The cafeteria buzzed with quiet morning routine. The clatter of trays, the hum of ventilation, and the

  rhythmic scrape of armor against metal benches formed the sound of another day.

  Bash’s team occupied their usual table near the far wall, gear freshly cleaned, datapads spread out in

  front of them. The Grey-portal rotation shimmered above the tabletop display, new data streaming in

  with every refresh.

  Bash studied the list in silence. Behind his eyes, a faint blue interface flickered as S-C’s voice filled his

  mind.

  S-C: “Portal 228 shows swarm-rich terrain, mixed bio-mineral composition. Estimated density sixtwenty per kilometer, moderate toxin output.”

  Bash: “That’s higher than average.”

  S-C: “Confirmed. Fragment yield potential at one-hundred-eighty-two percent of standard return.”

  Bash: “Any anomalies?”

  S-C: “None yet. Atmospheric readings stable. No interference signatures detected.”

  He marked the portal with a faint motion of his finger.

  “Swarm-rich worlds,” he said finally. “We stay on volume, anything under five hundred density isn’t

  worth it.”

  Rixor grunted agreement. “Bigger waves, better fragments.”

  Nyra smirked. “And better stories.”

  Taren’s lips curved faintly. “And more patchwork for me.”

  The others chuckled softly. It was routine, comfortable, balanced.

  Bash’s eyes lingered on the glowing display. The chosen portal line pulsed once, locking into the

  rotation queue.

  S-C: “Projected completion time: six hours fifty-two minutes. Team synchronization level: ninety-three

  percent. Keep it steady.”

  Bash: “Always do.”

  He closed the display and rose, the motion smooth, practiced. The others followed immediately, chairs

  scraping in unison as the team fell into its morning rhythm.

  When they finished, Bash gave his final nod. “Same plan as always. Push until exhaustion or until the

  signals drop.”

  Taren spotted Kira pacing near the edge of the cafeteria, still dressed in her standard-issue fatigues and

  light armor, scratched, dull, and visibly worn from weeks of repair patches.

  Taren slowed beside her. “You all right?”

  Kira looked up quickly, eyes bright with nervous energy. “Yeah, just waiting. They said my new set

  should finish any minute.”

  Taren smiled softly. “Just remember, take it slow while you’re learning the resonance flow. Don’t push

  it on the first run.”

  Kira nodded quickly. “I won’t. I still can’t believe I’m getting a full T1A set.” Her voice dipped a little,

  almost reverent. “I never thought I’d get something like that.”

  “You deserve it,” Taren said, her tone warm but firm. “And if you didn’t notice, the rest of us thought

  you deserved it too.”

  Kira smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Thank you… for everything. I mean that.”

  Taren gave a small nod and stepped away, joining Bash and the others as they gathered near the exit.

  On her wrist, Kira’s watch chimed softly once, a single tone that froze her in place. She exhaled a

  shaky breath and looked down at the notification pulsing across the screen:

  Gear Complete. Full Equipment Set Ready for Collection.

  Taren smiled. “You’re going to love it.”

  Kira nodded gratefully. “Thanks again… for everything.”

  “Of course,” Taren said softly. “Good luck out there.”

  Then Taren turned and joined her squad. As Bash’s team passed through the main hall, they noticed

  another scene, Calen standing near one of the corner tables, speaking animatedly with a small group of

  Spartors: four Browns and one Grey.

  Rixor glanced that way, scowling. Bash didn’t slow down. “Keep moving,” he said quietly. The team

  passed by without another word and disappeared into the corridor leading to the Grey portal room.

  Calen watched them leave, jaw tight, then refocused on the group in front of him.

  Five Spartors sat around a single table, dust-streaked, quiet, their armor patched and scorched. Their

  body language screamed recent loss.

  He’d been up since dawn, scanning the cafeteria for stragglers or broken squads. No luck, until now.

  “You lost three?” he asked.

  The Grey, a lanky man with a rifle slung across his back, nodded grimly. His armor bore the dull,

  scored sheen of overused plating, half a shoulder guard missing. “Yeah. Swarm. We lost three. One of

  our two healers one of our tanks, durability type. He took the front hit and didn’t get back up.”

  He exhaled slowly, eyes distant. “Our melee mineral went right after them. Tried to drag the them out.

  All Browns, they didn’t it.”

  Calen nodded, face tightening with recognition. “Toxic kind of swarm?”

