The formal induction into Regis came the morning after the Initiation Trials. Kael had slept little. Not because of nerves—those had long burned away—but because of the buzzing in his veins. A pressure. A warmth. Something stirred in his blood every time he closed his eyes.
He recognized it now.Growth.
Whatever his ability was, it wasn't static. It was learning—evolving—with him.
But no one else knew that yet. All they saw was a gray-band Unranked who had dropped a golden boy on day one.
And the academy was paying attention.
A formation drone hovered just outside the dormitory, its speaker blaring:
"All Year-One Cadets report to Plaza Sector A for official registry and squad orientation. Attendance is mandatory."
Kael joined the tide of students streaming out of dorms. He caught glimpses of high-level cadets walking in polished squads, their ranks clearly visible—green to red, and a rare flash of white that meant S-rank.
Those students didn't walk—they owned the space.
He received the usual looks. The sneers. Whispers.
"That's him.""The gray-band freak.""No way he beat Garran legit.""Probably some failed experiment."
Kael ignored them all.
Plaza Sector A was a towering amphitheater of concrete and steel, tiered and sectioned by color. Cadets were corralled into groups based on their assigned class numbers.
At the far end of the plaza, gray-marked cadets were given a small corner zone. Twelve in total. The lowest-ranked class in the school.
Class 13-Z.
Kael stood with Lira, Dane, and a few others he didn't recognize yet. All looked like outcasts—some bored, some angry, some clearly on edge.
A tall boy with burns down one side of his neck snarled at a girl with metallic irises. Another student with animalistic eyes sat in the back, arms crossed, tail flicking.
Kael understood immediately.
These weren't just misfits.
They were irregulars.
Commander Ryce returned to the podium in the center of the plaza, flanked by several faculty heads and combat instructors.
"Cadets," she said, voice echoing across the steel walls. "Today, your training officially begins."
The screen behind her lit up with rows of shifting names, classes, and dorm groups.
"You have been divided based on evaluation scores, genetic markers, and recorded battle performance. For the next three years, you will train with your assigned class and squad. You will eat with them. Sleep in proximity to them. Fight beside them. Or die beside them."
Kael felt Lira shift slightly next to him.
"You are not here to make friends. You are here to learn one thing: how to survive."
Commander Ryce looked over the gray-bands. Her gaze paused on Kael—not long, not obviously. But he felt it.
She knew.
"Instructors will now take command of their classes. Class 13-Z, remain in position."
The others were escorted away, leaving 13-Z alone.
From a side gate, a man emerged.
He was huge—built like a tank, with cybernetic implants running from the base of his neck down into his arms. His skin was pale gray, and one of his eyes was solid chrome.
"Name's Instructor Breshk," he said, voice like gravel. "You break, I fix you. If you mouth off, I break you."
Dane leaned toward Kael and whispered, "I think I like him."
Breshk continued. "You were all put here because you don't belong anywhere else. Some of you are Unranked. Some of you can't control your powers. Some of you shouldn't even be here."
He stepped forward. "That's fine. I don't care what color's on your band. I don't care what family you crawled out of. All I care about is one thing."
He raised a massive metal hand and pointed directly at Kael.
"Can you fight?"
Kael met his gaze. "Yes."
Breshk grunted. "We'll see."
After orientation, 13-Z was marched across campus to their own dedicated training field—Zone Theta, a remote facility near the edge of campus, shielded from public view.
It was run-down compared to the elite zones. Cracked tiles. Rusted training bots. No repair drones.
Kael looked around and saw more than disrepair.
He saw freedom.
No one watching too closely. No expectations to meet.
This place was forgotten.
Just like them.
Perfect.
Back in his room, Kael sat alone at his desk, reviewing his biometric training log. The fight with Garran Lux had triggered a data anomaly: his vitals had spiked twice, then plateaued at a higher baseline.
The system had flagged it as a calibration error.
But Kael knew better.
His body was changing in real time.
He could feel it. Subtle, but constant.
The system couldn't read it because it had no category for what he was becoming.
No family. No legacy. No classification.
But power?
That, he was learning to understand.