Morning came too quickly.
Kel had barely slept.
The thin barracks cot groaned beneath him as he opened his eyes to the gray light slipping through the warped shutters.
For a few seconds, he forgot where he was.
Then the smell reminded him.
Sweat.
Old blood.
Wet wood.
Rust.
Frontier Patrol Unit 7.
Their new home.
Across the room, recruits stirred beneath ragged blankets while boots scraped against the floorboards and someone coughed hard enough to wake half the barracks.
Kel sat up slowly.
His chest still ached from the Guard Selection.
His palms were wrapped in rough cloth.
The strange warmth he had felt during the raid simulation was gone.
Mostly.
But not completely.
Something still lingered deep inside him.
Quiet.
Patient.
Like it had decided not to leave.
Across from him, Luno was already awake.
Of course he was.
He sat on the edge of his cot with his jar resting between his knees.
Every insect inside had gathered against the same side of the glass.
Facing the window.
Facing the Badlands.
Just like the night before.
Luno stared at them.
Kel rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"They still doing that?"
Luno nodded.
"They stopped for a while."
"When?"
"Right before sunrise."
Kel frowned.
"And now?"
"They started again."
The insects clicked softly.
Luno leaned closer.
"They know something."
Kel stood.
"They're bugs."
Luno looked up.
"So?"
Kel opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
He remembered the ants moving with Luno.
The silence when the guard had approached.
The way every insect had turned toward the darkness last night.
Kel sighed.
"Just don't let anyone see them."
Luno carefully wrapped the jar beneath his cloak.
A moment later—
a boot slammed down on the empty mat beside Kel.
Hard.
Deliberate.
"Move."
Kel looked up.
Brask stood over him.
Broad shoulders.
Crooked nose.
Knuckles swollen from years of hitting things harder than they deserved.
He looked older than most of the new recruits.
Not by much.
But long enough to think that meant something.
His grin carried no humor.
"Beds aren't for worms."
Several recruits chuckled quietly.
Not brave laughter.
Survival laughter.
Laugh with Brask.
Don't become Brask's next target.
Kel's hands tightened.
Before he could respond, Brask's eyes drifted past him.
Toward Luno.
More specifically—
toward the shape beneath Luno's cloak.
Brask tilted his head.
"What's that?"
Luno instinctively pulled the cloak tighter.
Brask smiled.
"You bringing pets to guard duty?"
His hand reached forward.
Kel stepped between them.
"They're not yours."
The barracks went quieter.
Brask looked at Kel.
Then shoved him.
Kel's back slammed into a wooden support post.
The beam rattled.
Pain shot through his spine.
Kel stayed upright.
For one split second—
the warmth inside him stirred.
His muscles tightened.
His feet planted.
The same feeling from yesterday.
Then Kel forced it down.
Not here.
Not over this.
Brask leaned close enough that Kel could smell stale meat on his breath.
"Lowest detail doesn't get to make demands."
Kel stared at him.
He could swing.
He knew that.
And some part of him wanted to.
But fighting Brask now wouldn't get them out of Unit 7.
Wouldn't get Luno safer routes.
Wouldn't get them anything except punishment.
So Kel stepped aside.
Not backing down.
Calculating.
"It's fine," he said.
"We'll find another spot."
Brask smirked.
"Good."
Kel grabbed his blanket from the cot.
Luno followed him toward the far side of the barracks.
When they were out of earshot, Luno whispered,
"Why do they hate us?"
Kel glanced back once.
"They don't."
Luno frowned.
"Looked like hate."
"They think we won't last."
Kel dropped the blanket onto an empty section of floor.
"Let them keep thinking that."
---
Unit 7 didn't train.
It endured.
Before the sun fully cleared the mountains, Captain Harven stood in the center of the yard and divided the recruits into work details.
There was no ceremony.
No speech about honor.
No promise of becoming great warriors.
Just orders.
"Outer fence."
"Canyon road."
"South wells."
"Caravan route."
"West watch."
Every assignment sounded worse than the one before it.
The better Guard units protected Durnfield itself.
Unit 7 protected everything nobody else wanted to protect.
Outer roads.
Broken fences.
Distant wells.
Supply lines.
Small caravans too poor to hire professionals.
Routes where raiders watched from cliffs.
