Night draped Nerra in a quilt of glowing light and shadow, the city alive with humming energy lines, floating vehicles, and holographic signs flickering over crowded streets. From above, the city looked like perfection—a seamless mesh of technology, order, and rhythm. But perfection, Aubrey knew, was often a mask.
He and Mara navigated the quieter alleys near the market district, their footsteps soft on the polished pavement. The city had accepted them, for now, but the faint pulse in his veins—the Bloodfire—warned him that acceptance was temporary. Nerra's calm wasn't sanctuary. It was observation.
Lyric had led them to an abandoned maintenance corridor for training, a narrow path behind the main streets where patrols rarely wandered. "If you want to survive here, you need more than nerves," he said, arms crossed, scanning the shadows. "You need control. And Nerra tests that."
Aubrey flexed his fingers, letting the crimson warmth flare faintly beneath his skin. "Control," he muttered. "Every time we step outside, we're tested. But it's different here. The city itself… watches."
Mara stepped closer, her own pulse in sync with his. "Then let's see how well we read it."
They began moving through the corridor, practicing stealth and quick strikes, blending physical training with Bloodfire manipulation. Aubrey shaped jagged blades from the crimson energy along his arms, slicing through empty air, watching for reaction in the faint sensors scattered along walls. Mara mimicked his movements, her voice occasionally cutting the air in sharp bursts, startling nearby electronic devices.
"Good," Lyric praised. "You're learning fast. But tonight… we'll push it further."
He gestured to a reinforced door at the corridor's end. Behind it, a test environment mimicked the city's busy streets—traps, drones, and unpredictable hazards. It wasn't real combat yet, but it felt like it.
As they stepped inside, the lights dimmed. Holographic projections simulated civilians, vehicles, and random environmental hazards. Drones whirred overhead, scanning for movement. Aubrey's Bloodfire flared naturally in response, forming a subtle protective aura. Mara's hands glowed faintly as she interacted with the projections, disrupting patterns and creating openings.
Lyric smirked. "Remember, it's not about attacking. It's about reading the city, reading the flow. Predict, react, survive."
The trio moved like shadows, flowing through simulated obstacles, avoiding detection while testing their coordination. Sparks flew from their maneuvers, the air thick with energy and intent. The training was brutal in its subtlety—one misstep could mean failure.
Hours passed, the pulse of Nerra's cityscape imprinted into their instincts. Sweat and exhaustion mingled with adrenaline, and yet a quiet thrill ran beneath it all: the sense that they were adapting, evolving.
Finally, Lyric called a halt. "Enough for now. The real world is less predictable, but you're ready to start reading it."
Aubrey wiped his forehead, watching the simulated city fade into darkness. "Ready," he said, but his eyes betrayed caution. The calmness of Nerra wasn't peace—it was the eye of a storm.
As they stepped back into the quiet streets, distant alarms began to echo faintly. Aubrey froze, Bloodfire surging instinctively. Mara's hand brushed against his arm.
"They're testing us," she said. "Not with projections. Real surveillance."
Lyric's eyes narrowed. "Keep your heads low. Nerra's patience is measured in pulses, not minutes."
Above them, the city lights shimmered as if acknowledging their arrival, subtle currents of energy tracing through the streets like invisible veins. Aubrey felt the familiar thrill of challenge—danger was near, yet manageable.
The calm
had ended. The storm was approaching.