The cargo bay of the Potestas aircraft thrummed with engine noise, a low vibration that rattled the steel benches. Most of the squad dozed in their harnesses, helmets tilted forward. Near the rear bulkhead, one figure lounged with his head tipped back, eyes closed as if turbulence were a lullaby. His black hair slipped across his forehead, half-veiling a face cut sharp enough to draw attention even in a room full of killers.

  Trigger’s boots clanked down the aisle, spurs of swagger in every step. The cigarette between his teeth glowed, smoke curling lazily around the brim of his wide hat. He stopped beside the resting figure and tipped the hat back with a knuckle.

  His foot slammed beside the figure.

  WHAM!

  “Wake up, Akiren!”

  “We’re about to land!”

  Nothing. Just the steady rise and fall of breath.

  Trigger leaned closer, voice a touch harder.

  “You hear me? I said wake up—we’re touchin’ down any minute!”

  One hazel-amber eye cracked open, then closed again, dismissive. His reply was clipped, low, and knife-sharp.

  “I don’t respond to ignorance… Trigger.”

  Trigger snorted.

  “Ignorance, huh? Keep tryin’ me, Akiren—”

  Both eyes opened then—no longer hazel, but a molten crimson that bled into thin cracks of light across the sclera. The air seemed to tighten around him.

  “I told you,” he said evenly, the name falling like a challenge, “my name… is Vane.”

  Trigger took half a step back before a slow grin returned.

  “These things get me every time… but you keep pushin’, and you’re gonna find out what I got left.”

  Vane stood slowly—6’2” of lean, deliberate muscle unfolding with measured grace. Black hair with a faint crimson sheen slipped over one eye, and the high-collar sleeveless jacket framed sculpted arms built for precision, not show. His black joggers, stitched faintly with crimson, whispered against his boots as he moved. The presence he carried pressed heavy into the small bay, like the pressure before a thunderstorm. The hidden bracelet shifted faintly under the bandanna as he adjusted the knot, a silent reminder of something only he knew.

  His presence filled the bay: calm yet crushing, like a storm contained inside a single heartbeat. Crimson aura trembled faintly around him, restrained fury waiting to erupt.

  He brushed past Trigger without breaking stride.

  “We’ve already seen what you had—and you lost to the boy I’m meant to defeat. Get out of my way.”

  Trigger lit another cigarette with a flick, exhaling smoke through a crooked grin.

  “Keep talkin’ like that, and you’re gonna make me put two people on my hit list.”

  Vane paused only long enough for his voice to drift back, quiet but commanding.

  “Once I’m finished with what I was born for, you can do whatever you want. Until then—act like an agent, not a child.”

  The intercom crackled overhead—kshh.

  “Landing in five minutes.”

  Vane faced the rear hatch, crimson eyes dimming to a guarded glow.

  So close… to what I’ve waited for all this time.

  He tightened the bandanna at his wrist and stepped toward the bay’s end, the engine’s hum merging with the faint pulse of his restrained power.

  The storm was almost here.

  ?

  Far away, beneath layers of steel and silence, another kind of storm was settling.

  The antiseptic smell of the infirmary hung heavy in the air. Soft fluorescent light pooled across white tile and metal cabinets, a quiet contrast to the roar of the dome outside.

  Lior lay propped up on a cot, clean bandages wrapping his shoulder and ribs. His hands rested over the blanket, knuckles raw but steady.

  Ayasha sat nearby on a stool, arms crossed, still catching her breath. A faint sheen of sweat clung to her face.

  Cael leaned forward on the bench across from them, elbows on his knees, jaw tight.

  Ayasha broke the silence first, her voice low but edged.

  “We should’ve beaten him.”

  Cael didn’t lift his gaze from the floor.

  “One mistake… and it’s over.”

  Titan’s broad frame filled the doorway, his shadow stretching long across the room as he stepped inside. His arms folded over his chest, his presence grounding the air.

  “You’re looking at one of the most dangerous captains here,” Titan said evenly. “Kaito isn’t just skilled—he’s elite. There aren’t many who don’t run at the sight of him.”

  Lior exhaled, the words leaving him quietly.

  “That was the first time I’ve ever used both Niches together.”

  Titan’s gaze softened a fraction, but his tone stayed firm.

  “And that’s the reason you blacked out. It proves you’re not ready to synchronize them yet. If you try that in a real fight and don’t end it immediately, your body will give out—and you’ll be finished.”

  He let the warning settle a moment, then added:

  “But what you showed us out there matters. You can do it. The potential’s there. Don’t waste it.”

  Lior nodded once, determination flickering beneath his tired expression.

  Ayasha’s crossed arms loosened slightly, her posture easing.

  Cael straightened, his shoulders squaring again.

  Titan stood over them like an unmoving pillar—less a shadow now, and more a promise of what they could become.

  The medic gave Lior one last check, then nodded.

  “You’re discharged.”

  Lior slid carefully off the cot, adjusting the wraps around his ribs. Titan waited by the doorway, arms folded, steady as ever.

