CHAPTER 29: The Last Trial
Morning light leaked through the blinds of Team Null’s dorm, painting thin bars across the walls.
Selena lay curled on her side, facing away from the others. Her eyes traced the shadows as though they might hold answers.
Why does it feel… different when he talks to me?
Is it kindness… or something else?
Behind her, the room carried on without her.
Gale and Molly crowded the mirror, tightening straps, smoothing hair — the clatter of clips and zippers filling the air.
Their laughter fluttered, light, careless — almost mocking in how little it required her presence.
Gale’s voice carried sharp confidence.
“…And if they think I’m holding back in the next trial, they’re insane.”
Molly smirked at her reflection, tilting her chin.
“Please. You never hold back… even when you should.”
Their laughter faded.
Selena’s sigh slipped through the quiet, fogging against the cold glass of her thoughts.
She didn’t move. Didn’t join in.
Just stared, eyes distant, as though she could slip past the blinds and out of this place entirely.
?
The lecture hall buzzed with motion as cadets filed in.
Seats curved upward like a theater, all eyes toward the podium and projection wall.
Ayasha nudged Lior with her elbow, grin easy as ever.
“Come on. Don’t stall.”
Team Titan slipped into their row together — a tight knot surrounded by a sea of restless uniforms.
The loudspeaker crackled overhead.
“Cadets, attention. Please welcome Director Xun Ren.”
PSSHHH!
The stage door hissed open.
A man in a pressed black coat stepped out, smiling steady — the kind that settled a room without asking.
Warm, light-brown eyes scanned the hall; postures lifted as he reached the podium.
His right thumb tapped softly — tok… tok… tok — rhythm even and calm, like a heartbeat.
“First,” Xun began, voice carrying with ease, “congratulations. You’ve been nothing short of remarkable…”
The cadets straightened, pride flickering beneath fatigue.
“I know you’re exhausted. The drills, the trials, the expectations — they weigh on you.”
His smile warmed, like he shared the burden.
“I argued for a full day off,” he chuckled lightly. “Overruled. But I did move your next exercise to this afternoon. Use the hours you have.”
He slipped one hand into his pocket, fingers brushing the coin-shaped emblem there.
“For those who don’t know me,” he continued, “I began here as a cadet. My team? Titan. Kaito. Echo.”
Lior’s eyes flickered toward his captain.
Titan remained unreadable, still as stone.
“From cadet to captain. Captain to espionage. Then to this position at HQ…”
He paced once, then turned — voice deepening.
“Your final trial is unlike any before. It’s called Deadzone Protocol.”
The name drew the room still.
“Mission: rescue your captain from enemy control.”
Gasps rippled.
“And the one guarding your captain…” he paused, “…will be another captain, drawn from a different squad.”
Shock scattered through the seats.
“This was my idea,” Xun said evenly. “In the field, you’ll meet opponents you can’t overpower. So… outthink them.”
Grid leaned back with a low laugh.
“They just keep piling it on, don’t they?”
Lior frowned.
“How is that even fair?”
Titan’s voice cut low.
“War’s never fair.”
CRRCK!
Snapback cracked his neck, grin widening.
“Guess it’s time for a show.”
Kaito stayed silent; his stillness said more than words.
Xun’s voice steadied again.
“Your goal isn’t to defeat the captain — it’s to extract yours. Use your Niches. Use your teamwork. Captains will not use their Niches — but don’t mistake that for weakness.”
Tok… tok… His fingers tapped once more.
“This mission begins at 1400 hours. It’s now 0900. Report to Omega Zone thirty minutes early.”
Once the briefing ended, the cadets headed toward the exit — hoping for a breather before the anticipated final trial.
?
Delta Court was never meant for them.
A sterile courtyard — cobblestones too neat, hedges too sharp, a fountain meant to drown silence.
The cadets changed it.
Coats, hoodies, scarves. Laughter threading hedges. Amber leaves brushed tense shoulders that almost felt normal.
By the fountain, Cascade tilted her face to the pale blue sky, eyes closed, arms loose, chin lifted into the crisp air.
“I love it out here,” she said softly. “Just to feel the air, smell the trees. For a second… it almost feels like we’re free.”
From her view, K lounged along a bench armrest, one leg up, arms crossed, smirk carved in place.
“Until you remember there’s a twenty-foot wall on every side of us, K.”
