Jay and Vikram had bonded faster than either expected. It wasn't some dramatic encounter or a forged-in-fire camaraderie. It was simpler than that. They clicked. Conversation flowed with ease, jumping from one shared interest to the next like stepping stones across a river of curiosity.
But the moment didn't last.
A staff member approached, expression taut with urgency, and gestured toward the exit. "The announcement is about to begin," he said, voice clipped but respectful.
As they moved, Vikram leaned in and quietly extracted more from the man with a few carefully placed questions. What he learned startled him. The others had already begun trying to control their Abilities. But he hadn't been summoned for that. Neither had Jay.
That small omission hit harder than it should have.
It wasn't that Vikram felt left out. He had already accepted that he didn't possess some flashy power or special trait. What surprised him was that Jay, the timid and friendly friend he'd made, wasn't called either. A crack appeared in Vikram's quiet bitterness, letting in a strange warmth.
He wasn't alone in his bad luck.
It was an odd comfort—one he didn't want to feel, but did.
The auditorium lights dimmed. A sonic boom echoed across the space, snapping everyone to attention. Vikram's eyes were drawn to the stage where Brunus now stood. His presence alone sent the crowd into immediate silence. He was radiating that kind of aura—intimidating, suffocating, demanding obedience.
Vikram narrowed his eyes. Yes, it was powerful, but not unfamiliar. He had already tasted the crushing presence of beings like the Blood Immortal, and the monstrous Shai-Hulud. Compared to them, Brunus was loud, but manageable.
Then she entered.
The Lady General.
No longer the calm, composed figure Vikram had seen before. There was a dangerous edge to her now. Her every step carried silent threats. He wasn't sure how, but every officer in the room seemed subdued, their expressions grim. A storm was coming.
"Walkers!" Her voice exploded across the space. It wasn't just loud—it was sharp, violent, tearing through the atmosphere like broken glass. Vikram winced. His ears rang with an insectile buzzing, as if a million bees had been loosed in his skull.
So much for the soft and gentle voice described in those silly novels.
"You all," she began, sweeping her hand from one end of the room to the other with a soldier's precision, "have earned the right to life."
She walked slowly across the stage, hands clasped behind her back. "But now, a new trial rears its head. One that asks a question even deeper than worth. It asks: does your existence matter?"
Something stirred inside Vikram. His blood hummed. If he had been in his [Barbarian] form, he might've leapt up and roared just to answer that challenge. But he wasn't.
Thank the gods I'm not in that hunk of meat right now.
"The upcoming trial is simple!" the Lady barked. "You enter the Axis. You anchor your existence to a planet. And then you bug the hell out of there!"
She smiled.
Vikram smiled too.
That didn't sound too bad.
But then someone raised their hand.
A student—sharp beard, pierced ear and nose, standing as if the crushing aura didn't exist. Vikram squinted. There was something eerily familiar about him, though he couldn't quite place it.
And that beard... seriously? Why the hell does everyone here have majestic facial hair, and I'm stuck looking like a boiled egg?
His envy flared, but he pushed it down.
The student spoke with maddening calm. "General, may I ask a question?"
The Lady General raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "Speak."
"What if I don't want to?"
The room stiffened.
The Lady blinked once—then laughed. A deep, rich, bellowing laugh that felt out of place in the tense atmosphere. "Absolutely no problem. No one is forcing you into the trial."
A wave of whispers spread across the room. Dozens of youths looked at one another and visibly relaxed.
Come on, Vikram thought, give me that 'but.' There's always a but.
"But," she said with a smile that held no warmth, "make sure you say your goodbyes. Confess your secrets. Because if you do not anchor your existence to the Axis... you will cease to exist."
The hall went silent. Completely, deathly silent.
"You will not be killed. You will not be hunted. No executioner will come. But you will fade. Slowly, painfully. Until even your own mother forgets your name. Your will shall erode, your soul will weaken, and then... only then, will death take you. Not violently. Not dramatically. Just quietly."
A silence heavier than before settled in.
When did they change the definitions of cruelty and pain? Vikram thought bitterly.
He heard a few students gulp audibly. He didn't blame them. Even the concept of being forgotten—of not mattering, ever—was enough to hollow out your insides.
He didn't want that.
He wanted to be relevant. He wanted to matter.
Then, he caught the same student from earlier mouthing something silently. His hand slowly lowered. Vikram didn't know what gave the man such calm, such confidence. But he admired it.
The General's voice rose again. "Those who wish to die, step aside. No one will stop you."
She paused.
"But those who wish to live—those who wish to matter—stay!"
Her voice hit a crescendo that shook the air itself.
"What do you want to do!?" she bellowed.
A thousand young voices roared back in unison. "We want to stay!"
Vikram flinched at the sudden wave of sound, stumbling backward. He bumped into someone. Turning, he found Jay, bowing repeatedly, face drenched in sweat.
"Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you!" Jay was panicking.
Vikram grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. "It's okay," he said firmly. And he meant it. But as he looked into Jay's anxious eyes, he couldn't help but wonder how someone this gentle had survived the first trial at all.
As the crowd thinned and officers began organizing the youths, Vikram kept his eye on Jay. The first real friend he'd made here.
The Lady General gave her final command, her voice calm again but no less sharp. "You have one month to prepare. The officers will support you as much as they can. Do what you must. Prepare for the trial."
Her eyes swept over the crowd one last time.
"Because you will need it."
She turned.
"Disperse."
And just like that, the hall broke into chaotic motion. But Vikram remained still for a moment longer, eyes fixed forward, his heart beating like war drums in his chest.
He wasn't going to be forgotten.
He would make damn sure of that.