Jack's steps echoed hollow in the corridor, each one heavier than the last. The bond with Flyer still buzzed at the base of his skull, a cold itch he couldn't shake. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to keep steady as the steel doors to the dorm hissed open.
Inside, the dorm was dim. Ruin sat cross-legged on his bunk, head bowed, humming low as though to steady himself. Nova paced like a caged predator, her arms tight across her chest, jaw clenched.
When the doors shut behind him, silence fell.
Jack swallowed hard. "I need to talk."
Ruin's hum faded. Nova stopped pacing but didn't look at him.
Jack stepped forward, words catching in his throat. "I… snapped. Back there. In the arena. The way I spoke to you—" His chest tightened. "—that wasn't me. I'm sorry."
Nova's head whipped toward him, her eyes sharp. "Not you?" Her voice cracked with anger. "You mocked us, Jack. Like we were trash. Like you were the only one who mattered out there."
Ruin finally looked up. His gaze wasn't angry, but it was tired—wounded. "You sounded like them."
Jack froze.
Them.
The elites in the stands. The laughing, masked spectators who saw them as nothing but weapons on a stage.
"I—" Jack's voice faltered. "I wasn't myself. Something happened. I—"
Nova cut him off, stepping closer, her fists trembling. "Don't. Don't you dare stand there and tell me you weren't in control. Because I was there. I saw your face. You smiled when you tore into us."
Her voice broke, bitter. "Do you know how many people have looked at me like that? Like I'm just… weak? Like I should be grateful to stand beside them? You're supposed to be different, Jack."
Ruin's hum returned—low, uneasy. "We trusted you."
Jack felt the words cut deeper than any blade. His hands shook. He wanted to explain Flyer, the voice, the possession. But what would that sound like? That he had another monster in his head? Another reason they should fear him?
His throat closed.
"I… meant what I said now. I'm sorry."
Nova turned away sharply. Ruin lowered his eyes again. Neither of them answered.
Jack sat on the edge of his bunk, staring at the floor. For the first time since the farm, the silence between them felt like a wall.
---
The next morning, the black device on his wrist pulsed.
"Training hours available."
Jack pushed himself to his feet. The dorm felt smaller than ever, his friends' cold distance pressing in on him. His fists tightened. He couldn't train here, with them watching. Not like this.
He needed space.
He needed control.
And deep inside, Flyer purred with amusement.
Ask them. Demand it. Show them you're not like the rest.
Jack ignored the whisper and marched out.
---
The overseer chamber was a cavern of steel and shadows, walls lined with glowing screens. Masked figures sat in tiered rows above, their voices a constant hum of detached conversation.
As Jack entered, the chatter quieted. A spotlight snapped down on him.
One mask leaned forward. "Rank Two combatant. State your purpose."
Jack lifted his chin. "I want a private training room."
A beat of silence—then laughter rippled through the chamber. Cold, metallic, mocking.
Another mask tilted its head. "You presume much, child. Rank Two does not warrant privilege."
Jack held firm. "I can't control my power in a shared space. You want me breaking your toys by accident?"
More laughter.
"You think you deserve what only Rank Twelve earns?" a voice sneered. "A private chamber is for assassins. Not for a farm rat who stumbled into survival."
Jack's teeth ground together. "I'll earn it. Test me. Put me against whoever you want. I'll prove I deserve it."
The laughter died. The silence that followed was heavier than steel.
Finally, a mask raised a hand.
"Very well. Prove it. Survive… this."
The floor beneath Jack rumbled. A hidden gate slid open, grinding with rust.
From the shadows emerged a figure.
Tall. Thick with muscle. Chains wrapped around his arms, each link glowing faint orange. His skin was scarred, burned, and his eyes glowed like coals.
The overseers' voices echoed.
"Meet Brand. A Rank Three enforcer. If you can best him, you may have your precious solitude."
Brand rolled his shoulders, chains rattling, a cruel grin spreading across his face. "So. You're the loudmouth. Let's see how long you last."
The spotlight widened, enclosing them both in a glowing barrier.
No escape.
---
Jack dropped into a stance, heart hammering.
Flyer stirred in his skull.
Perfect. Let me out. I'll crush him for you.
Jack grit his teeth. No. My fight.
Brand swung the first chain—fast. Jack ducked, the metal screeching past his head, sparks flying where it hit the wall.
Jack darted forward, vines whipping from his palm, lashing toward Brand's legs.
Brand snarled, yanked his chains, and the vines snapped apart, seared by heat.
Jack blinked. Heat?
The chains glowed brighter, molten sparks dripping from the links.
Brand laughed. "These chains don't break, boy. They burn."
He swung again—Jack barely rolled aside. The heat alone scorched his skin.
Jack's lungs burned. His vines couldn't hold against fire.
He needed something else.
Flyer's chuckle coiled in his skull.
Say it. Call me. Or die here.
Jack's jaw clenched. He couldn't—
Brand's chain whipped down. Jack barely caught it on a steel pipe, but the pipe melted in his grip, the chain wrapping his arm—burning.
Jack screamed, dropping to one knee.
Brand yanked, hauling Jack closer, raising the second chain high. "You're finished!"
The voices in Jack's skull roared. Flyer's voice drowned them all.
Call me.
Jack's vision blurred yellow.
"…Flyer."
The word left his lips like a curse.
The air split.
A shadow exploded from Jack's back, coiling, stretching, unfolding wings that filled the chamber. The eyeless bat-beast roared, its scream rattling the steel walls.
The overseers leaned forward. Some clapped. Some whispered.
Brand staggered, eyes wide. "What the—"
Flyer lunged.
The bat-creature's claw slammed into Brand's chest, hurling him across the chamber. He crashed into the wall, coughing blood.
He staggered up, chains blazing hotter. "I'll—tear you—"
Flyer screeched, wings beating once. The sound cracked like thunder. Brand clutched his head, staggered again.
Jack surged forward, vines wrapping Brand's legs—tight, binding.
"Now!" Flyer's voice echoed in his skull.
The bat-beast's claws came down.
Chains shattered. Blood sprayed.
Brand hit the ground, motionless.
Silence.
Then—applause.
Mocking. Hollow.
"Impressive," one mask said. "Reckless. But impressive."
Another voice hissed. "Very well. You may have your training chamber."
The spotlight dimmed. The barrier vanished. Brand's broken body was dragged away.
Jack stood there, chest heaving, Flyer's shadow melting back into his spine.
The overseers' voices faded as the doors opened behind him.
"You wanted solitude, boy," one voice called after him. "Now you'll have it. Train well… or die faster."
Jack walked out, his burned arm throbbing, Flyer's laughter curling in his skull.
See? Flyer purred. You needed me.
Jack said nothing.
But inside, he knew Flyer was right.
And that terrified him.