Snow howled across the frozen wastes, wind shrieking as it whipped walls of white into the air.

  The North Pole’s night was endless, a bruised black void where even the stars seemed buried beneath the storm.

  And through that curtain of ice and fury, a fortress rose like an iron scar.

  Towers bristled with satellite dishes. Storm deflectors THRUMMM’d against the gale. Electrified fences lay half-buried in snowdrifts.

  Patrols moved in rigid formation, beams slicing through the storm like blades.

  In front of those patrols was a sign with bold letters:

  [SECTOR THETA-9.]

  Virtually impenetrable.

  Carter pressed flat to the ice, snow crusting over his back as he peered through high-range binoculars. His breath fogged instantly, freezing in the air.

  “Told you this was a bad idea…”

  Beside him, Rae crouched low, her braid whipping sideways in the gale, eyes locked on the fortress like she could see through steel.

  “It was the only idea.”

  Carter slipped the binoculars down and pulled up a wrist console. Blue light flickered across his face, casting sharp shadows under his eyes.

  A compact stealth drone unfolded from his pack.

  WHIRRRR.

  It lifted into the air. Its lenses painted the compound in shifting infrared lines across Carter’s visor.

  “There.”

  Her gloved finger jabbed at the map projection, a narrow sewage drain, half-buried in ice, nearly a mile from the gate.

  “Drain tunnel. Smallest blind spot they’ve got. Timing has to be perfect.”

  Carter smirked grimly.

  “Good thing I’m perfect.”

  They moved together, sprinting into the storm.

  The gale swallowed their movements.

  Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

  Boots broke through the crusted snow.

  Spotlights swung wide across the blizzard, but every time they passed, Carter and Rae had already melted back into the white.

  At last, the grate loomed, half-consumed by a ridge of ice.

  Rae dropped into cover, watching the patrol paths, while Carter knelt before the lock.

  His console buzzed, needles of light pricking the frozen steel.

  Rei looked at him sternly.

  “This thing even work in the cold?”

  Carter nodded his head

  “It will.”

  His fingers flew across the holographic keys.

  CLUNK.

  The grate shifted open.

  Rae slid inside first, her breath vanishing into the cold air.

  Carter lingered a moment, scanning the storm one last time, endless, merciless, devouring everything in white.

  Then he followed.

  SHHHHK.

  The grate sealed shut, the snowstorm erasing their tracks like they’d never been there.

  The tunnel was a grave of metal and filth.

  Waist-high sewage water clung thick to their clothes as they waded through, the stench sinking into every breath.

  Carter grimaced, whispering low through clenched teeth.

  “You really owe me for this.”

  Rae only smirked faintly, eyes fixed forward.

  They emerged behind a wall near the first checkpoint. Harsh white light bled across the floor, soldiers patrolling just out of sight.

  Carter’s hand moved quick and sure, a compact hacking tool pressed against the wall unit.

  ZZZZZT.

  The camera feed blinked out, static fizzling into nothing.

  “Camera down. Go.”

  They pushed forward. Carter’s gaze snapped upward.

  A small ventilation duct, just above. Barely wide enough.

  “There.”

  Moments later, their bodies crawled shoulder to shoulder through the vent, air hot and stifling despite the polar cold outside.

  Sweat slipped down Carter’s jaw, Rae’s wrist screen the only glow lighting the suffocating crawlspace.

  At last, they dropped out onto a narrow balcony shrouded in shadow.

  Below, armed soldiers marched in lockstep, rifles gleaming, unaware of the intruders just feet above.

  Carter pressed his back to the wall, chest heaving

  “What have I let you talk me into…”

  Rae’s voice, quiet but firm.

  “Survival.”

  ?

  The morning broke over Veritas Academy.

  Far from the storm raging in Theta-9, another storm gathered here, one born of discipline, not weather.

  The Ironclad dormitory was no dormitory at all.

  It was a cage.

  Gray walls pressed in with metallic silence, broken only by the bzzzz of fluorescent strips overhead.

  Each cadet had a “bed” boxed in by bars. No locks, but no freedom either.

  A twisted echo of Potestas, rebuilt inside Veritas.

  Captain Varric stood at the center, unmoving, posture sharp as a blade. His eyes cut across his cadets with nothing but contempt.

  “You disgrace me.”

  Before him, Rex, Brin, and Deke knelt in perfect formation. Massive frames hunched low, heads bowed like dogs broken to heel.

  “If I could punish you as Potestas did, perhaps then you’d understand what it means to fail me.”

  He stepped forward.

  KLANG. KLANG.

  Each bootstrike like a gavel.

