Chapter 80 – Rumors and Regulators

  Whispers in the Hall - Same day

  The guild hall thrummed with morning energy. Initiates sparred in the training yard, Scout Operatives gathered over maps, and the air carried the scents of oil, steel, and breakfast stew.

  Seven walked through the corridors, keenly aware of the glances thrown his way. Conversations hushed when he passed, only to pick up again in murmurs just out of earshot. He couldn’t make out words, but the tone was unmistakable—rumors.

  He frowned, his instincts prickling. He didn’t have the War Rabbits’ ears, but months of survival had honed his awareness sharper than most. Something was being kept from him.

  Fluffy bounced up beside him, carrot in hand, unbothered as ever. “Don't pay them any mind,” she said with a playful lilt in her voice. “They’re just gossiping about how Raven’s ears perk up every time Arne starts his boasting!”

  Seven forced a smile, but the unease lingered.

  Elsewhere, Miss Hopps and Raven cut through the bustling hall. Hopps’ expression was grim, her voice low as they passed knots of recruits.

  “Four weeks,” she muttered. “Four weeks to prepare him for trials he doesn’t even know he is being tested on his worth to the city.”

  Raven’s jaw tightened. “And the others? The survivors?”

  “They’ll stay under the Peace Faction until the trial. No exceptions.” Hopps paused to watch initiates sparring, then added, “You’ll handle their training. No deviations. No special treatment for Seven. If he wants trust, he earns it.”

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  Raven gave a sharp nod, though her thoughts churned. “And if he asks questions?”

  “Deflect,” Hopps snapped. “Tell him it’s standard procedure. Keep him focused on the trial, not politics.”

  She turned away toward her office, ears flicking with agitation. Raven remained for a moment, gaze drifting toward the lower halls where the engineer wing hummed with activity. Where Seven was now.

  The Workshop

  The engineer wing smelled of metal and mana ozone. Brinley’s cluttered workbench was a storm of wires, rune-etched plates, and half-assembled gadgets. Yumi, the visiting human specialist, hunched over the new bionic arm prototype, her hands steady as she adjusted a delicate mana channel.

  “So… is it ready?” Seven asked for the third time, leaning over Brinley’s shoulder.

  Brinley smacked his hand away without looking up. “Patience, rookie. You don’t rush brilliance unless you like exploding limbs.”

  She tightened a screw with her teeth, then caught herself chewing on the wire. “Ow! …Okay, usually brilliance.”

  Seven chuckled despite himself. “And the arm?”

  “Yumi’s baby,” Brinley said, jerking a thumb toward the human engineer. “We’re testing a mana regulator before we bolt it onto you. If this fries, better the part than your torso.”

  Yumi glanced up briefly, her glasses sliding down her nose. “Smaller core, streamlined channels, adaptive feedback loop. If it works, you’ll have finer control and less overheating.”

  Brinley shoved a sleek device into Seven’s hand. “Here. Prototype regulator. Don’t fry it. Or I’ll call your rifle baby bird.”

  Seven groaned. “Please don’t name my gear again.”

  “Too late. Feathers still says hi.”

  Seven turned the device over, noting the smooth edges and faint rune-lines glowing inside its transparent casing. “What do I do?”

  “Hold it. Push mana. Don’t sneeze.” Brinley gestured toward a panel of guild-standard regulators on the wall. “Guild models cook if you breathe wrong. This one should… maybe not.”

  Seven closed his eyes, inhaled, and guided a thread of mana into the regulator. The device hummed, its core glowing soft blue in time with his heartbeat.

  “Responsive,” Seven murmured.

  Brinley’s ears perked, eyes widening. “It’s syncing. Keep going.”

  He fed more mana, the glow deepening, veins of light racing through the channels. No resistance. No heat.

  “It’s holding,” he said, almost surprised.

  Yumi hurried over, her eyes bright. “The loop is adapting to his signature. Exactly as predicted.”

  Seven hesitated, then asked, “What about a spike? Can it handle a strain if I'm in combat?”

  Brinley narrowed her eyes. “One spike. Controlled. You so much as crack it, I’m naming your arm.”

  Seven focused, drawing on Raven’s training. His mana channels flared. He surged power into the regulator.

  The glow spiked violently—blue shifting to violet-white. The device vibrated in his palm, heat flaring.

  “Stop!” Brinley barked, one hand over the emergency switch.

  Seven cut the flow instantly, the light collapsing to a steady blue. The casing remained hot for several seconds before cooling.

  Brinley exhaled sharply, ears twitching. “Well, congratulations. You didn’t blow up my workshop.”

  Yumi, by contrast, was beaming, tapping furiously at her data pad. “It adapted. It actually compensated for the surge. No failure.”

  Seven looked down at the regulator, sweat cooling on his skin.

  Brinley leaned closer, goggles sliding into place as her rune tattoo glowed faintly. “Or maybe it just met someone as stubborn as you.”