Vmmm… click!
Hydraulic gates split open at opposite ends of the Omega Zone.
[ENTERING ZONE ONE — TEAM SERAPH]
Floodlights blazed to life.
Three figures stepped from the tunnel, silhouettes sharpening beneath the glare.
Cascade led, her combat gear catching light in fleeting flashes — polymer plates lined her forearms and thighs, still misted from cold storage. Her dark hair moved with each step, reflecting white beams like rippling water.
K followed close behind, adjusting the pressure seals on her new impact bracers. The alloy veins under their surface gave a faint metallic hum — subtle, alive, but quiet enough to keep her focused.
Replica walked last. Her cape shimmered faintly in the light, not glowing — just bending reflection like tempered glass. Calm, sharp, unreadable.
?
Above, AC nearly jumped from her seat, gripping the railing.
“They’re using the prototypes!”
DC crossed her arms, composed but proud. “They synced perfectly. I told you the energy-flow ratio would stabilize.”
AC grinned. “Yeah, yeah — but I called the finish detail first.”
DC didn’t look up. “If anything breaks, you’re explaining it to Director Xun.”
Across the viewing decks, cadets leaned forward for a better look.
Speedy hung halfway over the rail, eyes locked on Replica as if nothing else existed.
Blueprint reached out, grabbing the back of his jacket before he could topple forward.
He shot a helpless glance toward Perma. “Uh… a little help here?”
Perma didn’t look up from adjusting her gloves.
“If he falls, he falls,” she said flatly. “Maybe I’ll get a few minutes of peace before our match.”
Blueprint sighed, keeping his grip as Speedy stayed frozen in his daze, tugging him back into place.
?
Down below, the three Seraphs moved to their mark at the edge of the platform.
Their presence alone carried weight — no glow, no theatrics. Just precision and readiness.
From the stands, it looked less like a team stepping into battle and more like an unveiling — discipline forged into motion.
The hum of machinery deepened. Steam bled through the vents above.
Cascade’s team had already taken their marks in the starting area, the faint hiss of their gear calibrating beneath the lights.
Across the arena, steam vented from the opposite tunnel as the captains appeared.
Titan was seen on the big screen — arms crossed, posture like carved iron. The lights struck his shoulders, tracing his outline in silver and shadow.
Captain Seraph sat in a chair behind him. Arms tied behind steady.
Up in the stands, tension rippled through the cadets — then fell silent as the rumble of the arena deepened.
The announcer’s voice thundered through the dome:
“Reminder — captains cannot use their Niches. Cadets may use theirs at full discretion. The trial begins at the sound of the horns!”
BOOOOONK!
The timer flared:
[10:00]
Steam hissed through vents as the Omega Zone’s industrial maze came alive — scaffolds, walkways, pipes glowing faint red from the heat below.
Team Seraph surged forward.
Replica split first.
Her eyes flashed gold —
Shfff—paft!
Light purple shimmered around her, scattering like glass dust.
— Niche Activated: Echo Veil —
Creates illusionary duplicates that follow her movements with a half-second delay, mirroring her actions to confuse enemies and allow flanking or dodging.
Three mirrored doubles peeled away, darting down alternate corridors as the hum of drones echoed above.
“Take the bait,” she murmured.
Cascade lifted her palm — Shhh-kloop!
Her eyes flickered yellow, waves of sea-blue glow coiling around her body.
— Niche Activated: Aqua Bullet —
Condenses and weaponizes atmospheric moisture into high-velocity water projectiles. Can shift between precision long-range shots and micro-blades for close-quarters combat.
Two water bullets fired upward — one drone burst into sparks, another spiraled down smoking.
“Two down,” she said through comms, lowering her Aqua Lens visor. Targeting lines flickered across her right eye. “Humidity 68%. Optimal.”
They moved. Boots clanged on grated metal.
From above — clank! — two Veritas agents dropped, rifles raised.
K didn’t hesitate. Her eyes flashed gold —
Whumm–CLINK!
Her skin began to shimmer like polished metal as every muscle hardened into steel.
— Niche Activated: Iron Pulse —
Converts internal tension into hardened density, reinforcing every muscle and bone while maintaining full-speed movement and striking with steel-grade impact.
The Impact Bracers along her arms thrummed.
She lunged forward and slammed a fist into the first soldier’s chest —
CRACK!
He folded, launched into a beam as sparks showered down.
The second swung his rifle butt toward Replica. She dodged late — thud! — it slammed into her ribs. Illusions shattered. She hit the ground hard, gasping.
Before he could strike again, shhh-kloop! — a pressurized water round ripped from above, slamming the rifle clean out of his hands. Metal clattered across the floor.