  “There is a reason Potestas is feared. A reason they are the strongest. And you,” he stopped, gaze narrowing, “are soft.”

  The word hit harder than any blow.

  He passed them one by one, calling them not by names, but by the animal masks Potestas had branded them with.

  “Lockjaw.”

  “Bloodcoil.”

  “Savage Howl.”

  Their bodies tensed, shame etched into every scar. Brin’s teeth ground audibly. Deke’s fists tightened. Rex lowered his head further, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest.

  Then, as one, their fists slammed to their hearts in a beast-like salute.

  HHUARRGH!

  The sound echoed like a cage rattling.

  Varric’s expression didn’t change. His eyes sharpened.

  “If you fail me today, punishment will be severe.”

  ?

  The corridor stretched long and silver, walls humming faintly with the morning current.

  WHRRR…

  Drones passed overhead in patient arcs.

  But the mood was different today.

  The cadets no longer walked in splintered factions.

  Team Titan, Snapback, Pulse, and Seraph drifted together in a loose group, footsteps relaxed, chatter weaving in and out.

  The air was lighter. The walls felt less like steel. More like home.

  Speedy marched with exaggerated gestures, mid-story, trying far too hard to impress K from Team Seraph.

  “K.”

  That was her only answer.

  It didn’t stop him.

  Ayasha strolled beside Perma, smirking at something sharp he muttered under his breath.

  Across the hall, Lior and Arcline walked side by side, quiet conversation passing between them.

  No laughter, no boasting.

  Just steady words that carried the weight of mutual respect.

  Further back, Cael flicked his wristwatch, projecting a faint hologram of a rotating combat model. Mateo leaned in close, curiosity sharp in his eyes.

  For the first time since their arrival, the hallway sounded less like silence broken by boots and more like cadets finding rhythm together.

  Ayasha’s gaze shifted.

  “Wait… where’s Team Vitalis?”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Lior slowed a step.

  “Haven’t seen them all morning.”

  ?

  Inside the Vitalis dorm, chaos reigned.

  Grid clung to his bedframe like a man fighting for his life, legs braced, arms locked tight.

  Thorn pulled at his legs with grim determination while Silverline tried prying his arms free.

  “Grid, let go! We’re gonna be late!”

  “They worked me like a machine yesterday, and now they want me up at 6:30? Let’s just forfeit. We already won one!”

  Silverline snapped, hair whipping as she yanked harder.

  “If we don’t hurry, Ayasha will walk with Lio— I mean, Team Titan’s gonna beat us there!”

  Grid’s glare sharpened.

  “Silverline, I couldn’t care any less about your love triangle. Let. Me. Sleep!”

  The door slammed open.

  BAM!

  Captain Vitalis’ coat snapped in the draft, her emerald eyes burning as a faint ghostlike aura trailed behind her.

  “Jace. Get. Up. Now.”

  Grid looked up at her, sly grin flashing.

  “We had a team meeting and decided to forfeit.”

  WHAM! KLUNK!

  Her fist cracked across his head, sending him reeling into the mattress. Cartoonish swirls spun over his eyes.

  Minutes later, Team Vitalis filed down the hall. Grid trailed behind, rubbing two fresh knots on his head

  “She really needs anger management.”

  Thorn chuckled.

  “She only does it to you. And let’s be honest, you deserve it.”

  Silverline skipped ahead, grinning.“

  Look on the bright side. Two lumps yesterday, and we won. Might be good luck.”

  Grid scowled.

  “I can’t with this place. I should’ve been born in Svalbard.”

  Both Thorn and Silverline turned in unison.

  “What?”

  He sighed.

  “…Nevermind.”

  The doors swung open with a low metallic groan.

  ?

  Letters gleamed above, etched into steel with cold precision:

  [SIGMA HALL]

  Team Vitalis entered in silhouette. Captain Róisín’s stride was fluid, almost ghostlike, her cadets trailing behind with measured confidence. Even Grid, still rubbing at the swollen knots on his head, walked taller beneath the hall’s weight.

  And then the coliseum revealed itself.

  The chamber was colossal, a technological marvel carved into the heart of Veritas HQ.

  Terraces climbed in arcs on either side, trimmed with neon light.

  Hover-screens drifted above the arena, scrolling team stats in glowing loops.

  Med-drones hummed like patient hornets, lenses flashing red as they scanned the floor.

  At the center hung a crystalline orb of golden light, pulsing slow, steady, like breath.

  Threads of energy tethered it to three glowing pillars on each side, the current crackling faintly through the air.

  The Nexus Core.

  Grid felt his chest tighten.

