DESYREBOUND

The prep chamber buzzed with quiet tension.

Gone were the lighthearted remarks and casual gear chatter. After Squad One's bloody clash with a mutated Riftspawn, everyone in Squad Two knew this wasn't a standard simulation anymore.

The screen mounted on the far wall looped the final moments of that fight — the Wyrm's berserker charge, Enzo's bleeding form hitting the dirt, and the delayed response from the instructors above.

Julienne Arc stood with arms folded, her gaze locked on the footage. "We're not walking into that blind. If they toss another unstable Riftspawn at us—"

"They will," Kael said flatly, without looking up.

Julienne raised an eyebrow. "Comforting."

Cyrhelle Elsinora stood just to the side, quietly sketching. Her fingers moved charcoal over a leather-bound page, etching jagged lines through the silhouette of a ruined skyline — like a memory being recorded before it even happened.

"It's an urban collapse instance," she murmured. "Stacked floors. Debris tunnels. Line of sight's going to be hell."

Kael adjusted the strap of his whip, then checked the lock on his short sword. "Tight quarters means less margin for error. We move clean. No wasted motion."

Julienne scanned the tactical schematic flickering on their panel. "No aerial flanks, no long sightlines... not exactly ideal terrain."

"Not for anyone," Kael replied. "But it cuts both ways."

Julienne nodded, then flicked a glance at his sparse loadout. "Still just the whip and the blade?"

Kael gave a single nod. "Everything else is noise."

Julienne let out a slow breath, but didn't argue. "Guess you're going for quiet impact this time."

Cyrhelle didn't look up. "Worked before."

Julienne raised an eyebrow. "Barely."

Cyrhelle smirked faintly. "Still worked."

A mechanical chime rang above them.

> Instance Type: Urban-Ruin Collapse

Squad Two — Gate Activation Imminent

Countdown: 00:00:12

The panel lights dimmed, bathing the chamber in blue. Air shifted. Static tingled across their skin as the Rift Gate expanded into a pulsing arch of light ahead of them.

Boots moved in sync. No words.

Just breath. Steps. Readiness.

They stepped into the Rift — and the world shattered into ruin.

The fractured skyline loomed above them — hollow towers clawing at an ashen sky. Squad Two moved through the ruined avenue with careful steps, the ground littered with broken glass, collapsed signs, and the occasional flicker of simulated Rift energy bleeding through the cracks.

Cyrhelle walked near the front, sketchbook still open as her eyes traced the warped concrete ahead. "Julienne," she said quietly, "that's not your usual sidearm."

Julienne flicked her eyes down to the holster at her hip. "Yeah. New custom. Vulcan Edge."

"It's glowing," Cyrhelle noted, curious now. "And humming."

Julienne smirked. "Desyre-linked. I wired it to my Core a few weeks ago. Fires like an extension of my fingers. You want a breakdown?"

"Later," Cyrhelle replied, amused. "Just didn't expect it to look so... mean."

Kael, ahead of them, held a hand up — a silent stop.

From the left alley, a low growl echoed. Then another — guttural, hollow, too fast for something that size.

Cyrhelle's sketchbook snapped shut. Julienne immediately unholstered her sidearm, circuits along the grip lighting with violet pulses.

From the cracked road, the Riftspawn surged forward — a four-limbed beast with jagged exoskeletal plating and eyes that burned like torn embers.

Too fast.

Cyrhelle turned just as it lunged for her.

In one breath, Kael's whip lashed out.

The black coil snapped through the air, wrapped around the Riftspawn's foreleg mid-air — and yanked it off course, slamming it sideways into a crumbling traffic pole. Before it could recover, Kael was already moving.

He blurred forward, sword unsheathed in one fluid motion. The whip still anchored to the monster's limb, he used it to pull himself close — then carved upward with a clean diagonal strike.

The Riftspawn let out a gurgled screech as the blade sliced through its neck joint.

It collapsed in two twitching pieces.

Steam hissed from Kael's gloves as he flicked the whip back into a loose coil. His sword was already clean — not a wasted movement.

Julienne raised her pistol. "More on the right. Three of them."

Cyrhelle exhaled shakily. "Thanks."

Kael nodded once, quiet. "Stay sharp."

Julienne raised the Vulcan Edge, eyes glowing faint behind her visor. "Let's test the new calibration."

Three more Riftspawn leapt from the rooftops — twisted hounds with blade-like tails.

Julienne moved first.

Precision Burst.

Three violet shots rang out — one-two-three — each round slamming into the skull of a separate hound mid-leap. NeuroLink-guided, no hesitation.

All three fell before they hit the ground.

"Perfect spread," she muttered. "Firing curve's clean."

Kael glanced sideways. "Efficient."

Julienne gave him a grin. "You've got flair. I've got math."

The air shifted again. More growls ahead. The simulation wasn't done with them yet.

