The mud squelched under Kai’s boots as he bent down, his hand gripped the drenched, filthy fabric of his uniform. His knuckles whitened, not from the cold but from the sheer restraint it took to keep his anger contained. A sharp, jeering laughter echoed around him like the snapping of whips against his pride.Ronan Pike! The tall, smug, and dressed man in immaculate fatigues that still smelled of polished quarters and privilege. He stood with his arms crossed. His grin was wide enough to split his face in half.“Pathetic,” Ronan sneered. His voice was carried across the training yard. “The great Ironsphire top grader is reduced to a laundry boy. Don’t worry, Kai, latrine duty builds character. You might even get promoted to bucket-scrubber if you are lucky.”The recruits around them roared with laughter. Some elbowed one another while others pointed at Kai like children witnessing a circus act. Kai stood in silence, holding the ruined uniform while mud dripped onto the dirt below.Ins

The sterile chamber brightened with light. The walls were painted in white, reflecting the cruel glare of overhead lamps that made the space feel more like an execution hall than a medical facility. Beyond the glass observation panel, rows of academy students pressed forward. Their faces were painted with hunger for spectacle. Some of them wanted blood and others wanted humiliation. All of them wanted to see who would rise and who would break.Kai and Finn were led into the room together. Iron chairs were very cold as they sat down. Their arms were strapped down to steel rests as if they were prisoners. The nurse wheeled forward the twin iron stands, each fitted with empty red bags and serpentine tubes that glistened under the light. The needles at their tips glowed like the fangs of predators waiting to bite.Kai’s eyes slid sideways to Finn. The other boy’s jaw was already tight with his shoulders shifting uneasily. He tapped his fingers against the steel armrest, fidgeting like a

The payroll chamber buzzed with the endless scratching of quills, stamping of seals, and the faint metallic echo of coin counters. The smell of stale ink and sweat hung over the clerks like a permanent shroud. Kai lingered in the shadow of a pillar. His jaw was set and his eyes narrowed at the rows of ledgers stacked like battlements behind Vera Stone’s desk.Her laughter still rang in his ears from earlier that day.“Heroes eat pride, not bread.” The words gnawed at him like rust eating iron and he was indeed very angry. He hadn’t forgotten the System’s whisper. There was no way he would. “Mission Active: The Pay Thief.Objective: Recover stolen funds with irrefutable proof.Reward: Credit Surge (+500), Reputation +15Failure: Monthly credits lost. Reputation –10.”Kai pressed a palm against the cool stone of the pillar, exhaling through his teeth. This wasn’t about losing a handful of credits. It was about principle. About faceslap, the kind that would leave a mark so deep it woul

The firing range of the vanguard base was a cavern of echoes and tension. The rows of recruits stood shoulder-to-shoulder. Rifles slung at the ready and the metallic tang of gun oil thick in the air. Spotlights cut through the dust, illuminating each firing lane like a stage. Kai stepped into his lane. His uniform was thoroughly ironed but simple and his posture was calm. The murmurs around him were not. “That’s the one Torrin set up, right?” “Yeah, switched his rifle earlier. Thing’s going to jam on the first shot.” “He’s finished. Nobody survives a public fail on accuracy day.” Torrin Blayk stood two lanes over, grinning like a wolf and his friends snickering beside him. His voice carried across the firing line deliberately loud. “Watch closely, boys,” Torrin said. “Today you’ll see Kai Draven grand finale, the scholar who thought he could be a soldier. His rifle’s going to sing off-key, and the whole base will know he is a fraud.” Laughter went through the crowd, cutting sh

The strategy chamber of the Vanguard base reeked of chalk dust and sweats of the people.Maps covered the walls. Red markers dotted points of conflict like bloodstains. Recruits filled the benches and their gazes bounced between the tall figure of Captain Rourke at the front and the two men called forward, Kai Draven and Lyle Craven.Lyle smirked as if this were already decided. He swaggered up, twirling a quill like a knife, his arrogance radiating off him. “Hope you brought a ruler, book-boy,” he whispered loudly enough for the benches to catch it. “Strategy drills don’t care about handwriting.”Snickers filled the hall. Some slapped their desks while others leaned back, already anticipating Kai’s humiliation.Kai simply set his notes down. His movements were steady, deliberate and his gaze fixed not on Lyle but on the map stretched across the front board. His silence irritated Lyle more than any retort.Captain Rourke’s voice cut through the chatter. “Both of you have studied the