The morning light streamed through the narrow dormitory window, painting streaks of gold across the room. My body protested as I pushed myself up, soreness radiating from every muscle. Despite the ache, a peculiar calmness settled in me—a sense of clarity I hadn’t felt in a while. Last night’s conversation with Gwen lingered in my mind like the last notes of a haunting melody.

Gwyneira.

The name was as delicate as its owner. It felt strange, almost surreal, to think of Lorian—no, Gwen—as someone other than the quick-witted, scrappy partner I’d come to rely on. But now, I understood why there was always something different about her, something that set her apart from the rest. And that truth was a weight she had carried alone for far too long.

I glanced over at her bed across the room. It was empty, though the faint creases on the sheets told me she hadn’t been up for long. Even now, she moved quietly, as though guarding the secret she had trusted me with. A part of me felt honored, but another part felt the enormity of her trust. Knowing what I knew now wasn’t just a privilege—it was a responsibility.

Pulling on my uniform, I tried to ignore the persistent ache in my side. The Thorny Armadillo’s claws had left their mark, but thanks to the academy medics, I’d survived. We both had. A fact that still felt like a small victory against the chaos Derren and his clique had tried to unleash.

As I tightened the clasps of my jacket, I found myself wondering how long Gwen had been hiding her identity, keeping the truth locked away even as the academy pushed us all to our limits. I’d always thought I had seen the full extent of her strength. Now, I realized that her strength went far deeper than her agility or skill with a blade.

“Morning.” Her voice broke my thoughts.

I turned to see her standing in the doorway, her hair slightly damp, a towel slung over her shoulder. She was dressed in the academy's uniform, and though the jacket and trousers still gave her a masculine appearance, the way she carried herself was subtly different now. Or maybe it was just me noticing.

“Morning,” I replied, trying to keep my tone casual.

For a moment, we stood in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. It wasn’t awkward—at least, not entirely. But there was a shift, something neither of us could ignore.

“Sleep well?” she asked, her expression unreadable.

“Well enough,” I said, shrugging slightly. “You?”

She gave a small nod, her gaze flicking to the window. “Better than I expected.”

I hesitated, then took a step closer. “Gwen…” Her name felt unfamiliar on my tongue, but it also felt right. She turned to me, her eyes widening slightly. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Her lips parted as if she was about to say something, but instead, she simply smiled—a small, genuine smile that felt like an unspoken promise.

“I don’t think I had much of a choice,” she said lightly, though her voice carried an undercurrent of vulnerability. “You’ve got a way of getting under people’s defenses, Illiad.”

The corners of my mouth lifted. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no heat behind it. “You would.”

Another pause settled between us, but this time, it felt more comfortable. Gwen adjusted the cuffs of her jacket, her movements steady and deliberate.

“I’m still figuring things out,” she admitted quietly. “How to… balance all of this. But I’m glad you know. I think I needed someone to know.”

I nodded, understanding that her words carried more weight than she was letting on. “You don’t have to face it alone anymore,” I said firmly. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Her gaze met mine, and for a moment, I saw something shift in her expression—relief, maybe, or gratitude. Then, with a deep breath, she straightened.

“We should get going,” she said, her voice taking on its usual brisk tone. “No sense in being late for training.”

I smirked. “Race you there?”

For the first time that morning, she laughed—a sound that felt like the first crack of sunlight after a storm. “You’re on.”

As we stepped out of the dormitory, I couldn’t help but feel that something fundamental had changed. Not just between us, but within me. Knowing Gwen’s truth hadn’t just deepened our bond—it had given me a new sense of purpose.

For her, for my family, and for the future I sought to build, I had to keep moving forward. Together, we would face whatever the academy, or the world, threw our way.

**

Training Resumes

The courtyard buzzed with energy as the cadets gathered, the crisp morning air charged with the sharp edge of competition. Despite the stiffness in my side and the faint ache in my limbs, I felt a strange sense of determination. Today wasn’t just another day of training; it was a chance to reaffirm my place here, to show that nothing—not beasts, injuries, or scheming classmates—would keep me down.

Standing amidst the rows of students, I glanced at Gwen, who was adjusting the straps of her training gear. She seemed composed, her usual confident demeanor firmly in place, but I caught the slight furrow of her brow and the way her hands lingered a little too long on her belt. Despite the walls she kept up, I could tell she was just as focused as I was on proving herself today.