  “No,” the Grey said. “Fast speed, coordinated. We were lucky to make it back with five.” He gestured

  subtly toward the rest of his group gathered around a table, one tank, a mid-range fighter cleaning a

  pair of sidearms, a melee strength type with a massive orange sword strapped to his back, and a young

  Brown healer whose gear barely counted as more than standard issue.

  The Grey continued, his tone steadier now. “What we’ve got left is one tank, reflective shield type, one

  healer with maybe two pieces of real gear, a close-range strength, mid-range with sidearms, fire, and

  me. Lightning and mineral alignment.”

  Calen’s gaze lingered on the rifle over the man’s shoulder, faint blue lines etched along its length.

  “Lightning-mineral hybrid. Interesting combination.”

  The man nodded once. “Yeah. Problem is, we can’t keep the front line stable long enough for me to do

  what I’m built for.”

  Calen leaned forward slightly, his tone lowering. “That’s something I can help with.”

  Calen leaned on the table, feigning sympathy while his mind turned gears. “We had a similar situation.

  Eleven thousand strong. My healer and I made it out, we even went back yesterday with Bash’s team

  and cleared the entire swarm.”

  That caught their attention immediately. The Browns’ eyes widened. The Grey straightened in his seat.

  “You were with Bash’s team?” one asked.

  Calen smiled faintly. “Was. I was their primary damage before I left.”

  A ripple of quiet awe moved through the table. They’d already heard the story, Bash’s squad clearing

  near-impossible swarms, returning unscathed.

  One of the Browns, her armor scarred and pitted, leaned forward. “And your healer’s still with you?”

  “She is,” Calen said. “Just finished getting a full T1A set. The best resonance healer loadout you’ll find

  for White-tier team, good enough for Grey portals, no doubt.”

  As if on cue, the cafeteria doors slid open.

  Kira stepped through, eyes scanning the room, expecting to see Bash’s team. Instead, she caught sight

  of Calen. Her face brightened slightly as she crossed toward him, light glinting off fresh T1A armor.

  The new set shimmered with radiant threads, a balance of silver and gold with soft pulses of living light

  that traced through the plates. Every motion left a faint luminescent trail that faded like dust in the air.

  Calen grinned. “Perfect timing.”

  The small squad rose halfway from their seats, staring.

  Kira blinked, taken aback by the attention. “Um… hello?”

  Calen gestured. “Kira, meet our new team.”

  The Grey leader, a tall Spartor with slate-colored armor and a rifle bearing lightning coils along its

  frame, extended a hand. “Name’s Renn. We’re short a few members, and if you’re both free...”

  Kira exchanged a quick look with Calen, uncertain but willing. “We were looking to join someone

  reliable.”

  Renn nodded. “Reliable’s all we’ve got left.”

  They sat again, discussing formation and strategy. Renn laid it out clearly, simple, efficient.

  Kira near the center alongside their mid-range shooter, ensuring full coverage with her healing field.

  The other Brown healer, a quiet, younger Spartor named Erys, would reinforce Kira’s bursts, focusing

  on the tank and melee front line.

  Renn and Calen would anchor the perimeter, alternating aggro control and suppressive fire to keep both

  healers safe.

  When they stood to move toward the portals, the new squad already looked sharper than before.

  The team headed to White Portal 413

  The world shimmered open in a burst of pale light.

  They stepped into a barren plain of translucent stone, fields of fractured crystal stretching for miles,

  each surface humming faintly underfoot. The air itself carried a faint musical tone when they moved, as

  though the world was alive with resonance, fractured light glinting off the endless crystal plain.

  Beneath their boots, the glass-like ground thrummed faintly, humming with the low resonance of

  energy buried deep below. They moved through the fractured plain for nearly a kilometer before

  anything stirred.

  “Keep eyes open,” Renn said quietly. His voice carried easily through the still air. “I feel the Mineral

  energies are high here. Don’t trust what looks solid.”

  Kira and Erys walked near the center of the formation, their staves dimly glowing, the first low pulses

  of healing resonance syncing with the team. The others spread in a wide stagger, Vorren taking the lead

  with his reflective shield forward, Thane on his right, sword balanced over his shoulder, and Voss just

  behind them, sidearms loose in his hands. Calen brought up the left flank, bow ready, the quiet hum of

  his resonance core thrumming in his chest.

