Morning – Fort Varion East Yard
The morning drills began like any other.
The air was crisp under the magical dome's fake sun, and the scent of dew mixed with iron and sweat. Cadets ran formation laps around the eastern training yard, sparring with blunted weapons and pulsing mana gloves.
But Lyle felt… different.
Everything felt slower.
He could see the way Thane dropped his left shoulder before a feint. He noticed how Rika's gait staggered slightly from a twisted ankle she hadn't admitted to. Even the instructor's timing on the countdowns? Predictable to the millisecond.
His perception had sharpened—without him trying.
> Is the Codex bleeding into my instincts? he wondered.
> [Codex Sync 11% – Passive Arcane Flow Detection: Active]
He didn't like it.
Too much awareness led to mistakes. Too much speed drew attention.
---
Combat Class – Focused Pair Sparring
"Today we're testing your reaction and control," Instructor Renna announced, pacing slowly. "Standard rules: first to land a clean strike, no powers unless your lives depend on it."
Lyle was paired with Soren again—the quiet sensory-type who hadn't spoken much since joining Alpha Division. The boy gave Lyle a quick nod, then took his stance—light, fast, precise.
Lyle mirrored it with awkward stiffness, intentionally keeping his feet out of line and his shoulders too tight.
The instructor raised a hand.
"Begin."
Soren launched forward, a quick jab toward the ribs—
—and Lyle dodged too fast.
Not blindingly fast, not flashy—but just fast enough that someone watching closely would know: this wasn't a lucky reflex.
Soren blinked. Hesitated.
Lyle took a fake step forward, stumbled intentionally, and let Soren strike him across the side.
A light thwack. Clean hit.
"Point to Soren," Renna said, unfazed.
But Kerrick, lounging at the edge of the platform, narrowed his eyes.
> "You flinched before he even moved," he muttered. "Reflex like that doesn't come from a panic mage."
Lyle gave a casual shrug, rubbing his side. "I've been jumpy since the dungeon. Must've been adrenaline."
Kerrick didn't reply. But he didn't stop watching either.
---
Afternoon – Tactical Simulation Room
Later, the squad was sent into a virtual mission sim—a faux urban environment flooded with illusion-based enemies and shifting terrain spells.
"Your goal is to rescue the hostage and escape the zone before the clock hits zero," said the observer from the control tower. "Fail, and your squad gets demoted for two rotations."
The team formed up: Rika on the front, Kerrick midline, and Lyle—again—was pushed to the back as the "support mage."
As they entered the digital ruins, a pack of simulated creatures burst from an alley: hounds with fire-infused maws and semi-solid bodies.
Rika charged in with a roar.
Kerrick floated above, hurling daggers laced with energy fields.
One of the hounds flanked wide—too wide. Rika was caught off-guard.
It lunged for her exposed side.
Lyle didn't think.
He moved forward, lifted his arm, and snapped a hand out—
> [Arcane Thread Snap – Non-lethal Pulse Shockwave Activated]
A thin burst of shimmering energy tripped the creature mid-air, just enough to send it crashing into the ground.
Rika scrambled up, not noticing how the hound had suddenly lost momentum.
"You're actually awake back there?" she barked.
"Blind panic," Lyle replied, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. "Reflexes and dumb luck."
But again, someone noticed.
Kerrick.
His eyes flicked from Lyle to the space where the energy had flared.
Subtle. Too subtle for a sim to detect.
But Kerrick had felt the pulse.
---
Evening – Meal Hall
"I'm telling you, something's off about him," Kerrick said to Rika at the mess table later.
"Who, Lyle?" she asked, chewing on synthetic steak. "He's a string bean. What, he dodged your knife too fast? Big deal."
Kerrick said nothing, but his jaw was tight.
Lyle sat alone at the far end of the hall, poking at rehydrated grains with a half-smile.
He could feel the pressure rising.
Eyes watching.
Suspicion growing.
He had to slow down again. Pull back harder.
> No more instinct casting. No more fancy footwork. Let them underestimate me.
> The longer they doubt me, the longer I get to build.
---
Night – Barracks
He lay still in bed, the faint light from the rune lantern casting soft shadows across the ceiling.
No one stirred. No voices. No alarms.
Just silence.
And then—
A pull.
Like being yanked backward without moving.
> [Codex Fragment Memory – Part 2 Accessible]
[Would you like to enter "Before the Fall – Part 2"?]
Lyle exhaled and shut his eyes.
"Show me."