Routes where animals wandered too close to civilization.
Routes where people disappeared.
A senior guard handed Kel a torch even though daylight already covered the road.
"Carry it."
Kel looked at the burning flame.
"It's morning."
The guard stared at him.
Kel took the torch.
They walked.
Hours passed.
The Badlands stretched around them beneath a white-hot sky.
Wind scraped dust across their skin.
Boots ground against stone.
Luno stayed close.
Every few minutes he checked the jar hidden beneath his cloak.
Kel noticed.
"Anything?"
"Nothing."
"Good."
Luno frowned.
"How is that good?"
"Because yesterday they were acting weird."
"They're insects."
"You said that like it means they're supposed to be normal."
Kel glanced at him.
Luno smiled faintly.
Kel shook his head.
Behind them, the senior guard barked,
"Watch your step!"
Kel's boot slipped slightly across loose gravel.
"Or is carrying a torch too advanced for you?"
A few recruits laughed.
Kel kept walking.
The torch didn't move.
By sunset, his legs burned.
By night, his shoulders ached.
By the time they returned to the barracks, even breathing felt tiring.
Kel collapsed onto the floor beside his blanket.
Luno sat nearby.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
Kel closed his eyes.
His hands trembled.
He told himself it was exhaustion.
Then warmth crawled slowly through his forearms.
Kel's eyes opened.
It moved beneath the skin.
Not burning.
Not painful.
Just present.
He flexed his fingers.
The warmth followed.
Kel stared at his hand.
Then it disappeared.
He said nothing.
---
The days became harder.
Fence repairs.
Long marches.
Water hauling.
Road patrols.
Sparring after exhaustion had already emptied their legs.
If Unit 7 made mistakes—
they were punished.
If another unit made mistakes—
Unit 7 cleaned them up.
Kel learned quickly.
Not because anyone taught him.
Because pain was an excellent instructor.
He learned which rocks shifted underfoot.
Which sections of road gave bandits the best ambush angles.
Which guards liked to yell.
Which ones actually watched.
He learned that Brask wasn't as fearless as he pretended to be.
And he learned that Luno noticed even more.
Luno remembered everything.
Which patrol dogs barked before strangers appeared.
Which insects vanished before the wind changed.
Which birds stopped calling when something larger entered the area.
Which guards favored one leg.
Which recruits always looked left before swinging right.
Kel noticed people.
Luno noticed patterns.
Together—
they missed very little.
The first real danger came on their fourth morning.
A pack of stray dogs burst from between two ruined buildings during patrol.
Six of them.
Ribs visible beneath mangy fur.
Eyes wide with hunger.
A recruit panicked and raised his spear.
"Back!"
The dogs spread.
Not retreating.
Circling.
Kel stepped in front of Luno immediately.
One dog moved left.
Two moved right.
Three stayed back.
Luno whispered,
"They're testing us."
Kel didn't look away.
"What?"
"They circle first."
The first dog lunged.
Kel pivoted.
His forearm knocked the animal's head aside while his other hand struck the side of its skull.
Short.
Controlled.
The dog crashed into another.
The pack scattered for half a second.
Kel stepped forward.
Not chasing.
Claiming space.
The dogs hesitated.
Luno watched them closely.
"They're looking for the weakest opening."
"How do you know?"
"I've seen ants do it."
Kel almost laughed.
The lead dog growled.
Then backed away.
The others followed.
Within seconds, the street was empty again.
Kel exhaled.
Across the road, an older guard stared at Luno.
Then at the jar shape beneath his cloak.
His expression tightened.
He said nothing.
---
A week later, Unit 7 was sent beyond Durnfield's outer cliffs.
The land there rose into jagged stone ridges that looked like broken teeth biting into the sky.
Brask led the group.
Not because he was an officer.
Because the senior guard assigned to them seemed content letting Brask pretend he was.
They reached an old wooden bridge crossing a narrow ravine.
Half the planks were cracked.
The rope rails sagged.
Brask stepped onto it without slowing.
"Move."
The others followed.
Luno stopped.
Kel almost ran into him.
"What?"
Luno crouched.
Several beetles crawled across the nearest boards.
Not randomly.
They moved away from the center.
Clustering along the edges.
Luno's eyes narrowed.