  The further they went, the quieter it became. Even the faint hum of their armor seemed to dampen. The

  only sound was the faint hum of wind moving across the glass-like ridges.

  Then something changed.

  The vibration underfoot deepened, a subtle pitch shift that Calen noticed first. He slowed slightly,

  glancing down at the ground. “You feel that?”

  Renn’s eyes flicked toward the horizon. “Brace. We’ve got movement.”

  A faint shimmer rippled along the cracked surface ahead, like heat distortion through water. The glow

  beneath their feet brightened, a deep crystalline pulse running through the fissures in every direction.

  Then the world split open.

  A massive shape slithered free of the rupture, a Tier-One-Apex Chorus Serpent, its body half mineral,

  half light. Scales refracted the daylight into a hundred piercing colors, its motion accompanied by a

  sound that was both beautiful and wrong: a crystalline choir rising from the earth itself.

  “Single contact,” Renn said, raising his rifle. Lightning arced faintly across its coils, building charge.

  “Spread to half formation. Keep eyes open for burrow movement.”

  The reflective tank, Vorren, stepped forward, his mirrored shield locking into place with a low hum.

  “Copy that.” He slammed the shield’s edge into the ground, activating a reflective pulse that bent the

  serpent’s attention toward him.

  The serpent struck first, a blur of motion that cracked the air. Its head smashed into Vorren’s shield,

  scattering sparks and resonance light across the ground. The sound reverberated like a bell struck too

  hard.

  Renn didn’t flinch. “Anchor engaged. Kira, motes out!”

  Kira closed her eyes for half a breath, resonance syncing with her armor’s lattice. Her Luminara Crest

  flared faintly, and three Light Motes drifted free from her shoulders, each one circling outward with

  calm precision, born directly from her resonance field, autonomous extensions of her will.

  The motes pulsed in soft, golden rhythm as they spread across the formation, drifting toward the most

  injured and anchoring there, maintaining a steady restorative glow. With each pulse, her Seraph Mantle

  amplified their effect, layering a radiant barrier that absorbed stray shockwaves from the serpent’s

  strikes.

  When the front line pressed in, her Auric Vestment triggered its regenerative loop, tiny bursts of light

  flickering along the group’s armor seams every few seconds, healing abrasions before they could even

  bleed.

  Her Solstice Staff hummed quietly in her grip, channeling secondary bursts through the ground. Every

  third strike of light resonance sent a cleansing pulse rippling through the dust, if present it would clear

  poison and grit before it could reach the others.

  The air around her shimmered faintly, motes weaving in wide orbits while her staff delivered steady,

  timed pulses of radiant energy, one supporting the other, a rhythm of precision born from calm focus.

  “Covering fire,” Calen called out. He drew the string of his bow back in one smooth motion, the air

  compressing around him. Three arrows launched in perfect sync, trailing wind light. The first split the

  serpent’s open maw, the second embedded along its flank, and the third detonated, cracking through the

  crystalline armor with a ringing chime.

  Erys, standing near Kira, pressed his palms together. Two healing motes burst from his resonance field,

  smaller and paler than Kira’s but precise. He directed one toward Vorren and the other toward the

  melee Spartor, Thane, who had already lunged forward, his massive orange sword igniting with kinetic

  light.

  Thane roared as he struck, the impact sending shards of glass and mineral scattering through the air.

  “Weak point under the ridge!” he shouted.

  The mid-range fighter, Voss, moved beside him, twin sidearms blazing. Each shot was a burst of

  condensed flame, ricocheting off the serpent’s flanks and forcing it to coil tighter in defense.

  “Push it!” Renn ordered. His rifle discharged in rhythmic bursts of lightning, every shot cracking

  through the serpent’s body with surgical precision. Mineral shards fell like rain.

  The serpent screamed, a high, discordant tone that shook the air. It tried to retreat, diving back toward

  the fissure, but Calen was already in motion. His boots pulsed with wind light, propelling him forward.

  He loosed one final arrow, a perfect line of compressed resonance that pierced the creature’s head clean

  through.

  The serpent froze mid-motion, its body flickering between light and crystal before shattering entirely.

  The shards hit the ground in a chorus of tones that echoed across the plain.

  Silence followed, clean, absolute.

  Kira lowered her staff, the motes fading one by one as the last echoes of the serpent’s energy dissolved

  into the air.

  Renn exhaled slowly, scanning the horizon. “That’s more like it.”

