The crowd was still cheering when Kael stumbled through the entrance to the rest wing. Behind him, the roar of the arena faded into a dull hum. The top five teams were led into a sleek, circular chamber laced with crystal monitors and soft-blue lighting. Hovering medical drones scanned injuries in silence.
Kael dropped onto a round couch like he'd been shot.
"That," he groaned, "was brutal."
Olin chuckled, rolling his shoulder as a drone passed over him. "You didn't die. That's a win in my book."
"Let's set the bar even lower next time," Kael muttered.
Luna stood near one of the monitors, fingers gliding across a psychic readout. "Barely. You're lucky instincts can compensate for lack of strategy."
Kael turned his head lazily toward her. "Hey, I've got strategy."
"Running straight at danger isn't strategy," she replied without looking up.
A drone hovered near Kael, scanning his bruised shoulder.
"Minor contusions. Recommend rest and recalibration," it chimed.
Kael scowled at it. "Even the machines sass me…"
Moments later, the tension returned — not from the arena, but from the hallway. One of the rival teams approached, smugness dripping from every step. The leader, tall and sharp-eyed, stopped just short of Kael.
"So, the street rat survives," he said, sneering. "Luck's a funny thing."
Kael sat up, rubbing his neck. "If that was luck, I'm terrified of what skill looks like."
"Enjoy it while it lasts," another added, stepping closer.
Before things could escalate, Luna stepped forward, cold and unreadable. "Focus on surviving the next round."
The rival leader raised his hands mockingly. "Touchy. See you at the finish line… if you make it."
As they left, Olin leaned in. "I don't like them."
Kael grinned, eyes still locked on their backs. "Cool. I was worried it was just me."
Elsewhere in the tower above, Zara Electra walked the polished corridors of the upper levels. Royal banners draped the walls like reminders of legacy and weight. She moved with the precision of someone raised in it — born to the world of power, but never quite molded by it.
Born to the crest. Taught to obey. But I never learned to look away.
A high-ranking councilor stopped her as she passed.
"You're drawing attention, Electra," he said sternly. "Commending commoners in front of nobles? Dangerous optics."
Zara didn't slow. "They earned it. Clean wins. That's more than your trained soldiers have managed."
Another voice joined — Rael, her father's trusted assistant, always shadowing her steps.
"You're not here to be impressed. You're here to observe. Stay in line."
She met his gaze, calm but unshaken. "Observation doesn't mean silence."
Back in the rest wing, night had settled. Most teams were quiet, either meditating, recovering, or faking confidence. Kael trained by bouncing off walls and setting up makeshift traps with scattered gear. Olin hovered debris in mid-air and practiced quick turns. Luna controlled orbs of psychic energy, floating them in a perfect rotating pattern.
Kael, watching her, raised a brow. "Remind me never to play poker with you."
Olin smirked. "She'd win before the cards hit the table."
"You two really have the same powers?" Kael asked. "Is that a twin thing, or just freaky coincidence?"
Olin laughed. "Telekinesis and mind sync, yeah. I move things. She moves people."
Luna didn't look away from her training. "And I read lies."
Kael blinked. "Oh. Cool. Totally not alarming."
She let the orbs fall. "You rely too much on instinct. One mistake, and we all go down."
Kael stood, brushing dust from his hands. "And you don't rely enough. People aren't gears you can tighten."
The room stiffened.
"Okay," Olin cut in with a grin. "Love this bonding thing, but let's not punch each other before the next round, yeah?"
Far beneath them, in the underbelly of the city, something else was unfolding. A chamber deep underground buzzed with whispers. Robed figures circled a glowing console covered in schematics — drone networks, arena layouts, override codes.
"The monarchs distract with games," the cult leader said, voice soft and lethal. "Let them. We'll move beneath their illusions."
One of the followers tapped the drone system, inputting a line of code. A countdown began.
"Override sequence set. Drones will malfunction after the next announcement."
A glowing mark pulsed briefly on the console — the same strange symbol that had once flickered around Kael. The cult had seen it, and they were watching.
Morning returned with silence. Teams gathered again before a strange metallic platform that stood in the center of the arena floor like a monument to something ominous.
Kael scanned the room. "So… what's today's flavor of chaos?"
The monarchs' envoy, tall and masked in ceremonial robes, stepped forward. His voice boomed without effort.
"You have proven strength. Now you will face fear."
Around them, drones hummed quietly, lining the walls. Kael glanced at Luna.
"Those things always that twitchy?"
"They're scanning," she answered. "Pre-brief diagnostics."
High above, Zara watched from the observation tower. She squinted at the drone readings on her console.
"The energy readings are off," she murmured.
Rael frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The diagnostics — they're pulsing. Out of sync."
Rael dismissed it. "Probably recalibrating. The handlers know what they're doing."
Zara's jaw clenched. "No. Something's wrong."
Then, it happened.
A single flicker of light.
Then two.
Suddenly, all the drones in the arena glitched. Their hover stabilizers jerked, their lights flashing red. They spun in place — then fired.
Net-traps. Smoke grenades. Pulsing EMP bursts.
Kael's instincts kicked in. "Cover! Drones turned rogue!"
Olin raised a wall of debris. Luna projected a psychic barrier just in time to block a net aimed at Kael.
"East gate!" Luna shouted. "They're using the chaos to move!"
Kael, spotting a cultist in the shadows, grabbed a scrap of old wiring, sparking the end. "Improvisation, baby!" He tossed it — it detonated midair, frying a drone.
Up in the tower, Zara's fists slammed down on the console.
"They're not trying to kill anyone. They're trying to vanish."
Rael's face paled. "Diversion. They're moving underground. All units — lockdown sector seven!"
Cult members in robes melted into dark service tunnels beneath the platform, leaving only echoes.
Minutes passed before the drones were downed, either destroyed or shut off remotely. The smoke cleared slowly, revealing teams standing, breathing heavily, some injured, but all alive.
Kael looked at Luna, then at the drone wreckage. "That wasn't a test."
"It was a message," Luna said.
Olin looked out past the crowd. "Then who was it for?"
On the balcony, Zara stormed toward the lower levels. Rael followed, silent.
"They weren't interested in the contest," she said. "They wanted beneath it."
"And they got there," Rael answered grimly. "Which means something under that floor was worth everything."
Back in the arena, the masked envoy reappeared.
"The breach has been contained," he declared. "The trials will continue."
Kael scanned the crowd, the scorched floor, the cracked lights above.
"I don't think this is a game anymore," he muttered.
Olin folded his arms. "Was it ever?"
Luna stared at the fallen drones, thoughtful and cold. "No. It never was."
Far beneath them, in a darkness deeper than the tunnels, a familiar symbol glowed red-hot on the wall.
The spark had been lit.
And war was waking.