The pitch-black room was silent except for the rhythmic thrum of my own heartbeat. Then—pfft!—a rubber bullet hissed through the air.
I snapped my hand out, guided not by sight but by the whisper of displacement and the faint tremor in the air. The round smacked into my palm, stinging but caught. My lips curled into a grin. I was getting faster.
Another shot. This one from the left. I moved too late, and it struck my ribs, forcing a sharp gasp from me.
"Again," I muttered into the darkness.
The barrage resumed. Each bullet carried with it a story: the way the air rushed before impact, the vibration of weight shifting when the automated turrets discharged, the faint hum reverberating through the floor. I was learning to hear these subtleties—learning to feel them.
And then I noticed it.
When the machine's barrel shifted, the floor itself carried the tiniest vibration through my bare feet. A fraction of a second before the bullet launched, I could predict the angle by that tremor.
It wasn't perfect. Not yet. Sometimes I hesitated too long. Other times, my hands were out of sync with my feet. But slowly, painfully, I began catching more bullets than I missed. Not just catching, but redirecting—sliding my hand in the bullet's trajectory, absorbing its force, and twisting my body to turn the impact into motion rather than pain.
I can't just fight power with power, I realized. I need to learn to flow with it.
Training didn't stop there. The next day, Sensei had me step barefoot into the gravity room.
The hum of machinery thickened the air. "Begin at double gravity," I told Axiom.
The AI acknowledged, and suddenly my body felt like it weighed twice as much. My knees buckled. Every step was agony, every breath a war against pressure. My muscles burned, veins straining against invisible chains.
I dropped into push-ups. My chest screamed. My arms quivered. Yet with each repetition, I felt myself adjusting. My awareness sharpened. The weight wasn't just crushing me—it was teaching me.
"Switch to normal gravity," I gasped.
The shift was immediate. My body, moments ago sluggish, suddenly felt light, explosive. I shot into a sprint across the room, faster than I'd ever moved before.
"Triple gravity," I barked.
The world slammed down on me. My legs nearly snapped under me. My lungs felt like collapsing. But I stood my ground, sweat pouring, every muscle trembling. I could feel how gravity pulled on each joint, how my bones bore the strain. I catalogued every sensation, etching it into memory.
If I could master the weight of gravity itself, then the weight of an opponent's strike would be nothing.
The sparring sessions were relentless. Sensei rotated partners in and out, fighters of different builds and styles. Some were fast, others brutal, others deceptively balanced. Each one pressed me to adapt.
One opponent specialized in Wushu, his sweeping kicks carrying both grace and hidden momentum. Another fought with Brazilian jiu-jitsu grips, trying to pull me into the ground. A third mimicked Muay Thai, knees and elbows like battering rams.
Sensei himself occasionally stepped in. His blows were precise, never wasted. Every strike taught me something new. He never said it outright, but his fists were lectures, his footwork paragraphs, his feints entire essays.
At night, when my body collapsed from exhaustion, my mind replayed every movement. I compared it against what I had studied. Slowly, fragments of understanding began to fuse together.
But the true breakthrough was one no one else noticed.
Late one evening, after a brutal session, I stood barefoot in the empty gravity room. My ears still rang from sparring. My ribs ached.
Then I stilled myself. Closed my eyes. And listened.
Thump… thump… My heartbeat.
Drip… drip… A leak somewhere in the pipes.
And then—so faint most would miss it—the hum of electricity vibrating through the reinforced walls.
My breath caught.
The world wasn't silent. It was alive with vibrations, resonances. Everything carried a sound, a ripple. And if I attuned myself to those ripples… I could predict motion before it happened.
It wasn't just hearing. It was something deeper. My body, mind, and soul aligned in a way that no machine could measure. Even Axiom's sensors, watching from its invisible vantage, remained unaware of what was happening within me.
This was mine alone.
A week passed like this, and though my bones ached and my muscles screamed, I felt stronger. Faster. More aware.
But there was no time to rest.
On the morning of the scrimmage selection, the entire training hall was buzzing. Students whispered nervously, sparring in preparation, testing their limits one last time. The stakes were clear: the three chosen today would face the Lygari younglings. And the reward…
The Resonance Vial.
Unlike the Iron Will vial, which nourished the body, this one nourished the connection between body, mind, and soul. It was said to trigger insights, to break bottlenecks, to grant glimpses of realms normally beyond reach. Every fighter wanted it.
I clenched my fists. I need it.
Then the instructor arrived.
He was nothing like our Sensei. Where Sensei carried wisdom in restraint, this man carried danger in his very presence. His shoulders were broad, scarred from battles long past. His hands were calloused stone, veins like cords running across his forearms. His gaze was sharp, unflinching.
Whispers rippled through the hall. "That's him… the one who went into the Genesis Vault…"
I froze.
The Genesis Vault. A place spoken of in hushed tones. A sealed dome spanning oceans and mountains, where biological horrors lurked—creatures twisted by human ambition and resonance gone awry. Some said they had even resurrected ancient beasts from fossilized remains, creatures that had once ruled the Earth: dinosaurs.
And this man had faced them—and lived.
I swallowed hard.
"They say he killed countless feral-class beasts," someone whispered nearby. "And even brought down a predator-class."
The instructor's voice cut through the murmurs, cold and commanding. "Today, I will decide who is worthy to represent humanity. I don't care for excuses. Show me your strength, your technique, your will. Anything less, and you will fail before the first strike is thrown."
His eyes swept over us, and for a fleeting second, they locked with mine. I felt stripped bare, as if he could see the inadequacies I tried so hard to hide.
I grit my teeth. No matter what… I will not falter.
soon, the trials would begin.
And with them, the chance to prove myself worthy—not just of being a martial master, but of standing among humanity's chosen.