The corridors smelled of sweat and wet concrete.
Lucien fell into the rear of the line and let the others move ahead.
His legs felt leaden; every footfall answered like a verdict. Outside, the sun bled into a bruised orange, and shadows pooled at the edges of the compound.
Rylen, Jason, and Emiluna waited by the gate. Jason ran up with a grin that tried to outrun worry. "Top five, Lucien," he called, voice bright but uncertain.
"That was—" He stopped when Lucien would not look up.
Emiluna stepped forward. Her pink hair moved like silk in the cooling air.
She spoke softly and measured, as if careful words could mend something.
"You pushed him farther than anyone thought possible. You even drew blood."
Lucien kept walking. Compliments slid off him like rain on cracked glass.
Rylen fell into step beside him, plain and steady. "You do not walk alone now," he said. "I saw everything." He did not praise. He stated what he had watched.
Lucien's jaw tightened until his teeth ached. "I still lost," he muttered. The words were small, honest. He climbed the dorm stairs with his back protesting and closed the door before any of them could watch him unravel.
The mattress accepted him with a tired creak.
He stared at the ceiling until the plaster swam and the adrenaline finally drained away.
There was only heavy quiet in his chest, a dull, hollow pulse. He did not cry. He did not shout. He turned his face to the dark and let himself be small.
Morning arrived thin and immediate. Rain left tracks on the windows and a pale sun moved low over the training grounds.
The Battle Royale trial had ended; the final week began. Only five recruits remained.
Rylen called them to the central hall. Kagetsu, Ayumu, Lisa, Kisuke, and Lucien sat in a row, bruised and bone-tired but upright. Rylen faced them without ceremony and laid out what came next.
"The five of you finished the month," he said. "That does not mean you are Nightguard yet. The Higher Ups decide." His voice held the weight of reality, not threat. A hush tightened around the room.
He explained the judgment: three figures, veiled and distant, who never revealed faces. Their verdicts shaped lives. If any of them denied a recruit, that recruit's path ended. If all agreed, the recruit could request a division. Each division accepted only one.
A projection shimmered to life on the wall: five emblems, five paths. Rylen outlined each without flourish. Vanguard Core took the front lines and the fiercest fights. Tactical suppression handled support and coordination in tight squads. Intelligence and stealth moved through shadows to gather what others could not. Engineering and containment kept equipment and protocols working when everything else failed. Recon and recovery held the fragile task of keeping people alive, stabilizing wounds, and clearing infection.
When he spoke of the fifth division his gaze lingered on Lucien. "It is the least respected," Rylen said quietly, "but without it we would all die."
They had tomorrow in which to sleep and wait. Rylen dismissed them with a tired nod. "Rest. You will need it."
Judgment came with rain that bit the skin. They stood in ceremonial black, badges absent, and weapons left outside the chamber. Torches lined a narrow corridor, a stubborn echo of old rites in a world of machines. The chamber opened into a round, hollow space. Flags hung like promises. Five circles glowed in the center. Above, a black curtain hid three thrones and three voices that sounded altered and final.
Kagetsu stepped forward first and requested the vanguard. A thunderous voice answered. A cool feminine tone followed. A steady baritone closed the decision. All three agreed and a chime marked the choice. Kagetsu bowed and moved to the side.
Ayumu asked for tactical suppression and received the same clear assent. Lisa requested intelligence and passed through without change. Kisuke chose engineering and smiled as the verdict fell in his favor.
When Lucien stepped into his circle, the space felt too small.
His heart hammered hard enough that sweat pearled at his temples. He breathed slowly and said, "I request the fifth division. Recon and recovery."
Silence stretched. The voices returned, each slower than the last.
One said no. Another echoed no. The last closed with no. No chime. No light flared.
Lucien's mouth opened; no sound came. Around him, shoulders shifted and eyes searched for an answer.
He had expected to be turned away from the spear, to be told he was not strong enough. He had not expected to be denied by the hands that kept others breathing.
The curtain dropped back into shadow. The deep voice said, "That is all. This judgment is final."
Lucien stood alone on the circle as the chamber held its breath. Shock moved through the room like a current.
Faces turned.
Captains exchanged glances. He felt very small and very visible at once, the single point where the decision had landed.