Barnes turned to face the class, arms loosely crossed behind his back.
"During your time here, you'll undergo a series of tests designed to determine where your strengths lie. Combat drills, aptitude trials, stress evaluation, simulations, you name it. These will help us categorize you. But I want to make something clear."
His voice softened slightly, not warmer, but more deliberate. "Not everyone fits neatly into these molds. Some of you will overlap, some won't fit any at all. That's fine. It's more than fine. This—" he motioned toward the projection "—isn't an exact science. Bodies change. Adaptations evolve. What you are today might not be what you'll become next year.
He let that sit for a moment before adding, "Don't be discouraged if you don't fit the profile. In fact, if you don't, good. It means you have potential that doesn't fit a pattern."
A murmur rippled through the room, a mix of intrigue and apprehension. Barnes didn't seem to mind the noise.
He swiped his data again, the diagram moving on to the next page. "Now, let's move on to Anchors. The backbones to Strikers. They are technologically advanced humans with a more stable physiology. They act as tactical supports, regulators, and energy balancers. They don't just anchor Strikers, but ground them."
He swiped to the next page, showcasing the typical straights Anchors have. "Anchors have high-level cognitive function. What does this mean you might ask, it means they have tactical awareness and analysis. They are capable of emotional regulation, empathy mapping.
They aren't just bags of calm, happiness and security. They excel in combat, masters in a range of weapons, as well as martial arts. That's not the only thing that makes them special," he said as his eyes swept through the class, eyeing them intently.
"They have neural sync tech embedded in their systems and have the ability to distribute energy, regulate surges, and stabilize unruly Strikers. What does this mean?" He swiped his datapad, displaying a detailed diagram showcasing this neural sync technology and how it works.
The projected screen flickered again, and a sleek, rotating model appeared. A human brain mapped in blue light, connected by a lattice of glowing lines that pulsed like veins. The network extended downward, linking the brain to a circular device at the base of the skull.
"This," Instructor Barnes said, gesturing toward the display, "is the Neural Sync Interface. Every Anchor has one, implemented directly into the medulla and spinal nexus at birth. It's what allows them to connect with Strikers and manage the energy between bodies."
He zoomed in on the diagram, showing thin, silver-like fibers spreading through the nervous system.
"I know it's a lot to take in and I'm sure all this technical jargon is going over your heads right now, put this diagram is supposed to provide you all a visual representation of what's going on inside an Anchor's brain.
This is what makes your powers work, what allows you to keep your Striker from going berserk."
His last comment earned a few laughs in the crowd. Kenneth noticed how the creases between his brows seemed to smoothen at this. Instructor Barnes had been a tough nut for him to crack, but he realized it was only his appearance that was intimidating.
"I won't bore you all with the scientific terms, but understand that this part of the brain," he pointed to the microfilaments, "acts like a conduit, essentially translating neural impulses into data. When an Anchor links with a Striker, the sync allows both parties to share sensory input, emotional feedback and when needed, some extra juice to give them a little boost.
Think of it like a two-way system. One needs the juice, and the other provides that juice. But remember, this isn't a one-way street. An Anchor benefits gratefully from this exchange especially if it's coming from their pair."
The class interrupted in murmurs once more. This was a lot to process, and as someone who'd just entered this world and was just being exposed to something this…bizarre, Kenneth was having a hard time wrapping his head around entering someone's mind, sharing emotions and sensations.
His mind couldn't help flickering to Lucien. He was a Striker. He wondered if someone had been wiggling their way inside his brain all this time. His brows furrowed.
"Syncing requires precision. Too much strain on the neural bridge and the Anchor can burn out. Too little, and the link collapses. That's why we train our Anchors not to just connect, but to control this ability. It's a weird thing to think about, but hearing and experiencing are two different things. You will all have a chance to experience this first hand in a few weeks. Look forward to it."
