They walked into a massive hall that buzzed with noise and movement.
The ceiling arched so high it vanished into shadow, supported by thick metallic pillars etched with glowing runes. Light panels hovered in the air, casting a cold white glow over the hundreds of people gathered inside. They stood in distinct groups, each marked by strikingly unique uniforms, though all bore the same insignia.
Teams from other cities.
They had all convened here, in the island's capital.
Chris led the seven-man team toward an unoccupied spot near one of the pillars. As they settled in, the group subtly began scouting the young elites around them—measuring stances, reading expressions, judging threats.
"Avril, it's no surprise you're here."
The voice drifted over smoothly.
The seven turned to see a pale blue–haired guy about their age approaching, a confident smile spreading across his face. One look was enough for Leo to dislike him.
Avril shot him a cold side-eye. "It's Miss Morales to you."
The guy didn't retreat. If anything, his smile widened.
"Soon enough, I'll prove that I'm the only one worthy of you, Avril," he said lightly—though his eyes were devoid of warmth. "There'll be no denying it."
Avril didn't bother responding.
Leo couldn't help but chuckle. Seeing the usually sharp-tongued Avril dismiss someone so coldly was amusing. Unfortunately, his chortle drew attention.
The blue-haired guy's head snapped toward him, his smile fading into a frown.
"And who might you be?" he asked.
Leo's eyes glinted with amusement. His lips curled into a teasing smirk.
"Who am I?" he scoffed. "You don't deserve to know."
He turned away casually.
For a brief moment, a spark of killing intent flashed in the blue-haired guy's eyes—but he suppressed it quickly. He gave Leo a slow once-over.
Only two families have red hair, he thought. The Talons and the Ainsworths. But he lacks the Ainsworths' signature black strands… so he's likely a Talon.
His gaze lingered.
But I've never heard of a Talon with blue strands.
Guess I'll find out later.
He cast Leo one last look before turning back to Avril, the smile returning to his face.
"This isn't over," he said, then turned and walked away.
"Well," Max said with a grin, "looks like you've got yourself a love rival, playboy."
The rest of the team snickered.
Leo, however, looked completely unbothered. He shrugged, dimples appearing on his cheeks.
"Me? A timeline where I have a rival doesn't exist," he said calmly. "If I want something, no one can take it from me. Not Avril. Not Alauna."
The confidence dripping from his voice made both Avril and Alauna blush—earning him a perfectly synchronized double pincer.
Secretly, warmth bloomed in their chests. Though neither had confessed their feelings—and both were unsure where they stood—they undeniably had a soft spot for him.
Their bubble burst when a man stepped onto the podium at the center of the hall.
"Welcome to Apex Forge."
His voice reverberated across the space, though he wore no microphone. The runes carved throughout the hall pulsed faintly—it seemed they were more than mere decoration.
"It has only been a few days since the systems descended," he continued. "If things had gone according to plan, we wouldn't have gathered you here for several more months. But circumstances have… deviated from our projections."
He paused.
"The emergence of mutated beasts is not something the world is ready to face—not yet. That is why you are here. The elite of the elite. The beacon of hope. Tomorrow's guardians."
Murmurs rippled through the hall.
"With talent comes power," he went on, "and with great power comes greater responsibility. We trust that you will bear this weight."
He swept his gaze across the hall, reading the storm of emotions on their faces.
"That is why Apex Forge has been launched. This will be your platform—to train, to be tested, to be forged. But nothing here is handed out freely. Resources, attention, opportunity—all must be earned."
"Apex Forge operates on absolute meritocracy. Prove your worth, and the forge will answer."
"You will remain in your current teams. Some trials will be undertaken together, others alone. By the time you leave this place, your potential will have been forged to its zenith."
His voice softened, but the weight of his words only grew heavier.
"Every step you take here is proof you will outlive the darkness. Hold fast. When night falls and morning comes—it will rise because of you."
The hall erupted into applause.
"I am Lloyd Krystal," the man said, "and I will serve as director of this forge for the foreseeable future."
"The institution has been designed to provide everything you require. You are free to explore your assigned quarters today. Return tomorrow prepared—after bidding your farewells and saying your goodbyes."
As the gathering dispersed, men dressed in black approached each team, guiding them toward their respective bases.
The forge had opened whether they will be forged into a relic or they will be a misforge.