After the afternoon ability training session began, the experimental building gradually fell into silence.
Students entered their respective training zones one after another.
Heavy soundproof doors shut one by one. Each lock clicked into place with a dull thud. The sound echoed briefly through the corridor before being swallowed by the walls.
Scattered footsteps faded.
Someone closed the last door.
When the hinge stopped moving, the hallway returned to emptiness.
Only the low, continuous hum of distant machinery remained.
It was quiet.
Not sharp.
But constant.
Like the heartbeat of the building itself.
Lights fell evenly from the ceiling.
Long fluorescent panels were arranged in straight lines.
The illumination was steady.
No flicker.
The floor reflected a cold white sheen.
Every tile had been cleaned spotless.
At the center of the training area stood Ros.
Her breathing was mostly steady.
But her chest still rose and fell slightly.
The warm-up had just ended.
A trace of heat lingered in her body.
She gently clenched her fingers.
The joints tightened.
A faint friction sound came from the bones.
Then she slowly released them.
A thin layer of sweat covered her palms.
The air brought a slight chill against her skin.
She lowered her gaze to her arm.
There were several faint scars.
Not obvious.
Just shallow lines.
Easy to miss unless examined closely.
Some had nearly disappeared.
Only under angled light did subtle differences in tone appear.
Her arm lifted slightly.
Then lowered.
The instructor stood at the edge of the training zone.
A timer in his hand.
His posture was straight.
Like a pole fixed into the ground.
His gaze remained on Ros.
No unnecessary movement.
On the other side of the wall, the observation room was lit.
Behind one-way glass, several researchers stood at the control station.
The screens were already active.
Blue data interfaces filled the wall.
Lines of information refreshed continuously.
Heart rate.
Muscle stress.
Neural response time.
Blood circulation speed.
Recovery curves.
Numbers shifted constantly.
Someone pulled up a recent recovery graph.
A curve rising slowly from a low point.
A brief fluctuation midway.
Then continuing upward.
Returning to a stable range.
"The recovery starts earlier."
One researcher said quietly.
Another leaned closer.
Overlaying it with previous records.
Several curves stacked together.
Different colors.
Nearly identical shapes.
The differences were small.
But present.
"The speed increased."
He said.
The keyboard clicked.
New data was written into the database.
The ID number updated automatically in the corner.
Inside the training zone—
The instructor glanced at the time.
His thumb pressed the edge of the timer.
"Ready."
He said.
Ros nodded.
She stepped forward half a pace.
Her shoe brushed the floor.
A soft friction sound.
Her body shifted into stance.
Knees slightly bent.
Shoulders lowered.
Her breathing slowed.
The air went still.
A few seconds later—
The first attack activated.
The impact came from the side.
Air compressed.
A short explosive sound.
The force slammed into Ros.
Her body jolted backward.
Her heel dragged across the floor.
A scraping sound.
Her shoulder split open.
Skin torn by the impact.
Blood slowly seeped out.
Red spreading across the surface.
Ros didn't fall.
She stabilized.
Her toes gripped the ground again.
Her breathing grew heavier.
In the observation room—
The curve shifted.
Recovery initiated.
New data streams refreshed rapidly.
A researcher lowered his head.
Pen moving.
"Record it."
A quiet voice.
In the training zone—
Ros pressed her shoulder.
Blood ran along her fingers.
Dripping down her wrist.
A few seconds later—
The flow slowed.
The wound edges contracted slightly.
Skin pulled together by an unseen force.
The tear closed gradually.
The bleeding stopped.
In the observation room—
A chair slid forward.
A faint scrape.
"Self-repair response stable."
The curve continued.
Recovery held within expected range.
The segment was marked.
A new ID written beside it.
In the training zone—
Ros's breathing steadied.
The wound had closed.
Only a faint mark remained.
She rotated her arm slightly.
The joint still moved freely.
The instructor watched.
Silent.
A few seconds later—
He raised his hand again.
"Continue."
The second round began.
Faster this time.
Sharper.
Ros tried to sidestep.
Avoided part of the force.
But still got hit.
Her body tilted.
Balance lost.
Her knee struck the ground.
A dull impact.
She lowered her head.
One hand braced against the floor.
Her breathing intensified.
Chest rising rapidly.
Sweat slid from her temple.
Dropping onto the floor.
Leaving a small dark spot.
The observation screens updated again.
Recovery restarted.
A researcher stared at the data.
"Recovery slowed slightly."
Another shook his head.
"Still within stable parameters."
Keyboard sounds resumed.
The data was saved.
Seconds later—
Ros stood again.
The wound on her side was already healing.
Bleeding stopped.
Skin closed.
She pressed her side lightly.
Her breathing stabilized.
The instructor didn't wait long.
"Again."
Third round.
The impact struck her side directly.
More concentrated.
Her body bent backward.
Her breath cut off.
A sharp inhale escaped her throat.
Her feet slid back.
She almost fell.
But held.
Another wound opened.
Blood flowed again.
In the observation room—
The curve rose again.
Recovery remained stable.
Several curves were layered.
Damage.
Recovery.
Damage.
Recovery.
Almost identical repetition.
Like duplicated data.
Someone nodded.
"Consistency confirmed."
In the training zone—
Ros stood firm.
Her breathing gradually steadied.
But her chest movement was more pronounced.
Her arm muscles trembled slightly.
Still holding position.
No retreat.
The instructor raised his hand again.
Fourth round.
Air trembled.
Impact struck.
Another wound.
More blood.
Seconds later—
Stopped.
Skin closed again.
In the observation room—
A new record page was opened.
Data written down.
The pattern had stabilized.
After each injury—
Recovery began.
Intervals nearly identical.
Efficiency unchanged.
Cycle after cycle.
Repeated.
The lights remained unchanged.
The air stayed still.
Only the low hum persisted.
Ros stood at the center.
Her arms trembling slightly.
Her breathing heavier than before.
But still standing.
The instructor glanced at the timer.
Then pressed stop.
"End."
Silence returned.
Ros relaxed slowly.
Shoulders lowered.
Breathing still heavy.
She looked down at her arm.
The wounds were gone.
Only faint traces remained.
In the observation room—
Some screens shut off.
New files organized.
Pages of data archived.
Folders labeled.
Successful Case.
One researcher paused.
Looking at the final curve.
It had just completed a full cycle.
Damage.
Recovery.
Damage again.
Recovery again.
He closed the file.
Outside the experimental building—
The corridor remained quiet.
The machines continued running.
The low hum never stopped.
The next training session would begin soon.