Lieutenant Garven stepped forward, his commanding presence silencing the low hum of chatter around us. His sharp eyes scanned the group, lingering for a moment on me and Gwen before moving on.

“Cadets,” he began, his voice cutting through the air, “today’s exercises will test your endurance and adaptability. After recent events, it’s become clear that some of you need a stark reminder of the unpredictability of combat.” His gaze swept over us again, and I could have sworn it lingered on Derren’s usual group, now conspicuously absent.

“Pair off. You’ll be navigating obstacle courses designed to mimic unpredictable terrain, followed by sparring matches. And remember—victory isn’t just about brute strength. Strategy, discipline, and composure will always win the day.”

As the group began to break into pairs, Gwen moved to stand beside me without hesitation. Her posture was casual, but the glint in her eye told me she was ready for whatever came our way.

“You up for this?” she asked, her tone teasing but her expression serious.

“Always,” I replied, cracking my knuckles for emphasis. “Question is, can you keep up?”

Her smirk widened. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today.”

We stepped into the first challenge: a maze of wooden barriers and uneven ground that forced us to climb, crawl, and sprint in quick succession. The course wasn’t just physically demanding—it was a mental game, designed to disorient and test teamwork.

“Left,” Gwen called, her voice steady as she pointed out a narrow gap between two barriers.

I nodded, following her lead as we maneuvered through the twists and turns. My body screamed in protest as I scaled a particularly high wall, but I pushed the pain aside, focusing instead on matching Gwen’s pace. Despite her smaller frame, she moved with a speed and precision that left little room for error.

“You’ve done this before,” I said, half-joking, as we dropped down into a trench.

She flashed a grin over her shoulder. “I told you—I’m good at adapting.”

The next section was a grueling climb up a steep incline covered in loose gravel. Gwen went first, her movements deliberate and measured, while I stayed close behind, bracing myself with each step.

“Almost there,” she said, extending a hand as we reached the top.

I took it without hesitation, her grip surprisingly strong as she hauled me the last few inches.

“Thanks,” I said, panting slightly.

“Don’t mention it.”

The sparring portion came next, and this was where things got more intense. Garven’s sharp whistle signaled the start, and I found myself paired with a particularly aggressive cadet whose broad shoulders and heavy strikes reminded me of Derren.

Focus. Anticipate. Counter.

I replayed those words in my mind, ducking under a swing and retaliating with a quick jab to his ribs. He stumbled but recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing in frustration.

“You’ve got guts, commoner,” he sneered, his voice low enough that the instructors wouldn’t hear.

“And you’ve got terrible footwork,” I shot back, sidestepping his next attack.

I could feel Gwen’s eyes on me from where she was sparring against another cadet. Her movements were a blur of speed and precision, and I couldn’t help but admire how she turned her opponent’s strength against them with calculated ease.

By the time the sparring matches ended, my body felt like it had been through the wringer, but there was a deep sense of satisfaction in knowing I’d held my own.

“Not bad,” Gwen said as we regrouped, her forehead glistening with sweat but her grin as sharp as ever.

“Speak for yourself,” I replied, rolling my shoulder to ease the tension. “You made it look easy.”

She laughed, a sound that felt lighter than usual, as though the weight of her secret had lifted just enough to let her breathe.

As we lined up for the final assessment, I caught Lieutenant Garven’s approving nod. Despite everything we’d been through, today felt like a step forward—not just in training, but in proving that we weren’t defined by our pasts or the obstacles thrown in our path.

**

Confrontation with Authority

I didn’t expect to be summoned. After the grueling training session, all I wanted was to collapse in my dorm room and let the soreness fade. But when Lieutenant Garven’s aide approached me with a curt, “You’re to report to the strategy room immediately,” I knew rest would have to wait.

The strategy room was tucked away on the academy’s west wing, a space reserved for high-level discussions and tactical debriefings. Its heavy oak door loomed ahead, and as I stepped inside, the faint smell of parchment and ink filled the air. The room was dimly lit, the glow of a single lantern casting shadows across the ornate map spread across the central table.

Garven stood near the far end, his arms crossed and his gaze sharp. Beside him was Master Fennor, his ever-present smirk etched into his face like a permanent scar. Seeing them together was unsettling; one radiated disciplined authority, the other a calculated cunning that set my teeth on edge.

“Cadet Illiad,” Garven began, his voice firm but not unkind. “You’ve been called here for clarification regarding recent events.”

I nodded, stepping forward to stand at attention. “Sir.”

