Seth’s POVNoel finally fell asleep.Not the peaceful kind or the soft breathing of someone drifting into dreams. His sleep was the heavy, exhausted collapse of someone who spent too many days running for his life. There were moments where his fingers twitched, like he was still trying to escape something in his dreams, and I had to remind myself that the kid wasn’t safe yet. Not from the Revolution, and definitely not from the government.I watched him through the glass one more time before turning away.The room he was in was nothing short of cruel. Bright lights blasting from every direction, not even leaving a corner of darkness for his shadow ability to bite into. It was like putting a bird with broken wings inside a cage and then surrounding it with mirrors. Overly bright, isolating, suffocating. I didn’t like it, but it wasn’t up to me. They didn’t trust him. Honestly? They shouldn’t. Not yet. Not with what he knew... Not with what he could do.Alex sat on a stool beside the do

I didn’t like the White Room. I’d never liked it. Too sterile, too bright, too quiet, like the world had been scrubbed of all meaning. It wasn’t safe—it wasn’t comforting. It was a cage dressed as a hospital room. And Noel? He hated it more than anyone.Which is why I decided he needed to step outside. A change of environment. Not too much, not too fast, just enough to remind him that the world still existed beyond those walls. I wasn’t sure it would work, but it had to. He couldn’t stay locked away forever, not with the Revolution out there, not with his powers so dangerous—and so valuable.“Come on,” I said, my voice clipped but not unkind, as I opened the door to his room. The lights were still blinding, but at least he wouldn’t be staring at the same corner for hours.Noel blinked against the sudden shift. His hands were still bandaged, but he looked… smaller somehow, like the room had swallowed him whole and spat him back out. I could see it in his posture—his shoulders hunched,

Noel wasn’t just learning anymore. Today, he would put everything we had worked on into motion, and for the first time, he would feel the weight of actual combat—not against a dummy or an obstacle course, but against me.I stood in the middle of the training arena, arms folded, my body slowly beginning to harden into its metallic form. My muscles tightened, skin turning steel-hard, every nerve ready to withstand impact. This wasn’t a demonstration of strength—it was a test. For him, for me, for the team to see what he could actually do.“You understand the rules?” I asked.He nodded, gripping the dagger I’d handed him, knuckles white. His eyes flicked around the shadows we’d set up for him, calculating, sharp, alert. “I get it. Attack. Avoid. Use shadows. No holding back.”“Exactly,” I said. “You are going to hit me. Hard. Fast. And you are going to disappear before I can counter. Every strike has to count. Timing. Distance. Precision. If you fail, you learn. If you succeed… you survi

The first thing I noticed when we started today was Noel’s hesitation. He crouched near the shadows of the observation deck, eyes scanning the landscape like a panther, but his shoulders were tight, and his breathing was uneven. This wasn’t the controlled environment of the training room. This was open air, multiple light sources, unpredictable shadows. And he was about to stretch himself further than ever before.“Today,” I said, keeping my voice calm but firm, “we push your limits. Not just a few dozen meters this time. You’re going to reach for a kilometer. That’s your threshold. Don’t overdo it, but don’t hold back.”His eyes widened. “A kilometer…? I’ve never… that far…”“Exactly,” I replied. “Which is why we’re starting slow. Shadow jumps aren’t just teleportation. They’re precision, awareness, and endurance. Your body, your mind—they need to cooperate, or you collapse. And if you collapse here…” I let the sentence hang. The threat didn’t need finishing. Out there, failing wasn’

I leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching Noel shift nervously from foot to foot. Today wasn’t a simple exercise. Today was about chaos, coordination, and instincts under pressure. We weren’t simulating a hostage rescue or a shadow jump—it was real combat sparring. Multiple targets. Moving enemies. A controlled battlefield, but one that forced him to think, react, and adapt faster than ever before.“Alright, Noel,” I said, voice low, deliberate. “This isn’t a tutorial. This is testing. You’re going to react, improvise, and stay alive. Keep your shadows close, your dagger closer, and remember—you’re not alone. Work with me.”He nodded, tight-lipped, gripping the dagger so hard his knuckles were white. I could see the tension in every muscle, the way his shoulders hunched, the slight tremor in his fingers. He was nervous, but that was expected. He’d spent so long running from people, running from fear, running from the Revolution. Now, he had to stand and fight alongside us.“Cas