Darius stowed the Guardians’ Netacts in its case, pocketed his old phone, and checked the time: 5:55 PM. Just in time for Wendigo’s lesson, though he’d need to be cautious about using the outdated phone in public. He closed his eyes, picturing the dojo’s serene, tech-laden interior, and folded the space around him. The familiar tension of the tunnel took hold, and with a rush of release, he was standing at the dojo’s center, surrounded by quiet stillness. Before he could so much as exhale—
“You’re late, kid,” Wendigo’s voice cut through the air like gravel. Darius spun to find him barging through the sole entrance to the Dojo, smirking. “Expected you four hours ago. Guess you’re not perpetually early”
“How’d you know I was here?” Darius couldn’t help asking, curiosity about detection systems sparking.
“Dropped the teleportation inhibitor when I got here twenty minutes back,” Wendigo replied with a raised brow, his tone mocking as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “Then I programmed the sensors to ping me when you finally showed.”
Teleportation inhibitors. A chill ran through Darius. “What are those? Could they actually block me?”
Wendigo’s expression darkened slightly. “Rare and pricey. Only set up in high-security zones or to lock down seriously dangerous folks. Count yourself lucky you probably won’t see one outside of a government base. But enough questions,” he added, straightening up. “We’ve got a mountain to climb if you’re going to make it through this job.”
Wendigo’s Netacts blinked, and with a low hum, a dense, dark metal cube about a meter tall materialized in front of Darius, landing with a bone-rattling thud.
“This is your starter piece,” Wendigo said, crossing his arms. “Once you can handle this, we’ll work up to bigger loads. Time to see if you’ve got the juice for moving something… substantial.”
Darius leaned over, placing his hand on the cube. It was cold and immovable. “Where did that even come from?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.
“Spatial storage. I can stow items up to a certain limit and bring them out as needed,” Wendigo said nonchalantly, like it was no more than a party trick. “This beauty here? Hollowed aluminum, 200 kilos easy. And if you can move it, people should be no problem—at least from an energy standpoint. But moving multiple objects? That’s a different beast altogether.”
Spatial storage? Darius could hardly believe it; he thought that sort of thing only existed in RPGs and sci-fi. His hand lingered on the cool metal as he made a mental note to ask Wendigo about it later.
“Any tips on actually moving this thing?” he asked, still a little in awe of the cube.
Wendigo’s mouth twisted into a half-smile. “Yeah. Do it soon so we’re not here all night.”
Darius rolled his eyes and braced himself, focusing on the task at hand. He folded the space between the cube and a spot across the room, aligning the two points until they nearly touched. As he tunneled the last bit, a massive surge of energy roared through him, and he pushed the cube through with sheer mental force.
CRACK. His skull pounded with sharp, relentless pain. His vision dimmed, and he crumpled to the floor, clutching his head as waves of nausea hit.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Wendigo chuckled, his voice barely registering through the ringing in Darius’s ears. “You actually moved it! That was solid tungsten—nearly 20 tons. Not exactly a light load for a rookie teleporter.”
Darius spat out a few choice words, forcing himself to keep his head up as his vision slowly came back. “You said it was 200 kilos! Why does my head feel like I just smashed it into a concrete wall?”
“Kid, that was 20 tons, and your technique stinks like last month’s fish market,” Wendigo said with a smirk, clearly savoring Darius’s reaction. “I wanted you to see what it’s like when you push your limit. Most newbies can’t budge a ton on their first day, let alone with ‘technique’ like that. Figured you’d hit a wall on that one.”
Darius groaned, sinking deeper into the floor, Wendigo’s laughter echoing in his ears. The initial pain dulled to a bone-deep exhaustion, every muscle and nerve weighed down. “Well, I think that screwed the rest of the session.”
“Fat chance,” Wendigo said, tossing him a small bottle of that thick orange drink. Darius caught it, downing the bitter, syrupy liquid in one gulp as strength crept back into his limbs, the ache receding.
“That cube was the last of the heavy stuff. The rest? Purely technique-focused from here on out,” Wendigo said, grinning in a way that made Darius wonder if he was in for something even more challenging than he’d just endured.
