Liu Xian walked beside B67, silent as ever, his new weapon strapped across his back like a burden he hadn't yet learned to carry. The boy, to his credit, had stopped trying to talk, sensing for once that maybe his voice didn't belong in this space.
Ahead, a door hissed open. Another AI-automated lock, another mechanical voice announcing the obvious:
"Welcome, Unit 17. Please proceed to team briefing chamber."
Inside, the room was as white as the hallway—too white. White in the way that stripped color from everything else, including the people inside it. It was square, with smooth walls and high ceilings, too clean to be comfortable.
Their assigned squad members were already there.
Four others, scattered around the perimeter like magnets trying not to touch.
On the left side, leaning against the wall with arms folded and a scowl carved deep into his face, was a tall boy with jagged hair the color of ink and half his face hidden under a visor. His uniform was stretched tight across his muscles, his legs crossed casually at the ankle — but nothing about his body language said "relaxed." No. He was simmering beneath the surface. You didn't need to know his name to know he was the type who'd break your jaw for blinking wrong.
Next to him, perched on the edge of the bench like a cat, was a girl. Silver hair tied in a messy braid. Sharp gray eyes. She wore her uniform like it offended her. A dagger was already unsheathed and being spun between her fingers, catching the light just enough to make Liu Xian's eyes twitch. Her gaze flicked up briefly when he entered, then slid away like he wasn't worth more than a glance.
In the far corner, pacing slowly with boots clicking softly, was someone different.
Stockier.
Dressed the same, but there was something odd about the way he moved — too mechanical. His head turned in slight, precise increments, and he seemed to be muttering to himself, almost like calibrating something in his mind. His fingers tapped a rhythm against his thigh. Every now and then, he'd pause and stare at nothing.
And then finally, slouched in a seat closest to the exit — a boy who looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. He had an eyepatch, messy reddish-brown curls, and a scar that ran from the side of his mouth all the way to his ear, curling his lips into a permanent half-sneer. He glanced up as Liu Xian and B67 entered, then looked away just as quickly, like even acknowledging them was too much effort.
Not one of them spoke.
The tension in the air was so sharp it could peel skin.
B67's mouth opened — because of course it did — and his voice came out loud and sunny like he hadn't noticed the frost crawling up the walls.
"Hi—"
Four heads turned toward him in perfect unison.
Four glares.
Liu Xian didn't turn his head, but he saw it all. He saw B67 freeze mid-smile, his voice dying in his throat like it had been strangled by the air itself.
The little boy's posture deflated slightly.
Liu Xian's jaw clenched.
He moved toward the far wall and sat, not bothering to meet anyone's eyes. His new weapon was slung across his back, and he could still feel the faint vibration it gave off when near mana. Even now, it hummed like a heartbeat.
B67 followed a few seconds later, slower this time. Less bouncy. He sat down beside Liu Xian but didn't speak.
For the first time, the silence didn't seem to bother him.
Minutes crawled by.
A drone floated in through the ceiling vent, projecting a blue display across the room's wall.
TEAM 17-A
RANKING STATUS: UNRATED
ASSIGNED MEMBERS:
46-B
B-67
E-26
27-C
G-25
Liu Xian glanced at them again, watching how each one barely reacted. 27-C, the girl with the dagger, didn't stop twirling it once. Razor — clearly the brooding one with the visor — didn't even glance at the screen. G-25 continued his pacing. And E-26, the tired one by the door, just exhaled slowly like he'd already accepted whatever nightmare this would turn into.
They were supposed to be a team?
Right.
The drone hovered closer. "You will begin Potal Trial at 30 minutes. Weapon syncing complete. Mana sync 85%. Familiar registration—pending."
Liu Xian's fingers twitched at that last line.
His eyes shifted to the corner, just barely visible on the screen. A timer.
29: 42.
29: 41
B67 shifted again beside him, eyes sneaking little glances at the others. Then, slowly, he leaned toward Liu Xian and whispered under his breath, "They all look like they want to kill each other."
Liu Xian didn't answer.
He just stared forward, eyes blank.