Marcus walked the narrow corridor toward the upper tiers, muscles still stiff from the previous matches, mind still buzzing from the constant observation. Every step echoed, a hollow reminder of the city's relentless awareness. He wasn't alone Iron City never let anyone be alone but the presence wasn't comforting. It was suffocating.
His thoughts kept drifting to Caleb. Somewhere in this labyrinth, his younger brother had survived, had learned the rules, had adapted. But surviving didn't mean staying human. Marcus had seen the signs in the fighters: cold eyes, precise movements, small hesitations avoided at all costs. Iron City didn't forgive weakness.
A message flickered on the wall outside the training area.
SUBJECT: CALeb COLE
STATUS: ACTIVE
LAST KNOWN LOCATION: SECTOR 12
Marcus's chest tightened. Sector 12 wasn't far but in Iron City, distance wasn't measured in meters. It was measured in trials, obstacles, and observation windows. Each step carried risk, each decision was cataloged.
He entered the arena in Sector 12. The lights were harsh, blinding, and the air was thick with anticipation. Not a crowd this time. Only shadowed figures in booths, cameras tracking every heartbeat, every twitch, every breath.
And then he saw him.
Caleb. Leaner than Marcus remembered, faster, sharper. The boy who had once been reckless now moved like a trained predator, precise and calculated. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, recognition flashing, but neither smiled. There was no relief here. Not yet.
A bell rang. Not for them. For others. But Marcus felt it in his bones. Every fight in Iron City carried consequence.
A trainer approached Marcus quietly. "He's on a special trial," the man said, voice low. "You can observe. You cannot interfere. Not yet."
Marcus clenched his fists. Observation wasn't enough. Seeing Caleb struggle, seeing him adapt, seeing him survive without contact it was worse than fighting himself.
Caleb moved through the trial with grace, fluidity, efficiency. He blocked attacks Marcus didn't even see coming, maneuvered around traps set in the arena, adjusted instantly to changes in the environment. The boy had become a product of Iron City. The brother Marcus knew, the reckless kid who laughed at danger, had been replaced by something sharper, colder.
A warning flashed on Marcus's collar.
WARNING: FAMILY INTERFERENCE DETECTED
SUBJECT: CALeb COLE
CATEGORY: HIGH-RISK RELATIONSHIP
The city had noticed. It always noticed.
Marcus stepped back, hidden behind a pillar, eyes locked on Caleb. His chest ached not from exhaustion, not from physical strain, but from knowing the cost of survival. Caleb had learned the rules. Marcus would have to learn them faster.
The trial ended. Caleb stepped out, unscathed, expression unreadable. Marcus felt a pang of pride, quickly smothered by the gnawing knowledge that Iron City had shaped him. The brother he was searching for wasn't the one who had left home. He was someone else entirely.
As Caleb vanished into the corridors, Marcus knew one thing: catching up wouldn't be enough. He would have to surpass. Outthink. Outlast. Outmaneuver.
Iron City didn't give second chances. It didn't wait.
And Marcus Cole wasn't planning to.