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Chapter 62

HOPE ACADEMY

IAM and Kepa walked through the now-familiar hub at the center of the Hold, weaving between scattered groups of other ascenders. The once mildly busy place had become crowded, almost chaotic, now bursting with movement and noise. Voices echoed from different corners—conversations, footsteps, the occasional shout or laugh echoing through the corridors like faint ghosts of something normal.

The atmosphere had shifted since their arrival days ago. Missions were being pushed out more frequently now, and every hallway reflected that. People moved with purpose, but also with fatigue—the kind that settled deep into your bones and never really left.

Some ascenders headed to the library, maps and manuals tucked under their arms. Others lined up at food stalls. (missing space after full stop) Some wandered into the leisure halls, hoping to catch a moment of distraction. But many, like IAM and Kepa, turned toward the workshop tucked toward the far side of the Hold.

Raj's workshop.

A place that, somehow, already felt like part of their routine.

The door slid open with a soft hiss.

And inside, they found Raj—hunched, exhausted, and completely surrounded by chaos.

Weapons of all kinds lay scattered across his workbench—swords, daggers, and stranger weapons IAM couldn't name. The desktop was swamped, almost overflowing. Bits of melted metal steamed in trays. Broken weapons hissed faintly from where Deadline creatures had corroded them, only to begin reforming seconds later with that eerie self-repairing quality most ascenders took for granted after Raj let a couple of drops of blood land on it.

It looked like hell.

In contrast to the first time IAM had seen him—confident, laid back, leaning over a neat desk with a smirk—Raj now looked like he hadn't slept in days. His hair was a mess. His shirt was stained with dark oil and old blood. His hands were worn thin. And yet, his hands didn't stop moving, muttering something under his breath as he switched from one broken blade to the next.

"Oh, you guys are back," Raj said without looking up. His voice was low, raspy. "How was it?"

He glanced at them briefly, eyes bloodshot and ringed with dark circles. Even that tiny movement looked like it cost him energy he didn't have.

IAM clicked his tongue. "Damn, bro. You're getting fucked up. You good?"

Raj didn't even pretend to lie.

"No."

The response was so deadpan that IAM couldn't help but laugh—short and dry. He leaned his elbows on the edge of the counter and looked around. The whole room smelled of metal and fatigue. You could almost taste the stress in the air.

"Kep needs a new hoodie, by the way," IAM added.

Raj blinked once, then waved a hand lazily toward a panel on the back wall. A mechanical compartment slid open with a clank, and a standard-issue supply box dropped onto the counter with a heavy thud.

Kepa stepped forward, gave a nod of thanks, and dragged the box down beside his feet before taking a seat on one of the chairs bolted to the wall.

There were six of them in total. Raj had added them not long after IAM and the others began showing up more frequently—a quiet concession to the fact that this place had accidentally become a kind of hangout. He'd considered removing a few during one of his moodier nights, but hadn't. Somehow, it felt right to leave them all there.

Raj sighed, rubbing his temples. "I feel tired all the damn time. If my workshop wasn't the furthest from the rest, I'd probably have collapsed already."

Kepa grinned and peeled the lid off the box. "Aren't you supposed to be young and full of energy or something?"

"Not anymore," Raj muttered as he leaned back on his stool, rolling his sore shoulders. "I'm getting old. Way too old."

IAM raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, man. At the ripe old age of twenty-four."

Raj gave a tired smile and tossed a rag toward a corner pile. "Didn't you know? Twenty-four is the new forty."

"Yeah, yeah," Kepa rolled his eyes, dragging out the words as he slouched further in the chair and held up his new hoodie. "This better not be the same as that itchy one from before."

IAM smirked. "Shut up and put it on. Your old one's torn to shreds."

Kepa muttered something under his breath and began changing into the new hoodie right there, too tired to care. IAM glanced at Raj, who had already returned to fiddling with a jagged dagger that still glowed faintly at the edges.

It was quiet for a few seconds.

Just the soft hum of workshop lights, the click of tools, and the distant noise of the Hold still alive outside.

Then Raj paused.

He looked up thoughtfully and squinted at the two of them.

"Come to think of it," he said, "you're both seventeen, right?"

IAM and Kepa looked up at the same time.

"Yeah," IAM said cautiously. "Why?"

Raj leaned back, stretching his arms overhead until his joints cracked. "That's the perfect age to join Hope Academy."

IAM blinked. "Hope Academy?"

Raj nodded. "The best academy in the country. Admission starts at the age of seventeen. It's where the next generation of ascenders are trained. You can get further manuals of your Path relatively easily in there, with some of the best instructors."

His voice was tired, but the conviction was still there. As if even he knew what kind of opportunity that place was.

Kepa leaned forward and exhaled through his nose.

"Yeah, and it's impossible for scrubs like us to get in there," he said, his tone half bitter, half resigned. "Only real geniuses can pass the tests and earn a place in that academy."

He shook his head slowly, the hoodie box resting untouched by his feet.

"I heard a rumor that a few years ago at the age of fourteen some kid formed an Avien in five days. Five days. That same kid's supposed to be going to the academy when they hit seventeen. Probably already has a bed made for them with their name stitched on the pillow."

Kepa's expression twisted slightly. "And I don't know if you've noticed, but both of us are NOT geniuses. Hope Academy isn't for people like us."

His words weren't angry. Just… honest.

IAM stayed silent, but his mind had already locked onto the word: academy.

He couldn't help it.

The idea pulled at something inside him.

It sounded like a place where he could finally get some footing. Somewhere that made sense. Somewhere that had structure. Guidance. Teachers who actually knew what they were doing.

Not like here, where he felt like he was just barely staying alive. Barely keeping up. Holding a weapon he didn't fully understand with a Path he had only scratched the surface of.

A second manual.

He wasn't ready for it yet—not officially. He hadn't reached the requirements to ascend into the next rank. But eventually, he would. And when he did, he'd need that second manual.

And finding one in the wild?

It felt impossible.

He'd have better luck growing wings.

An academy might actually have what he needed.

He stared at Raj with a bit more intensity than before, only to hear the craftsman say something that made both of them freeze.

"Actually… you could get in."

He said it like it was nothing. Like he was commenting on the weather. As if the idea hadn't just turned the air in the room still.

"What?!" Kepa shouted as he practically jumped to his feet. "What do you mean we could get in?!"