  Calen turned his bow sideways, letting the string fade to vapor. “Good timing,” he said, looking around

  the formation. “No one overextended.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Erys smiled faintly. “Feels good to finish a fight without screaming.”

  Thane chuckled, resting the blade across his shoulder. “That’s because we had real coverage this time.”

  Kira gave a small, proud smile but said nothing, her focus still on keeping the last threads of healing

  resonance fading evenly from the group.

  Renn nodded once, lowering his rifle. “That’s one down. Stay sharp. The map’s marking two more

  zones ahead, higher density.”

  Calen’s eyes lifted toward the horizon. “Good,” he said quietly. “Let’s see what this world really has.”

  The path funneled into a narrow canyon cut deep through the crystal plain. The walls shimmered

  faintly, their surfaces etched with thin veins of silver light. With every step forward, the air grew

  heavier, dense with resonance dust, particles that shimmered in the faint sun like drifting ash.

  Kira glanced up, unease settling in her chest. “Something’s off,” she murmured. The healing motes

  orbiting near her shoulder dimmed, reacting to the dense energy saturating the air.

  Erys frowned. “Feels like static.”

  Before anyone could respond, the hum began, a low, rising frequency that crawled up the back of their

  necks. Then the dust moved. The entire canyon seemed to come alive, the silver haze collapsing into

  motion.

  Hundreds, no, thousands, of Rift Gnats, T1C Mineral Type, burst from the mist, their translucent wings

  flashing like broken glass. Each beat sent a sonic vibration through the air, creating a disorienting wave

  of sound that made the walls tremble.

  Each Rift Gnat was no larger than a clenched fist, but their design was something between insect and

  resonance construct. Their bodies were carved from semi-transparent chitin shot through with thin,

  glowing veins of condensed energy that pulsed with each wing beat. Instead of eyes, smooth black

  facets wrapped their heads, shifting with iridescent light whenever they detected motion. Their wings

  were jagged and thin, like shards of fractured glass, vibrating so fast they left trails of silver distortion

  in the air.

  A faint hum accompanied them, no, not a hum, a chord. Every swarm emitted a layered tone that

  resonated through the environment, a side effect of their energy-based circulatory systems oscillating in

  unison. That harmonic field could scramble senses, dulling equilibrium and bending light around them,

  which made entire swarms appear to phase in and out of view. When they attacked, the sound climbed

  to a piercing frequency capable of cracking thin armor plating and rupturing unprotected resonance

  nodes.

  When struck, they didn’t bleed. They shattered, each one collapsing into a puff of metallic dust that

  glittered faintly before dissolving into the air. Their remains left a faint, cloying scent of scorched

  rocks, a ghostly aftertaste that lingered long after the last wing stopped vibrating.

  “Stack tight!” Renn barked. “Vorren, front! Everyone else, pivot in!”

  The squad moved without hesitation. Vorren planted his reflective shield in the center of the choke

  point, the surface flaring to life with mirrored light. It caught the first wave of gnats like a living wall,

  reflecting their impact in shimmering bursts that scattered the swarm’s front edge.

  Thane took the left flank, his orange blade flaring with mineral resonance. He swung in sweeping arcs,

  each strike releasing kinetic pulses that vaporized multiple gnats in every swing.

  On the right, Voss’s dual sidearms blazed in alternating bursts, fire and kinetic rounds cutting glowing

  ribbons through the swarm. The canyon filled with flashes of red, orange, and blue light, each

  discharge echoing like thunder.

  Calen stood just behind them, arrows of compressed wind resonance launching in rapid rhythm. Every

  shot detonated midair, scattering the swarm with rippling shockwaves that thinned their density by the

  second.

  And through it all, Kira.

  She didn’t panic.

  Her Luminara Crest flared again, releasing new motes that darted between the fighters. Each one

  sought wounds before they formed, tracing predictive patterns through the chaos. When the swarm’s

  soundwave rippled through the formation, the motes pulsed in unison, dampening the vibrations and

  stabilizing the squad’s health.

  Her Auric Vestment’s passive regeneration field was a constant heartbeat, every two seconds, a pulse

  radiated from her chestplate, mending surface damage and reinforcing barriers.

  When she over healed, the golden glow along her arms intensified as her Seraph Mantle redirected the

  excess healing into protective barriers. Those layers shimmered faintly against each fighter’s armor,

  nullifying the needle-like strikes of Rift Gnat wings before they could pierce through.

