The dorms were cold in a way that crept into your bones—a quiet, creeping cold that reminded Xilo of the hospital waiting room where he'd last seen his brother. The same kind of stillness that left you unsure if you were supposed to sit, wait, or run. sterile, metallic chill that matched the hum of recycled air and steel walls. But the new uniform helped. It was warmer than it looked, and oddly comforting, like being wrapped in a symbol of something hard-earned. It made Xilo feel like maybe he belonged, even if just barely.
Xilo tugged at the grey-and-red collar, still not used to how the Koru fabric flexed and tightened around the shoulders. The coat lining shimmered faintly under the sterile light, the white trim catching on the edge of his bunk's metallic frame. Unlike the red-striped Koru students, the other divisions had their own distinct uniforms. Ascent division's uniform, for example, stood out—black, gold, and white—signaling that anyone wearing it was considered above average, and everyone could see it.
The encrypted tablet blinked with a new message. He opened it and reviewed his schedule, his eyes scanning the list with a mix of curiosity and rising apprehension. Every line felt heavier than the last—like each subject was another step into something he still didn't fully understand. The names were familiar, but the weight behind them wasn't. This wasn't just school—it was training to survive. To change.
06:00 – Conditioning (Sector Deck 4)
08:00 – Tactical Analysis
10:00 – Alien Systems History
12:00 – Midday Meal
13:00 – Combat Lab Rotation (Energy Signatures & Improvisation – Instructor Eli Ward)
16:00 – Core Recovery & Debrief
He scanned it again before setting it down. Then, finally, he opened the letter draft to his dad. The interface had saved it from before the test. Reading it now, he felt like someone else had written it.
Hey Dad,
I made it through something called the Internal Crossing. It's hard to explain, but it was like facing every part of yourself you try to avoid. Somehow, I passed.
They placed me in the Koru division. It's the standard combat track, nothing rare or flashy. But honestly, I'm okay with that. I think I need something solid right now—something to ground me while I figure the rest out.
The classes sound intense: combat drills, alien systems, and some kind of energy signature training. It's like they want to break us down and build us back up into something else. I'm not sure what that is yet, but I want to find out.
You always said surviving was one thing, but becoming more was the real challenge. I think I'm beginning to understand what you meant.
Hope your routes are safer this cycle.
I know it's only twice a year we get to say anything, so I'll make this count. I've been visiting Zai when I can. He's still stable—no changes. I sit by him, talk to him, remind him of the overlook trail. I promised him we'll go back there one day—the three of us. I don't know how or when, but I'll make sure it happens.
I'm sorry I couldn't do more that day. Sorry I didn't stop it sooner. But I'm going to make up for it. You don't have to worry about him. I've got him until you're back.
– Xilo
He read over it again, then tapped SEND. The tablet pulsed softly.
A loud metallic hiss broke the silence.
The dorm door opened.
Xilo sat up straighter, blinking. A boy stepped inside, hauling a duffel over one shoulder, eyes scanning the room like he already owned it. He wore a Koru badge on his chest but didn't look particularly disciplined.
"Yo," the boy said. "Guess I'm your roommate. Name's Bren."
Xilo nodded. "Xilo."
Bren dropped the duffel with a thud, then tossed a half-eaten protein bar onto his bunk.
Bren smirked, then straightened slightly, his tone shifting into something more authoritative. "Anyway. Since you're bunking in here, you fall under my wing now. That's just how it goes."
Xilo raised an eyebrow. "Appreciate the thought," he said evenly, "but I can handle my own."
Bren looked at him for a long second, then gave a single, slow nod. "Alright. Respect. We'll see how you hold up in the first round of drills."
Xilo smirked. "You'll see."
Bren cracked a small grin. "Cool. Just don't snore, and we'll get along fine."
Xilo chuckled. "Same to you."
Meanwhile, deep in a cloaked facility beneath the old metro lines, NGN had gathered.
Glitch and Solin sat at opposite ends of the room, low voices exchanging sharp points over protocol and risk.
"I'm saying you're treating this like a clean op," Solin said, her arms folded tightly. "It's not. He's a kid. Not one of our gadgets."
Glitch didn't flinch. "And if we treat him like a kid, we lose the edge. He activated something alien and lived. We don't get to ignore that."
The door hissed open mid-sentence, interrupting the brewing argument.
Echo stepped in, brushing dust from his shoulder, gear slung loose, and looking far too casual for someone just off a long mission. There was a shadow of fatigue beneath the grin, the kind of tired that only showed if you knew what to look for.
"Well, miss me?" he said, already smirking.
Boomslang perked up from her seat. "Only if you let me hit you this time."
Echo raised a brow, not even slowing his stride. "And here I thought you'd learned how to flirt."
Boomslang stood, cracking her neck. "C'mon, Echo. Let's go. Right now. Just you and me—see if that fake charming smile helps you dodge a roundhouse."
