The morning air in the Advanced Combat Theory hall was thick with the scent of ozone and the rhythmic crackle of Spark energy.
Vane sat on the highest tier of the spectator benches, his hands buried in the pockets of his gray blazer. Below him, the training floor was a blur of silver trimmed uniforms and high output maneuvers. Students clashed with practice blades, manifesting localized gravity wells and kinetic bursts that echoed off the brutalist concrete walls.
Vane watched them with a quiet, analytical intensity. To the others, this was a display of the academy elite power, but to him, it looked like a dance of infants. He could see the friction in their movements and the waste in their energy.
Nora sat a few feet away, her eyes fixed on a pair of Beta Sects who were struggling to stabilize a shockwave. "You are just going to sit there?" she asked.
"I am observing," Vane replied.
An instructor with a cybernetic eye and a face like scarred leather marched toward the edge of the bleachers. He looked up at Vane, his expression one of strict, professional distance.
"Vane Obsidian," the instructor barked. "I am Instructor Vance. I have received direct orders from the Command Center regarding your participation."
Vane stood up, his movements fluid and easy. "Am I late for a drill?"
"You are forbidden from sparring," Vance said, his voice carrying across the hall and causing several students to pause. "Effective immediately, you are barred from any live combat exercises with other students. The school will not risk further injury to the student body. You will observe. You will take notes. But you will not manifest your abilities within these walls unless explicitly ordered by a General."
A few students whispered, their eyes darting toward Vane. Some looked relieved, while others looked at him like he was a caged animal that had just been deemed too dangerous for the public. Vane simply nodded.
"Understood," Vane said. "Efficiency in safety."
Vance lingered for a moment, then returned to the floor. Nora turned to Vane, her face etched with a new kind of concern.
"Vane, maybe we should head to the scientific rooms," Nora suggested softly. "I think it might be better if we found a way to see if we can turn your power off, or at least dampen it. If we can do that, you could actually participate in school activities like a normal student. Otherwise, you are just going to be stuck on these benches forever."
Vane looked at his hands, a faint, unreadable expression crossing his face. "A kill switch. That is an interesting concept."
In the intensive care wing, the air was heavy with the hum of medical resonators. Kaelo sat on the edge of his recovery pod, his right arm encased in a translucent medical sleeve that pulsed with stabilizing light. He looked down at his fingers, flexing them slowly.
Kaeya stood between the two beds, her arms crossed tightly. She looked from Kaelo to Kaelen, who remained submerged in a stasis field, his breathing assisted by a low humming drone.
"The doctor says you can be discharged today, Kaelo," Kaeya said, her voice trembling. "But Kaelen has to stay for a few more days. His Spark was almost completely extinguished. They are still trying to figure out why his core is refusing to restart at full capacity."
"I am lucky to be moving at all," Kaelo muttered.
Kaeya stepped closer to the bed, her shadow falling over Kaelo's lap. "Why did you do it? Why did you and Kaelen pick a fight with him? You knew he was an Omen transfer. Why risk everything on a training floor brawl?"
Kaelo finally looked at her, his eyes hollow. "We didn't pick a fight, Kaeya. We were doing our jobs. We were supposed to be the wall that measured him. But there is no measuring that boy. You don't pick a fight with a landslide. You just get buried."
At Zenith Academy, the cold winds of the ridge battered the command spire. General Vesper, the Tungsten Lord of Zenith, stood in the center of her control room. A cadet stood by the terminal, finishing a high level clearance request.
"General," the cadet said, looking up from the glowing interface. "I just received word. I contacted the High Kings, and they have granted authorization. They gave every General permission to access the Vane Obsidian file. The lockout is gone."
Vesper nodded, her eyes sharpening. "So the gates are finally open."
She turned to the massive wall of screens, her hand hovering over the interface. The icons for the other Generals remained idle. She initiated a high priority call, watching as the individual icons for the Generals began to pulse in a rhythmic cycle. She watched the General Silas icon. It remained dark. She looked at the General Varick icon. It remained dark. The ringing tone echoed through the silent, metallic room, but no one was answering their lines.
Vesper jaw tightened. Finally, the central screen flickered. The icon for General Kaine stabilized and expanded, revealing his face. He looked exhausted, rubbing his temples as if fighting off a migraine.
"Vesper," Kaine said, his voice flat. "It is early for a lecture."
"It is time to wake up, Kaine," Vesper said, her voice cutting through the static. "The High Kings just authorized it. Every General has access to the Obsidian files now. I am calling to let you know that I am coming back to Valis. The clearance is open to all of us."
Kaine froze, his hand dropping from his face as he processed the news. "The Kings authorized the file? All of us?"
"Check your console," she said. "And while you are at it, get in contact with Varick and Silas. They are not answering their lines, and they need to see this."