The moment I entered the pitch-black chamber, the air felt heavier than usual. My muscles tensed automatically, every fiber alert, every breath measured. Level 2 had begun, and I could already sense the subtle hum of the automated system kicking in, the ceiling-mounted guns aligning, ready to track my movements. Axiom's voice, dry and clinical, cut through my mind.
"Targeting parameters initiated. Randomized vectors activated. Velocity doubled from Level 1. Predictive algorithms online."
I nodded, barely registering it. No time for chatter. The first volley hit almost immediately, the reinforced rubber bullets whizzing past me at speeds far beyond normal human reflexes. I twisted midair, letting one graze my left shoulder. Sharp pain exploded across my skin, but my body adapted instinctively. My hearing mapped the sound, calculated trajectory, and guided my next move.
Bang! Another round—this time from an elevated angle. I stumbled, my foot catching on the uneven floor, and slammed into a wall. Pain radiated through my torso as the impact forced me backward, scraping my back and leaving a shallow bruise. Yet I barely had time to register it before the next shot flew, bouncing the reinforced rubber against my right arm. Each impact was a reminder: I was not human, not in the way the Earth defined it.
I sprinted blindly, relying entirely on my senses. I felt the bullets' vibrations, heard the subtle changes in air pressure as they cut past, and sensed the faintest echo of their approach. My body moved in a synchronized rhythm, a dance of anticipation and reaction. Each dodge, each roll, each crouch brought bruises and small cuts, yet my perception sharpened with every millisecond.
"Concentration loss detected. Adjusting projectile spread." Axiom announced. The bullets no longer followed predictable lines—they spiraled, bounced from walls, and emerged from previously empty spaces. I could hear them ricochet, feel them slice through the air, and for a fraction of a second, I anticipated the next strike before it came. Was it danger perception? Reflexes? My brain screamed at me to move faster, to react faster, and I did.
Footsteps. I froze, listening. Sensei Slade's heavy, deliberate stride echoed faintly through the room. Even in the chaos, his presence was a constant, a force I could measure. He wasn't firing yet—he was observing, waiting for the perfect moment to push me further.
Bang! Bang! Two bullets shot almost simultaneously. I twisted, rolling into a low corner. Pain flared in my ribs where the first struck, and my leg throbbed where I had taken a grazing impact earlier. But I had noticed something—a micro-second of anticipation, a premonition of the bullets' path. I didn't understand it fully, but I could feel it in the nerve endings, in the rhythm of the chamber itself.
I pressed forward, counting every second, every movement, every vibration. Twenty minutes. That was how long I had survived in real time, but it felt like an eternity. My arms were sore, my legs ached, my skin prickled with hundreds of small abrasions and bruises. Yet I was learning, expanding, stretching the limits of what my body and mind could handle.
Bang! A shot caught me in the chest, knocking the wind out of me. My vision blurred as my heart hammered against my ribs. I rolled, gasping, feeling my own blood from a cut streak across my skin. Then, another impact—this time hitting my shoulder, searing with pain. I knew if this were any ordinary human, it would be over. But I was something else now. Superhuman, yes, but still learning, still vulnerable.
Sensei Slade's voice broke through, calm but commanding. "Move! Don't stop, Zander. Predict, anticipate, survive."
I did. Every instinct, every micro-movement, every sound mapped in my mind. I could feel the walls, the floor, even the air itself. Echolocation—a wave of perception radiated outward, painting the chamber around me in abstract outlines. For a moment, I felt invincible, seeing without seeing, hearing without hearing, sensing without sensing. But it was fleeting.
Bang! Another shot. A scrape of pain. I stumbled again, almost losing my balance, my body screaming in protest. I rolled behind a pillar, pressed my fingers to the floor, and concentrated. Time slowed. In the rhythm of the bullets, I sensed the split-second before each impact, a subconscious glimpse of trajectory. I had a fleeting understanding, but I didn't have the reaction speed to exploit it fully.
And then, it happened. A precise calculation in my mind, a prediction of where the next bullet would travel, and I leapt—not fast enough to dodge both, but enough to lessen the impact. The second bullet grazed my shoulder, tearing the skin, while my chest absorbed the first, bruised and aching. My vision swam with pain, and I knew I couldn't continue.
"Enough!" Sensei Slade's voice boomed. I barely had time to realize he had moved faster than I could track. A heavy hand steadied me, and the next thing I knew, I was collapsing, unconscious.
I woke in the recovery chamber, green liquid swirling around me, numbing the pain and sealing the cuts. My mind buzzed with the memory of those twenty relentless minutes. Sensei Slade stood beside me, arms crossed.
"You were close," he said quietly. "Your reflexes and spatial awareness—your danger perception and enhanced hearing—are far beyond a martial master rank , Zander. Nearly touching Second. Everything else… far behind. But for a twelve-year-old, leaps and bounds ahead of any normal child, even most adults."
I processed his words, feeling the sting in my muscles and the ache in my bruises. "You… noticed it?" I asked quietly, thinking of that split-second anticipation.
"Perhaps," he said, his gaze unreadable. "Or perhaps it was luck. We will monitor it."
Axiom's clinical voice added: "Recording neural and muscular response. Data aligns with early extrapolations of enhanced superhuman species. Recalibrating training sequence."
I nodded silently, digesting the information. For a moment, I felt a flicker of something greater, a hint of my potential, but I didn't understand it fully yet.