The evening was silent in Winston's private quarters—a rarity in Arachis. The dim glow of the city's neon lights seeped through the reinforced windows, casting long shadows across the room. Natasha sat across from him, her sharp crimson eyes locked onto his face as he swirled a glass of aged whiskey, the ice clinking softly.
"You're uneasy," she observed.
Winston exhaled, the weight of the world pressing against his shoulders. "Something is coming."
Natasha arched a brow. "You've said that before. And you've always been right."
"This is different." His grip tightened around the glass. "It's not just an attack. It's an unraveling."
Natasha leaned forward. "Explain."
Winston's gaze darkened. "The Hands of the Divine are moving too boldly. They infiltrated us. They've struck multiple academies. And yet... it feels like they're waiting for something."
"A catalyst?"
"Or a signal." Winston set the glass down with deliberate slowness. "And I don't trust Duron."
Natasha's expression shifted—subtle, but enough for Winston to catch the flicker of disbelief. "Duron? The man who has served you for years without question?"
"Instinct." Winston's voice was iron. "Something about him is... off."
Natasha studied him for a long moment before sighing. "You've never been wrong about instinct before. But Duron?"
"I don't have proof," Winston admitted. "Just a feeling."
Natasha's lips thinned. "Then watch him. But don't act without evidence. Not with someone like him."
Winston nodded slowly. "I won't."
But the unease in his chest remained.
---
{VANGUARD CLUB TRAINING HALL}
The air hummed with tension as students filed into the massive training arena, the scent of oiled steel and sweat thick in the air. Torin Rook stood at the center, his massive arms crossed over his chest, his scarred face unreadable. Beside him, Leo and another instructor—a wiry woman with a permanent scowl—watched the students with sharp eyes.
"Listen up!" Torin's voice boomed. "Today's exercise is unit cohesion. Every military formation is built on pairs—two vanguards who move as one. You both are the sword and spear of every unit. You don't just fight with your partner. You fight for them."
Drake stood beside Alexis, his fingers brushing against the hilt of the dragon-blade strapped to his back. He had never brought it to training before—but something had compelled him today.
Alexis smirked, nudging him. "Nervous?"
Drake didn't answer. His eyes were locked onto their opponents—Tarantula and Riko.
Tarantula was a lithe, wiry fighter with four razor-sharp spider legs extending from his back, their edges gleaming like polished steel. Riko, on the other hand, was a brute—his ability allowing him to protrude his bones from his joints, turning his limbs into jagged weapons.
Torin continued. "Aether suppressors are active. You're all capped at Soldier-rank output. No fancy techniques. No invoking names. Just raw skill."
Leo's gaze flicked to Drake, lingering for a moment before he called out, "First match—Drake and Alexis versus Tarantula and Riko!"
The crowd murmured.
Alexis cracked his knuckles. "Time to show off."
Drake exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
Then—
The battle began.
---
Before the first clash, Alexis shot Drake a sharp glance.
"Delay Riko. I'll handle Tarantula first."
Drake hesitated—his pride stung—but he gave a curt nod. He wasn't strong enough to take Riko alone, not yet. But he could buy time.
Alexis lunged forward. Nanotech exploded from his chest in a shimmering silver wave, cascading over his body like liquid mercury. It solidified in an instant—forming a sleek, futuristic breastplate with medieval-style pauldrons, the design a seamless blend of old and new. Twin blades extended from his wrists, humming with restrained energy.
Across from him, Tarantula crouched low, his four spider-legs twitching like scissor blades. The aether suppressors dulled their usual lethal glow, but the edges still gleamed wickedly.
"Stop dancing and engage!" Torin's voice boomed across the arena.
Tarantula struck first—a feint. His left leg jabbed forward, testing Alexis's guard. Alexis sidestepped, wrist-blade deflecting the strike with a sharp clang, but Tarantula's right leg was already sweeping low. Alexis vaulted backward, barely avoiding the scything limb.
"Stop reacting to his rhythm!" the female instructor shouted. "Make him follow yours!"
Alexis lunged, blades crossing in an X-slash. Tarantula parried with two legs, the impact jarring Alexis's arms, but he twisted mid-motion, driving a knee toward Tarantula's ribs. The spider-legged fighter recoiled, one leg scraping Alexis's thigh—a shallow cut.
"That's it! Stay in close!" Leo called out.
Tarantula pressed the attack, legs striking in a flurry—high, low, high. Alexis weaved, his footwork precise, but a misstep cost him. A leg grazed his ribs, drawing blood. The crowd gasped.
"Stop playing defensive!" Torin roared. "You're better than this!"
Alexis gritted his teeth, countering with a spinning backhand slash that forced Tarantula to leap back.
Alexis feinted left, then dropped low, his nanotech shifting. His left blade retracted, reforming into a compact shield just as Tarantula's leg stabbed downward. The shield absorbed the impact, and Alexis's right blade lashed out, scoring a shallow gash across Tarantula's forearm.
"Good adaptation!" the female instructor nodded. "Now press the advantage!"
Tarantula hissed, retaliating with a brutal overhead strike. Alexis rolled aside, the spider-leg embedding into the training mat where his head had been. He kicked upward, his boot connecting with Tarantula's chin, snapping his head back.
"Beautiful counter!" Leo applauded.
Dazed, Tarantula staggered—but recovered fast, his legs lashing out in a wide, sweeping arc. Alexis ducked, but not fast enough; one leg clipped his shoulder, slicing through his nanotech armor. Blood welled.
"Stop giving him space to recover!" Torin bellowed.
Alexis grinned through the pain. "Finally got serious, huh?"
Alexis's nanotech shifted again—blades retracting, reforming into a segmented whip.
"Finish him!" multiple instructors shouted in unison.
It lashed out like a serpent, wrapping around one of Tarantula's legs. With a brutal yank, he pulled, throwing the spider-legged fighter off balance. Tarantula hit the ground hard, legs flailing.
Alexis was on him in an instant—knee driving into his gut, a knife materializing in his hand and pressing against Tarantula's throat.
"Yield."
Tarantula's eyes burned with fury—but he nodded.
Alexis stood, exhaling sharply. One down.
Now, for Riko.
He turned—
And froze.
Drake was losing.
Badly.
Blood dripped from a deep gash in Drake's shoulder, his movements sluggish. Riko was relentless, his bone-blades carving through Drake's defenses with terrifying ease.
Alexis's eyes narrowed.
"Hang on, Drake. I'm coming."
He sprinted toward the fight.
But before he could intervene—
Something changed.
Drake's blood dripped onto his dragon-hilt blade.
And then—
His heartbeat erupted.
---