"Kel."
"What?"
"The weight."
Kel frowned.
Luno pointed.
"They're leaving the middle."
A crack snapped through the bridge.
Luno's eyes widened.
"Back!"
Brask turned.
"What are you—"
The center plank split.
The bridge dropped.
Luno lost his footing.
Kel moved instantly.
His hand caught the back of Luno's cloak as the boards vanished beneath him.
Luno swung over the ravine.
"Kel!"
Kel's shoulder nearly tore from its socket.
Pain exploded through him.
His boots slid.
Then—
warmth surged through his arm.
Kel gasped.
His muscles tightened.
Not all at once.
In sequence.
Shoulder.
Back.
Core.
Legs.
The force seemed to travel through his entire body instead of remaining trapped in one arm.
Kel planted his heel.
Stopped sliding.
And pulled.
Luno slammed onto solid ground.
A heartbeat later, the remaining section of bridge collapsed into the ravine.
Wood shattered below.
Everyone stared.
Brask looked at the wreckage.
Then at Kel and Luno.
"You disobeyed an order."
Kel slowly stood.
His shoulder burned.
"The bridge was unstable."
Brask's face hardened.
"Lowest detail doesn't decide that."
Luno stepped forward.
"The beetles—"
Kel raised a hand.
Luno stopped.
Brask stared at them both.
That night, Kel was assigned extra patrol.
Alone.
His shoulder throbbed with every step.
The warmth returned twice.
Each time, it seemed to move around the injury instead of through it.
Kel still didn't understand.
But for the first time—
he knew it wasn't adrenaline.
He just wasn't ready to say that aloud.
---
Three weeks after joining Unit 7—
the alarms screamed.
Kel woke instantly.
A horn blasted outside.
Then another.
Then shouting.
"Raid!"
"Supply outpost!"
"Move!"
Boots slammed against floorboards.
Guards grabbed weapons.
Kel was already standing.
Luno clutched his jar beneath his cloak.
Outside, the night had turned red.
Fire burned along the horizon.
A supply outpost less than a mile from Durnfield was under attack.
Unit 7 was sent first.
No one said why.
They didn't need to.
Expendable bodies went ahead of valuable ones.
The outpost appeared through the smoke.
Arrows sliced through the darkness.
One struck the dirt beside Kel.
Another buried itself in a wooden post.
"Hold the line!"
A guard screamed.
Raiders poured between the burning wagons.
Kel ducked a swinging blade.
His fist drove into a man's stomach.
The raider stumbled.
Kel moved left.
Another came from the side.
Luno shouted,
"Behind!"
Kel turned.
Blocked.
Pain exploded through his forearm.
The raider swung again.
Kel slipped beneath it.
His fist struck the ribs.
The warmth answered.
This time—
Kel felt it coming.
Something moved from deep inside his body.
Down his shoulder.
Through his elbow.
Into his fist.
CRACK.
The raider staggered backward.
Kel froze for half a second.
That hit was different.
Not faster.
Not harder.
Heavier.
As though every part of his body had struck at once.
Then someone screamed.
Kel turned.
A raider had broken through the line.
Straight toward Luno.
Kel moved.
No thought.
No hesitation.
He intercepted him.
The raider's shoulder slammed into Kel's chest.
Kel's vision flashed white.
But his feet stayed beneath him.
Warmth spread through his legs.
His stomach.
His back.
His arms.
The strange energy linked everything together.
Kel grabbed the raider.
Twisted.
Drove his fist forward.
CRACK.
The man fell.
Kel staggered.
His chest erupted with pain.
The warmth vanished.
His knees almost followed.
Behind him, Luno dropped low.
A second raider rushed toward them.
Luno grabbed a handful of stones.
Kel expected him to throw them at the man's face.
He didn't.
Luno watched the raider's feet.
One step.
Two.
Three—
Luno threw.
The stone struck exactly where the man's foot was about to land.
His heel rolled.
He stumbled.
Kel hit him.
Another raider came.
Luno threw again.
Not at him.
At the ground.
The raider adjusted.
That adjustment exposed his side to another Guard.
A spear slammed into him.
Luno's eyes moved constantly.
"Kel!"
A stone flew.
A raider stepped around it—
directly into Kel's path.
