The system did not believe in gentle wake-up calls.
I had just closed my eyes on the narrow dorm bed, the taste of adrenaline still sour on my tongue, when the HUD seared across my vision like lightning behind the eyelids.
QUEST INITIATED: INTENSIVE ADAPTATION
DURATION: 72 HOURS
FAILURE PENALTY: REMEDIAL ACTION
DETAILS: SURVIVE TRAINING MODULES. ACHIEVE COMPETENCY BENCHMARK.
"Define remedial action," I whispered.
UNDEFINED. PROBABLY UNPLEASANT.
Before I could argue, my body dissolved.
The room vanished, the sheets gone, Jay's snores snuffed out. My skin prickled like static, bones humming. When sensation returned, I was standing barefoot on a platform suspended in a void of black, streaked with grids of neon. A training construct.
The HUD pulsed.
WELCOME TO TRAINING SIMULATION. OBJECTIVE: ADAPTATION.
LEVELING BONUS ENABLED. WARNING: SIDE EFFECTS MAY INCLUDE PAIN, VOMITING, EXISTENTIAL CRISIS.
I swallowed. "Sounds like gym class."
The floor beneath me reconfigured. Tiles folded up into walls. A ring appeared. Opposite me, a mannequin of chrome and light snapped into existence—blank face, humanoid frame, fists raised.
PHASE ONE: BASIC RESPONSE. DODGE OR DIE.
The mannequin lunged without preamble.
I yelped, rolled, and felt the hiss of displaced energy scorch the air where my chest had been.
REACTION TIME: 0.92 SECONDS. TOO SLOW.
"Too slow? I'm alive, aren't I?"
ALIVE IS TEMPORARY. IMPROVEMENT REQUIRED.
The mannequin came again. This time I sidestepped, clumsy but faster. A score flickered above: 0.76 SECONDS. ACCEPTABLE.
The next strike clipped my jaw. Stars burst in my skull.
Pain was real. Not simulated.
I spat copper. "You couldn't turn down the settings?"
NO.
The next hour blurred into dodges, counters, bruises. The system tracked micro-improvements: reaction time shaving milliseconds, angle corrections, foot placement tweaks. Each failure hurt. Each success hurt less.
By the time the HUD chimed PHASE ONE COMPLETE, I was drenched, trembling.
UNLOCKED: REFLEX CALIBRATION +10%.
NEXT: PHASE TWO — STRIKE EXECUTION.
Another mannequin materialized.
This one came with a blade.
⸻
The Dorm Room
"Ethan! Wake up!"
Jay's voice snapped me back. My body jolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat, lungs hauling air like I'd sprinted a marathon.
Jay frowned at me. "You were twitching like you were being electrocuted. Bad dream?"
"Something like that."
He eyed me, suspicious, then tossed a datapad. "You need to see this."
The pad blazed with campus newsfeeds. My fight with Lucas had climbed to the front page of every student forum. Threads with thousands of comments debated whether I'd hacked his exo-brace, juiced with illegal augments, or sold my soul to a darknet cult. Memes alternated between mocking and glorifying me.
Headline: OMEGA RISES, ALPHA FALLS?
Poll: Who's hotter now: Lucas or the Omega Dark Horse?
Jay smirked. "Apparently you're campus crush material. Who knew humiliation was an aphrodisiac?"
"Delete my existence," I muttered.
But it was too late. Notifications flooded my own pad. Friend requests. Sponsor inquiries. Even a message from a minor e-sports caster wanting an interview.
Jay whistled. "You could monetize this, you know."
"Or I could survive the week," I said.
Because behind the noise, the HUD still glowed faintly.
71 HOURS REMAINING.
⸻
Official Scrutiny
By afternoon, the summons arrived. Dr. Havel wanted me in Practical Kinetics Lab A.
The lab smelled of ozone and antiseptic. White panels gleamed under sterile lights. Graduate assistants hovered with scanners.
Dr. Havel gestured to a platform. "Stand there, Mr. Vale."
I obeyed. Machines hummed. Beams of blue swept my body, charting vitals, synaptic response, muscular output.
Havel studied the data on his console, frowning deeper with each line. "Your metrics… irregular. Reaction speed spiked well above baseline. Neurological activity shows inconsistent surges."
He adjusted his glasses. "Have you been using unauthorized stimulants?"
"No."
"Black-market augments? Gene hacks?"
"Unless cafeteria burritos count."
Jay, waiting at the corner, snorted.
Havel wasn't amused. "We take irregularities seriously. I will schedule a full departmental evaluation. Meanwhile, avoid unnecessary… performances."
Translation: Don't embarrass Alphas again.
I nodded, though the HUD pulsed a smug line across my vision:
CONGRATULATIONS: PASSED DETECTION. SYSTEM MASK SUCCESSFUL.
⸻
Alpha Retaliation
That evening, Alpha students staged their own theater.
I was heading across the courtyard when three of them—Lucas's orbiters—blocked my path. Polished uniforms, smirks rehearsed.
"Vale," the tallest sneered. "Got lucky once. Let's see you without the cameras."
Jay groaned. "Oh great, the Discount Justice League."
They circled. One shoved my shoulder. Another cracked his knuckles.
The HUD flashed:
UNOFFICIAL DUEL DETECTED. OBJECTIVE: DON'T DIE.
The first lunged. Time slowed. My body remembered the training sim's endless dodges. I slipped aside, countered with a jab that caught his ribs. He wheezed.
Second swung. I ducked, swept his legs.
Third hesitated—then I smiled. It spooked him. He stumbled back.
Phones appeared anyway. A Beta student caught the whole scuffle on video. Within minutes, it was online: OMEGA BEATS THREE.
The crowd's cheers stung Alpha pride deeper than fists.
Lucas himself appeared at the balcony above, watching with eyes like knives. He didn't intervene. He didn't need to. His look promised: next time, no mercy.
The HUD chimed.
ADAPTATION BONUS: +2 LEVELS. TIME REMAINING: 60 HOURS.
⸻
Midnight Training
That night, the system dragged me back.
The void. The mannequins. This time there were three.
PHASE TWO: STRIKE EXECUTION. MULTIPLE OPPONENTS.
The next hours were a blur of fists, pain, counters. My muscles screamed. My skin mottled purple with bruises that carried back into waking life.
When the session ended, I collapsed in my dorm, barely breathing.
Jay hovered, panicked. "Dude, you look like you fought a truck."
"Three trucks," I muttered.
The HUD blinked:
48 HOURS REMAINING. NEXT BENCHMARK: COMPETENCY TRIAL (PUBLIC).
My stomach dropped. Public?
I didn't have to wonder long. By morning, the Academy announced a surprise evaluation: "Omega Class representative Ethan Vale will participate in live drills."
Lucas's smile in the announcement feed said everything.
This wasn't just evaluation. It was execution.
And I had forty-eight hours to survive it.