Their training had already begun.
Quinn learned that before anyone bothered to tell him.
The first lesson came fast, sharp, and without ceremony:
The facility did not care if he was special.
The door sealed behind him with a sound that felt final—thick alloy sliding into place, mana-threaded seams knitting shut with a low, resonant hum.
Not a slam. Not a warning.
A conclusion.
The corridor Vale had led him through widened into a circular chamber that immediately felt… wrong.
Not hostile.
Not threatening.
Just indifferent.
The walls were smooth and pale, etched with geometric lines that pulsed faintly as mana flowed through them in disciplined, looping circuits.
No weapons.
No machines.
No instructors standing with clipboards and expectations.
Just space.
And pressure.
The moment Quinn stepped forward, the air pressed down on him—not crushing, not violent, but insistent.
Like gravity had leaned in closer, curious to see how much he could take before he noticed.
His breath hitched.
Not because breathing was hard.
Because the mana density spiked without warning, flooding the room like an invisible tide.
His System stirred.
🛈 Initial Training Environment Detected
🛈 Mana Saturation: 312% above ambient norm
⚠ Caution: Unregulated exposure
Quinn didn't move.
He listened.
The mana wasn't wild. It wasn't attacking him. It moved in slow, measured circuits along the walls, cycling through the floor and ceiling like a closed ecosystem.
A loop.
A test.
He swallowed and took another step.
The pressure increased.
Not crushing—measuring.
His skin prickled as mana brushed against him, skimming the surface of his body like curious fingers testing texture.
The sensation tightened something in his chest, instinct flaring before thought could catch up.
He reached for the mana—
—and stopped.
Not because the System warned him.
Because it felt… wrong.
Like grabbing water with clenched fists instead of letting it flow between his fingers.
Quinn exhaled slowly.
Relaxed his shoulders. Loosened his jaw. Let his breathing settle into a steady rhythm.
Instead of pulling—
He opened.
The mana responded immediately.
Not dramatically. Not explosively.
It shifted.
The pressure eased by a fraction, currents smoothing as if the room itself acknowledged the adjustment.
🛈 Mana Interaction Stabilized
🛈 Efficiency Increase: 3.2%
Quinn blinked.
"…Huh."
That was new.
He took another step.
This time, the mana didn't resist him at all.
Elsewhere, Riley learned a different truth.
Pain was honest.
The door slammed shut behind him and the lights snapped on all at once, flooding the massive training hall with cold white brilliance.
The room was enormous—too enormous—lined with reinforced walls, suspended rails, and weapon racks that looked like they'd been designed by someone who deeply resented human joints.
The floor vibrated faintly beneath his boots.
Then the first punch came.
Not from a person.
From the air.
A set of fitted training gear had barely been shoved into his hands—sensors locking around his torso, an earpiece clicking into place—before something slammed into his ribs and sent him skidding across the floor.
Riley rolled instinctively, prosthetic arm digging in to stop his momentum before he could slam into the wall.
He coughed once, sharp and breathless.
"…Okay," he muttered. "So it's like that."
A voice from the ear piece chimed cheerfully.
🛈 Combat Simulation Initialized
🛈 Reaction Time Benchmarking Active
⚠ Warning: Failure to evade may result in injury
"Wow," Riley said, pushing himself up. "Now you tell me."
The air moved again.
This time he saw it—barely. A ripple. A compression wave distorting the space in front of him.
His body reacted before his brain caught up.
Legs pushed off hard. He twisted sideways.
The blast missed him by inches.
His heart hammered, adrenaline surging hot and sharp through his veins.
Fast.
He needed to be faster.
🛈 Reaction Time Improved: +0.04 seconds
🛈 Neural Adaptation Detected
Riley grinned despite the ache spreading through his side.
"Again."
The room obliged.
Back in Quinn's chamber, the walls began to change.
Lines rearranged themselves, geometric patterns shifting like a puzzle reconfiguring mid-solve. The mana flow adjusted accordingly—currents tightening, pressure increasing in uneven, deliberate waves.
The room was escalating.
Quinn closed his eyes.
For the first time since the Rift, he didn't try to control the mana.
He traced it.
Felt how it moved through the walls. How it curved at the corners. How it thickened near the floor before rising again. He imagined his own mana—not as a fire to unleash, but as a thread meant to be woven.
He stepped forward.
The pressure surged—
[ Mana Alignment Detected]
[❓ Unclassified Control Method Observed]
[ Logging Data…]
Quinn frowned.
"Unclassified?"
He opened his eyes just in time to see the walls… hesitate.
Not stop.
Pause.
Like the room itself was recalculating.
A quiet chill slid down his spine.
"I'm not doing anything weird," he murmured, mostly to himself.
The System did not respond.
That scared him more than any warning ever had.
Riley wasn't scared.
He was tired.
Sweat drenched his shirt.
Muscles burned as he dodged, rolled, and sprinted across the hall while invisible strikes snapped at his heels.
His breaths came hard and fast, lungs screaming for mercy.
He missed one.
The blast caught his shoulder and spun him sideways, slamming him into the floor. Pain flared white-hot, his prosthetic arm clanging as it absorbed the impact.
He lay there for half a second.
Then pushed himself up.
🛈 Damage Sustained: Moderate
🛈 Adaptive Response Recommended
Riley spat blood onto the floor and laughed.
"Recommendation denied."
He didn't wait.
He ran toward the next attack.
The ripple hit him head-on—
—and slid past.
Not because it missed.
Because Riley moved.
Faster. Cleaner. Like his body had learned the timing mid-fight.
🛈 Reaction Time Improved: +0.11 seconds
🛈 Anomalous behaviour Detected: Momentum Variance
Riley didn't hear the last part.
He was too busy grinning.
Hours later, the doors opened.
Quinn stepped out first—quiet, eyes distant. Mana clung to him faintly, like static after a storm.
Riley followed soon after, limping slightly, bruised and exhausted—but alive. His eyes were sharp now, feral and satisfied.
Vale waited for them both.
She took one look and nodded.
"Good," she said. "You survived calibration."
Quinn blinked. "That was calibration?"
Riley groaned. "I hate this place."
Vale's lips twitched. Just barely.
"This was the facility learning you," she said. "Tomorrow, you'll meet the others."
"Others?" they echoed.
"Yes," she replied calmly. "Surely you didn't assume you were the only ones."
Quinn felt his System stir again, slow and uncertain.
Riley cracked his neck. "Wonder what they're like."
Different paths.
Same fire.
And somewhere deep within the facility's mana-laced walls, something recorded their names—
And adjusted its expectations.q