The mid-term announcement flickered across the Academy's central monitors in a wash of aggressive crimson and gold. While most students looked at the "Gauntlet" with dread or feverish ambition, Ken Vaelstron viewed it as a hardware problem.
The students were gathered in the main amphitheater. At the center of the stage stood General Marcus Thorne, his presence casting a shadow that seemed to chill the air. Beside him stood a figure draped in robes of shifting metallic mesh—The Architect.
"The Gauntlet is not a test of your strength," the General's voice boomed, amplified by mana-conduits. "It is a test of your survival. You will be dropped into the Simulation Zone. Your objective: neutralize the Aegis-Golems."
Behind him, a massive holographic blueprint flared into life.
"These are the pinnacle of Dominion engineering," the General continued. "Tier-5 defensive plating, adaptive logic-cores, and enough firepower to level a city block. You will work in squads of four. If your squad core is shattered, you fail. If you retreat, you fail."
Ken sat in the back, his head tilted at a lazy angle, but his Eye of Truth was memorizing the refresh rate of the Golem's sensors. He could see what the General wasn't telling them. The Golems weren't just autonomous; they were linked to a central "hive" server. To take the relic hidden inside one, he would have to sever that link without alerting the its structure.
"Squad assignments are as follows," the Architect's voice rasping through the hall. "Squad 1: Dorian Vaelstron, Isabella Thorne, Elara Vance, and..." He paused, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on the back row. "...Ken Vaelstron."
The silence that followed was broken by Dorian's loud, mocking laugh.
"You're putting the 0.8 on the lead squad?" Dorian called out, leaning back in his seat. "Why not just give us a literal anchor to drag behind us? He'll be dead before we hit the drop zone."
"The assignments are based on statistical balance," the Architect replied coldly, his eyes never leaving Ken. "And perhaps Prince Ken has a talent for 'finding his way' into places he shouldn't be. Let us see if that luck holds in combat."
Ken felt Isabella's eyes on him—sharp and calculating. Beside her, Elara Vance's violet eyes glowed with a predatory light. She wasn't looking at him with pity anymore; she was looking at him like a puzzle she intended to solve.
"The Gauntlet begins at 0400 hours," the General finished. "Dismissed."
As the crowd dispersed, Ken felt a hand grip his shoulder. It was Dorian. His brother's golden aura was suppressed, but the physical strength behind the grip was undeniable.
"Listen to me, you waste of blood," Dorian hissed into his ear. "I don't care about the Architect's 'balance.' When we drop in, you stay out of our way. If you trip and get in Isabella's line of fire, I won't stop her. In fact, I might help."
Ken looked at his brother with wide, watery eyes. "I... I'm not good with robots, Dorian. Maybe I can just stay in the shuttle?"
Dorian shoved him away with a look of pure disgust. "Just try to die quietly."
Ken watched him walk away, his "fear" melting into a mask of cold efficiency the moment Dorian was out of sight. He turned a corner and slipped into a shadow-filled alcove where a cleaning drone was docked.
"Selene," he whispered.
"I already know," her voice came through, sounding strained. "The Architect put you in that squad on purpose. He's using Elara as a human lie detector. If you use even a millisecond of void-energy, she'll see the 'blank spot' in the mana-flow and flag you."
"I know," Ken said, his eyes sharpening. "Which is why I'm not going to use void-energy to take the relic."
"Then how?"
"I'm going to use their own system against them," Ken replied. "The Aegis-Golems run on a Tier-5 Dominion OS. They have a 'backdoor' for emergency maintenance—a specific physical frequency that can force a hard reset. I just need to get close enough to touch the chassis."
"Ken, that's suicide. To get that close, you have to bypass the auto-cannons and the gravity-well. Without your core, you're just a boy in a suit."
"I'm not just a boy," Ken said, a small, dark smile playing on his lips. "I'm the 0.8. Nobody expects anything from a failure."
He walked toward the armory to pick up his standard-issue Bronze Wing gear. He had six hours to prepare a manual override tool disguised as a broken radio. The "Meat Grinder" was about to start, and for the first time, Ken Vaelstron was looking forward to the test.
End of Chapter 9.