“Your performance during the field training has garnered attention,” he continued, his gaze steady. “But there are concerns about the altercation with Cadet Derren and his group, as well as the unexpected presence of a D-ranked beast in the cleared area. We need to understand exactly what transpired.”

I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing. Garven was fair, I knew that much, but Fennor’s presence complicated things. The man’s eyes bore into me like he was waiting for a slip, any sign of weakness he could exploit.

“Sir,” I began carefully, recounting the events with as much detail as I could without exaggeration or omission. I described the stalking, the ambush, and Derren’s use of the red powder. I made sure to emphasize the chaos it caused, culminating in the Thorny Armadillo’s arrival and the fight that followed.

Garven listened intently, his expression unreadable. Fennor, however, chuckled quietly as I described the beast’s rampage.

“An impressive tale,” Fennor said, his tone dripping with mockery. “But tell me, Cadet Illiad—how is it that a commoner like yourself managed to fend off a creature that even seasoned soldiers struggle with? Surely you’re not suggesting you’re that… gifted.”

His words were a thinly veiled accusation, and I felt my hands clench at my sides.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Cadet Illiad has shown remarkable aptitude,” Garven interjected before I could respond, his tone firm enough to silence Fennor’s smirk. “His use of tactics and aura-based combat has been noted in his records. However,” Garven turned to me, “it’s a fair question. You sustained significant injuries. Was there a specific strategy you employed to take down the creature?”

I exhaled, forcing myself to focus. “Yes, sir. I exploited its slower movements and aimed for its exposed underbelly when it lunged. I also coordinated with my partner, Cadet Lorian, who distracted the beast at critical moments. Without that teamwork, we wouldn’t have succeeded.”

“Teamwork,” Fennor mused, his smirk widening. “A convenient explanation. And yet, Cadet Lorian seemed just as battered as you by the end of it. Tell me, is this supposed ‘teamwork’ why you two were found nearly unconscious and bleeding out? Or was it reckless overconfidence?”

The jab stung, but I refused to let him see it. “We did what was necessary to survive,” I replied evenly. “And we succeeded.”

Garven nodded, his gaze flicking to Fennor. “Regardless of intent, the outcome speaks for itself. The cadets faced a dangerous situation and adapted. However, the presence of the red powder—and its implications—cannot be ignored.”

Fennor’s expression darkened just slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. “Unfortunate, indeed,” he said, his tone suddenly measured. “But without concrete evidence tying any cadet—or faculty member—to its use, this matter risks devolving into baseless accusations.”

Garven’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. The tension in the room was palpable.

“Permission to speak freely, sir,” I said, breaking the silence.

Garven gave a slight nod, and I continued, my voice steady. “The red powder may be untraceable, but Derren and his group were directly involved. They even admitted it which is the reason why they were expelled. And their torn uniforms near the scene suggest they fled in a panic after the incident. I don’t believe their actions were coincidental, and I’m willing to testify to that effect.”

Fennor’s smirk returned, but it felt forced. “Testimonies are valuable, of course, but they are still just words. Facts, Cadet. That’s what we deal in here.”

“Enough,” Garven said, his voice cutting through the tension. “The investigation is ongoing, and I’ll ensure all angles are covered. Cadet Illiad, you’re dismissed. Return to your training.”

I saluted and turned to leave, but not before catching the briefest glance from Fennor—a mix of amusement and something colder, more calculated.

As I stepped back into the courtyard, the weight of the confrontation lingered. It was clear now that this wasn’t just about Derren or his clique. There were larger forces at play, and I needed to stay sharp.

“Everything okay?” Gwen’s voice pulled me from my thoughts as she approached, her brow furrowed with concern.

“For now,” I replied, my gaze drifting back toward the strategy room. “But something tells me this is far from over.”

**

A Shared Goal

The room seemed quieter after Gwen left. Her confession from the previous night replayed in my mind, echoing with a clarity that refused to fade. It wasn’t just her words, though—they were heavy enough—but the weight of the bond we now shared. Knowing her truth and witnessing her vulnerability gave our partnership a depth I hadn’t anticipated. Yet, there wasn’t time to dwell on sentiment. The academy’s grind waits for no one.

Training resumed as if nothing had changed, but for me, the dynamics between Gwen and I had shifted. It wasn’t the secret itself that lingered in my mind, but the courage it took for her to reveal it. That bravery deserved more than my understanding—it demanded my trust, my unwavering support. And though we’d said little about it since, her subtle glances during drills and my occasional nods in return said enough: we were a team.