  When a burst wave hit Vorren’s shield too hard, she reacted instantly. Dipping her Solstice Staff low,

  discharging a solar bloom that exploded in a six-meter radius, cleansing dust and restoring energy

  simultaneously. The flare’s reflection rippled across Vorren’s mirrored shield, amplifying it outward

  like a lens.

  Renn ducked under a wave of gnats, firing upward. “Your timing’s perfect, Kira!”

  “Trying to make it look easy!” she called back, her focus never breaking.

  Taren’s guidance echoed in the balance of her gear; the passive-focused set she’d helped Kira choose

  was doing exactly what it was meant to, simplifying the chaos. Every piece worked autonomously,

  letting Kira focus on timing heals or attacks with her staff and awareness rather than constant

  micromanagement. It was calm precision born from design, not chance.

  Her set made her healing rhythm appear to be pure flow now, no over corrections, no panic. Every cool

  down fell into place, every pulse stacked precisely with Erys’s secondary heals. His smaller motes

  trailed hers like fireflies following starlight, supporting wherever her reach thinned.

  Within minutes, the tide shifted. The team was a single, seamless rhythm, light, motion, and sound

  working in harmony.

  The gnats screamed once, a final harmonic shriek as the last of their number disintegrated under the

  onslaught. The canyon fell silent again, glittering with drifting fragments that glowed faintly in the air

  before dissolving.

  No one was injured. Not a single cut as almost all mended by Kira.

  Kira lowered her staff, sweat tracing a line down her temple, but her breathing stayed steady. Her motes

  hovered briefly before fading, their job complete.

  Renn exhaled, scanning the team. “No injuries. Not even a bruise.”

  Vorren grinned under his helm. “Feels like we brought four healers with us.”

  Kira blinked, caught off guard by the praise, and for the first time since leaving the Ark, she smiled

  without hesitation.

  Calen watched her quietly from where he stood, bow still in hand. Her light reflected off his armor,

  steady, warm, and annoyingly radiant.

  She’s learning fast, he thought. Maybe faster than even she realizes.

  The corner of his mouth tightened. Every cheer, every glance of awe from the others, drifted her way

  instead of his. He’d landed half the kills in that fight, but it was her light they were praising. Her calm.

  Her glow.

  He exhaled through his nose, forcing the thought down. Let her have it, he told himself. It’s good for

  the team.

  But the burn beneath his chest didn’t fade.

  Renn slung his rifle over his shoulder. “All right, formation up. We’ve got open plains ahead. If the

  swarm came from here, we’re not done yet.”

  Kira glanced back toward the canyon, motes fading completely now. “Then let’s make sure nothing

  else comes out of it.”

  They moved on together, the dust settling behind them like the remnants of a storm.

  Beyond the canyon, the terrain opened into a shallow basin stretching nearly a kilometer wide. The air

  shimmered with heat and dust, fractured sunlight reflecting off the ground in soft hues of violet and

  gold. Dozens of T1G Quartzback Striders grazed across the plain, massive, four-legged mineral beasts

  whose hides looked carved from milky crystal. Their horns refracted the sunlight in radiant arcs,

  scattering spectral colors across the cracked surface.

  The creatures moved with heavy, deliberate grace, their every step sending small tremors through the

  brittle earth. They weren’t aggressive by nature, but startled herds could turn catastrophic in seconds.

  “Let’s make this clean,” Renn said, voice low and certain. “No chaos, no stampede. Vorren and Thane,

  front line. Voss, control the left flank. Calen, take wide perimeter. Erys, Kira, hold center, keep both

  lines layered.”

  Kira nodded, exhaling once to center herself. Her armor responded in kind, resonance veins flaring

  softly along the silver of her mantle. The Luminara Crest pulsed as her Light Motes drifted free again,

  rising like lanterns to hang above the formation. Each orb cast a warm, golden haze, bathing the group

  in protective shimmer.

  Calen slipped from the line, circling wide with the quiet efficiency of instinct. His steps left small trails

  of dust in the thin light as he took a position at the herd’s far edge. When he raised his bow, the air

  seemed to still.

  He loosed his first arrow, and it struck true, bursting into a resonant pulse that fractured the horn of a

  grazing Strider. The beast cried out, a deep, echoing bellow that rippled through the basin. Calen kept

  firing, each shot hitting just enough to disorient, never to kill outright. The herd began to shift, not

  panic, controlled chaos shaped by precision.

