he smell of metal and ozone hung thick in the air as cadets filed into Arena Delta, one of Regis Institute's sparring halls. Dozens of training rings were sectioned off by transparent barriers, each glowing faintly to absorb impact.
It was Sparring Day, the first real hand-to-hand combat rotation of the year. No weapons, no abilities—just fists, reflexes, and nerve.
Kael adjusted the wrist tape on his right hand, flexing his fingers to feel the tension in his knuckles. He wasn't nervous.
He liked this part.
Here, there were no politics. No pedigrees. No instructors whispering about bloodlines behind surveillance glass.
Just action.
Just proof.
Outside the rings, cadets crowded around match boards. A few eyed Kael warily. Others stared openly.
"Look, it's the Gray Ghost again," someone muttered.
"He's not ranked. This is where it evens out."
"I heard he's genetically altered. Not even human."
Kael didn't react. Words didn't land unless you let them.
Dane appeared beside him, cracking his neck. "You gonna let them talk all day or give them something to shut up about?"
Kael glanced at the board. "Who's my match?"
Lira walked up, datapad in hand. "Cadet Rylen Vex. Rank C+. Heavy striker. Former street boxer from the Harkan slums. Tall, fast, throws wild. He's confident—too confident."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Show me where."
Lira smirked. "Second ring. He's waiting."
Kael stepped into the ring.
Rylen Vex towered over him by at least four inches, lean muscle and cocky grin visible under his standard-issue gear.
"Well, well," Rylen said. "The infamous Unranked. I thought you'd be taller."
"I thought you'd be smarter," Kael replied evenly.
A few cadets chuckled from the sidelines.
Rylen rolled his shoulders. "You're gonna regret that."
Kael didn't answer. He just moved into stance.
The buzzer sounded.
Rylen came in fast. No hesitation—just raw aggression. A left hook that could break ribs. A spinning elbow that would've crushed someone slower.
But Kael was already two steps ahead.
Shoulder shifts early. Telegraphs every move. Quick feet, weak core.
Kael ducked low, rolled past the elbow, and countered with a sharp jab to the ribs. Rylen hissed and spun, swinging wide.
Kael blocked with his forearm, stepped in close, and delivered three lightning-fast strikes: solar plexus, jaw, temple.
Rylen stumbled, off-balance.
Kael pressed forward.
He didn't hit hard—he hit perfectly. Every strike meant to disable, disorient, dismantle.
Thirty seconds in, Rylen was on one knee, breathing hard, guard broken.
Kael tilted his head. "Still think I'm short?"
Rylen growled and charged with a last-ditch overhead blow.
Kael sidestepped it and drove a palm into his chest, just below the collarbone.
Thud.
Rylen dropped.
The buzzer rang.
Winner: Kael Vire – Match Time: 41 Seconds
Back in the locker room, cadets whispered behind Kael's back.
"He didn't even flinch."
"Fastest match yet."
"Did you see the way he broke Rylen's stance? Like he knew it before the fight even started."
Kael sat on the bench, rolling the tension out of his shoulder. Across from him, a shorter cadet with wide eyes leaned forward hesitantly.
"Hey, uh... Kael, right?"
Kael looked up. "Yeah."
"I'm Bren. From Class 12-C. I watched your match. That was... insane. Are you, like, secretly A-Rank or something?"
Kael offered a faint smile. "No rank. No secret."
Bren hesitated, then offered a hand. "Still. That was amazing."
Kael shook it. "Thanks."
As Bren walked off, Kael caught Lira watching from the doorway, arms crossed.
"He's your first fan," she said with a smirk.
"I don't need fans."
"No," she said. "But you could use allies. You keep winning like that, and people will start choosing sides. You can't stay neutral forever."
Later that day, lunch in the southern mess hall was unusually crowded. Word of Kael's fight had spread like wildfire.
He sat at a corner table with his squad—Lira beside him, Dane across, Renna to the side, chewing her food in complete silence.
Dane was mid-story, gesturing wildly with a chicken bone.
"—so then Kael just bam, drops him like a sack of bricks, and walks off like it was nothing! I swear, I heard the guy whimper."
"I did not whimper," came a voice.
They turned.
Rylen Vex stood at the table, a bruise blossoming on his jaw, tray in hand.
Kael rose halfway. Dane tensed. Renna blinked once, unimpressed.
But Rylen raised a hand. "Relax. I'm not here to start anything. Just…"
He looked at Kael. "I came to say that was the cleanest ass-kicking I've ever received. You're good. Better than I expected."
Kael studied him. "Thanks."
Rylen hesitated, then nodded at the open spot next to Dane. "Mind if I sit?"
Dane laughed. "Sure. Just don't throw anything."
Rylen chuckled and took the seat.
Kael blinked, unsure how to respond to the sudden shift. He glanced at Lira.
She smirked. "What did I tell you? Allies."
That evening, on the walk back to the dorms, Kael found himself walking beside Rylen again. The halls were dim, most cadets heading to their rest blocks or review sessions.
"So," Rylen said, "what's your deal?"
Kael didn't answer at first.
"Unranked," Rylen continued. "No visible power. But you move like you've been training since birth. You read people like they're data streams. What are you?"
Kael stopped walking. "I don't know."
Rylen blinked.
Kael turned to him. "That's the truth. I grew up in an orphanage. No records. No family. No one to teach me how to use what I have—if I even have anything."
"But you do," Rylen said. "It's obvious."
Kael nodded slowly. "Yeah. But it's not something I control. It... responds. Evolves. I think the more I fight, the more it learns."
Rylen whistled. "That's terrifying."
Kael smirked. "Tell me about it."
They parted at the dorm junction, but as Kael walked back alone, he felt something he hadn't in a long time:
Acknowledgment.
Not just from instructors, or rivals. But from peers.
And deep down, it stirred something he wasn't sure he wanted to name.
Belonging.
Later that night, he lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The pendant rested on his chest, warm against his skin.
The fights, the training, the students—the rhythm of this world was starting to make sense.
But beneath that rhythm, Kael felt the steady, unrelenting pull of his ability. Always stretching. Always expanding.
Like a storm waiting to be born.
I don't want to rule this system, he thought. I want to tear it down and build something better.
One fight at a time.