The sixth floor screamed training area, with its sleek metallic walls lined with glowing panels that hummed faintly, and reinforced windows revealing glimpses of sparring arenas filled with people honing their abilities. The faint echo of boots hitting the polished floor and distant sounds of sparring. Zoey realized a few things as they strolled through the hall.

  First, she had to be careful around Holiday. Something was off about her—Zoey couldn’t shake that unsettling vibe. While Holiday’s aura wasn’t as overwhelmingly powerful as the one Zoey had encountered after the light, it was still formidable. And she turned my powers off like it was nothing, Zoey thought, frowning slightly. Definitely gotta watch my ass around her.

  Second, no one else seemed to know what had happened during her evaluation. Not even Iyana, as powerful as she was, had been able to figure it out. That meant there were ways to maneuver around her, ways to keep things hidden. The thought made Zoey smile faintly.

  Lastly, there was Crucible. He was keeping his distance, and Zoey couldn’t help but think it was because she was probably one wrong move away from being thrown into a cell for real. That thought lingered in her mind, gnawing at her sense of ease. And apparently he had a hero complex.

  Great, she thought, he’s probably just wired to be nice because of some weird trait thing. Like I would trust that. She decided she’d keep her distance as well. If his kindness wasn’t real, then trusting him could end up being a mistake.

  She shook her head, exhaling slowly. This new way of thinking—always analyzing, always calculating—was exhausting. But it felt necessary.

  The hallway was lined with little water moats on either side, the gentle ripple of the water casting dancing reflections onto the metallic walls. Colorful fish darted back and forth in fluid motions, their vibrant hues breaking up the sterile atmosphere of the building. The scene reminded Zoey of when she’d been flying around her room earlier, the same sense of wonder she’d felt watching her afterimages swirl around her.

  Crucible glanced at Zoey, noticing the faraway look in her eyes. For the type of person she seemed to be, he was surprised by how much time she spent lost in thought. Then again, with all the strange things going on around her, maybe that wasn’t so surprising.

  “You nervous about meeting everyone?” he asked, his tone calm but carrying a hint of curiosity.

  Zoey snapped out of her thoughts and shook her head quickly.

  “Really?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you’d be a bit worried ‘cause of…”

  Zoey stopped walking, planting a hand on her hip and giving him a look that spoke volumes without her needing to say a word.

  Crucible paused, then nodded, his smirk softening. “Right, right. It is what it is...”

  Zoey sighed internally, her afterimages flickering faintly around her. Not being able to talk was a serious downside to this whole situation. It took a good chunk out of her arsenal—her words were her weapon—but she’d survive. Schools were schools no matter where you went, even if this one happened to be a secret government society training group. In her mind, she was already simplifying it: just another school, same rules, different stakes.

  They approached a large set of double doors, with the words in bold letters above it saying “Battle Arts”, the faint sounds of combat leaking out from behind them. Crucible pushed one of the doors open, stepping aside to let her in first.

  Zoey hesitated for just a second, taking a deep breath before walking inside.

  The “Battle Arts” training hall stretched out before her, an expansive, layered space that immediately caught her attention. It was built on three descending levels, each one designed for progressively more intense activities. The top level was lined with jungle gyms, ropes, and practice dummies, clearly meant for drills and physical training. The second level dropped lower, with more advanced-looking equipment and several groups sparring or demonstrating techniques.

  But it was the third level that really stood out. Far below, it was completely open—no equipment, just an expanse of space where people practiced what looked like raw, unrestrained powers. It had an almost chaotic energy, with flashes of light and bursts of chants punctuating the air.

  Zoey took it all in, her eyes scanning the layers of activity, while her afterimages shimmered softly behind her, catching the attention of nearly everyone in the room. Conversations quieted, and eyes turned toward her, watching the radiant trail she left in her wake.

  Crucible glanced at her and chuckled under his breath. “Guess you’re already making an impression,” he said, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

  Zoey went to scribble a response on her notepad, but the moment her pen touched the paper, her instincts screamed at her.

  Her body moved before her mind caught up, eyes snapping upward just as a staff came swinging down at her, aimed straight for her head.

  Before she could react, there was a blur of movement beside her—Crucible.

  With a single raised finger, he met the descending strike, the impact sending out a massive energy explosion that roared through the training hall like a shockwave, kicking up dust and making nearby trainees stumble as heads snapped toward the sudden blast.

  The attacker jumped back, spinning the staff in front of her in a dazzling display, then flipped it behind her before charging in again. Crucible sighed, already looking bored as she brought the staff down in a powerful arc. The moment it struck his finger again, another burst of energy erupted from the impact, sending a shockwave through the air.

  Undeterred, she adjusted mid-motion, shifting into a low sweep aimed at his legs, which he simply hopped over. Then, without hesitation, she transitioned into an upward strike, throwing it forward trying to catch him off-guard.

  Crucible didn’t flinch.

  As the staff flew toward his face, he simply tilted his head to the side, letting it fly harmlessly by.