He flicked his wrist again, and the screen shifted to a new title:
SUPPORT SPECIALTIES (SUB-CLASSES)
"Now, let's break down the four main categories of Support Specialists," he said, his tone carrying a hint of excitement that made the entire room straighten.
"Controllers, Med-Links, Ops-Tech, and Tacticians. Each of you will likely fall under one of these categories, or a blend of them, depending on your sync compatibility."
He pointed to the first section. "Controllers manage neural links during combat. They maintain equilibrium when Strikers are mid-rampage, redirecting excess energy before it can spiral. Now, most Anchors have the capability to do this, it's just harder for some. If you're a high-ranking Anchor, you will more than likely be put in situations where you'll have to anchor a Striker regardless of whether or not you guys are compatible."
Barnes moved to the next slide: a medic tending to a wounded Striker. "Med-Links are imperative, especially in field missions.
They're healers but also regulators. Their link ability allows them to accelerate recovery and restore physical performance. Remember what I told you all. Strikers are the swords and in order for the sword to remain useful their blade cannot get dull. It needs to stay sharp. Med-Links ensure they stay that way."
The screen shifted again, displaying a sleek drone hovering above a battlefield simulation.
"Ops-Techs are our eyes in the sky. They operate recon drones, oversee tech management, and handle battlefield surveillance. If a Controller steadies the mind, an Ops-Tech steadies the field."
Finally, the image transitioned to a holographic war map, red and blue units blinking as simulated commands played out.
"And then, Tacticians. The command-grade specialists. They are our planners, our leaders. They read the field like an open book and make calls that can turn the tide in a mission. Tacticians are often deployed in skirmishes, small-unit strikes, and high-risk extractions. They're holding everything together when everything falls apart, which will happen a lot since the field is unpredictable."
Something unreadable flashed in his eyes before his tone softened slightly. "Anchors are, in every sense, the brains of an operation. They keep the peace in the field and act as the glue that molds everyone together. Without them, Strikers wouldn't last long. Obviously that's not a dig at Strikers," he added, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"That's the reality. It's a common misconception that Anchors are the weaker type, that they aren' t as strong as Strikers. If any of you came into this class, into Toleran thinking this, you better rethink that rhetoric, and fast."
Kenneth, who'd been listening in quiet concentration, couldn't help but draw a connection in his mind. They're like Special Forces officers, he thought. Each with a specific role, designed to maintain balance in the middle of chaos.
He'd had a Military Occupational Speciality himself. Intelligence and Combat Operations. Everything Barnes described resonated on a visceral level. The logic, the structure, the need for teamwork. It was uncanny. A sudden thought popped in his mind.
He raised his hand, hesitating for only a moment before speaking. "Sir," he began, his voice calm, "you mentioned four Support specializations, but what if someone fits all four categories?'
The room fell silent. Even the hum of the air purifier seemed to fade as Instructor Barnes turned his gaze towards him. For a second, his expression was unreadable, then, unexpectedly, a small smile broke across his face. It was the first genuine one Kenneth had seen from him all morning.
"Well," Barnes said, setting his datapad down on the desk beside him, "that's a damn good question right there, Cadet."
He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly as he continued. "There is a classification for that. A rare one. We call them Vanguards."
The word seemed to hang in the air, heavy. He looked at the projection and swiped the screen, bringing up a faintly glowing silhouette outlined in gold.
"Vanguards are the pinnacle of Anchor and Striker evolution. They aren't bound by one role because they embody the strongest and most unique traits of all of them."
Just then, a young man with tan skin, black hair, and fierce gold eyes spoke up. Kenneth recognized him as the scowling guy from orientation. "Does anyone in the academy fall under this category?"
Barnes was quiet for a moment, making the students wait anxiously for his answer. After a long painstaking ten seconds, he finally opened his mouth. "Yes."
Shock spread throughout the lecture hall. The young man's golden eyes flashed. "Who?"
Yes, who? They all wondered.
Instructor Barned said in an almost cryptic tone, "He is closer than you think."