  “Walk it off, but don’t push it,” he said. “You’re not invincible.”

  Ayasha stepped closer, ready to lend a shoulder, but Lior waved her off with a faint grin. Cael opened the infirmary door, and the three cadets stepped into the quiet, sterile corridor. Titan lingered a moment, then turned down another hallway. The low hum of Veritas HQ swallowed the lingering echoes of the arena—distant voices, the whir of vents, boots on polished floors.

  ?

  Elsewhere in the facility, far from the bustle of med bays and training halls, a secluded office sat in near-darkness. A lone figure occupied the corner, posture deliberate, the glow of a single desk lamp outlining only part of their silhouette. A faint smile curved their lips as a comm device crackled to life.

  “Are we set for the next phase?” a filtered voice asked.

  The reply came smooth and steady—impossible to place, neither clearly male nor female.

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  “Everything is going according to plan.”

  The handset clicked softly as it was replaced, the quiet in the office settling like a held breath.

  The office lights went dark again as the comm device clicked off. The figure’s lips began to extend into a devilish smile.

  ?

  Outside that quiet room, the world snapped back to noise and light.

  The cafeteria buzzed, still electric from the match. Long tables were crammed with cadets:

  Team Titan sat near the center, Selena sliding in beside them, with Team Pulse, Team Seraph, and Team Vitalis clustered close enough for elbows to bump. Laughter, murmurs, and clattering trays filled the hall, but a nervous edge still threaded through every conversation—Kaito’s match hadn’t quite left their blood yet.

  Ayasha leaned in toward Lior, arms folded.

  “You almost had him. Those counters were insane.”

  Silverline’s smirk curved, eyes narrowing at Ayasha, as if dissecting her every move.

  “No one’s kept up with Kaito like that before. Not even close.”

  Replica nodded.

  “If you’d had ten more seconds… who knows.”

  Lior managed a weak chuckle, the bandages under his shirt pulling tight.

  “I had no chance. Once I fully engaged with him, our odds went to zero.”

  At another table, Casen sat stiff, tray untouched, gaze locked on the scene.

  My team wins, his loses… and somehow it’s still all about him.

  His fingers tightened until fine cracks spidered across his cup.

  Mirage’s side-eye was sharp.

  “Casen…”

  Sync leaned closer, voice low.

  “You’re bleeding through the cup.”

  Over by the dessert counter, Speedy loaded pies and pastries, watching with a mischievous curl of his lips.

  He’s stealing all my crushes without even trying…

  He paused—then the grin widened.

  I know how to sink his boat of confidence.

  Speedy pivoted casually, dessert plate balanced, eyes narrowing toward Lior.

  Behind Lior, Director Xun leaned in mid-step, about to speak.

  “I wanted to say—”

  A cream pie whizzed through the air toward the back of Lior’s head. Time stretched for an instant—Lior’s Slipstream flickered unconsciously. He tilted just enough for the pie to sail past—

  SPLAT!

  It caught Xun square in the face, glasses crooked, cream dripping down.

  The hall froze. Ayasha froze mid-bite. Selena’s eyes went wide.

  I’m done, Speedy thought. That’s it, Speedy… you lived a good life.

  Pie slid slowly off Xun’s cheek. Then, through the cream, a mischievous grin spread across his face.

  “They said this was students only… but no one warned me about pies.”

  Laughter cracked the tension. Xun scooped a pie from a nearby tray and slung it—

  SPLAT!

  —right into Speedy’s chest.

  “HEY!”

  Bread rolls launched like grenades, pudding cups sailed across tables, Selena ducked behind Lior’s shoulder as Ayasha pelted Team Vitalis with mashed potatoes. Even Team Vitalis joined in, laughing.

  Off to the side, Grid dozed at the end of the table, mashed potatoes sliding slowly down his hair, still oblivious.

  As the food fight wound down, Xun stood on a bench, brushing pie from his coat. His voice cut through the laughter.

  “Don’t be so serious all the time… or you’ll forget how much fun you can have.”

  ?

  Director Xun stepped out of the cafeteria, still brushing pie cream from his jacket. He casually swiped a dab from his cheek with his finger and popped it into his mouth with a small smirk.

  Down the hall, Snapback and Titan finished speaking with Hiroshi. The older man leaned on his cane, gave them a lazy wave, and ambled off.

  Snapback watched him go, grinning.

  “That man hasn’t lost a step in all these years.”

  Titan noticed Xun and gave a small nod.

  “Director Xun.”

  Xun waved off the formality, still rubbing at a stubborn smear on his collar.

  “Stop with the formalities. We’ve known each other far too long for your greetings to change.”

  Titan’s lips curved into the faintest smirk.

  “You always said change comes with status.”

  Xun chuckled, licking a bit of cream from his finger.

  “And you used to tell me power is everything. But now I hear you teaching Lior and the others the way Echo preached. Makes me wonder… is that who you are now, or just the influence of being around Echo’s boy?”

  He grinned as he turned to leave.

  “Guess even us old dogs can learn a few new tricks.”

