The Arkvault's elder section hums like a cosmic spa, and it's day seventy of our gilded cage—three sleek bedrooms, a living room with space windows framing nebulae, a kitchen dispensing endless synth-meals, and a training room begging for action. I'm Alex, once a Mumbai gym coach, now a trainee under the 13th Elder, my flux and earth energies tingling like a pre-workout buzz. My bracelet, upgraded with the elder's chip, glows with 15,500 credits and Mid-Level access, a quiet reminder we're "dead" to the Guild. No more Habitat-382, no quests—just training to A-rank in this starry hideout.
I shuffle into the living room in synth-fabric pajamas—bright red with holo-flames, a gift from the dispenser's quirky settings. Fiona's already there, in a loose green tunic and pants, her blonde braid undone, sipping a steaming synth-tea. "Nice flames," she says, smirking. "Planning to set the kitchen on fire?"
"Only if the coffee's bad," I retort, grabbing a synth-muffin. "You look comfy. Where's your staff?"
"Bedroom," she says, stretching. "No flux mage vibes before breakfast."
Dmitri lumbers in, wearing a gray tank top and rugged pants, his buzzcut sharp. "Morning," he grunts, eyeing my pajamas. "You look like a warning sign."
"Better than your 'I lift tanks' aesthetic," I shoot back, grinning. He snorts, grabbing a synth-juice.
The door hisses, and Varkis enters, his dark metal armor less intimidating in the morning light. "Trainers are in the training room," he says, voice crisp via translator. "Get ready."
I nod, munching. "New coaches, new gains. What's my schedule like?"
"Intense," Varkis replies, optics glinting. "You're with multiple trainers. Move."
We head to our rooms, swapping pajamas for upgraded suits—mine red-and-black, Fiona's white-and-black, Dmitri's orange-and-black. My plasma pistol, glowing blades, and power fist clip on, flux hidden as always. Fiona's flux staff hums, Dmitri's magma spear and shield ready. We teleport to the training room, its holo-walls shimmering, space windows glowing with stars.
Three aliens wait: Korrath, granite-skinned with amber eyes for earth; Sylvara, a flux alien with liquid limbs and a chime-like voice; and Zorak, a fiery Vordex, claws sparking with smoke. Varkis gestures. "Dmitri, Zorak for fire and wind. Fiona, Sylvara for flux. Alex, you rotate—Korrath, Sylvara, Zorak, plus others. Your schedule's full."
I whistle. "Full? That's a triple-shift workout."
Fiona adjusts her staff. "Don't overdo it, Alex. We need you in one piece."
Dmitri grips his spear. "He'll survive. I'm ready to burn."
Korrath points to a rock pile. "Alex, earth first. Shift that boulder."
I focus, earth energy rumbling, and the boulder nudges an inch. "Like deadlifting a mountain," I say, sweating.
Korrath nods. "Steady progress. Keep it moving."
Sylvara's corner morphs to glowing flux stones. "Shield, Alex," she chimes. I spark a wobbly flux barrier, hiding my skill. "Like balancing a barbell," I mutter, stabilizing it.
Zorak's arena gusts with flames. "Wind blast," he growls. I push, a weak gust escaping. "Again!" I improve, panting. "Feels like sprinting uphill."
Fiona's flux arrows zip nearby, nailing holo-targets. "Looking good!" she calls, voice teasing but proud.
Dmitri's shield flares, fire scorching drones. "Focus, Alex!" he shouts, dodging a counterblast.
I laugh, switching trainers. "This is madness, but I'm hooked!"
By evening, we're spent, suits scuffed, back in pajamas in the living room. The door hisses, and neighbors Trixa and Voon—metallic aliens in casual synth-robes—bring synth-pastries. "Heard you survived training," Trixa hums, her suit's clank softer without armor.
Voon's optics flicker. "Elder's impressed. You're tougher than you look."
I grab a pastry. "Tough? We're building cosmic muscle."
Fiona munches, tunic loose. "This place feels like home. You lot aren't half bad."
Trixa chuckles. "Elder's fair—treats us like kin. Council's just playing politics."
Dmitri sips juice, thoughtful. "Politics? So they're not out to get us?"
Voon shakes his head. "Nah, just arguing over ship plans. Elder wants progress—science, exploration."
I nod. "Sounds like he's not the villain here."
Fiona leans back. "Good to know. Now we just train and wait."
We chat, pastries vanishing, the room warm with laughter. Fiona's hand brushes mine, her smile soft. "You handled that schedule like a champ," she says.
"Team effort," I reply, heart warm. Dmitri raises his glass. "To getting stronger."
We clink—tea, juice, coffee. "To new homes," Fiona adds.
"And new fights," I say, grinning.
The stars outside gleam, and I'm Alex, training hard, bonding tight, ready to climb ranks in this cosmic hideout, one earth-shifting rep at a time.