James woke to the low hum of the dorm lights flickering on. The room felt colder than it should have, the air thick with the faint scent of oil and disinfectant. He sat up slowly, muscles groaning, the ache of yesterday's drills clinging to him like a bruise that wouldn't fade.
Across the room, Koen was already dressed. His white hair caught the light like strands of glass as he tightened the cuffs of his uniform jacket.
"You sleep like a corpse," Koen said, tossing a folded shirt at James's bed.
"Feels about right," James muttered, pulling it on. "They call it training, but I think the instructors just enjoy watching us suffer."
Koen chuckled, faintly. "You'll get used to it. The Academy's good at tearing people down before it decides if they're worth rebuilding."
James glanced at him, studying the calm precision in Koen's movements. "You've done this before, haven't you?"
Koen nodded once. "Where I'm from, you fight or you fade. My family believes strength's the only proof of purpose." His fingers flexed slightly, the leather of his gloves creaking. "It helps when you have a weapon built into your blood."
He raised his palm and blew across it. Frost unfurled over his skin in a delicate spiral before fading.
James blinked. "Cryokinesis?"
"Something like that."
James grinned weakly. "That's actually kind of cool."
Koen sighed. "Everyone says that."
The morning passed like a machine cycle. Lights, breakfast, drills. The same rhythm, but heavier now, like everyone was waiting for something to snap.
James scanned the mess hall for Mira but didn't find her. He wondered if she was thinking about him too. If she was hoping he'd stay out of the ring.
By midday, the cadets were herded to the outdoor arena, a vast stone field enclosed by towering walls. The crowd was loud, restless, the air alive with nerves and anticipation. Above the ring, a digital board flickered with names. Some were crossed out. Some glowed, waiting.
Instructors lined the edge of the arena, motionless in their black armor. The rule was simple. Defeat your opponent. Nothing else mattered.
James sat beside Koen on a stone bench, watching one brutal match after another. A girl melted the ground beneath her rival's feet. Another covered herself in bone plates like armor. A boy howled, summoning a blast of wind that shattered a pillar.
Every fight made James feel smaller.
"What am I doing here?" he muttered.
Koen didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Then the speakers crackled.
"Next match: Rowe, James versus Callin, Derik."
James froze. The words echoed through him. He felt Koen glance his way, silent but steady.
He forced himself to stand.
The arena looked impossibly large from down here. Every eye followed him as he stepped into the ring.
Derik Callin was already there. He stood tall, built like he'd been training for this moment his whole life. His crimson hair was cropped short, his eyes an amber that caught the sunlight like fire through glass. Flames curled lazily over his knuckles as he smirked.
"I was hoping they'd call me against someone interesting," he said. "Guess I'll have to settle for you."
James swallowed. "Don't worry. I won't make it easy."
Derik laughed. "You couldn't make it easy if you tried. You're a Prospect, right? No ability? Should've stayed on the sidelines."
Koen had warned him that the Academy liked to break people. Derik looked like he enjoyed doing it personally.
The Proctor raised his hand. "Begin."
Derik attacked instantly. A streak of flame tore across the ring, forcing James to dive aside. The heat licked at his back, blistering the air.
James rolled to his feet, barely dodging the next burst. Derik was fast, confident, dangerous in a way that came from never having lost before.
"Come on, Rowe," Derik taunted, circling him. "You think you belong here just because you survived the entrance trials? This place eats people like you."
James lunged, throwing a punch that landed square on Derik's jaw. It barely slowed him. Derik caught him by the shirt, slammed him into the ground.
"You don't get it," Derik said, voice low and heated. "Power's the only language they respect here. You either have it, or you kneel."
James kicked him off, gasping. "You talk too much for someone trying to prove a point."
Derik's grin widened, sharp and wild. "You'll remember this when you're crawling."
He swung again, flames roaring. James ducked, but fire grazed his arm. Pain flared white-hot. He bit back a cry, eyes watering.
Mira's voice echoed in his mind. Even if you don't have powers, you have instincts. Use them.
He waited. Watched. When Derik lunged again, James moved faster, driving his shoulder into his ribs. Derik stumbled, surprise flashing across his face.
The crowd roared.
James followed with a punch, then another, adrenaline surging. For a moment, it felt like he could actually win.
But Derik recovered quickly, fury blazing in his eyes. He shoved James back and unleashed a torrent of fire. It hit like a cannon, sending James sprawling.
He hit the ground hard, dust filling his lungs. His vision swam. The world rang.
Derik stepped closer, flames burning brighter around his hands. "This is over."
Something inside James stirred.
At first, it was a flicker. A pulse behind his ribs. Then it grew. Heat spread through him, but it wasn't Derik's fire. It was something else—alive, electric, pushing outward.
The air thickened. The ground vibrated.
Derik hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty breaking through his grin. "What are you—"
The world broke.
An invisible shockwave erupted from James, silent but crushing. Derik was flung backward, hitting the dirt so hard it cracked. Dust exploded in all directions. The air shimmered like glass under pressure.
Then silence.
James stood in the center, still breathing hard, but something was wrong. His eyes were blank, his expression hollow. Power poured off him in waves—wild, heavy, endless. The earth itself seemed to recoil.
Metal beams bent with a groan. Sparks jumped from the generators. The cadets who had been cheering now stumbled backward in panic.
"Proctor Valerius!" one instructor shouted. "He's losing control!"
Valerius's voice cut through the chaos. "Contain him! Now!"
Two officers sprinted forward, activating suppression tech, but the pressure only intensified. A steel post snapped, the ring shuddering underfoot.
Then a cadet burst through the crowd, shouting over the noise. "Sir! The technopath—Mira—she's here!"
Valerius turned sharply. "Bring her to me. Now."