Kel struck.
Another.
Luno threw.
Another misstep.
Another opening.
They weren't powerful attacks.
They didn't need to be.
Luno was controlling where people stepped.
Forcing choices.
Creating mistakes.
Like moving insects through a colony.
The defensive line held.
Barely.
Then horns sounded from Durnfield.
Reinforcements.
Real Guard units flooded the road.
The raiders retreated.
Kel stood among the smoke.
His vision blurred.
His legs shook.
Luno ran toward him.
"Kel?"
Kel tried to answer.
His body finally gave up.
He collapsed.
---
When he woke, the ceiling looked familiar.
Barracks.
A rough bandage wrapped his chest.
His shoulder had been braced.
Captain Harven stood beside the cot.
Kel blinked.
"How long?"
"Half a day."
Kel tried to sit up.
Harven pushed him back with one hand.
"Don't."
Kel stopped.
Across the room, Luno sat with his jar in his lap.
Safe.
Kel relaxed.
Harven noticed.
"You disobey orders."
Kel looked at him.
"I protect my unit."
Harven's expression didn't change.
"You've said that before?"
"No."
"Sounded practiced."
Kel stayed quiet.
Harven glanced toward Luno.
"The other one sees things."
Luno looked up.
Harven continued.
"Movement."
"Patterns."
"Openings."
Luno tightened his grip on the jar.
Harven looked back at Kel.
"And you…"
His eyes narrowed.
"Your body keeps doing things you don't understand."
Kel's chest tightened.
Harven waited.
Kel said nothing.
The captain turned toward the door.
"You both survived."
He stopped.
"That's rare for Unit 7."
Kel frowned.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
Harven looked over his shoulder.
"No."
Then—
"Keep surviving."
"Maybe you'll earn something better."
He left.
Across the barracks, Brask stood near the doorway.
Watching.
Kel met his eyes.
Something had changed.
The usual contempt wasn't there.
Neither was amusement.
Brask had seen what happened during the raid.
Seen Kel stay standing.
Seen Luno turn thrown rocks into battlefield control.
Now something colder sat behind his stare.
Fear.
Brask looked away first.
---
That night, fever rolled through Kel's body.
He lay beneath a thin blanket, jaw clenched.
His muscles felt like they were being pulled apart from the inside.
Luno sat beside him.
The jar rested in his lap.
"You didn't have to do that."
Kel opened one eye.
"Do what?"
"Keep jumping in front of things."
Kel managed a tired smile.
"Yes I did."
"No."
Luno looked down.
"You always tell me to stay behind you."
Kel's breathing slowed.
Luno continued.
"But I don't want you getting killed because I'm there."
Kel stared at the ceiling.
For a moment, he didn't know what to say.
Then—
"Then get stronger."
Luno looked at him.
Kel turned his head.
"So I don't have to."
Luno was quiet.
Then nodded.
"Okay."
Inside the jar—
the insects shifted.
Not toward the window this time.
Toward Luno.
Every one of them.
He noticed.
His breath caught.
But before he could say anything—
Kel's body tensed.
Warmth pulsed beneath his skin.
Once.
Twice.
Then moved.
Kel's eyes snapped open.
He could feel it.
Not vaguely.
Not like heat spreading everywhere.
A current.
Running through muscle.
Threading around bone.
Traveling from the center of his body into his limbs.
His fingers curled.
The current followed.
His breathing changed.
The warmth changed with it.
Kel stared at his hand.
For the first time—
it felt almost responsive.
Not controlled.
Not yet.
But listening.
Something inside his body had begun to answer him.
Luno leaned closer.
"Kel?"
Kel closed his fist.
The warmth disappeared.
"I'm fine."
Luno frowned.
"You're terrible at lying."
Kel almost smiled.
Outside, wind scraped against the barracks walls.
Neither boy knew the name of what was happening.
Neither understood that warriors spent years learning to feel the energy Kel had begun sensing by instinct.
Internal Qi.
Still weak.
Still uncontrolled.
But awake.
And beside him—
the insects in Luno's jar waited in perfect silence.
As if they were waiting for something inside him to wake too.
In the Badlands, power rarely arrived with permission.
It came through hunger.
Pain.
Fear.
Survival.
And once it woke—
it demanded to be used.