Kael readied his stance.

"Let's move," he said.

And together, they pushed deeper into the ruin.

The ruined cityscape groaned under simulated tremors.

Glass cracked underfoot. Hollow wind tunneled between collapsed towers, dragging fog and Rift-static behind it. Squad Two advanced as one — tighter, sharper now, their tempo locked in without needing words.

Julienne moved up the right flank, scanning through her visor as she reloaded her pistol. The Vulcan Edge gleamed faintly, its violet circuitry flaring with each pulse of Desyre. Beside her, Cyrhelle trailed rune-thread illusions through the fog, false shapes flickering behind them to draw stray Riftspawn away from their real trail.

Kael lingered near the rear — sword low, whip loosely coiled at his side — eyes never still.

From the upper observation deck, lined with tinted glass and projection feeds, a cluster of senior Ascenders and WAA officials watched the scene in quiet focus.

"…That's Kael Navarro, right?" one of them murmured. "He's not even using his all weapons". Just a whip and a blade."

"And his movements are too clean. He's reacting before the spawn even commit."

"Preemptive reads," said another, leaning forward. "Almost predictive."

Farther back, a woman in a long coat watched without blinking — Veil Division, marked only by subtle violet runes along her cuffs. She said nothing. But when Kael moved again — not fast, but precise, like the simulation had whispered its intent to him — she shifted her weight, just slightly.

Not a flinch. But something close to recognition.

---

Down below—

The squad moved into a collapsed parking structure, its upper floors twisted like broken bones. Cyrhelle's sketchbook floated beside her, charcoal swirling through the air as another spell took form.

"I need three seconds," she murmured. "One more illusion wall to cover the cross-lane—"

Kael's breath caught.

A pulse. A ripple inside his skull — not from outside, but from somewhere deeper. Time slowed.

He saw it.

A shimmer of scale. A second-floor ledge. A Riftspawn poised like a coiled spring. Violet arc. Sickle-limbs. Impact point. Cyrhelle. One second.

His eyes widened.

He moved.

The whip snapped free in a blur of motion — the sound cracking through the chamber like a flare. It struck the creature mid-lunge, yanking it sideways just as it dropped from the upper level.

Kael stepped into its descent and pivoted low.

One breath.

One arc.

His blade split through the Riftspawn's chest before it ever reached Cyrhelle.

The creature collapsed into flickering static, pieces scattered across the concrete.

Cyrhelle froze. Her rune faded mid-cast.

She turned just as Kael lowered his blade.

"I didn't even—" she began, but the words didn't finish. Her voice caught.

Her hand was still raised, fingers shaking faintly. Not from fear — but from how fast it had all happened. From how close it had been.

She stared at Kael, silent. There was something different in her gaze now — not just surprise, but something quieter. Sharper.

Kael didn't speak. His gaze lingered above — not where the creature had fallen, but where it had been. Where it had waited.

Like he'd known it was there.

From the gallery above, the Veil instructor's fingers hovered just above her datapad.

"…That wasn't just timing," she murmured under her breath. "He saw it."

She tapped once — a small notation. No alert. Just observation.

Behind her, a few cadets muttered among themselves. One of them — slim, with a gear-belt slung across her waist and goggles pushed into her wild bangs — whistled softly.

"Well damn," she said. "That guy moves like he's got a cheat sheet."

"Forget him," her friend whispered. "Did you see the girl with the pistol? That's Vulcan architecture. Tight-synced."

"Julienne Arc," the goggle-girl muttered, grinning. "Julienne God-tier Arc. I've been trying to link pulse logic to hand feedback for two months and she's just… vibing through bullet physics like it's a side hobby."

The other cadet raised an eyebrow. "You're falling in love again, aren't you?"

"Every damn mission," goggle-girl muttered. "She could shoot me and I'd thank her."

---

Back on the field—

Julienne raised her Vulcan Edge and unleashed a clean, triple burst into a charging Riftspawn, dropping it before it reached the next stairwell. Cyrhelle's illusions snapped back into play, now laced with sharper motion — shadows that reacted to the enemy's pathing.

Kael moved quietly between the chaos, reading not just the terrain — but the tension in the air. The direction Rift energy drifted. The way the static rippled seconds before an attack.

He wasn't reacting anymore.

He was remembering something that hadn't happened yet.

From the far wall of the observation chamber, the Veil instructor's lips parted — just slightly.

She hadn't blinked in nearly a minute.

That movement… that timing…

No hesitation. No scan. He just moved. Like he'd already been there.

Her fingers hovered over the datapad but didn't type. Not yet.

She simply whispered to herself — more breath than voice:

"…What did I just see?"

The simulation clock ticked forward.

Squad Two kept advancing — smooth, efficient, as if the rhythm of battle had become instinct.

And above them, the Veil watched in silence.

Not analyzing.

Just trying to catch up.