Cascade cracked one eye, faint smirk tugging.
“…Thanks for that.”
Across the court, Halo sat on the fountain ledge, tightening boot laces.
Jace’s steps crunched over stone, hands in hoodie pockets, casual posture, sharper eyes.
“You ready for this afternoon?” he asked.
Halo straightened, grin bright.
“Yeah. Captain Vitalis is the best at what she does. I’m not worried.”
Under a skeletal tree, three cadets sat forward in thought.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Speedy stretched his arms across the bench back, ease like a mask.
Arcline sat straight, adjusting gloves.
Thorn leaned in, elbows on knees, calm and sharp.
“Alright, but if we get Kaito, we’re toast,” Speedy said, flicking a hand lazily.
Arcline’s look was flat.
“Nah. Worst pull’s Varric. Guy’s a war hammer.”
Thorn’s tone stayed steady.
“Plan like it’s the toughest fight of your life. If it’s not, you’ll win faster.”
For once, Speedy had no comeback.
His foot tapped the stone — a ghost of a smirk, more nerves than bravado.
The path curved toward the fountain, leaves drifting.
Lior and Ayasha walked side by side, boots crunching softly.
Selena trailed a step behind, coat zipped, hair like a curtain.
“You see where Titan went?” Lior asked.
“Walking with Captain Kaito,” Ayasha answered plainly. “Didn’t see where after.”
Lior nodded.
Selena’s gaze flicked up — softer than usual, not a smile, just a thoughtful shift — then gone.
?
From above, Delta Court almost looked ordinary.
Cadets on benches and walkways, some laughing, some stretching, some staring into the northern sky.
The fountain glittered.
Leaves spun across stone.
It could have been a schoolyard at peace — if not for the walls: tall, gray, absolute.
Freedom here was only borrowed.
BONG… BONG… BONG!
A bell tolled — faint, then rolling heavy through Veritas.
Conversations cut off mid-laugh.
Feet turned.
Cadets began filing toward the iron doors.
Titan and Seraph drifted together; Pulse and Vitalis mingled.
Selena — usually at the back of Team Null — slipped into the tide.
Gale and Ditto hung back as sour shadows.
From above, it looked less like weapons being staged and more like students changing classes.
Their boots struck in unison under the arch.
Voices echoed along steel catwalks, laughter rebounding in tunnels.
Even here, where walls pressed tight, the air felt lighter.
Then the Omega Zone opened before them —
and gasps broke across the cadets.
The ceiling soared into shadow, steel beams vanishing above.
Catwalks hissed faint steam overhead.
At the heart of the arena loomed a fortress the size of a city block — reinforced walls bristling with entry points.
For a moment, they forgot drills and scores. It was awe — raw and unhidden.
Cael adjusted his glasses as the unbelievable space laid before him.
“The more of this place I see, the less I understand how they even pay for it.”
Grid slouched, hands in pockets.
“I gave up. Makes my brain hurt.”
Up in raised seating, captains waited.
Team Edge and Team Ironclad had arrived early, led by their captains — still engulfed in the Veritas way that had been brushed off by the others.
Kaito’s voice cut flat and precise.
“One kid messes up the order of an entire facility.”
Valor lounged nearby, smirking as he stretched across the backrest.
“Yeah. And he walks like he owns it.”
Snapback, standing next to Hiroshi, leaned forward, grin curled.
“This place is changing.”
Hiroshi tapped his cane once, the sound sharp and steady.
“One kid’s truth can tilt the balance. Doesn’t matter the walls. Doesn’t matter the weight. The whole room starts leaning his way.”
Snapback barked a laugh.
“Hard to have a conversation with you nowadays, old gray hair.”
“You set the tone,” Hiroshi said, smile tugging. “I just stay with the cadence.”
Both chuckled — their quiet cutting through the awe as cadets streamed to rows.
They aren’t just filling the mold, Hiroshi thought. They’re breaking it. Maybe that’s exactly what this place needs.
The kids moved into their sections next to their captains as the announcer approached the lifted platform.
“Welcome to Omega Zone — your final trial ground,” the announcer boomed.
High on the railing across from them, Director Xun Ren stood with two HQ officers, posture calm, voice steady as it rolled across the dome.