  “Now!” Renn called.

  Vorren surged forward, reflective barrier flashing as he intercepted a charging Strider. The impact sent a

  cascade of light across his armor. Thane followed close, his greatsword cleaving through crystalline

  hide in sweeping arcs that split the ground. Shards burst outward in showers of refracted light,

  bouncing harmlessly off the barriers Kira had already layered across the team.

  Kira’s motes moved like dancers through the chaos, responding faster than thought, healing before

  wounds could even form. Her Auric Vestment flared with each pulse, releasing restorative waves that

  rippled across the team in overlapping rhythm. Every strike against her allies triggered a mirrored pulse

  of golden light, reinforcing the front and amplifying her motes’ strength. Erys matched her pace

  perfectly, his own smaller motes orbiting hers like satellites, patching cracks she didn’t have time to

  see.

  For forty straight minutes, the herd stormed and crashed in waves. Each time they pushed forward,

  Renn’s lightning arced across their ranks, chaining through bodies with a sharp metallic hum. Calen

  rained precision fire from the perimeter, his arrows splitting through exposed joints, detonating with

  bursts of windlight.

  When the final Strider fell, it collapsed in slow motion, its body fracturing into a cascade of refracted

  color. The basin fell silent except for the faint hum of residual resonance thrumming through the

  shattered crystals.

  Kira lowered her staff, breathing hard but smiling as the light dimmed around her. “Everyone okay?”

  Vorren raised a gauntleted hand, his reflective plating scorched but intact. “Better than okay.”

  Renn scanned the field once, then nodded. “Good work, everyone. Let’s pack it up before this place

  collapses into another pit.”

  As the others began to gather fragments, Calen slung his bow across his back and turned slowly in a

  full circle. The field glittered like a broken starfield under the pale sky, hundreds of crystal shards

  scattered across stone.

  Not bad, he thought, watching the others move with fluid familiarity. Not Bash’s team, but not far off.

  Kira caught his eye, her expression soft, proud, and utterly sincere. For a moment, the noise of victory

  faded, and he found himself smiling back.

  They returned to the Ark two hours later, armor dulled by dust but spirits bright. The debrief at the

  Nexus was quick, clean run, zero injuries, maximum fragment efficiency. The Tier-One-Advanced

  shard was catalogued and broken down into twenty T1G cores before redistribution. After the Council’s

  share was taken, the seven Spartors each received forty-eight T1G Beast Fragments and one hundred

  fifty-seven T1C fragments, the teams best haul on record.

  By the time they reached the cafeteria, the entire team was alive with celebration. Laughter carried

  between tables, the sound of ration trays clattering together like trophies. For most of them, this was the

  score they’d been waiting for. Between their previous reserves and today’s yield, every one of them

  finally had enough to trade up into six full pieces of T1C gear.

  They were ecstatic, talking fast, voices overlapping about the upgrades they’d buy first: enhanced

  shielding, refined conduits, reinforced plating. Erys was already sketching repair allocations on his

  datapad, and even Renn allowed himself a rare smile.

  Kira couldn’t help but feel their excitement. She remembered that same rush just a days, the awe of the

  thought of fresh armor, the weight of possibility in every pulse. Poor gear or not, she’d been exactly

  where they were, and it made her genuinely happy to see them rising the same way.

  Calen smiled with them, but the warmth didn’t reach his eyes. Their laughter rolled around him, and

  once again, the compliments weren’t his to keep. Every word of praise landed on Kira, the miracle

  healer, the calm light of the team. No one mentioned the wind arcs that shattered half the herd or the

  precision volleys that pinned the Striders in place.

  He kept the smile fixed, even as the envy pricked beneath it.

  He hadn’t upgraded since leaving Bash’s group, hadn’t needed to, not when he could outperform half

  the Norvarch in his sleep. He didn’t want Tier-One gear; that was for Spartors still proving themselves.

  He was beyond that.

  And yet, as he watched the others talk and laugh, a small, uninvited thought crept in, the faintest

  whisper of regret.

  Maybe leaving Bash’s team hadn’t been the smartest play.

  He crushed the thought immediately, shaking his head as if to clear it.

  No. Bash had stifled him. Held him back. This, this was the rebuild.

  Twelve days left in the cycle. Twelve days to show the Nexus, the Council, and Bash himself that Calen

  wasn’t the problem.

  He was the solution.