The weight of Sensei's warning settled not in Zander's mind but in his bones. It was a physical burden, a cold density that made the Titan Lace suit feel less like armor and more like a cage. Silence stretched thin and fragile until Sensei broke it with a sigh that carried the dust of ages.
"The path of a warrior is not forged in victories alone," he said, his voice regaining its familiar cadence as teacher. "It is tempered in vigilance. What you carry now is a light in a very dark room. It will guide you… but it will also draw moths. And wolves."
His gaze lifted, as though piercing the layers of metal and stone to the sky beyond. "Earth is not without its guardians. We have… masters. Those who have pushed their bodies and souls past the limits of a Martial Master. We call them the Tempered Masters."
Zander leaned forward, momentarily forgetting his anxiety. "Tempered Masters?"
"Yes," Sensei said. "Individuals who have refined their inner force, tempering it like steel until it achieves a new density of power. They are the true pillars of our defense, the hidden blades that keep the Lygari from pressing their advantage too far." His eyes locked onto Zander's, sharp and penetrating. "There are thirty-one, to be precise. Thirty-one men and women who carry the fate of our world on their shoulders. But in two centuries… not one has stepped beyond that realm. It is our ceiling. A barrier we have yet to break."
He let the words hang before his tone sharpened. "A multiplier of four. That potential, if nurtured, could shatter that ceiling. And that is a possibility our enemies—both within and without—will do anything to extinguish. Axiom."
A calm, synthesized voice filled the chamber, genderless and absolute. <"I am here, Sensei.">
"Access all records of Zander's recent force-level assessment. Every data point, every system log, every backup file."
<"Accessed.">
"Erase them permanently. Replace them with corrupted data, citing a system malfunction. Then create a new record. Log his multiplier at three. High enough to draw notice, but not unprecedented."
<"Executing… scrub complete. New record established. The truth now exists only in this room.">
Zander exhaled in relief so sharp it almost left him dizzy. The target on his back had not vanished, but it was smaller now, dimmer, hidden in shadow.
"Do not mistake this for safety," Sensei warned, his voice pulling him back. "A lie is a shield of paper. True safety lies in strength and in motion. Which is why we are leaving."
Zander's head snapped up. "Leaving the academy?"
"Leaving everything, for a time." Sensei rose, summoning a vast holographic projection of Earth that shimmered to life on the wall. Continents turned, glowing with new scars and marvels—floating cities tethered by sky-anchors, underwater metropolises glowing like constellations in the deep, and sprawling biodomes filled with alien flora and experimental beasts. "You have lived in sterile halls and training rooms. You know how to fight, but not the world you fight for. We will travel it—its wonders, its wounds, its people. A moving target is hardest to strike. Along the way, we will visit old friends: masters, blacksmiths, artisans of war. Your true training begins now."
The thrill hit Zander like an electric current. Danger still pressed down on him, but now it carried the sharp taste of adventure.
Sensei's eyes met his across the glowing map. "I am one of those thirty-one masters. Seventh in rank." The words landed like a hammer, unadorned, undeniable. "On this journey I will guard you. Few can match my strength, but remember—danger is not always fought in the open. Stay close to me."
Preparations blurred together with terrifying efficiency. Travel credentials, leave of absence, authorizations—all swept aside by Sensei's influence. Yet Zander felt the weight of goodbyes tugging at him.
He found Callan in their dormitory, shoving clothes into a bag.
"A world tour? With the old man?" Callan blinked, then laughed in disbelief. "You lucky bastard. I'm stuck grinding in the gravity chambers while you're off strolling the sky-markets of Neo-Kyoto."
Zander offered a weak grin. "It's… for training."
"Right. 'Training'." Callan smirked, but his punch to Zander's shoulder was warm. "Don't forget us when you're some legendary wanderer. Try not to die, yeah?"
"I'll try," Zander promised, the words heavier than they sounded.
The second goodbye cut deeper. In the academy's arboretum, beneath a dome of glowing lunar roses, he found Lyra tending soil with her usual quiet focus. His heart thrashed like a caged bird as he stepped closer.
"Lyra," he managed, voice cracking. He cleared his throat, wishing he could sink into the floor.
She turned, dirt smudged across her cheek, her smile easy and bright. "Zander! What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"No ghost. Just… uh… things. A trip. For things." His brain melted. Gods, why couldn't he string words together?
Her smile curved slyly. "A trip for things? Sounds serious. Off to hunt the sock-stealing gremlins again?"
"Your face has dirt on it," he blurted, immediately hating himself.
She laughed, clear and ringing. "Did I get it?" she asked, wiping the wrong cheek entirely.
"No," he mumbled. "I'm… leaving. With Sensei. Around the world. For training." The words tumbled out in a rush.
Her playfulness softened into something gentler. "Oh. For how long?"
"I don't know," he admitted.
She stepped closer, brushing the dirt from his face with her thumb. The touch sent a jolt through his entire system. "Then stay safe, Zander. The world's bigger than these walls."
He swallowed, a thought sparking like fire and terrifying him with its brilliance. "So, uh… when I'm out there… if the gremlins migrate here… could I maybe call you? Just to check?"
Her laugh was warm, brighter than the roses. "Yes, Zander. You can call. I'll keep you updated on gremlin activity."
He managed a clumsy wave, retreating before he combusted. Her gaze followed him, and the warmth of her touch lingered like a secret flame.
At the academy's private skyport, sleek vessels shimmered against the clouds. Sensei stood beside their ship—a mid-sized cruiser named The Wanderer.
"All settled?"
Zander nodded, still flushed from his farewell.
"Good. Two matters remain." He gestured as reinforced containers were loaded aboard. "The Aetherium ores. We are taking two. In the right hands, they will become weapons worthy of you."
Zander's eyes widened. Weapons forged from Aetherium were the stuff of legends.
"And lastly," Sensei continued, turning to a figure at the ramp.
The robot was unlike any Zander had seen: lean, graceful lines of dark alloy that seemed to drink the light, a faceplate smooth and impassive, a single blue optic glowing with intelligence.
"Zander, meet Vanguard-7. We will call him Vanguard. His combat rank peaks at Martial Master. He is not invincible, but his loyalty is absolute."
The blue optic fixed on Zander. The machine inclined its head. <"Designate Zander. My primary function is your protection. I will ensure your survival.">
Zander's awe tightened into resolve. A robot guardian, legendary ores, a world-spanning journey—this was no longer training. It was the beginning of something greater.
Sensei gestured up the ramp. "Come. The world awaits, and our enemies are not patient."
Zander turned once, gazing back at the academy that had been his entire world. Then he stepped aboard The Wanderer. Vanguard fell into step behind him, silent as the hum of engines rose, promising the road ahead.