Administration building was quieter than the arena.
Soren followed the AR directions through corridors lined with holographic displays showing past rankings, notable students, combat statistics. Decades of academy history compressed into walls of scrolling data.
The top ten were being processed in separate rooms. Efficiency over ceremony.
His room was small. Desk, two chairs, holographic interface. A woman in academy uniform sat waiting. Middle-aged, sharp eyes, no-nonsense expression.
"Soren Cross. Sit."
He sat.
She pulled up his file on the holographic display. His face, stats, combat footage rotating in midair.
"Tenth place. Tiger beetle DNA at ten percent integration. No formal combat training background." Her eyes met his. "You're an anomaly."
"That a compliment?"
"An observation." She scrolled through data. "You're one of only four insect DNA users in all of New Geneva. You made top ten through raw perception and tactical adaptation. Against trained opponents, you were completely outmatched."
"I noticed."
"Good. Self-awareness is useful." She pulled up his assessment matches. Footage played—his fight with Reeves, getting systematically dismantled. "You see this?"
"Yeah."
"That's what happens when talent meets training. You have the former. He has both." She closed that file. "Top ten comes with privileges. Advanced training access, priority for field missions outside the city, first choice of enhancement resources."
"But?"
"But you're the weakest of the top ten by considerable margin. Your ranking is largely due to insect DNA's rarity and your performance against untrained opponents." She leaned forward. "The academy is investing in you because insect DNA users are valuable. Don't waste it."
"Wasn't planning to."
"Good." She tapped commands into the interface. "Your schedule's been updated. Mandatory combat training starts tomorrow at 0700. You'll be grouped with other untrained students. Additionally, top ten get specialized instruction twice weekly."
A new schedule appeared in his AR.
**DAILY SCHEDULE - SOREN CROSS:**
0700-0900: Basic Combat Training (Group A)
0930-1130: Enhancement Integration Drills
1200-1300: Lunch
1300-1500: Weapons Training
1530-1730: Tactical Sparring
1800: Personal Training Time
**ADDITIONAL (Tuesdays & Thursdays):**
1900-2100: Advanced Tactical Training (Top 10 Only)
"That's... a lot."
"You're first-year enhanced at an elite academy in a world full of mutant beasts. Yes, it's a lot." She pulled up another file. "You've also been flagged by three guild recruiters, two military contractors, and one corporate sponsor."
"I know. They messaged me."
"Ignore them. You're first-year at ten percent integration. They're circling because insect DNA is rare, not because you're ready. Get trained, get stronger, then consider offers." Her expression softened slightly. "You've got potential, Cross. But potential means nothing if you die because you don't know proper footwork."
"Noted."
She closed the files. "Report to Training Facility C tomorrow at 0700. Bring your student ID and a willingness to hurt. Dismissed."
Soren stood. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet. Wait until after your first week of actual training."
He left Administration feeling heavier than when he arrived.
Outside, the sun was setting. New Geneva's skyline lit up—neon and holographic advertisements bleeding color into early evening. Flying cars traced light between towers. The city looked peaceful from here.
Past the walls was different. Mutant beasts, toxic zones, villages barely surviving. The world Vale referenced.
A world Soren would eventually have to face.
His AR pinged. Multiple messages.
**Jake: Tenth place! That's top ten! Drinks on you!**
**Mom: We watched everything! You were amazing! Even when you lost, you tried so hard!**
**Dad: That last fight showed your weaknesses. But now you know what to work on. Proud of you.**
**Lyra: Made top ten. Not bad for untrained beetle boy.**
**Mira: Seventh place. You got tenth. Next time we both finish higher. Coffee tomorrow before training?**
He replied to each while walking back to his dorm.
**Soren: Jake - I got destroyed but sure, drinks sound good.**
**Soren: Mom - Thanks. I'll try harder.**
**Soren: Dad - Working on it. Training starts tomorrow.**
**Soren: Lyra - Thanks. You made first. No surprise there.**
**Soren: Mira - Deal. Coffee at 0630?**
**Mira: Perfect. Cafeteria?**
**Soren: See you there.**
Back at the dorm, Jake had already gathered people. Some first-years celebrating making it through assessment. Others just there for the social aspect.
"There he is!" Jake raised a drink. "Top ten!"
Everyone cheered. Soren felt weird about it. He'd gotten tenth. Barely made the cut.
But looking around the room, most of these people hadn't made top thirty. Top fifty. Top hundred even. To them, tenth place out of three hundred was an achievement.
Maybe it was.
"Speech!" someone called.
"No speech," Soren said.
"Come on!"
"Fine." He grabbed a drink. "I made tenth place by getting my ass kicked less than everyone else. Actual trained fighters destroyed me. Tomorrow we all start learning how to not suck. Cheers."
Everyone laughed and drank.
Jake pulled him aside later. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just... processing."
"You made top ten, man. That's huge."
"I'm the weakest of the top ten. By a lot."
"So?" Jake shrugged. "You started with no training, insect DNA that should've killed you, and two weeks of prep. Everyone in top three has been training since they could walk. You did better than you had any right to."
