[Timeline: Year 2041]
[Location: Transport Truck – En Route to the Academy]
The adrenaline had faded, leaving only the smell of ozone, dried green blood, and exhaust fumes.
Class F sat in the back of the rusted military transport truck. They looked like they had been chewed up and spat out by a dragon.
Lukas was slumped against the wall, his face covered in soot, twitching in his sleep.
Elena was methodically cleaning mud off her boots with a small wind vortex, her expression distant.
Alaric sat near the tailgate. He rolled his right shoulder, the one that had been dislocated just an hour ago.
It clicked. A heavy, metallic sound.
"How is the arm?" Mozart asked, looking up from his datapad near the driver's seat.
"Stiff," Alaric admitted. He rotated it again but didn't hurt.
In fact, it felt stronger than the left one.
"When Elena healed the bone... it felt like welding iron. It doesn't feel like a joint anymore. It feels more like a hinge."
