The next two days blurred together.

  White portals opened, closed, and opened again, each world flashing past in streaks of light and steel.

  Calen’s squad moved like a single current, clean kills, perfect transitions, no casualties.

  Neither run matched the brilliance of their first outing with Kira and Calen, but the numbers still told a

  story worth pride. By the end of the second day, every member had earned 63 T2G and 287 T2C Beast

  Fragments, far beyond anything they’d achieved before Kira and Calen joined.

  When they returned to the Ark, the team went straight to trade-in. The conversion terminals glowed

  bright with the hum of success. What they’d carried back, combined with their remaining stock, was

  enough for each of them to complete their resonance sets.

  One by one, the trade lights flickered green. Five Spartors, all now fully slotted in T1C gear.

  The cafeteria that night buzzed with energy. Voices filled the air, boasting about new conduits, new

  shield harmonics, the weight of real upgrades settling on their shoulders. This was the first time they’d

  ever been fully equipped; it felt like stepping into the ranks of real Spartors.

  Kira smiled, genuinely happy for them. She remembered that thrill, the pulse of power under fresh

  armor, the feeling that the future had finally opened. Three days ago she’d been in their place,

  overwhelmed with gratitude and disbelief. It felt good to watch others reach that same point.

  Calen, on the other hand, sat quiet at the end of the table, pretending to share their laughter. He hadn’t

  changed a single piece of gear since leaving Bash’s team, still wearing his six Tier-Two components

  like a silent badge of superiority. He told himself he didn’t need more; he was already beyond their

  level. But when the others talked about balance ratios and cooldown harmonics, a faint edge of

  irritation tightened his jaw.

  They’re celebrating her again, he thought, watching Kira light up as they thanked her for keeping them

  alive. Her, not me.

  Ten days left in the cycle. Ten days to prove that he wasn’t the mistake everyone thought he was.

  Morning came fast.

  The team gathered in the cafeteria again, armor gleaming from fresh tuning. Fragments and datapads

  littered the table as they discussed quietly about their next portal.

  “We should stay with White-class runs,” Renn said, arms folded. “They’re stable. Predictable.”

  Calen shook his head. “Predictable doesn’t get us noticed. Everyone here runs White portals. We’re

  geared for more now, all of you are fully slotted. We’ve got two healers, perfect rhythm. We’re wasting

  time.”

  Half the team murmured agreement, the others uneasy.

  Renn frowned. “We’re not ready for Grey yet.”

  “We are,” Calen insisted. “If we can clear three days of Whites without a scratch, what’s left to prove?”

  He leaned forward, tone confident but smooth. “One more run. If it goes clean, we try Grey tomorrow.

  Fair?”

  Renn hesitated, then looked to the others. One by one, they nodded. “Fine,” he said. “One more.”

  They entered the portal seven hours later. Another White. Another flawless run. The worlds blurred,

  low-tier beasts falling before they could even close the distance. Mostly T1 Commons, a few isolated

  T1 Apex, all gone before they could roar.

  When they returned to the Ark, the readout was clear: 35 T1G and 115 T1C Beast Fragments apiece.

  Back in the cafeteria, they sat together, the numbers glowing across their wrist screens. Renn was the

  first to do the math, his expression dimming. “We’ve hit a wall,” he said. “Conversion to T1G’s not

  worth it anymore.”

  The others nodded grimly. Even Kira’s optimism faltered as she stared at her display.

  Calen leaned forward, tapping the side of his datapad. “It’s not just that it’s not worth it, it’s wasteful.”

  His tone sharpened, confidence building as the others looked up. “If we stay in White portals, we’ll

  need four thousand T1C fragments just to trade up to two hundred T2G fragments for a single gear

  piece. That’s one upgrade. At this pace, we wouldn’t get one fort the rest of the cycle.”

  Renn frowned. “And Grey portals won’t?”

  Calen smiled thinly. “Grey portals are riskier, sure. But they’re also yield. Sixty percent of the beasts in

  White portals are T1C, which means we’re swimming in the same low-tier pool over and over. Grey

  portals shift the distribution. You see more T1G, sometimes even T1A, depending on the zone.”

  He swiped open a quick conversion chart, spinning it toward the others. “If we hit T1A drops, we can

  trade down, one T1A equals twenty T1G. Ten of those, and you’re already sitting on a full T1G gear

  piece. Would you rather fight another day for a hundred Commons?”

  A silence followed. The logic was sound. Cold, efficient, tempting.

  Renn still hesitated. “You’re assuming we’ll live long enough to collect that much.”