"You really think I'm gonna spar someone whose love language is permanent damage?" Echo said, sidestepping her advance.
"That attitude is why no one gives you a second look," he added with a wink. "That and the raging aggression."
Boomslang lunged. Echo danced back. "You're fast," he said, "but not 'break-my-haircut' fast."
Veil entered behind them, clearing his throat with precision. The moment cooled.
Glitch nodded, sitting forward.
"Echo's in. System's patched," he said. "As far as the academy's concerned, Eli Ward has been on payroll as a rotating combat specialist for two years. I even buried a few performance reviews and training logs to back it up. No one's asking questions."
Veil looked over at Echo. "You're covered?"
Echo smirked. "Like I was born here."
—
Earlier, in the lower tech bay, before the meeting...
Echo stood with one boot braced on the edge of a wiring console, watching Glitch's hands blur across the projection keys.
"Eli Ward?" Echo asked, arms crossed.
"Plain enough to be boring, and clean enough to slide under admin radar," Glitch muttered. "You'll teach Energy Signatures and Combat Improv. Your profile's got clearance badges, references from a non-existent outpost school, and three performance awards—because I'm generous."
"Anything flashy?" Echo asked.
"Nope. That's the point. You're a ghost with a pension."
Echo grinned. "I always wanted a boring life."
Glitch raised an eyebrow. "You're not getting one. Just a convincing paper trail."
—
"Status reports," Veil said, voice steady, pulling the room back into focus.
Solin gave Boomslang a glance, who was still glaring at Echo. "Could've made him a janitor."
"Where's the flair in that?" Glitch replied.
Veil nodded once. "You're embedded. Use your time wisely. If anything drifts, you let us know."
Echo gave a lazy salute. "Understood. Let the fun begin."
The next morning came fast.
Conditioning hit hard. Sector Deck 4 smelled like sweat and steel. Instructors barked drills as cadets pushed through obstacle courses, climbed walls that shifted shape, and carried weighted packs across suspended bridges. By the end, Xilo's muscles burned and his lungs scraped with recycled air.
Tactical Analysis at 08:00 was less physical but no less grueling. They sat in a staggered chamber filled with holo-maps and scenario projections. Every question from the instructor demanded more than answers—it demanded instinct, logic, and pattern recognition. Xilo held his own.
At 10:00, Alien Systems History dragged compared to the earlier classes. But Xilo found himself unexpectedly drawn in as they reviewed pre- and post-contact tech. Ancient Earth tools compared to hybrid systems left behind by early alien visitors. The lecture hinted at more—systems no one fully understood yet.
Lunch came and went. The meal was efficient, high-protein, low-flavor. Just fuel.
Then 13:00 arrived.
Combat Lab Rotation.
Xilo paused outside the training chamber, wiping his hands on his uniform out of habit. His stomach fluttered—not from nerves, exactly, but a sense that something unfamiliar waited behind the door. Something important. He inhaled, then stepped inside.
He stepped into the training chamber where the energy signature and improvisation specialist would take over. Students buzzed with chatter, still unsure what to expect.
Instructor Venn stood at the front, flanked by someone new.
"This is Eli Ward," she said. "He'll be joining staff as specialist in Energy Signatures and Combat Improv."
Echo—now Eli—grinned at the group, eyes settling just a second longer on Xilo. Something in that extra moment stirred a flicker of recognition in Xilo—faint, like a memory trying to surface. It left him uneasy, as if this stranger already knew something about him he hadn't figured out himself.
Xilo's brow furrowed.
I've seen you before.
Somewhere deeper than memory, something answered.
Yes.
Eli stepped forward, posture easy, voice carrying just the right tone between charm and certainty.
"I'm not here to impress you," he said. "I'm here because I believe one of you might change the world—and the rest of you, if you're lucky, will survive being around them when they do. My job isn't to make you stronger. It's to make sure that when the unknown knocks, you don't flinch."
He scanned the students again.
"Most of you will break before you bend—but some of you will learn to flex and fight back. Some of you will bend and learn. But one of you—maybe just one—will reach beyond what you were told you could be."
His eyes met Xilo's again.
"That's who I came to find."
Eli stepped forward, clapping his hands once. "Listen, I know how it looks. Some of you feel stuck. Like this place sees you as just a bunch of low-rank cadets, here to be broken down and reshaped. But I see something else."
He paced slowly, his voice carrying with ease. "I see untapped potential. Not tools, not drones. Fighters. Learners. The ones who'll protect the future because you had to earn every inch of it."
Students straightened. A few exchanged glances. Even the ones slouching shifted forward slightly, their postures lifted by Eli's conviction.
"You've got more grit than you know. And I'm here to make sure it gets used—not wasted."
His gaze passed across the group, lingering with a knowing smile on Xilo.
"Welcome to the battlefield."