  She wasn’t done. Twisting her hand, she called her staff back towards his body, while rushing him, attacking from both angles—one strike aimed at his ribs, the other at his back.

  Crucible sighed again, almost lazily, before raising a single hand. Dodging the staff and then with an effortless flick of his wrist, he sent her flying backward across the room.

  She skidded to a stop, coughing as she planted her feet into the ground to steady herself before falling over.

  Zoey, watching from the side, raised an eyebrow. Damn.

  Crucible rolled his shoulders, finally looking mildly interested. “You done?” he asked, golden eyes flicking toward his opponent.

  “Not bad, not bad!” the girl said, shaking off the impact like it was nothing. She hopped back to her feet with an almost feral grin. “I felt like I was way closer that time.”

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  Crucible exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “And what makes you think that?”

  The girl stretched her arms, looking like she might charge in again. Now that Zoey could get a better look at her, she was a young Cambodian girl with striking red hair and sapphire-colored contacts. She wore a black and gray sparring outfit that looked both flexible and reinforced. With a quick motion, she summoned her staff back to her grip and hopped onto the top of it, balancing with ease, her grin never fading.

  “You had to use a finger,” she said slowly, eyes gleaming with mischief.

  Crucible gave a dry, unimpressed nod. “Congratulations. But, Jenna—”

  Before he could finish, Jenna’s focus snapped to Zoey.

  “And who are you?!” she said, pointing directly at her, her green aura buzzing with curiosity. “I’ve never seen an aura like that! And—are those afterimages?! Is that part of your Core Attribute?! What rank are you—”

  “Jenna!” Crucible interrupted, his voice sharp but calm. “Hey. She’s still in training. We haven’t told her about ranks or anything like that yet.”

  Zoey, still standing exactly where she had been when the girl attacked her, just blinked. Are they just completely glossing over the fact that she tried to take my head off? And now this hyperactive menace was interrogating her like an over-caffeinated investigator.

  Zoey slowly turned to Crucible, her expression deadpan, as if silently asking, Is this real?

  Crucible chuckled. “Yeah… Jenna can be a bit much.”

  Jenna grinned from the top of her staff, striking a dramatic pose. “In this life, you—”

  “How about we come down and talk like a normal human,” Crucible interrupted, waving a hand dismissively.

  Jenna gasped, balancing on one foot with her hand over her chest in mock offense. “I am no mere mortal! I am a Veythari—”

  Crucible, entirely unfazed, casually ushered Zoey toward the exit.

  “Wait, wait, okay, okay!” Jenna huffed before flipping down from her staff and bouncing toward them with effortless energy. She suddenly stopped mid-stride, her sapphire eyes locking onto Zoey’s afterimages.

  “Whoa,” she murmured, tilting her head. “Those are so pretty.”

  Zoey smirked, tossing her hair to the side, enjoying the attention just a little.

  Jenna, still fascinated, pointed at Zoey while looking at Crucible. “Why can’t she talk? Is that her trait? Mute? That sucks—”

  “Jenna!” Crucible groaned, rubbing his temples. “Mother of god, please stop with the crazy jumble. She’s a special case, and no, it’s not her trait.”

  Jenna put a hand to her chin, her expression shifting into something comically scheming. “I see… Oh! You’re the girl—”

  Crucible cut her off. “Where’s V-35? I thought they’d still be here.”

  Jenna snapped her fingers. “Oh, they left a bit ago. Captain Matt decided it was nap time.”

  Zoey’s eyes narrowed. A nap? First yoga, now naps? She shook her head.

  Jenna watched her movement and immediately took it as an opening. “Wanna spar?!” she asked, grinning eagerly.

  “No,” Crucible said flatly. “She’s not ready yet. Now shoo.”

  Jenna pouted but wasn’t deterred. “Come back and fight me!”

  “Sure,” Crucible answered. “After she gets settled.”

  Jenna suddenly beamed, bouncing on her heels. “Then let me walk with you.”

  Crucible sighed but shrugged. “Sure.”

  Zoey gave him a side-eye.

  As they walked out of the room, she finally noticed just how quiet the space had become. Their small commotion had apparently drawn more attention than she initially realized. Even as they moved through the hallway, she could feel lingering eyes on her.

  Jenna, however, had no qualms about staring. She walked beside Zoey, her sapphire-colored contacts locked onto her like she was trying to solve a puzzle. It was starting to get really unsettling.

  On top of that, Jenna’s red hair wasn’t helping Zoey’s mood—it kept reminding her of Savannah.

  “What rank do you think she’ll be?” Jenna suddenly asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

  Crucible shrugged, his smirk faint. “If she’s lucky, low B.”

  Jenna chuckled. “Hehe, nothing wrong with starting like that.” She turned to Zoey, grinning. “I wish I had afterimages—those are so freakin’ cool.”

  Zoey rolled her eyes but grabbed her pad, quickly scribbling down: What’s this biz about ranks?

  Jenna saw the notepad and immediately started laughing. “She has to write on a piece of paper?! Don’t we live in a time of text-to-speech?”

