Tess did not answer right away.She stared at Zayel for a second, then broke into a crooked smile that carried more mockery than warmth. It was the kind of smile that meant she had already won the argument he had not even finished forming.“Him?” she said, tilting her head toward the pool where Milo was splashing loudly. “That simpleton?”She let out a short laugh. “Oh, you really don’t have to worry about his logs.”Zayel blinked.Tess continued, her tone almost cheerful in its cruelty. “His chip recalibrates so often it barely knows what day it is. Half the time it glitches mid process. The other half, it mistranslates commands so badly that the system stopped trusting his data altogether.”She gestured vaguely, like she was talking about a broken appliance. “Imagine feeding the Nexus Core a stream of information that says ‘wake up,’ ‘go left,’ and ‘exist peacefully,’ then getting back ‘eat wall,’ ‘sleep while standing,’ and ‘initiate dance protocol.’”Zayel snorted before he could

Zayel did not hear Xu.The world had narrowed to the edge of the pool and the memory waiting beneath it. The water looked calm, almost inviting, but his body refused to believe it. His chest tightened as if the air itself had become heavier. His fingers curled against his palms, nails pressing into skin, grounding him in the present even as the past clawed its way back.He remembered sinking.He remembered the way sound vanished underwater, replaced by pressure and panic. He remembered how the data told his arms to move, how his legs were supposed to kick, and how his body had simply… refused. Like a machine rejecting a corrupted command.Someone laughed behind him.Someone always laughed.“Zayel Anz.”Instructor Hale’s voice cut through the haze.Zayel blinked.“Begin,” Hale said, tone neutral, eyes already flicking toward the panel as if expecting the outcome before it happened.Zayel did not move.His emotional read function went wild. Fear spiked hard, sharp and fast, lighting up

They kept running.Tess was in front, boots hitting the floor with sharp, efficient steps like she already knew every turn before it appeared. Milo followed right behind her, breathing harder than usual but still managing to mutter complaints between strides. Zayel was last, legs burning, heart still pounding from what they had just witnessed.The corridor stretched unnaturally long, lights flickering in synchronized pulses that felt too calm for what had just happened. Zayel’s lungs struggled to keep up, his thoughts tangled, replaying the red glow of the chip again and again.Then Tess stopped.No warning. No signal.Milo slammed to a halt right after her.Zayel did not.He ran straight into Milo’s back, the impact knocking the air out of his chest.“Ow, sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Zayel started, hands already lifting to steady himself.Milo did not react.At all.Zayel frowned and looked up.Milo was standing perfectly still. Too still. His shoulders were locked, his head slightly ti

Zayel hit the floor without a sound.One moment he was standing, the dull hum of the classroom still lingering in his ears, and the next his legs simply gave up. His vision collapsed inward, light folding into darkness like a system shutting down without warning.“Tsk.”That sound cut through the noise.Tess was already moving before Milo even processed what had happened.She crouched beside Zayel, fingers pressing against his neck, eyes sharp and focused. Her chip interface flickered faintly across her pupils as she checked his vitals manually, not trusting Nex to do it for her.“He’s breathing,” she said flatly. “Slow, but stable.”Milo dropped to his knees on the other side, panic written all over his face. “Hey. Hey, Zayel. Buddy. You cannot just faint like that. That’s illegal. I think.”He gently shook Zayel’s shoulder. Too gently, really, like he was afraid Zayel might break if he tried harder.Nothing.“Okay,” Milo muttered. “He’s not responding. That’s bad, right?”“Yes,” Tes

The nurse lowered the transparent slate and exhaled quietly, as if the air itself carried weight.“He will need to stay,” she said, voice steady but no longer clinical. “Not just for observation. He has internal damage that cannot be fully resolved in a single cycle. He will need to stay here for a while. At least until his recovery synchronizes properly.”Tess and Milo stood on opposite sides of the infirmary bed, the white light above them humming softly. Zayel lay still, his expression unreadable as always. If pain still lived in him, it never reached his face.Tess nodded once. No questions. She had already expected this answer the moment she saw the nurse’s expression earlier. Data never lied. It only waited to be interpreted.Milo nodded too, though his came a second late, like his thoughts were busy taking a detour. “Yeah. Makes sense,” he said, then paused. His eyes flicked past the nurse, through the glass wall that separated the recovery wing from the rest area. A long table