The academy felt different after the mixed rotations started.
It wasn't louder. If anything, the halls were quieter. Conversations still happened, but they carried a careful tone now. Students watched each other more closely, measuring reactions and remembering small mistakes that would've been forgotten a week ago.
Lucas felt it the moment he stepped out of the training hall.
Sweat still clung to the back of his neck as he walked into the locker corridor. The usual post-training noise filled the space: lockers slamming, boots scraping across the floor, low voices complaining about drills.
But the rhythm had changed.
People weren't joking the way they normally did after practice. They were comparing notes.
"Your anchor stepped early on the third wave."
"That's because the suppressor widened too late."
"No, the hazard angle shifted."
Lucas dropped his gloves on the bench and sat down with a tired exhale.
"Okay," he muttered, rubbing his forehead. "That rotation was brutal."