  How does Veritas even afford something like this?

  They paused atop the steps, gazes sweeping the hall.

  Other teams had already taken their places.

  Team Seraph stretched with poise, Replica tugging her gloves tighter while Cascade adjusted her visor.

  Team Pulse chatted in low bursts, Speedy bouncing lightly on his heels while Blueprint grinned, hoping to hide his nervousness.

  Valor of Team Edge stood ramrod straight, issuing clipped orders like a drill sergeant.

  Snapback spun a canteen lazily in his hand, grin sharp behind his dark shades. Arcline sat forward, knees bouncing, anticipation written in every line of him.

  At the far end of the bench, Selena sat hunched and silent, her eyes fixed on the floor. Gale and Ditto laughed softly beside her.

  Ironclad’s trio looked like statues, faces unreadable.

  And Team Titan, already seated. Lior leaned close to Cael and Ayasha, their voices low, steady.

  A low vibration rolled through the dome.

  VRRRRMMMMM.

  A sleekly dressed announcer rose into view on a hovering podium, suit gleaming under the arena light. His voice carried, smooth and sharp

  “Welcome, cadets, to your third exercise. This one won’t take as long as the others,”

  The Nexus Core brightened in rhythm with his words.

  “but it will test your endurance in ways you’re not ready for.”

  Above the Core, a 3D projection shimmered to life. Animated silhouettes stepped forward, hands pressing to plasma-like spheres.

  Energy surged outward into the Core, pushing it toward one goal or the other.

  “This exercise is called… Nexus Push.”

  The title blazed across every hovering screen

  [NEXUS PUSH — SIMULATION INITIATED.]

  The holograms expanded, diagramming the field

  “Each team will position three members behind their Conduits. Channel your Niche energy into the Core. The more stable, synchronized, and strong your output, the further you’ll drive it toward your opponent’s line.”

  The golden sphere slid across the digital field.

  “You have two minutes. If no one scores, the side that forces it closest to the goal wins.”

  Three icons flashed: Goal. Proximity. Speed

  “Scoring’s simple. Push the Core across your opponent’s field to earn a goal. If time runs out, whoever’s closer wins. Speed bonuses apply only if you score.”

  From the benches, a hand rose. Arcline, sharp-eyed, steady.

  “Sir, why only two minutes? None of the other trials were timed.”

  The announcer smiled.

  “Tell me, cadet, have you ever held your Niche, nonstop, for two full minutes?”

  Arcline hesitated.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then you’ll understand soon enough.”

  The crowd hushed. The Nexus Core pulsed brighter, its light reflecting in hundreds of wide eyes across the terraces.

  The announcer raised his hand.

  “Now, for our opening match… Team Titan versus Team Seraph. Report to your Conduits.”

  CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

  Six steel lifts rose from the arena floor, each beside a glowing pillar.

  Team Seraph moved first, Replica leading with graceful steps, her cloak trailing faintly through the air. K followed close, silent, calm. Cascade brought up the rear, her focus absolute.

  Their coordination was wordless, practiced, precise, elegant.

  From the opposite gate, Team Titan approached.

  Lior tightened his gloves, pulse hammering in his chest.

  Cael adjusted his lenses. Ayasha bounced lightly on her toes.

  Unlike Seraph’s elegance, their energy was raw, fierce, alive.

  HISSSSSK!

  The lifts ascended, raising them toward their towering Conduits. Sparks of plasma rippled off the glass as the cadets took their positions.

  “Conduits… engage!”

  The spheres pulsed, rising higher. Each cadet pressed their palms against the glass.

  Fzzzt. Crackk.

  Energy flared, threads of color shooting outward to tether them to the Core.

  A deep THRUMMM filled the hall, low and electric, shaking the stands.

  “Synchronize.”

  “Hold steady. Breathe with it.”

  The Nexus Core swelled, gold light burning into white.

  “Nexus Push… begin!”

  WUUUUM!

  The Core erupted in radiant force. Sparks sprayed across the arena floor. Energy surged between the pillars.

  The vibration deepened.

  VRRRHM… THRUMM… THRUMM…

  The sound of two powers clashing in perfect opposition.

  And then, white.

  The light consumed everything.

  When it cleared, there was no sound. No cheering.

  Only stone. Shadow. Silence.

  ?

  A hollow cathedral of black rock stretched beneath the earth, its pillars vanishing into endless darkness. Eight thrones ringed the chamber, ancient, monolithic, cloaked in shadow.

  At the command, the doors opened.

  CLAKK… CLLAKK…

  Bootsteps echoed, measured and heavy. One by one, eight figures entered, their presence dragging the light with them.

