The ruins had a way of making even the strongest feel small. Jagged metal and fractured concrete framed every step, and the faint hum of old machinery thrummed beneath our boots.
Captain Iver led the way, violet hair reflecting the dim glow of flickering lights. Her rifle rested lightly against her back. The faint pressure of her Bloodlust brushed the edges of the chamber—but only enough to sharpen our instincts, not decide the fight for us.
The squad moved cautiously. Reid's gauntlet flared briefly, testing the shadows for movement. Sera's eyes shifted color as she scanned for distortions. Barel's living blade hummed quietly, veins of red light pulsing in rhythm with his focus. Lune's mechanical wolf prowled beside her, low and sleek, sensors tracking the dark corners.
Then they came: Parasite hybrids, half-flesh, half-machine, slinking from the broken walls and floors. They weren't fast—yet—but intelligent enough to flank and test us.
Reid reacted first. He swung his gauntlet, bursts of flame snapping across the nearest hybrid. The creature froze mid-lunge, circuits sparking from the heat, its claw leaving a shallow tear across Reid's forearm before he recoiled. He hissed, pain burning, but stayed upright, keeping his aim steady.
Sera moved, bending light around herself, creating flickering copies that darted in multiple directions. One hybrid lunged toward Barel, claws slashing through the air. His blade met it precisely, cutting cleanly through the limb, leaving a wound that bled slowly but clearly impeded its movement.
I remained back, trying to stay safe while observing. The tunnels themselves seemed to pulse faintly with awareness, subtle tremors under my feet. That faint thread of resonance stirred in response to the creatures, though it remained weak.
The Parasites adapted quickly. One struck at Reid again, and though he dodged most of it, a shallow cut appeared along his shoulder beneath the armor—red and tense, but not life-threatening. Each wound reminded us how careful we needed to be.
Iver didn't overcommit. She moved deliberately, stepping into the center of the fray. Bullets cracked from her rifle, tearing into joints, wires, and sinew. When one hybrid hesitated too long, she advanced, swinging her sword with precision. A faint ripple of Bloodlust pressed on the edges of the creatures' minds, enough to disrupt them for a fraction of a second. That was all.
The mounts acted as extensions of the squad, moving with coordinated precision. Lune's wolf blocked a hybrid's path, forcing it into Reid's line of fire. It didn't bite or shred—just used its weight and mechanical limbs to manipulate the battlefield, making openings without killing indiscriminately.
When the last hybrid staggered and collapsed, the chamber fell silent. Dust floated in the dim light. Reid rubbed his shoulder, muttering under his breath. Barel wiped the edge of his blade, veins dimming. Even the mounts relaxed, but their eyes still scanned the darkness.
Iver lowered her weapon. "This was your first trial," she said evenly. "Learn from it. Observe wounds, positions, and timing. Power alone won't keep you alive. Awareness will."
I clenched my fists, feeling the faint pulse of my own resonance once more. The city itself seemed to hum in response, subtle but alive.
"Tomorrow," Iver continued, "we move deeper. You'll begin learning to sense more than just the enemy. The ruins themselves are part of the test."
I nodded. Even though my body ached from tension, I understood. Survival here wasn't about reckless strength—it was about perception, strategy, and precision.
The trial had ended. But the real tests were only beginning.