K moved the instant it hit. Whumm! Her body flashed silver as she closed the distance and drove a brutal right hook across his visor.
CRACK!
The helmet split down the faceplate as he flew into the pipes.
Steam hissed from the walls.
Stolen novel; please report.
?
In the stands, a spark cracked — zzt! — as Arcline’s static flared near the railing beside his team.
Snapback stepped back, hands raised. “Whoa, whoa! We didn’t do anything to her, Sparky!”
The charge fizzled out, leaving only a hiss.
Silverline leaned forward, voice cool. “Her aim’s sharp — center-mass from high angle.”
Thorn smirked. “Yeah. Smooth trigger rhythm too. Girl’s steady under pressure.”
?
K crouched beside Replica, hooking an arm under her shoulder. “You good?”
Replica winced. “I—I made an error—”
“Shut it,” K said, voice flat but steady. “We’re not done yet.”
She rolled her neck, scanning the catwalk ahead. “That’s five. We’re clear. Let’s go find Titan.”
Cascade’s voice cut through comms, sharp and urgent. “Negative. Three behind you.”
K’s eyes widened. “What—?”
Boots thundered. From the scaffolding’s shadows, three more Veritas soldiers emerged, rifles raised and visors gleaming.
Cascade, perched high on a beam, reacted instantly. “Engaging!”
Her visor locked on.
shhh-kloop!
A water slug shot down, slamming into the lead soldier’s chest and dropping him flat.
A sharp shout followed.
“Found the sniper!”
Muzzle flashes erupted — pap-pap-pap! — non-lethal rounds hissed toward Cascade’s perch. She ducked, sliding behind a beam as blue shimmer rippled across her gauntlets. Metal and steam burst around her.
Replica steadied herself, ribs aching. “Cascade’s pinned,” she muttered through comms.
Her eyes flickered yellow — once, sharp — and illusions bloomed into motion, fanning violet silhouettes through the haze.
The two remaining soldiers turned, chasing the movement.
One fired at a phantom sprinting along the catwalk — thup-thup! — but the figure dissolved into light.
Before he could react, the real Replica slipped from behind a column —
THUM!
Her knee slammed into his ribs.
The second soldier spun, firing point-blank — the round tore through another illusion, leaving static shimmer.
Before realization hit, Replica was already on him—
WHAP!
Her palm cracked across his jaw, dropping him flat.
Her breaths came rough, uneven — the violet haze thinning, but her stance held.
“Cascade,” she said over comms, “you’re clear.”
Cascade exhaled, lowering her palm. “All clear.”
Replica pressed a hand to her ribs, managing a faint smirk. “Correction — we’ve eliminated five… and three more arrived. Someone miscalculated.”
Cascade’s reply came low. “There were only supposed to be five…”
?
Up in the stands, Sync echoed softly, “There were only supposed to be five.”
Beside him, Captain Edge didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on the field, calm as carved stone.
Then, with quiet precision, he said, “Never trust the numbers. They train you for five so you’ll survive seven. The mission doesn’t change — only the field does.”
The cadets nearby went still. Even Sync sat back slightly, absorbing it.
?
Down below, Seraph regrouped. Pipes hissed. Steam curled through beams.
K’s knuckles tightened until her bracers groaned. Cascade rechecked her seals, mist vanishing before it could form. Replica lifted her chin, eyes steady.
“Let’s move,” she said. “Drain tunnels should lead to the chamber.”
K stomped the grate — CLANG! — it gave way.
They dropped into the tunnels, breath echoing off wet metal.
Replica led, voice low but steady. “If fortune favors us, we may reach the captain without alerting Captain Titan.”
A ladder appeared ahead. Cascade nodded once. “Moment of truth.”
Cascade climbed first—
—and froze.
Cold light hit her face. Fortune did not favor them.
The hatch lifted into the command chamber — the scent of oil, rust, and heat rolling out.
They weren’t near the sector where their captain was held. They were inside it.
Captain Titan stood at the center, framed by a single overhead lamp. Behind him, Captain Seraph sat bound and silent. Titan’s gaze rose — steady, absolute.
The hatch had betrayed them.
Cascade’s voice shook. “I’m running low on pressure. One or two more shots, tops.”
“Doesn’t matter,” K muttered, silver flickering faintly along her arms. “We go until the end.”
Replica steadied herself. “Then we make it count.”
Cascade struck first — shhh-kloop! — a water blade arcing fast.
Titan sidestepped, caught her wrist, turned, and sent her straight into a rushing K.
WHAM!
K hit the ground, rolled, and pushed off instantly.
“Thirty seconds remaining!” the announcer thundered.
K’s pulse spiked. Thirty seconds. No time to hesitate.
