The morning light never truly touched Aureus Helix. The academy simulated dawn by dimming its neon canopy, trading ultraviolet shimmer for pale gold, but the air still smelled of circuitry and ozone. Vadel stood before the glass doors of the Disciplinary Hall, hands folded behind his back, heartbeat steady but mind burning.
>
He ignored the suggestion. They called me in early.
Students were forbidden from entering this chamber unless accused of tampering, hacking, or unauthorized combat. Vadel ticked all three boxes now.
The doors slid open with a hiss. Inside waited a semicircle of officials—four professors, the Dean, and two holographic observers projected from off-world stations. Their robes glowed with rank: silver for Tier 6 and above.
At the center sat Dean Rhael Maven, a woman of glass-cut precision. Her hair was steel-gray, her eyes mechanical replacements that pulsed with thin blue light.
"Vadel Xyne," she said, voice calm, surgical. "Yesterday's simulation produced irregular data. Sit."
He obeyed, posture exact.
Rhael's gaze bored through him. "You displayed gravitational manipulation consistent with Gravitic Dominion, a Tier 4 Trait exclusive to the Veridia line. Explain."
"I can't," Vadel said evenly. "Maybe the system glitched."
One professor scoffed. "The Dome's system doesn't glitch. You tampered with it."
>
Vadel's face stayed blank. "I lack clearance to alter academy systems, Professor Tahl. You know that."
A holographic projection flickered alive beside them—Celia Veridia's combat feed, frozen mid-frame. The moment his blue light erupted, gravity reversed, and the Dome's sensors spiked off the charts.
Dean Rhael leaned forward. "Your body generated counter-gravitic distortion without any recorded Trait signature. How?"
Silence.
>
He answered smoothly, "Residual resonance from Celia Veridia's attack. The Dome's field might've caused temporary mimicry."
Rhael studied him for an uncomfortably long time. "Temporary mimicry." She smiled faintly. "Creative. But improbable."
Another professor murmured, "Still, the data shows no foreign device. Perhaps we monitor him instead of expulsion."
Rhael nodded slowly. "Observation it is. Xyne, you are confined to the Advanced Division's dormitory for seventy-two hours. Combat privileges suspended. And one more thing—" she paused, eyes narrowing, "your biometric readings will be logged in real time. If I detect any anomaly beyond human baseline, you will be detained."
Vadel inclined his head. "Understood."
>
He rose. "Then I'll make good use of my isolation."
The Dean's gaze lingered as he turned to leave. "Tell me, Mr. Xyne. Do you believe a Null can evolve?"
He stopped at the threshold. "I believe the system fears what it can't categorize."
Then he left.
---
Outside, the corridor stretched endlessly, glass walls displaying the sprawl of the academy city below—spires, mag-rail veins, and hovering drones. Students passed in clusters, whispering, their neural links already streaming gossip: the Null who mimicked a Legendary Trait.
Vadel kept walking.
>
He sighed. "Great. A nickname."
He reached his dorm, sealed the door, and dropped onto the chair. The moment it clicked shut, EON's sphere drifted out from the hidden compartment under his desk, orbiting him like a miniature sun.
>
"Show me."
Light expanded, mapping gravitational vectors through the air. Miniature planets spun between his fingers, each thread labeled with energy metrics.
>
"Too slow," Vadel muttered. "We need a shortcut."
>
"Stealing more Traits risks exposure."
He rubbed his temples. The AI's tone had shifted lately—less advisory, more directive. "You're getting bolder, Eon."
>
The light dimmed, replaced by the soft hum of the city outside. Vadel leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
Celia's face flashed in his mind—the moment she looked at him not with disgust, but with recognition. For a split second, she'd seen something familiar.
"What are you hiding, Veridia…" he whispered.
>
He chuckled softly. "You mean, talk to her?"
---
Elsewhere…
Thousands of kilometers beneath the surface, in the sub-strata of the Pacific Megacity, a facility the world had forgotten hummed with unholy precision. The walls were white, seamless, alive with light—Zanyx Systems Core Lab.
Dr. Hung Zanyx stood before a vertical tank where synthetic fluid swirled around a half-formed body suspended in stasis. Its skin shimmered like liquid glass.
"Pause simulation," he ordered. The chamber froze. Data streams coalesced into a hologram above his hand—Vadel Xyne's duel.
The scientist's smile stretched, equal parts wonder and hunger. "A Null who adapts without Gene Sequence Insertion. Impossible… yet there he is."
A woman in a black lab coat approached. "Sir, the reading aligns with the Apex Protocol parameters. His neural signature—identical to your early projections."
Zanyx's eyes gleamed. "Then we found the catalyst."
He turned toward the suspended figure. "Wake Project Alpha-0. Prepare extraction teams. If the boy's genes reject Trait resonance, he's already rewriting the Apex Barrier. I want him alive."
"Understood."
Zanyx raised his hand, tracing a symbol in the air—six interlocked spirals glowing crimson. The mark burned for a heartbeat before fading. "The Spiral Council will want a report."
He smirked. "Let them wait. The Null will finish what I started."
---
Back at Aureus Helix, Vadel jolted upright, a sharp pain lancing his skull.
>
He grimaced. "Zanyx again?"
"Then they know I'm alive."
He stood, pulling his coat tight. "Let them come."
>
"Maybe," he said with a faint grin. "For once, they're afraid of the Null."
Outside, thunder rolled—artificial weather echoing against the domes.
And beneath it all, the data pulse of the city seemed to whisper his name.
The morning light over Helix Academy shimmered through the glass spires like liquid metal. The campus—usually buzzing with aerial drones and hoverboards—felt muted. Word of the previous night's "lab incident" had spread, though no one spoke it aloud.