  As Xun walked away, his voice drifted back over his shoulder, casual and warm.

  “See you around, Titan.”

  Titan watched him go, the faint smirk still on his face—no tension, just quiet amusement.

  Snapback leaned closer, balancing a plate in one hand.

  “I’m too young for these old man conversations.”

  The two captains shared a short laugh and started down the hall in the opposite direction, their banter already shifting to lighter things as the cafeteria noise faded behind them.

  ?

  The directors’ chamber glowed under recessed lights, holo-screens flickering with world maps and security feeds. The Veritas directors sat in a loose semicircle around President Seraphina Kaelen. The atmosphere was heavy—the assassination weighed on every face.

  Seraphina’s calm voice cut the silence.

  “Do you have any ideas on where we should go with the assassination?”

  The doors hissed open. Xun Ren stepped in, silver eyes unreadable.

  “I agree with your earlier take,” he said evenly, striding to his seat. “We shouldn’t make any moves until we know more. My opinion: a second stealth mission to gather intel—what was seen, anything strange, details we missed.”

  Seraphina nodded once.

  “Before the trial concludes?”

  Xun’s gaze swept the table.

  “Let the tournament finish first. It’ll buy us time to collect more than what we have now.”

  Director Selan leaned back, arms crossed.

  “Why are we diving into this so fast? Let the world leaders figure it out, and act after that.”

  Xun didn’t hesitate.

  “Because if we wait that long—and it is Potestas—we’d be weeks behind them.”

  Director Elira arched a brow toward Selan.

  “Why are you so sure it wasn’t Potestas, Selan? You seem convinced.”

  Selan’s lips thinned.

  “I just don’t want to make a move that turns out to be a setup.”

  Elira allowed a faint smirk.

  “That’s a first. Usually you’re head-first into action.”

  Seraphina’s voice sharpened just enough to end it.

  “That’s enough. I’ll mull this over and give you my answer tomorrow. Meeting adjourned.”

  Chairs scraped softly as the directors filed out. Selan was the first to leave, a small, knowing smirk on his face.

  Xun waited until the others passed, then stepped beside him in the hall. His voice was low, almost conversational.

  “Whatever you’re hiding… I will find out. Don’t get comfortable.”

  Selan’s smirk faltered.

  “Just because I disagree with you doesn’t mean I’m hiding something.”

  Xun’s silver eyes glinted faintly.

  “The fact that the overconfident Selan ‘Widow’ Myros feels the need to defend himself… says otherwise.”

  He walked away without another word. Behind him, Selan’s fist tightened at his side.

  ?

  The corridors of HQ fell silent after their departure. Outside the conference wing, Veritas grounds stretched beneath a settling dusk. Laughter from cadets drifted faintly through the windows—a stark contrast to the tension inside.

  A voice—not spoken aloud, but a weighty, omniscient tone that could have belonged to the world itself—seemed to thread through the next moments.

  They laugh. They train. They believe tomorrow will be just like today.

  Beyond the glass, younger cadets chased each other across the training yard, their shoes thudding lightly against the track. Some mock-sparred with wooden batons; others tossed a ball, their cheers cutting through the cooling air.

  They see rivals, friends, mentors… but not the storm that brews beyond their sight.

  Across the walkways between dormitories, small groups strolled shoulder-to-shoulder, earphones shared, snacks passed hand-to-hand. The sky blushed with streaks of sunset gold.

  They think they know who stands beside them…

  Behind closed doors, captains moved in their quarters. Null wrote quietly in a leather-bound journal. Kaito polished his weapon with deliberate care. A Snapback leaned against a window, reading under the warm glow of lamplight.

  …and they trust those who lead them.

  Gale eyed a group of cadets with cold eyes and straight face as she listened—but her eyes also carried a distance none of them noticed.

  But trust is a fragile thing.

  In the courtyard, some teams laughed together—Seraph, Titan, Vitalis, Snapback. Others remained apart—Edge, Null, Ironclad—keeping their corners. A faint breeze whispered through the open square.

  One day, the friend at your table… may be the hand that strikes you down.

  Lior lingered at the courtyard’s edge, watching the others. Overhead, a distant rumble rolled through unseen clouds, but he didn’t react.

  Far above the dome, in the shrouded sky, a faint red flicker pulsed once and vanished.

  Miles away, over stormy waters, a towering weather machine turned its turbine blades with a low, endless hum. A lone figure stood on a high platform, coat whipping violently in the wind, head tilted as if sensing something distant.

  Your enemies are not all in front of you.

  Crimson eyes burned in the dark as lightning fractured the horizon.

  Some wait… beyond the horizon.

  Back at Veritas HQ, in a shadowed office, a figure watched through a narrow window as cadets milled below—unaware.

  The pieces are moving. The board is set.

  A group of trainees passed through the corridor beneath, faces obscured by shadow—save for the faint glimmer of Niche-lit eyes from one among them.

  They have no idea… who walks among them.

  The glow lingered in the darkness, silent and steady.

  End of Volume 3