Agent Vale escorted us from the training wing without ceremony, her boots clicking against the polished floor like a metronome counting down something unpleasant. We stopped in front of a thick, matte-black door threaded with faint mana lines that pulsed once as we approached.
It slid open on its own.
"Both of you will sleep here tonight," Vale said, already turning away. "Tomorrow is a long day."
That was it. No good luck. No warning. No dramatic villain monologue.
Just facts.
Riley and I exchanged a glance, then stepped inside with the cautious synchronicity of people who fully expected the room to explode. It didn't.
The door sealed behind us with a soft hiss that somehow felt more threatening than a slam.
A beat passed.
Then Riley exhaled. "Cruel bitch, huh."
I snorted. "She's one ritual sacrifice away from running a devil syndicate."
That did it. We both cracked, laughter spilling out sharp and loud, the kind that came from too much adrenaline and not enough processing time.
For a moment, it felt almost normal—two idiots laughing in a room they definitely weren't supposed to be in.
The room itself was… surprisingly humane.
Two beds. Actual beds, not cots. A small table. Soft lighting. Reinforced walls, sure—
but not sterile, not hostile.
The laughter faded.
Silence crept in, heavy and thoughtful.
Tomorrow loomed over us like a shadow with teeth.
I lay back and stared at the ceiling, hands folded on my chest. Riley did the same, one arm draped over his eyes.
"You think," he said quietly, "we'll ever get used to this?"
I thought about Aurelia City. The rift. Marco.
The facility. The way the world felt like it had been tilted just enough to never sit right again.
"No," I said. "But I think we'll survive it."
Riley hummed. "Yeah. That tracks."
Sleep came anyway. Fast. Merciless.
The sound of the door opening dragged me back to consciousness.
An agent stood inside, face blank, holding two trays. Breakfast. If you could call nutrient blocks and steaming packets of something beige "breakfast."
"Eat," he said. "Get dressed. Head down the hallway. Enter the last door. Wait for further instructions."
Then he left.
No questions allowed. Not that we had any leverage to ask them.
We ate. Changed. Walked.
The hallway stretched longer than it should've, the kind of architectural nonsense that made you feel smaller with every step. The door at the end stood open, light spilling out in a way that immediately set my nerves on edge.
The room beyond wasn't a classroom.
I knew that the moment I stepped inside.
Classrooms were built for teaching. This place was built for judgment.
It was a massive, tiered hall carved deep into the facility's core, ceiling lost in layered shadows. Curved walls wrapped inward like an arena, mana-threaded panels glowing faintly beneath steel and stone. Observation decks ringed the upper levels, glass darkened just enough to remind you that you were never alone.
Never unseen.
The moment my foot crossed the threshold, it hit me.
Not sound.
Presence.
Mana signatures collided and overlapped like storm systems—some sharp and volatile, others heavy enough to make my skin itch.
A few were so faint they barely registered, while others pressed down on my senses like hands on my shoulders.
I stiffened.
This wasn't controlled flow.
This was people.
Riley whistled softly beside me. "Damn. Feels like a villain support group."
I didn't answer.
My attention snagged on something near the center of the hall—a pressure that felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. Not aggressive.
Not loud.
Just there.
Whoever it belonged to wasn't trying to intimidate anyone.
Which somehow made it worse.
We weren't the first ones here.
Roughly thirty others filled the space in loose clusters. Different ages. Different builds.
Different… wrongness. Some looked normal enough—tired teenagers, tense adults, people who might've been classmates or coworkers yesterday.
Others clearly weren't.
A woman with silver-veined skin traced frost along her fingers as she spoke quietly.
A broad-shouldered man with glowing amber pupils stood perfectly still, breathing slow and controlled like a predator at rest.
Mana curled unnaturally around a few of them, space itself seeming uncomfortable with their existence.
I swallowed.
"So," Riley murmured, "I'm guessing these are the 'congrats, you didn't die' finalists."
Before I could reply, a voice sliced through the low murmur of the room.
"Find a place."
Agent Vale stood at the far end, flanked by two Nexus operatives I didn't recognize. No visible weapons. No wasted motion. The kind of presence that promised violence without ever raising its voice.
"Training groups will be assigned shortly," Vale continued. "Until then, observe. Speak if you must. Fight if you're stupid."
A few nervous laughs. No arguments.
We moved toward an open section near the middle tiers. As we passed, eyes tracked us—curious, dismissive, hostile.
One guy scoffed. "Fresh meat."
Riley stopped.
Turned.
Smiled.
"You're right," he said pleasantly. "Try not to choke on it later."
Mana flared.
Vale's gaze snapped toward them.
The flare died instantly.
Riley leaned closer to me as we walked.
"Okay. Yeah. I like it here."
I barely heard him.
The cliff-edge pressure had resolved into a person.
A guy sat alone near the lowest tier, elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced. Dark hair. Plain clothes. Forgettable face—if not for the mana compressed so tightly around him it felt like gravity bent there.
He looked up.
Our eyes met.
For half a second, I felt exposed—like he'd reached inside me and felt the shape of what I was becoming.
His lips twitched.
Not a smile.
A warning.
I looked away, heart pounding.
"Problem?" Riley asked quietly.
"No," I said. "Just… someone strong."
Riley snorted. "Buddy, everyone here is strong."
The lights dimmed.
Silence fell.
Vale stepped forward.
"You are here because the Wave did not kill you," she said. "That alone makes you exceptional."
No one relaxed.
"That does not make you valuable."
Tension rippled through the hall.
"Over the next two years, this facility will break you down and rebuild you into assets capable of surviving high-tier Rift engagements. Some of you will wash out. Some will be reassigned.
Some will die."
She let that settle.
"Those who remain will earn their ranks."
Holographic panels flared behind her—
names, readings, classifications.
My System stirred.
[Provisional Rank Assigned
D-Class (Unstable)]
I grimaced.
Riley leaned back, peering at his own. "Hey. D's pass."
Vale continued. "Growth rate matters more than current output."
Names flashed.
C-Class. B-Class.
Then—
A-Class.
Only three.
The room shifted. Mana flared unconsciously.
One name belonged to the cliff-edge guy.
Another to the silver-veined woman.
The third to a tall figure whose eyes glowed faint gold.
Riley exhaled. "Okay. That explains the vibes."
"These individuals are benchmarks," Vale said. "Targets."
The floor shuddered.
Walls shifted. Platforms rose.
Training began.
Somewhere above, unseen eyes watched.
And for the first time since everything broke—
I felt excited.