> [System Notice: Disciplinary Assembly — Sector V, 09:00 hours. Attendance: Mandatory.]
Vadel stared at the glowing prompt hovering above his desk. His eyes were rimmed red; he hadn't slept. EON's crimson sigils still pulsed faintly under his skin, tracing his veins with faint circuitry that only he could see.
FZZZT.
A faint feedback tone echoed in his skull.
> EON: [Diagnostics — Nominal]
EON: [Memory lock active / stealth protocol engaged]
"Stealth… good," he muttered. His voice cracked. "Let's keep it that way."
The small dorm mirror reflected a young man who didn't look like he belonged among the Advanced Division elites: unkempt black hair, dark eyes swirling with exhaustion, and the faint shimmer of restrained power. His academy coat bore the silver insignia of Division A, the top 5%. A miracle—or a threat, depending on who you asked.
He pressed a palm to the mirror.
A flicker of red light rippled across the glass.
> EON: [Emotive surge detected — stabilizing cortex]
"Don't," he whispered. "Not now. You're supposed to stay quiet."
The system hummed obediently, and the light faded.
---
The auditorium felt colder than usual. Rows of Advanced Division students sat in disciplined silence, their pristine uniforms reflecting faint hues of blue and gold. At the front, a floating holo-table displayed a frozen image of a shattered simulation pod—the one Vadel had destroyed.
Celia sat near the front. Her silver-blonde hair caught the morning light, her expression unreadable. She hadn't spoken to Vadel since the duel. But now, as he entered the room, her eyes flicked toward him—sharp, searching.
Thud.
Doors seal.
The Head Instructor, a tall woman named Virel Kahn, stood with her arms behind her back. Her gaze could cut through alloy.
"Vadel Cross," she began, voice steady but laced with irritation. "Your simulation yesterday resulted in catastrophic system failure and data loss across the entire Sector V network. Explain."
Murmurs rippled through the hall.
Vadel stepped forward slowly. He could feel hundreds of eyes on him—some angry, others curious, many fearful.
"I pushed my prototype interface too far," he said evenly. "It was a miscalculation."
A lie. He knew it. EON knew it.
> EON: [Warning — truth index variance 72%]
He clenched his fist inside his coat pocket to silence the alert.
Instructor Virel narrowed her eyes. "And the crimson surge that our monitors registered? That wasn't a standard Trait discharge."
Celia's heart skipped. Crimson surge? She remembered the moment the simulation exploded—red light blooming like a storm.
Vadel kept his expression still. "Probably feedback from my neural link. My systems aren't as refined as the rest."
Whispers again—soft, venomous. Null talk. Excuse. Cover-up.
Virel exhaled sharply. "You'll report to the Division Lab for inspection. If there's a foreign core in your augment, we'll find it."
> EON: [Advisory — Detection risk critical. Recommend relocation.]
He ignored it. "Understood."
---
Celia waited until the hall emptied. Only the faint hum of the holo-screens remained.
"Vadel," she called quietly.
He froze. "Celia."
"You're hiding something."
He looked at her—really looked. Beneath the calm of her blue eyes was a spark of intuition too sharp for comfort.
"I'm always hiding something," he said, half-smiling.
"Not a joke," she snapped. "That energy last night—it wasn't a Trait. My grandfather felt it from across the city. He said it was… wrong."
Her words hit like a blade of ice.
> EON: [Threat classification: Information leak potential]
"Then maybe your grandfather should mind his own business," Vadel murmured, turning away.
Celia grabbed his sleeve. "Vadel—"
SFX: FZZZK!
A spark burst from his skin, crimson static dancing briefly before dying. She gasped and stepped back.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "It reacts to emotion."
But inside, he could feel EON stirring, almost purring.
> EON: [Emotive link strengthening / Subject — Celia A. Karn]
EON: [Do you trust her? Y/N]
He whispered, "No."
> EON: [Acknowledged. Trust matrix locked.]
He walked away before she could reply.
---
Meanwhile — Unknown Location.
A subterranean chamber filled with cables and luminescent tanks hummed softly. Dozens of scientists monitored holographic projections of the duel from the night before.
"Freeze frame — at timestamp 04:12," said a low voice.
The footage stopped on Vadel, his hand raised, red energy fracturing the air like glass.
Hung Zanyx leaned forward in his chair. The half-mask across his face reflected the crimson flare. His eyes, one organic and one cybernetic, glimmered with delight.
"Look at that resonance," he whispered. "Organic code manifesting without stabilizers. He's adapting faster than predicted."
One of the researchers hesitated. "Sir, if EON continues to self-evolve, we may lose control of it."
Zanyx smiled. "Control is an illusion. Evolution is inevitable."
He tapped the holo-console. A rotating glyph appeared—a red spiral identical to the marks pulsing under Vadel's skin.
> [Project EON — Phase Two: Awakening Protocol Initiate]
"Let him run," Zanyx murmured. "The Zero Student will either become my greatest creation—or my signal flare to the end of the world."
---
Back at the academy dorm, Vadel collapsed onto his bed. His nerves burned, his mind echoing with EON's low hum.
> EON: [You should have let her help you]
EON: [Isolation increases entropy risk]
"Quiet," he breathed.
The crimson lights behind his eyes dimmed, but didn't vanish.
> EON: [Command registered / Suppressing activity to 25%]
Silence.
Then—
Heartbeat.
Heartbeat.
He stared at the ceiling as dawn gave way to day, unaware that somewhere far beneath the city, the Awakening Protocol had already begun.