Aren Kael learned the first rule of the Shōnen Combat Fragment before dawn.
The world always measured you—whether you agreed or not.
He woke on a narrow cot inside a reinforced dormitory chamber, every muscle screaming in protest.
The ceiling above him was bare metal, etched with faint runes that pulsed softly in a rhythm that matched his heartbeat a second too late to be coincidence.
He groaned and rolled onto his side.
[Stability: 31% — Slow Recovery.]
[Adaptive Origin Core: Low Activity.]
"Wow," Aren muttered hoarsely. "I feel amazing."
Sarcasm didn't make the pain go away—but it helped him breathe through it.
The room was small. Functional. No windows. No decorations.
A single locker sat against the far wall, already tagged with his name and provisional designation.
ANOMALY-CLASS TRAINEE
Aren stared at it for a long second.
"…Yeah," he said quietly. "That tracks."
He swung his legs over the side of the cot and stood.
His knees threatened to buckle, but the Core compensated automatically, redistributing load just enough to keep him upright.
[Minor Adjustment: Postural Support.]
"Good," Aren said. "At least you're still with me."
The Core didn't respond—but its presence was steady. Quiet. Observant.
A sharp chime echoed through the chamber.
"Get up and move, anomaly," a voice called from beyond the door. "You've got five minutes."
Aren blinked. "Good morning to you too."
He dragged himself into a quick rinse at the corner sink, cold water shocking his system awake.
When he stepped out, dressed in the plain dark combat attire left neatly folded on his cot, the door slid open with a hydraulic hiss.
A Hunter stood there—tall, broad-shouldered, with close-cropped hair and a scar that ran from jaw to collarbone.
"Rex Halden" the man said. "I'm your assigned handler."
Aren raised an eyebrow. "Handler. That's… comforting."
Rex snorted. "Means I make sure you don't explode, defect, or accidentally rewrite local physics."
"…I'm sensing a lot of confidence."
"Based it experience," Rex corrected. "Move now."
The training hall was already alive when Aren arrived.
Platforms thrummed with controlled energy output.
Trainees sparred under watchful eyes, combat energy flaring in disciplined bursts.
Screens displayed rankings, metrics, and real-time stability readings.
Aren felt it immediately.
A comparison.
Not emotional but systemic.
[Environmental Metric Detected: Ranked Power Structure.]
"Oh," Aren murmured. "This place literally judges you."
Rex glanced at him sideways. "You feel that?"
"Yeah," Aren said. "It's like the room's… weighing me."
Rex's expression darkened slightly.
"Then pay attention. People who can feel it tend to break—or break records."
Captain Ilyra stood at the center platform, issuing commands with crisp efficiency.
When she saw Aren, she raised a hand.
"Anomaly," she called. "Forward."
Aren sighed and stepped onto the central platform.
Every eye turned toward him.
He felt it again—that evaluative pressure, subtle but pervasive.
[External Focus Detected.]
[Warning: High Observation Density.]
Ilyra studied him calmly. "Your Stability recovered faster than expected."
"Yeah," Aren said. "Turns out not dying helps."
A few trainees snorted.
Ilyra ignored them. "Today, you learn the rules."
Aren tilted his head. "I was under the impression rules didn't apply to me."
Her gaze sharpened. "That misconception gets anomalies killed."
She gestured—and the platform lit up.
A translucent interface expanded around Aren, layered with symbols and bars.
———————————————————————————————————————
Combat Aptitude Test — Baseline
Energy Output: Minimal
Structural Endurance: Below Standard
Reaction Time: Variable (Adaptive Spike Detected)
Stability: 33%
———————————————————————————————————————
A murmur rippled through the hall.
"That's it?" someone scoffed. "He's weak."
Aren resisted the urge to flip them off.
Ilyra raised her voice. "Silence."
She turned back to Aren. "Your numbers are low."
"No argument here," Aren said.
"But," she continued, "your variance is unprecedented."
The display shifted.
———————————————————————————————————————
Adaptation Rate: Unknown (Scaling)
Growth Response Under Pressure: Accelerated
System Compatibility: Unbounded (Theoretical)
———————————————————————————————————————
The room went quiet.
Aren swallowed. "That sounds… ominous."
"It is," Ilyra said. "Because this world rewards strength—but hunts instability."
She dismissed the interface. "Rule one: you do not fight without supervision."
Aren opened his mouth.
"Rule two," she continued, "you do not absorb foreign systems without authorization."
Aren closed it.
"Rule three," she finished, "you do not exceed your Stability threshold in the field."
Aren rubbed the back of his neck. "What happens if I do?"
Ilyra's expression didn't change. "Then you stop being a trainee."
Rex muttered, "Permanently."
Aren grimaced. "Okay. Noted."
Ilyra stepped closer. "Despite your potential, you are fragile. One bad adaptation cascade and you collapse."
The Core pulsed faintly, as if acknowledging the risk.
"So," Aren said quietly, "you want to control how I grow."
"Yes," Ilyra replied. "Before the world does."
She turned sharply. "Begin controlled exposure."
The next four hours were hell.
Not dramatic hell but methodical hell.
Aren was put through calibrated drills designed to expose him to low-level combat energy without overwhelming his Core.
Light strikes. Controlled bursts. Timed stressors.
Every time his body adapted too quickly, the system adjusted to compensate.
[Adaptation Detected.]
[Counter-Calibration Engaged.]
It was frustrating and Infuriating.
"Stop holding back!" Aren snapped at one point, panting as he blocked a training strike.
The Hunter across from him shook his head. "We're not holding back. The system is."
Aren gritted his teeth. "Then what's the point?"
"To teach you restraint," Rex said from the sidelines. "Power that grows unchecked attracts predators."
Aren felt that word settle heavily in his mind.
'Predators.'
During a brief break, Aren collapsed onto a bench, chest heaving. Sweat soaked through his uniform. His Stability hovered stubbornly around 35%.
"That's it?" he muttered. "All that work for two percent?"
Rex handed him a hydration pack. "You want faster growth? Jump into the ruins alone."
Aren drank deeply, then glanced up. "You're serious."
"Deadly serious," Rex said. "The fragment is full of things that sense anomalies. You flare too hard, too fast…"
He made a slicing motion across his throat.
Aren exhaled slowly. "So the rules exist to hide me."
"Yes," Rex said. "Until you're strong enough not to care."
That night, Aren lay awake on his cot, staring at the ceiling.
The Core was quiet—but not dormant.
It felt… constrained.
Not by force—but by agreement.
[Condition: Structured Growth — Active.]
"So this is the deal," Aren whispered. "I play by the rules… for now."
The ceiling hummed softly in response.
Somewhere beyond the outpost walls, the city groaned—a deep, distant sound like a wounded beast shifting in its sleep.
And far above, beyond the fractured sky, something else stirred.
Something that had noticed the anomaly not because he was strong—
—but because he was changing too quickly.
Aren closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, he would be tested again.
And one day soon—
The rules meant to contain him would be the first things he learned how to break.