  Calen met his gaze evenly. “We will. You’re all fully geared now, and our healers are top-grade. This is

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  exactly when we should move up. Not after we waste the chance.”

  He pointed toward the ceiling, toward the unseen military infrastructure that kept them supplied. “Once

  this cycle ends, we lose access to the military blacksmiths and imbuers. Out there, every enhancement

  costs more. Inside the system, the labor’s covered. When we’re out, it won’t be. That’s another hundred

  fragments per piece, gone. Why wait until everything costs more?”

  The group exchanged uncertain glances. The numbers made too much sense. Staying in White portals

  meant stagnation. Moving up meant progress, or risk.

  Kira’s brow furrowed. “You’re saying if we don’t move now, we’ll waste what time we have left?”

  Calen nodded once. “Exactly. We’ve got nine days left in the cycle. Every run counts. So tomorrow, we

  start earning real numbers.”

  Renn leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, the gears of his mind turning. After a long pause, he

  looked around the table. “You heard him. If we’re doing this, we commit. Full coordination, no

  hesitation.”

  One by one, the others nodded.

  “Good,” Calen said quietly, his smile thin but satisfied. “Then tomorrow, we go Grey.”

  Renn opened his mouth, then closed it again. The others exchanged glances, hesitant, but not resistant.

  They all knew he was right. The small victories were running dry.

  The next morning came heavy with tension and quiet excitement.

  Kira was pacing near the cafeteria entrance, armor gleaming. When Taren spotted her, she smiled. “You

  look restless.”

  Kira turned quickly. “Just waiting on the others. We’re heading into a Grey today.”

  Taren’s brow furrowed. “Grey? With what gear?”

  “All T1 Common,” Kira said proudly. “The whole team, every slot filled.”

  The smile fell from Taren’s face. “Kira… that’s not safe. You should wait until at least more than just

  you are running T1 Greater or Apex. Those worlds hit harder than you think.”

  Before Kira could respond, Calen’s voice cut through the space. “We’ll be fine. You worry about your

  own team.”

  Taren’s expression hardened, but her voice stayed calm. “Just… be careful.” She gave Kira a last look

  of concern before walking back to her table.

  When Taren told Bash what she’d heard, he only shook his head, quiet frustration threading through his

  tone. “He’s doing it again,” he muttered. “Pushing too fast. Those teams aren’t ready.”

  Nyra looked up from her datapad. “You think he’s doing it to prove something?”

  Bash’s jaw tightened. “He’s always trying to prove something.” He stood, slinging his pack over one

  shoulder. “Let’s just hope we don’t have to clean up after him again.”

  The team rose without another word. Their armor gleamed under the white lighting of the corridor,

  worn, functional, but perfectly balanced. Each member moved with practiced rhythm, weeks of

  repetition refined into quiet efficiency. Bash led the way toward the portal wing, the low hum of the

  generators beneath the floor vibrating through every step.

  The hallway ahead stretched long and bright, bordered by transparent partitions that showed glimpses

  of other squads preparing for their own runs, checking gear, adjusting resonance seals. Voices echoed

  faintly off the steel and glass, forming a chorus of anticipation and routine.

  Bash’s team passed through the checkpoint, data badges flashing green as the gate opened. Beyond it,

  the main portal chamber came into view, a vast, circular hall lined with concentric platforms, each one

  glowing with a different hue.

  Behind them, another group emerged from the corridor, Calen’s. They were louder, still fueled by

  excitement more than discipline. The contrast was immediate. Bash’s team moved like a single

  mechanism; Calen’s like a group of parts still learning how to fit together.

  Calen spotted Bash across the chamber. For a moment, their eyes met through the shifting haze of

  portal light. Bash didn’t speak, didn’t nod, didn’t even slow. He simply turned and motioned for his

  squad to take their place on Platform seven hundred six. The activation symbols began to spin, turning

  the air above into a spiraling wall of grey light.

  Calen’s expression hardened. He adjusted his gauntlet and turned to his team. “Portal 773,” he said,

  steady and controlled.

  The operator keyed it in, the system humming to life.

  Across the room, Bash’s portal opened first, a blinding flare of silver-white energy folding inward as

  his team stepped through one by one, Nyra, Rixor, Taren, Liora, Darik, each disappearing in a shimmer

  of light.

  Seconds later, the energy stabilized for Calen’s group. Renn glanced at the coordinates, then back at

  Calen. “You sure about this?”

  Calen’s answer came without hesitation. “Completely.”

  He stepped forward, Kira close behind him. The rest of the team followed as the grey light expanded,

  swallowing their silhouettes whole.

  The portal pulsed once, twice, then sealed shut, leaving the hall silent again.