She darted forward again — faster, sharper — every strike carrying raw urgency.
K feinted low, snapping a kick toward Titan’s ribs. He sidestepped — the blow cut air. She pivoted, driving a right hook, then a left.
CLANG!
Titan parried, catching her arm mid-motion. His grip didn’t shift.
I’m steel… How is he this strong without a Niche?
Before she could react, he twisted and used her momentum —
Whump! — sending her crashing.
K slid across the steel, boots screeching against a pipe.
“Dang it—he’s reading every move!” she snarled, pushing up. Her muscles trembled; Iron Pulse screamed through her veins.
“Then change the rhythm,” Cascade gasped, wiping blood from her lip. Her breathing rasped, each inhale sharp.
Replica surged forward, vision doubling. Focus. Don’t lose focus. Three illusions burst from her like echoes of pain.
Titan didn’t flicker. He waited.
K forced her body forward, legs shaking, shoulders seizing. Cascade raised both gauntlets, hands trembling as faint water shimmered between her fingers.
Replica feinted left, doubles scattering. K charged straight through the haze, aura sparking as her joints screamed.
Now… just one opening—
Cascade fired — shhh-kloop! shhh-kloop! — two rounds streaked past K’s swing toward Titan’s flank.
Titan pivoted once. The punch sliced air; both shots burst against a steel beam. He moved like he’d already seen every choice.
K’s knees buckled. “Dammit—”
Cascade’s arms hung low, veins of faint blue fading under her skin. She swallowed dryly, chest heaving.
Replica’s head pulsed with pain. She stumbled forward, clutching her temple. Still, she raised her hands. “Cascade—K—now!”
K pushed off one last time, raw and strained. Cascade tried to fire—nothing came.
Replica rushed forward, three illusions bursting out.
Titan didn’t flinch.
Her first double struck; he ignored it.
K swung with a fierce right. He caught her wrist, twisted, and sent her sprawling.
Replica’s second illusion swung; he didn’t blink.
The real Replica leapt behind the third, shouting—
“Got you—!”
Titan turned just enough. His hand caught her kick.
BZZZT!
[00:00]
Replica staggered, chest heaving. “I… I failed—”
“No,” K wheezed, limping toward her. “You’re the soul of this team. We don’t even get this far without you.”
Cascade’s voice was sharp. “Don’t doubt yourself, Replica. Not now.”
From the chair, Seraph leaned forward, somehow undoing her bindings with ease. Her voice carried, proud.
“You’ve already proven yourselves. You fought like Veritas cadets — not just to win, but to protect each other. That’s more than most can claim.”
Titan opened the chamber door, stepping aside with a measured nod.
“Good work. Sharpen your timing.”
But it was Seraph’s presence that changed the room. Her jade eyes softened as she touched Replica’s shoulder and Cascade’s arm.
“Walk with me. Win or lose, you’ve shown me enough to be proud.”
They followed her toward the exit — battered, spent, but upright. Titan’s heavy steps trailed behind, silent as stone.
Overhead, the Jumbotron displayed:
[ROUND 1 COMPLETE]
[TEAM SERAPH: FAILED]
The med team moved fast. Cascade leaned against a railing, chest heaving. K rolled her shoulder with a wince. Replica steadied herself, one hand at her temple, migraine pounding.
?
Across the decks, murmurs spread — not ridicule, but respect.
Lior’s gaze followed them toward the med bay. “They fought until the very end.”
Ayasha nodded. “Even after the buzzer, they still stood.”
Cael added quietly, “That’s Veritas.”
Titan rejoined his cadets, expression calm but firm.
“Just because we’re captains doesn’t mean we’ll go easy. You’ll get hit. Protect yourselves. Some captains won’t be as graceful as I was. Some will try to crush you.”
The battlefield quieted, machinery fading to silence.
Team Seraph limped toward the exit — bruised, exhausted, but still upright.
?
Around the arena, no one spoke.
This wasn’t training anymore.
It was survival — proof that even giving everything might not be enough.
Every face in the stands showed it — awe, fear, understanding.
The lesson was clear: from this point on, strength alone wouldn’t be enough.
The Veritas cadets weren’t just students fighting for rank anymore.
They were learning what it meant to endure.
Above, the loudspeaker cracked back to life.
“Next matchup: Team Snapback versus Captain Varric Kaelthorn of Team Ironclad. Captain Snapback and Captain Varric, please proceed to the elevator. Team Snapback, head to the locker rooms.”
The announcement broke the silence, but the weight remained.
Everyone understood now—
true resolve wasn’t proven by victory.
It was in how much of yourself you were willing to give to reach it.
End of Chapter 30
Whose Niche would you prefer to have?