“Can’t wait,” Darius muttered, draining the bottle, feeling the strange, invigorating liquid push the worst of his exhaustion into the recesses of his mind. It was still there, a dull ache at the edges, but his muscles felt lighter, his senses sharper.
“Alright, let’s start small.” Wendigo’s voice carried a tone of expectation as two mannequins materialized before him, seemingly out of thin air, landing with a faint metallic clink. “Meet your teammates today.” He gestured at the lifeless figures. “You’re going to teleport them to the other side of the room and then back. Getting them there? That shouldn’t be an issue. Getting them back without touching? Now that’s the tricky part.”
Darius pushed himself up, the pulsing ache in his head stubbornly clinging on. Wendigo’s expression was all business, his stance unwavering, shoulders filling the worn leather jacket like he’d been born in it. He was a rock, the kind of presence that made it clear he’d seen it all before and expected Darius to keep up. Darius shook his head slightly, grounding himself, and reached out, hands resting on each mannequin as he visualized the distance between them and the other side of the room.
He folded the space with relative ease, a quiet confidence building as he mentally reached across the room. In a flash, the mannequins reappeared across the room. It took some energy but far less than before, and Darius couldn’t hide a faint grin as he looked back to Wendigo.
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“Don’t look too pleased with yourself, kid,” Wendigo chided, his mouth tugging into a half-smile as he watched Darius’s reaction. “All you did was teleport two dolls. The real challenge? Getting them back without laying a finger on ‘em. No grabbing.” He waggled his fingers theatrically, feigning a mischievous grin. “It’s the same process as before—just don’t psych yourself out.”
Darius took a deep breath, focusing his mind. The abstract shapes he’d been bending and folding were more familiar now, the edges sharper, the dimensions less alien. He closed his eyes, tuning in to the intricate geometry he needed. There it was—the almost imperceptible line that would overlay one space onto another. His concentration narrowed as he pulled the two spaces close, so close that they nearly overlapped. It was like threading a needle through invisible fabric. He didn’t even need the tunnel; instead, he pushed past the slight imperfections, the faint resistance, and with a surge of mental focus, pulled the mannequins back across the room.
The process left him winded, a heavier toll than he expected. His brow creased in frustration, feeling the drain of it keenly. Wendigo’s voice broke the silence, as if sensing the frustration bubbling within him.
“That, kid, was the best teleport you’ve done yet,” Wendigo said, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic edge of approval. “I get it—you’re probably wondering why it left you wiped when you’ve moved way heavier stuff with less effort. But here’s the thing: we’re so used to progress feeling easy that when something’s harder, we doubt its value.”
He leaned in slightly, his gaze intense, weighing his words. “What you just did? That was control. The ceiling for that method, once you get it down? Infinitely higher than that hack-job, space-ripping trick of yours.”
Darius met his gaze, the words sinking in as he absorbed what it meant to tap into this new level of precision. For the first time, he felt the true depth of what he’d begun to unlock. And for a fleeting second, he caught a glimpse of Wendigo’s approval before it faded, replaced by that familiar, tough-as-nails look.
“We need to work on your teleport speed now,” Wendigo said, his gaze steady but unyielding, “I’m impressed at how quickly you figured out teleporting something you weren’t even touching. That usually takes a lot longer for most newbies. But listen, kid—you’re taking nearly a minute on every teleport. Sometimes longer. That won’t cut it in the field, and you know it. When things get rough, you need to be able to teleport anything within a heartbeat.” He paused, as if considering the weight of his next words, “If you can get that aspect dialed in, I guarantee no one will look down on your power.”
Darius nodded, feeling a mixture of pride and determination. Wendigo was right; the dojo’s quiet, controlled environment was a far cry from the chaos he could face in a real-world fight. He couldn’t afford to waste precious seconds visualizing every fold and angle if he wanted to survive. Still, one concern gnawed at him.
“I get that, and I completely agree,” Darius said, shifting slightly, “but… are we going to work on combat training at all? I don’t exactly have any experience fighting, and if I end up in a brawl, I’m pretty sure I’d get my ass kicked.” He let out a small, self-conscious chuckle.
Wendigo laughed, the sound reverberating through the room. “I agree. You’d get your ass handed to you.” His smile softened slightly, though, as he added, “Right now, the best training you can get is learning how to use your powers to your advantage. That’s what’ll keep you alive. Rushing into combat? Not so much. Your advantage isn’t a fist to the face; it’s making sure you’re not even in the way of one.”
