned a personal room for the multi-year duration of their training. Others headed toward the Bonding Chamber.
Among them—Minji.
The heavy metal door to the Bonding Chamber slid open. A soft, warm glow spilled out, contrasting the sterile harshness of the rest of the facility.
As Minji Xiao stepped inside, the world seemed to exhale.
Unlike the gravity-warped training arena or the cold, silent dorm corridors, this place felt alive—almost sacred. The air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and ozone. Crystalline growths shimmered from the walls, casting faint pulses of magical light. Lush synthetic grass coated the ground in patches, soft beneath her boots.
This place feels like a heartbeat, she thought. Like something's breathing here.
A gentle chime rang through the chamber—signaling her arrival.
Almost instantly, something stirred at the far end.
A blur of white dashed across the chamber, leaping over a low barrier and charging toward her with unrestrained joy. In seconds, a small white tiger cub came bounding into view.
Its fur glowed like freshly fallen snow—soft, pure, untouched. Thin blue stripes shimmered faintly along its body, and its sharp blue eyes locked onto Minji's with a familiarity .
Her heart caught in her chest.
"Snow..." she whispered, falling to her knees.
The cub leapt into her arms, purring loudly as she caught him against her chest. His body was warm. His little heart thumped wildly. The moment their skin touched, a surge of emotion—recognition, connection, trust—rushed through her.
Minji closed her eyes, hugging him tight.
"You missed me, didn't you?" she murmured, burying her face in his soft fur. "I'm sorry I was gone so long."
---
But deep down, Minji knew something she couldn't forget.
Snow wasn't hers.
Snow was originally Kai's Bonding .
But Kai had given him to Minji.
And here, in this training facility where strength was everything, Kai saw the truth:
Snow would grow stronger under Minji than he ever could under him.
Their souls… aligned differently. More naturally.
Minji slowly rose to her feet, still cradling the small tiger against her chest.
The chamber door opened behind her, revealing the long hallway leading back to the dormitories. The halls were silent, save for the hum of distant generators and the faint steps of other trainees retreating into rest.
Snow shifted in her arms, letting out a small yawn before curling into her shoulder.
Minji smiled softly.
She glanced down the hallway.
No phones. No devices. No distractions.
This place was locked away from the rest of the world—isolated, classified, and buried under layers of secrecy.
All she had was Snow, a quiet dorm room, and the crushing weight of exhaustion pressing into her bones.
And that was enough—for now.
With Snow in her arms, Minji made her way down the corridor toward her temporary home.
tonight…
She would sleep.
6 Hours Later
The scene shifted.
Beyond the sterile halls and gravity-crushing chambers of the training facility, a hidden private park stretched beneath an open dome—simulated sky flickering in soft hues of peach and gold.
The air smelled faintly of rain and cherry blossoms, though neither had fallen here in centuries.
Trees lined the park's winding paths—but not just green ones. Here, nature had been curated and redesigned:
Leaves shimmered in emerald, crimson, golden-yellow, deep ocean blue, earthy brown, and even cotton-candy pink. A few trees bore leaves that changed color with the light, like opals in the sun.
The ground beneath was a soft, moss-like carpet, woven with luminescent threads that glowed faintly in geometric patterns. It looked less like earth and more like a living circuit board humming gently underfoot.
Scattered along the pathways were benches, some made of smooth obsidian, others of translucent crystal. It was on one of these that a small group of trainees sat, relaxed—temporarily freed from the grind of endurance training.
Their green tracksuits were unzipped at the collar. Bottles of nutrient-infused drinks glistened in their hands. Laughter came easy here.
But beneath it all was an underlying current of curiosity.
Their hair colors gave away their clans: two with pure white locks, three with crimson streaks glowing under the artificial sun.
Among them, a red-haired boy leaned back, his gaze still fixed on a nearby screen mounted to a tree trunk. It displayed names and stats from the recent training phase.
Two names pulsed faintly in gold—top-tier endurance scorers.
> Ken Xiao
Shi Xiao
The boy squinted.
> "Who the hell are Ken Xiao and Shi Xiao?" he asked, taking a sip from his drink. "Never seen them before. And both of them have black hair? That's not even a clan signature."
His voice wasn't mocking—just curious. But it drew attention.
A white-haired girl beside him—slender, sharp-eyed, with a calm expression—tilted her head.
She tucked a long strand of silver hair behind her ear and spoke in a hushed tone, almost like passing down folklore.
> "I can tell you what I know," she murmured, her voice calm, almost rehearsed.
"It's an old story… happened about 30 years ago. I was just five.
My brother told me. He saw it with his own eyes."
The others leaned in, the chatter dying out.
> "Two kids—black-haired —just appeared one day. Out of nowhere.
Not from the sky. Not through the gate.
They teleported straight into the Xiao Clan Headquarters. Uninvited.
No clearance. No escort."
Her voice lowered even more.
> "They asked to see Xiao Zhenyu—the President of the Xiao Clan.
Calmly. Directly. Like they knew him."
There was a pause.
> "Of course, security detained them immediately. Who wouldn't?
Everyone thought they were spies—or worse, weapons from an unknown faction."
Her eyes darkened.
> "They were locked up. Interrogated.
Then… silence.
The next day, their presence was wiped from records.
No follow-up. No trial. No announcements."
She shrugged, a little uneasily.
> "Some say they were executed quietly.
Others believe they were taken by the higher-ups for some classified project.
But no one knows for sure."
She exhaled slowly, as if unburdening a story she was never meant to carry.
> "They just… vanished."
---
The group sat in silence, digesting the weight of the story. The faint hum of the dome's atmospheric generators filled the stillness.
A breeze passed—artificial, perhaps, but it carried the scent of wild mint and static.
Finally, someone spoke.
> "So they just… show up here now? After thirty years?"
The girl nodded, unsure.
> "I don't know. Maybe it's not them. Maybe it's their clones. Or maybe time works differently where they went.
I'm not top-tier. And my father's not an official.
I'm just telling you what I was told."
One by one, the trainees stood up. The quiet tension began to ease as they walked toward the nearby onsite café, its glowing glass panels offering warmth, light, and escape.
They ordered coffee and laughed again. Talk shifted to sparring matches, new dorm rumors, and the possibility of resistance training reaching 600x gravity next cycle.
But beneath the surface—like a slow ripple in still water—the names Ken Xiao and Shi Xiao echoed quietly in their minds.
Not forgotten.
Just waiting.
To be continued….
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