  United States, Rank 3: “Trigger”.

  Broad-shouldered. Revolver spinning lazy on his finger, grin sharp and reckless. Swagger followed him even here.

  Russia, Rank 3: “Wolf”.

  Doll-faced. Black braids glinting faintly, each step precise as clockwork.

  China, Rank 3: “Viper”.

  Petite, silent, eyes like obsidian. Her motion so still it felt carved from shadow.

  United Kingdom, Rank 3: “Ghost”.

  Tall. Elegant. Every move refined, edges of diamond, cold and deliberate.

  Japan, Rank 3: “Zero”.

  A mountain of a man. Shoulders like granite. He didn’t walk, he anchored.

  Israel, Rank 3: “Vigil”.

  Lean, restless, eyes darting like a runner before the gun. Stillness insulted him.

  Germany, Rank 3: “Blitz”.

  Thin, wiry, neon hair clashing with the gloom. Impatient as if the meeting was keeping him from something.

  India, Rank 3: “Lotus”.

  Last to enter. Silks woven with armor shimmered faintly as she moved. Her gaze carried centuries.

  Each took their position behind their nation’s leader.

  The man at the head spoke first, voice low and resonant.

  “The Domino Initiative begins now. Each of you will receive an asset, a youth chosen to inherit our path. Not companions. Not toys. Weapons. Forge them into successors worthy of this table.”

  Trigger tilted his head back, revolver spinning once more.

  “So that’s it? Babysittin’? You think I’m wasting bullets on training wheels? Not my job to raise some runt who won’t make twenty.”

  His laugh was sharp, echoing through the chamber.

  Ha… ha…

  Brittle. Defiant.

  Then the air shifted.

  From the chair before him, golden fire seeped outward, not sudden, but suffocating.

  The leader Trigger stood behind didn’t turn, yet light bled from his eyes, burning through the dark.

  And with it came the aura.

  Steel and storm. Silver laced with dark grey.

  It poured like weight, crushing lungs, bending knees, making even the walls groan.

  Trigger’s grin cracked. His revolver stopped spinning. A breath escaped through clenched teeth.

  “…Tch.”

  “You speak out of turn,” the man said, voice calm, merciless. “As if this were a request.”

  The pressure deepened. Blitz’s rhythm stopped. Matryona’s jaw tightened. Shakti shifted subtly under the strain.

  “This is an order. And orders are meant to be followed.”

  The weight lingered a heartbeat longer, then withdrew.

  “If they fail,” the man added, “you fail.”

  His head dipped slightly.

  “And some of you have already failed us once.”

  Trigger froze. The dim light betrayed him, bruises shadowed his jaw, a split lip, welts pressed raw against his collar.

  Punishment had already been given.

  And for once, he said nothing.

  The silence stretched like steel wire until a woman’s voice cut it.

  Cool. Commanding. Certain.

  “You’ll receive your assets in the coming days,” she said, the Indian chair. “Until then, prepare. Remember, this is not a game. This is Potestas.”

  The words landed like a gavel.

  “You are dismissed.”

  THUMP… THUMP… THUMP…

  Boots in unison, the Rank 3s departed.

  Trigger lingered last. Revolver twirling lazily once again, he stepped into the corridor’s pale light.

  He struck a match.

  Tssssk.

  The flame met the cigarette. He drew deep. Smoke curled upward, stinging his bruised lip.

  Blitz passed by, grin sharp as glass.

  “Well, look at that. Trigger’s still nursing bruises. Guess failing to bag one boy really does leave a mark.”

  His laugh echoed. Ha! Ha!

  Fading down the hall.

  Trigger’s revolver stilled. He holstered it, exhaling smoke through his teeth.

  See what you’ve done, Golden Boy.

  His voice was a low hiss.

  I’ll make you suffer for this humiliation.

  He dropped the half-burned cigarette, crushing it under his boot.

  Tsshhk.

  He turned to leave, and froze.

  Eyes. Watching him.

  Lotus stood at the far door, gaze steady, concern clear.

  Trigger’s grin twitched sharp, defensive.

  “What are you looking at me like that for? I don’t need your pity.”

  Silence.

  She didn’t answer. Only watched, quiet rebellion in a place that allowed none.

  Trigger snorted, bitter and low, and shoved the door open.

  WHAM!

  His silhouette vanished behind smoke and steel.

  Back inside, the chamber was still.

  Only the cold thrum of machines.

  And the weight of unseen eyes.

  The storm was no longer waiting on the horizon.

  It had already begun.

  And the first domino had fallen.

  End of Chapter 26