  Crucible shrugged, completely unbothered. “It was the closest thing I had when I read the report.”

  Jenna squinted at him. “You just had a notepad lying around?”

  Zoey, growing impatient, didn’t even wait for the answer. She shoved Crucible, making him stumble slightly.

  He turned back toward her. “You’re such a toddler.”

  Zoey narrowed her eyes and pointed aggressively at her notepad, tapping the question again: What’s this biz about ranks?

  Crucible nodded, finally humoring Zoey with a proper explanation. “Alright, alright—ranks are how we measure a Veythari’s combat ability. It ain’t everything, but it’s a solid gauge of skill and power level.”

  He held up a hands, counting them off. “Lowest is C, then B, A, S, and Riftkeeper at the top. The higher the rank, the stronger you are—and the harder it is to move up.”

  Jenna grinned, spinning her staff in one hand. “Yep! B-rank is solid. A-rank is elite. S-rank is insane. Riftkeepers are special classification for freaks way beyond S-rank, but don’t worry about that.” She shot Zoey a playful glance.

  Zoey smirked, flipping her pen between her fingers while her afterimages shimmered behind her. She wondered how strong Iyana, Bullseye, and Savanah were. And beyond S rank sounded like something better than power. It sounded like fr— her thoughts were interrupted by Jenna’s calling out to her.

  “Hey, hey, earth to Rookie!”

  Zoey wrinkled her nose, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. This kid had to be what—15? 16? Meanwhile, she was 17, turning 18 next month. Being called a rookie by some hyperactive teenager was honestly laughable.

  Jenna smirked. “What? Didn’t like that?”

  “Easy, Jen,” Crucible cut in before Zoey could respond. He glanced at Zoey.

  Zoey raised an eyebrow. She glanced at Jenna, then back at Crucible.

  Jenna burst out laughing. “Yeah, that’s right! Hear it and weep, ROOKIE! A professional is in your sights!” She struck a ridiculous pose, then motioned dramatically to Crucible. “Me and my comrade—”

  “Don’t get too comfortable, Jen,” Crucible interrupted, shaking his head. “Even though this isn’t a formal setting, you still gotta set a good example for the rook—”

  He caught Zoey’s stare— practically screaming at him to correct himself.

  “—I mean, new recruits.”

  Jenna sighed dramatically. “Ugh, there it is. Your trait’s showing again.” She rolled her eyes, waving a hand dismissively.

  Crucible shot her a flat look. “It’s not my trait. You just don’t like being ridiculed. Plus, yours constantly bleeds out. At this point it’s your whole personality.”

  Before Jenna could argue, he suddenly reached over and grabbed her ear, giving it a firm twist.

  “OW! Ow, ow, ow! Okay, okay!” Jenna yelped, flailing to free herself.

  Zoey watched them with an almost empty expression, her gaze distant. The way they played and bantered reminded her too much of her friends. The way Leo would love to grab her when they played—though the implications had been far different. How he and Trevor had their own dumb back-and-forths, with Trevor acting as the middle ground to keep them from getting into too much trouble.

  When he was around at least.

  Her chest tightened. She hadn’t really let herself think about it before, but… after everything, she was surprised by how much she didn’t miss them. At least Savannah was alive. She shook her head and sighed. That was a scary thought.

  She glanced up, catching Crucible and Jenna both staring at her.

  Her expression immediately shifted into What?

  Jenna looked at Crucible. “Does she usually do that?”

  He nodded.

  Zoey rolled her eyes and flipped them both off. Not like she could talk anyway.

  As they moved further down the training floor, the atmosphere shifted. This area was noticeably quieter, designed to feel cozy rather than like a place for combat. Thick mattresses and hammocks were scattered around, soft firelight flickered in ornate fireplaces, and the air carried a mix of lavender and other calming scents.

  Zoey smirked. A nap here wouldn’t be bad.

  Even Jenna had toned down, though she still kept glancing at Zoey like a spotlight stuck on full beam. Others were taking notice of her, too, but it became clear why no one was rushing over—Crucible. His presence alone was keeping people at bay.

  I guess finding out his rank would be worth it too, she mused.

  They reached a series of hallways, each leading to different groups of operatives. As they walked, Crucible checked into different rooms, searching for their team. The halls were lined with various groups of people—different ages, different nationalities—all gathered on mats or sitting on elevated stools, engaged in quiet discussions or meditative exercises.

  None of them were her group.

  Finally, they reached an empty hall.

  Unlike the others, this one was almost barren. No scattered mats, no stools, no people—just a single, oddly placed rug in the center of the floor.

  Crucible and Jenna walked in without hesitation, so Zoey followed, a bit perplexed.

  There was nothing here—just an empty space.

  What kind of training hall is this?

  But as she stepped forward, something shifted.

  Her instincts flared.

  Zoey narrowed her eyes, her afterimages flickering as she focused on the rug.

  That’s when she realized—there wasn’t nothing here.

  There were auras.

  Dozens of them, pulsing just beneath the surface.

  Under the rug.