Roman Light learned early that silence wasn't empty.
It was full of information.
The briefing room was quiet in the way only GRIMM rooms ever were—no casual noise, no nervous chatter. Just the low hum of reinforced walls and the faint glow of holographic displays hanging in the air like frozen ghosts.
Roman stood with his arms folded, straight sword Signara resting at his side, light faintly pulsing along the blade's edge. He watched everything without appearing to.
Isaac leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. Calm. Too calm. The kid always looked like that before missions—like he'd already accepted whatever might happen.
Sergio sat on the edge of the table, spinning one of his daggers lazily between his fingers. Marma flashed molten orange before vanishing again as Karma replaced it. He grinned like this was a game.
Rebekah stood properly at attention. Always did. Gauntlets Iko were dormant, nature-veins barely visible beneath the metal. Her jaw was tight.
Lisa wasn't supposed to be here.
But she was.
Roman clocked that immediately.
She stood near Antonio, Vasmo's scythe not manifested but very present in the way she carried herself. Seventeen, already acting like a full squad leader. Gravity Reap coiled tightly around her like something restrained by will alone.
That meant this wasn't routine.
Antonio cleared his throat.
"We're restructuring field operations."
No one spoke.
Roman felt it then—a subtle pressure shift. GRIMM didn't restructure. It refined. Adjusted. Reassigned.
Restructuring meant failure somewhere.
"Rift activity is increasing along civilian borders," Antonio continued. "Containment times are slipping. Casualties are rising."
Sergio stopped spinning his dagger.
"We're deploying mixed squads," Antonio said. "Not by rank. By compatibility."
Roman's eyes flicked, sharp and quick.
Compatibility wasn't a GRIMM word.
Isaac straightened slightly.
Antonio gestured, and the display shifted. Names appeared.
Four of them.
ISAAC DEMONIO
ROMAN LIGHT
SERGIO ODIO
REBEKAH
Roman exhaled slowly through his nose.
So it was official now.
"This isn't a promotion," Antonio said. "This is a test. You'll be deployed together on escalating threat missions. No Horseman oversight. Minimal command interference."
Lisa's grip tightened at her side.
Roman noticed.
"Isaac Demonio will not be the leader," Antonio added.
Sergio scoffed. "Then who is?"
Antonio looked directly at Roman.
"You are."
The room didn't react loudly.
But Roman felt the shift—like a line had been drawn beneath his feet.
Isaac turned his head slightly, eyes meeting Roman's.
No resentment. No surprise.
Just trust.
Roman hated how heavy that felt.
Mission one came fast.
Border zone. Partial evacuation. Sol activity unclassified.
They moved through ruined streets under a grey, low-hanging sky. Civilian structures leaned like broken teeth. Black residue stained the ground where rifts had briefly kissed reality and withdrawn.
Roman moved point.
Signara hummed as he sliced through the air, light tracing invisible paths only he could see. He mapped angles, sightlines, movement patterns.
"Left flank clear," he murmured.
"Too clear," Rebekah replied.
The Sols hit them hard and wrong.
Not a swarm.
A formation.
Roman reacted instantly. "Isaac—rear! Sergio—pressure right!"
Isaac moved without a word, Isen flashing as black ice erupted outward, freezing a Sol mid-leap before shattering it with a single cut.
Sergio laughed as he vanished into motion, daggers flashing, magma flaring with reckless joy as he carved through two targets at once.
Rebekah slammed forward, gauntlets erupting with vines and stone, anchoring the line.
Roman stepped into the center and raised Signara.
Light exploded outward—controlled, precise. He blinded one Sol, severed another cleanly at the neck, then redirected, already calculating the next movement.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
The fight ended fast.
Too fast.
Roman wiped blood from his cheek and frowned.
"This wasn't random," he said.
Isaac nodded. "They were probing."
Sergio clicked his tongue. "So what? We passed."
Roman looked at the ruined street. At the way the Sols had advanced—not hungry, not wild.
Organized.
"No," Roman said quietly. "We were measured."
Rebekah turned toward him. "By what?"
Roman didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
And that scared him more than any Sol ever had.
As they moved out, Roman glanced back once.
At Isaac.
The kid walked like someone already carrying the weight of future graves.
Roman tightened his grip on his sword.
If this was the path GRIMM was setting them on—
Then someone needed to make sure they didn't lose themselves on it.
And Roman intended to be that someone.