MIRROR CAGE – CHAPTER 6: DOGS AND GODS
"People don't want the truth. They want hierarchy that flatters them."
[Monday – Kingsvale Institute, Courtyard]
The air smelled like summer—warm concrete, expensive cologne, and anxiety.
Elijah Cole stepped through the main gate, his Perfect Body cutting through the crowd like a blade. Everything about him radiated raw, effortless dominance—his sharp jawline, predator's gaze, and a lean, athletic frame sculpted by symmetry itself.
But something felt off today.
The attention wasn't his anymore.
Eyes flicked past him. Not in rejection—but in hesitation.
Something bigger had entered the food chain.
[Announcement – DroneNode Broadcast]
"Attention students. Please welcome today's transfer: Naomi Adewale. Ascendant Candidate. Tier: S-Class. Discipline: Social Engineering, Combat-Verified."
Elijah slowed his walk.
That name wasn't unfamiliar.
It was legend.
She came from Albion Academy—the training ground for the top one percent of one percent. The school where students didn't compete for grades but for corporate sponsorships and military contracts.
And now she was here.
[Enter: Naomi]
The limo parked right by the statue of Headmaster Lang. That wasn't allowed for regular students—but no one stopped it. No security flinched. No staff protested.
Power didn't knock.
It walked in.
Naomi stepped out in glossy loafers, school blazer tailored to precision, each of her braids glinting like obsidian wire. Her skin looked polished, her features sharp—model-perfect, but hardened.
Elijah didn't need a system prompt to know: this girl was dangerous.
But what chilled him wasn't her confidence.
It was how she looked at him.
Like she knew a secret he hadn't realized he'd told.
[Hallway – Fourth Period Break]
Elijah cut through Building C, earbuds in, when he felt it: footsteps behind him, deliberate.
"Hey. You."
He turned. A wall of a guy blocked the corridor—6'4, sleeveless uniform, arms bigger than Elijah's torso. One of Naomi's shadows.
"She wants to talk."
"Who?"
"Naomi. S-Class. The girl you've been pretending not to look at all day."
Elijah shrugged. "She's got legs. She can walk."
The guy smirked. "You've got a mouth. Let's see if it still works after."
The punch came fast, but not faster than Elijah's reflexes.
He blinked—switched bodies for a fraction of a second—then countered.
His fist slammed into the guy's gut with surgical precision.
The air left the bodyguard's lungs like a balloon pop.
Collapse. Silence. Whispering.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION – Hidden Only to User]
+11 Public Reputation: Combat Index
+0.5 Fear Quotient in Local Zone
Ascendant Threat Detection: Partial Triggered
Note: Overexposure risks increased scrutiny.
Students scattered. Phones came out—but Elijah was already gone, weaving through stairwells like smoke.
But the scent of lavender and blood followed.
[Rooftop – Lunch Period]
She found him.
Of course she did.
Naomi stood six feet away, arms folded, smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Nice punch."
Elijah leaned against the fence, unmoved. "Tell your dog to pick better fights."
She tilted her head. "He's not my dog. He's an Ascendant intern. You just embarrassed a sponsored fighter in front of seventy cameras."
"You want an apology?"
"I want leverage."
She took a step closer.
"You're not in the registry. No recorded sponsorship. No combat training profile. But you move like someone who's spent years in a ring."
Elijah said nothing.
Naomi's smile sharpened.
"You're hiding something. I don't know what it is yet. But I will find out."
He kept his gaze steady. "Is this intimidation or foreplay?"
She chuckled. "That's cute. Let's test how fast your wit holds up when your ribs break."
[Evening – Gym C, Underground Arena]
The gym smelled like sweat, bleach, and dried blood.
No crowd. No announcements.
Just two people circling each other under flickering lights.
Naomi struck first—explosively fast. Her kick grazed Elijah's jaw, faster than most students could react.
He fell back, barely keeping balance.
Too fast.
He blinked again—switch.
His old body took the damage. His new one returned before the second strike.
He rolled forward, landed a hook to her ribs, twisted, and swept her legs out. She landed hard.
But Naomi wasn't normal.
She grinned as she sprang up, grabbing his collar and slamming him into the mat.
Her knee pinned his chest.
"Your footwork is inconsistent. Like your reflexes shift halfway through a combo."
"I'm just talented," Elijah rasped.
"No. You're something else."
She let go, breathing heavily, blood at the corner of her mouth.
"No one at this school scares me," Naomi said. "Not the legacy rich. Not the gang-born. But you? You're the first variable I can't solve."
Elijah stood, panting.
"You gonna report me?"
She shook her head.
"I don't report monsters. I hire them."
[Aftermath – Locker Room]
Alone, Elijah stared into the cracked mirror.
His reflection flickered—his true body showing for just a second. Gaunt. Pale. Forgettable.
He stared into his own hollow eyes.
They'd forget this face again tomorrow.
No one knew the truth.
No one could.
[System Notification – Hidden Only to User]
You have entered Naomi Adewale's Social Kill-Zone.
She suspects anomaly but lacks proof.
New Trait Acquired: "Untraceable Predator" – Reduces chance of detection by system-registered Ascendants.
[Meanwhile – Naomi's Private File]
SUBJECT: Elijah Cole
Tier: Unverified. Combat capability: A-Class potential.
Behavioral pattern: inconsistent. Untraceable origin.
Hypothesis: Hidden tech / rogue AI / experimental project.
Status: Do not provoke recklessly. Contain or convert.
Personal note: He doesn't play by the rules. That either makes him a dead man... or a god in the making.