"Maybe."
"Definitely." Jake grinned. "Plus you're now officially interesting to guilds and corporations. That's gotta count for something."
"Administration told me to ignore them."
"Smart. You're too green." Jake finished his drink. "But in a year? Two years? You could be terrifying. Insect DNA with actual training?"
"If I survive the training."
"There's the spirit!"
They rejoined the group. More drinks, more stories, more people sharing their assessment experiences. Some had been eliminated first round. Others made it further than expected. Everyone had learned something.
Around 2200, Soren excused himself. Tomorrow started early.
He collapsed on his bed fully clothed. Too tired to care about proper sleep prep.
**[Tenth place.]**
*Yeah.*
**[Not bad for someone who nearly died during integration.]**
*Could've been better.*
**[Could've been worse. You could've been eliminated first round. Or died during integration. Or never tried insect DNA at all.]**
*True.*
**[Training starts tomorrow. Real training. You ready?]**
*Not even a little.*
**[Good. That's honest. Means you won't be overconfident.]**
Sleep came fast. Dreams were a blur—combat footage, Reeves' perfect technique, Vale's yellow wolf-eyes, Lyra's effortless dominance.
Somewhere in there, his past life bled through. Marcus dying in flames, reaching for beetles that couldn't be saved.
Then Soren waking up in this body. This world. This second chance.
He'd made top ten. Barely.
Now came the hard part.
Learning how to actually fight.
---
Morning arrived at 0630.
Soren dragged himself out of bed. Every muscle still protested. Medical treatment helped but couldn't erase two days of combat.
He showered, dressed, checked his AR for the updated schedule.
0700: Basic Combat Training.
First though—coffee with Mira.
The cafeteria had early risers scattered across tables. Students preparing for classes, enhanced humans fueling up before training. The quiet buzz of morning routine.
Mira sat at their agreed table. Two coffees already waiting.
"You look tired," she said.
"Feel tired." He sat and grabbed a cup. "Thanks for this."
"We survived assessment. Barely made top ten. Seemed worth celebrating." She studied him over her coffee. "You got destroyed by Reeves."
"Yep."
"I watched. He's from a combat academy. Five years training."
"I know."
"You lasted two minutes. That's not bad."
"Felt bad."
"Because you're comparing yourself to people who've trained their whole lives." Mira leaned back. "I got seventh. Know why? Because I had three years of training before integration. My family isn't famous, but they taught me basics. You had none of that."
"And still made tenth."
"Exactly." She smiled slightly. "Two insect DNA users in top ten. That says something."
"Says we're rare enough to get attention."
"Says we survived what kills most people, then performed well enough to rank." Mira finished her coffee. "Training starts today. Real training. We'll both get better."
"You're already trained."
"I know basics. Not advanced combat. Not proper weapons mastery. Not tactical integration with enhancement abilities." She stood. "We're all learning. Some of us are just starting from different points."
They walked to Training Facility C together. Other students converged on the building—mostly those who'd been eliminated or ranked lower. The untrained, the raw, the ones with potential but no foundation.
Instructor Vale waited inside.
Behind her stood four other instructors. Each with enhancement visible—glowing eyes, visible cybernetics, the bearing of people who knew combat intimately.
"Welcome to actual training," Vale said. "Yesterday's assessment showed us who has talent and who has skill. Most of you have talent. Few of you have skill."
She let that sink in.
"We fix that. Starting now."
One of the instructors stepped forward. Older man, scarred face, wolf DNA. "I'm Instructor Torren. I'll be teaching basic combat to Group A. That's everyone who made top one hundred but lacks formal training background."
Another instructor. Woman with cybernetic arms, dual heart system visible through her chest plate. "Instructor Hayes. Weapons training. If you don't know which end of a blade to hold, I'll teach you."
Third instructor. Younger guy, shark DNA, teeth that showed when he talked. "Instructor Mako. Enhancement integration. You'll learn to use your abilities with actual technique instead of flailing around hoping instinct saves you."
Fourth instructor. Middle-aged woman with tiger DNA, golden eyes that tracked everything. "Instructor Wei. Tactical sparring. You'll fight each other under controlled conditions until you stop embarrassing yourselves."
Vale surveyed them all. "You've got four hours of training today. Tomorrow, five hours. By next week, six hours. This will hurt. You will hate it. You will improve or you will die when you face real threats."
Her yellow eyes found Soren in the crowd.
"Cross. Tenth place with zero training background. You're our project case. Don't disappoint us."
Great. Now he was everyone's example of raw potential meeting harsh reality.
**[This is going to be painful.]**
*Yeah.*
**[Good. Pain means growth.]**
*Easy for you to say.*
**[I don't have a body. You do. Better make it useful.]**
Torren started organizing students. "Group A—over here. We're starting with footwork fundamentals. Yes, it's boring. Yes, it's crucial. Move."
Soren followed the group.
His assessment was over. Tenth place secured.
Now came more chapters of learning how not to be the weakest link.
One painful training session at a time.