“I know we’ve discussed this trial, but I feel the need to review it before we start. This exercise is called Deadzone Protocol — a stealth and misdirection retrieval drill.”
A giant monitor flared — inside a sealed chamber, a single chair beneath a wall of feeds.
Every corridor and angle mapped.
A jumbotron graphic pulsed: a captain’s silhouette standing over a seated hostage.
Murmurs rippled.
Xun’s expression didn’t change.
“The person guarding your captain will be another Veritas captain. They will not use their Niches. Don’t mistake that for weakness. They will test every ounce of your resolve. Remember: your mission is not to defeat them — but to extract your captain. Forget that, and you fail.”
Perma sat stiff, arms crossed. She exhaled sharply.
“Every time I hear it, my stomach tightens more.”
Cadets settled.
Xun leaned forward, both hands on the rail.
“Each of you will be placed in a different arena. Beneath us is a mechanism that raises eight unique zones. No two alike.”
A faint hum underlined his words.
“Some zones will be industrial — steel corridors and scaffolds. Others will be city blocks — alleys, shattered windows. Some will open into dense jungle, others into shipyards, docks, storage bays. Each environment tests you differently.”
He let it sit.
“This ensures you can’t pre-meditate your attack. You’ll only know your battlefield when it rises before you.”
Cael’s brows shot up — equations crashing behind his eyes.
Across the room, Grid leaned back with a long exhale.
“Troublesome,” he muttered.
“One detail I neglected to mention earlier,” Xun continued evenly. “Each zone will include five Veritas agents equipped with non-lethal rounds. You’ll have to decide whether to confront them head-on or rely on stealth to pass. Once you breach the captain’s sector, the agents will disengage.”
A brief silence followed — the weight of his words settling across the rows.
Valor muttered under his breath.
“Five soldiers and a captain… they’re setting us up to fail.”
“Headquarters will be watching every match,” Xun finished, voice quiet but firm.
On the Jumbotron — easily twice the size of a football stadium — the first match displayed:
[DEADZONE PROTOCOL MATCH ONE: TEAM SERAPH VS CAPTAIN TITAN]
“FIRST MATCHUP!” the announcer called, echo rolling off rafters.
“Team Seraph, report to your locker room. You may equip any accessory retrieved from the Veritas Lab.”
Twin elevators rose from the wall behind the rows where the cadets and captains sat, their edges glowing amber.
“Captain Titan and Captain Seraph, please head down to Zone One.”
The countdown clock blinked red above the tunnel exit.
“The match will begin in thirty minutes.”
The room snapped into focus.
?
Back in their locker space, the air smelled faintly of metal polish and ozone.
K adjusted her new impact bracers, tightening each strap until the alloy veins hummed softly against her skin.
Cascade rolled her shoulders, testing the weight of her gauntlets as faint rings of waterlight rippled from wrist to elbow.
Replica stretched her arms, the faint shimmer of her cape flickering across the locker’s glass wall.
For a while, no one spoke — only the sounds of gear sliding into place and boots striking the tile.
The sound of the arena carried through the walls like a far-off storm.
Replica finally broke the silence with a grin.
“We got this, girls. I know we’re going up against a captain, but if we do our best, the odds are always in our favor.”
K smirked mid-stretch.
“K.”
Cascade said nothing, just a quiet nod as a ripple of light traced her gloves.
Twenty minutes felt like seconds as the moment approached.
?
The platform shuddered then shifted.
A section of floor split as steel walls lowered into place.
Zone One rose — an industrial sprawl of scaffolds, hanging chains, and floodlit catwalks.
Heat shimmered up; steam vented from crisscrossed pipes.
Even Valor leaned forward.
“That’s… massive.”
From Ironclad’s row, Rex tilted his head — interest cracking his still mask.
Beside Sunstrike, Halo whispered, half awe, half unease.
“It feels like a whole city underground…”
“Deadzone Protocol begins in ten minutes. Teams, prepare,” the PA pressed down.
The announcer’s voice cut clean.
“Team Seraph, report to your station. Captain Titan and Captain Seraph — get into position.”
The floor hummed again.
Every cadet held their breath.
Steam hissed through the rafters, rising like breath from a sleeping giant.
Somewhere beneath it, metal gears locked into place.
VMMM… CLICK!
The Last Trial had begun.
End of Chapter 29
“After the second trial, which team is your favorite / who are you pulling for?”