Taking this to heart but with a little disappointment, Darius focused, diving into teleportation drills with Wendigo’s guidance. For the next hour, he worked relentlessly, honing the skill of quick, instinctive teleports. Wendigo would light up different spots across the dojo, challenging him to teleport the same mannequin there with increasing speed. Sweat slicked his brow as he teleported again and again, feeling the pull of spatial energy and working to control it with finer precision. Each successful teleport left him feeling exhilarated, and he couldn’t deny—there was something incredibly satisfying about watching the mannequin flash across the room like it had a life of its own.
He managed to shave his time down to sixteen seconds—a significant improvement from the eternity he’d started with. Not lightning-fast, but better. Faster. Each teleport left him a little more winded, though, and he noticed his efficiency took a hit the quicker he tried to go.
“Good work today, kid,” Wendigo said, eyeing Darius with something akin to approval. “Let’s meet earlier tomorrow. I’ve got some time around 2 PM, so swing by then. We’ve got a lot to cover, and I’ll fill you in on the specifics of the job.” With a brisk nod, he exited the dojo, leaving Darius alone to catch his breath.
After a few deep breaths, Darius decided he was done teleporting for the day. The exhaustion was starting to creep in, and he wanted to recharge before tomorrow’s session. Returning to his hotel room, he carefully put in his Guardian Netacts, checked his phone, and rubbed his aching muscles. The walls felt closer tonight, and he realized he was craving something beyond the quiet isolation of his room.
With a determined shrug, he grabbed his jacket and decided to explore Rosedale in search of dinner, hoping the fresh air would clear his mind. The streets were bright with the lush glow of signs and storefronts. The air had a slight salty tang even so far away from the water, and he found himself drawn to the unfamiliar scents wafting from various restaurants. Most of the establishments were modern, sleek, and teeming with patrons who looked like they’d never known hardship. Holographic signs hovered above, advertising everything from seafood bars to upscale ramen shops, casting their glow on polished walkways.
As he rounded a corner, a flash of red caught his eye. Instinctively, he slowed his steps, blending into the crowd as best he could. Just across the street stood Phase. She was leaning casually against a lamppost in her crimson uniform, her eyes scanning the crowd, looking almost too relaxed. But Darius could see the sharp focus in her gaze as she assessed every passerby with quiet intensity. He hadn’t expected to see a Guardian here, much less Phase herself, and he felt a shiver of apprehension ripple down his spine.
Darius held his breath, slipping into the shadow cast by a nearby shop awning, hoping she wouldn’t notice him. She shifted slightly, her stance betraying a readiness that reminded him of a coiled spring. A Guardian on edge was never a good sign, especially in a crowded area. He watched as her gaze flitted over the crowd, her expression hardening when a suspicious-looking man passed by. Her fingers twitched, almost as if she was ready to spring into action, but she held herself back.
‘What are you doing here?’ he wondered, his mind racing. Was she on patrol? Did she know something about Dodge’s plans? The thought felt irrational, like paranoia nipping at his heels, but the memory of the disdain in her eyes as he lay in the hospital bed left him deeply uneasy. It was almost like she’d marked him in her mind, as though he were just another target she’d crush if given the chance. His pulse quickened as he felt her gaze sweep his direction, and instinct took over.
Without a second thought, he ducked into a narrow alley, a chill slithering down his spine. Just as he rounded the corner, he caught her gaze—a split-second flicker of eye contact that froze him to the core. Her eyes narrowed, a sharp suspicion flashing across her face. He knew then that he’d only drawn more attention.
Quickening his pace, Darius moved deeper into the shadowed passage, the scent of damp stone and salt lingering thick in the confined air. “Why did I act so suspicious?” he thought, anger at himself bubbling up with every step. The faint sounds of her footsteps against the pavement behind him echoed as he veered down another narrow alley, the weight of her narrowed stare still lingering in his mind.
He continued, casting nervous glances back and chiding himself, “I should have just ordered room service.” Each quiet step felt too loud, his own heartbeat pounding as he slipped around another corner, hoping she’d lose interest. But the tension coiling inside told him she wouldn’t let this go easily.