Night drills begin at 0200. No lights. No warnings. Sirens rip the dorm from sleep like teeth through flesh. Red strobes pulse across the bunks, painting every face in blood color.
Ray is already moving. Boots half-laced. Shard fragment tucked against his sternum, warm as a second heart. The Predator Seed pulses, eager, tasting the chaos on the air.
Block D cadets spill into the corridor in a tangle of limbs and curses. Pyrokinetic neighbor (name: Finch) leaves scorch marks on the ceiling, sparks showering like dying stars. Teleporter (goes by Blink) phases through three walls in panic, reappears halfway in the floor, vomiting bile and half-digested vending-machine noodles.
Proctor drones herd them with electric prods and tinny voices. Exercise: Low-light urban extraction. Live ammunition. Casualties expected. Failure means expulsion. The words echo off concrete like a death sentence.
Ray's pulse steadies to a predator's calm. Casualties expected. Perfect. The hunger licks its lips.
Teams form by random draw, holographic lottery spinning names. Ray pairs with a twitchy illusionist named Jax (E-rank, eyes darting like trapped flies). Jax's power: minor mirage duplicates, three at most, flickering and unstable. Useful for distraction. Disposable for bait. Jax swallows hard. "We're dead."
Luna is across the bay, ice armor half-formed over her drill suit, crystalline plates catching the red light. Her eyes find Ray in the dark, blue as glacial cores. She mouths: Stay alive. He nods once, sharp. The hunger stirs, tasting her frost from here.
Gates drop with a hydraulic hiss. The arena transforms: derelict skyscraper mock-up, twenty stories of rusted girders and shattered glass, fog thick as guilt pumped from vents. Drones with rubber bullets swapped for live rounds (9mm, armor-piercing). Objective: Secure the hostage mannequin on floor 47. Time limit: 20 minutes.
Jax whispers, voice cracking, "I'll ghost us up the stairs. Make duplicates scout." Ray says nothing. He's already counting: six exits, four pressure plates, two sniper nests on the catwalks above. The fog smells of ozone and gun oil.
They move. Boots crunch on broken tile. Jax's illusions flicker ahead (ghost Rays, ghost Jaxs), probing corners.
Floor 12. First contact. Ambush from the shadows: two upperclassmen, B-rank. Wind manipulator (calls himself Gale, smug grin) and kinetic absorber (girl named Kira, ponytail tight as her control). Gale snaps his fingers; wind howls, shredding illusions like paper. Kira tanks Jax's panic punch, absorbs the force, returns it triple. Jax's ribs cave with a wet crunch. He hits the wall, blood spraying in an arc.
Ray steps over the body without breaking stride. No time for guilt. The hunger approves, a low thrum in his bones.
Gale laughs, wind whipping his cape. "Charity case thinks he's a hero. How cute."
Ray smiles. First mistake. Eyes locked on Gale, he feints left, palm brushing a loose rebar from the debris. Gale blasts. Razor wind slices air. Ray rides it (kinetic memory from pits guiding his twist), slams rebar through Kira's thigh. Steel grates bone. She screams, high and animal. Absorber power falters, kinetic feedback looping back into her nerves.
Gale hesitates. Half second. Eyes wide at the blood. Enough.
Ray closes distance in a blur. Knee to solar plexus folds Gale like paper. Elbow to temple drops him cold. Body thuds.
But the drones see everything. Red lights flare. Unauthorized lethal force. Cadet Kings disqualified. Stand down.
Ray ignores the voice. He kneels by Kira. Her eyes wide, blood bubbling at lips, uniform soaked crimson. "I'm sorry," he whispers, fingers brushing her cheek. Not for the wound. For what comes next. Her pulse flutters under his thumb, rabbit-fast.
The Predator Seed uncoils like smoke in his veins.
Target viable. Catalyst: Kinetic Redirection (Rank C+). Vital signs critical. Absorption window: 9 seconds.
Ray's hand presses her chest, over the Helios sigil now stained red. Black threads erupt from his palm (veins of shadow, writhing like living ink), burrow into her skin. She convulses, back arching, a guttural choke escaping. Memories flood in a torrent:
Her first kiss behind the academy gym, awkward and sweet, boy's hands trembling.
Council recruiter in a sterile office, promising her dying mother experimental treatment if she signed the contract.
The night Ray's family burned. Apartment 4B. She was there, rookie backup, helmet fogging with nerves. Stood silent while Drake gave the order: "Cleanse the anomaly." Watched the flames rise. Pocketed the data shard piece on command. Name in the file: Tessia Vale. Luna's sister.
Kira's eyes (no, Tessia's eyes in memory) lock on Ray's. Recognition dawns. Terror blooms. Then empty. Glazed.
+ Kinetic Redirection (C+)
+ Memory Cluster: "Operation Cleanse – Kings Residence"
+ Skill Fragment: Pain Suppression
Identity Integrity: 94%
Ray staggers back, knees buckling against a pillar. The arena spins, fog swirling like ghosts. Tessia Vale. Luna's sister. The second hero in the room. The one who took the shard. The one who watched his mother die.
Jax groans behind him, crawling on shattered ribs. Alive. Barely. Illusions flicker like broken film, half-formed Rays pleading for help.
Drones swarm, rotors whining. Cadet Kings, stand down. Lethal violation. Surrender for processing.
Ray stands slow. Kinetic power hums in his veins, hot and foreign. He redirects the first taser round (feels the energy coil, snaps it back). Projectile embeds in a drone's chassis. Explosion. Shrapnel peppers the walls.
Upperclassmen retreat up the stairs, Gale dragging his feet. Jax limps after, illusions covering his escape.
Ray walks out through the smoke. Alarms scream, red lights strobing. But no one stops him. Not yet.
Back in the dorm, dawn leaks gray through bulletproof windows, turning the bunks to ghosts.
Ray sits on his bunk, hands steady on his knees. Mind fracturing like the mirror from last night. Blood crusts under his nails. Tessia Vale. Luna's sister. The file plays on loop: Tessia nodding as Drake ordered the fire. Tessia pocketing the data shard piece Ray now carries, the mate to his own fragment.
Footsteps soft on tile.
Luna slips inside, still in drill gear, frost clinging to her lashes like frozen tears. She heard the rumors already (cadet dead, anomaly kill, Ray walking free). Everyone heard.
"Ray." Her voice cracks, barely above a whisper. "What did you do?"
He meets her eyes, storm-blue and shattered. Shows her the memory. Not with words. The stolen kinetic power lets him project fragments into the air between them: holographic flames licking walls, Drake's smile cold as steel, Tessia's nod (young face, older eyes).
Luna's face drains to porcelain. Ice spreads across the floor in fractal patterns, cracking tile like thunder. "No." Whisper. Then scream, raw and ripping. "NO!"
She lunges. Not to fight. To hold. Arms around him, cold enough to burn skin, sobs shaking them both like earthquakes. Ray doesn't move, arms hanging loose. The hunger purrs, content.
"I'll kill her," Luna whispers into his neck, breath frosting his skin. "I'll help you kill them all. My family. The Council. Everything."
Ray closes his eyes. First fracture. Not in bone. In trust. In the space between them where innocence used to live.
Outside, the city wakes under a bruised sky. Hero billboards flicker on, Arion Drake smiles down from every screen, promising safety, justice, tomorrow.
Ray smiles back through the window. Teeth sharper now. Eyes reflecting the flame that never quite went out.