In the spars that morning, Gwen moved with renewed purpose. There was a fire in her strikes, a precision in her footwork that even some nobles lacked. I couldn’t help but admire her resilience. Beneath the practiced swings of her blade, I could see the determination of someone who had fought battles far greater than the ones played out on the training field. She reminded me of myself, though I wouldn’t dare voice it aloud. That wasn’t something either of us needed—what we needed was to focus, to excel.

By the afternoon, the academy’s routine settled into a predictable rhythm. I found myself once again in the library, pouring over texts about Aura stages and refining techniques. Gwen joined me not long after, carrying a volume that looked far too heavy for her slender frame. She placed it on the table with a satisfying thud.

“Still trying to outread the nobles?” she teased lightly.

“More like outthink them,” I replied with a smirk. “Strength isn’t everything.”

“Tell that to them,” she said, nodding toward a nearby table where a group of noble students laughed, undoubtedly at some commoner’s expense. Her voice dropped, and she added, “They don’t need to think when they’ve had every advantage handed to them.”

“Which is why we’ll beat them where it counts,” I said, tapping my temple. “Strategy wins wars.”

She smiled faintly, and for a moment, it was easy to forget the tension that simmered beneath the academy’s surface. But reality wasn’t so kind.

Later that evening, as we returned to our dorm, Gwen stopped me in the hallway. Her expression was serious, her voice quieter than usual. “I’ve been thinking about what you said... about strategy.”

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

“We’re not just fighting to survive here, Illiad. We’re fighting to prove we belong, to show them that being a noble doesn’t make you better. And we’re not the only ones who think that.”

Her words hung in the air between us, laden with meaning. “What are you suggesting?” I asked, already guessing her answer.

“There are others,” she said simply. “Commoners like us, tired of the way things are. If we work together, pool our strengths... we might actually stand a chance.”

The idea wasn’t new to me. Back in my past life, alliances were forged in the heat of battle, not just with comrades but with those who shared a common purpose. Still, Gwen’s proposition felt different. There was a risk in aligning openly with others, especially in a place as politically charged as the academy. Yet, the prospect of standing alone was even riskier.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, my tone measured.

She nodded, understanding my hesitation but undeterred. “Don’t think too long, Illiad. Change doesn’t wait for permission.”

As I watched her retreat into her room, her determination clear in her stride, I couldn’t help but feel a stirring sense of purpose. For all my plans and ambitions, for all my resolve to protect my family and seek vengeance, there was something undeniably powerful about the thought of fighting not just for myself, but for something greater.

**

Unveiling Subtle Alliances

The whispers started small, barely noticeable over the usual chatter of the academy. But once you learned to listen—to really listen—you could hear the undercurrent beneath the surface. Discontent. Frustration. Resentment. These were feelings I recognized, not just in myself but in others. Gwen’s words from the night before echoed in my mind: There are others.

It wasn’t difficult to spot them. During training sessions, there were students who moved with a quiet defiance, their gazes sharp and their movements deliberate. In the dining hall, they sat in clusters, speaking in hushed tones while the nobles’ laughter filled the room. And in the library, their eyes lingered too long on texts about strategy and rebellion, as if searching for some unspoken truth.

Gwen and I didn’t speak much about it in the open. We didn’t need to. A shared glance during sparring sessions, a raised eyebrow when a particularly pompous noble declared his superiority—it was enough. The cracks in the academy’s foundation were there, waiting to be widened.

It was during an evening in the library that the first thread of connection was pulled. I had been reading a passage on advanced Aura manipulation when a shadow fell across the page. Looking up, I found a wiry boy with sharp features and a cautious expression standing over me. His name was Kallen—another commoner, known for his quiet demeanor and his talent with daggers.

“You’ve been asking a lot of questions about Aura lately,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Why?”

I studied him for a moment before replying, “Because knowledge is the only thing they can’t take from us.”

He smirked, a flicker of approval in his eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s the only weapon they don’t expect us to use.”

I didn’t respond, but I could feel Gwen’s gaze on me from across the room. She was watching, waiting to see how I’d handle this.

Kallen pulled out a chair and sat across from me, leaning forward conspiratorially. “There are others like us, you know. Students who see through the facade. Who want more than scraps from the nobles’ table.”

“And what do you want from me?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

“Not just you,” he said, his eyes flicking briefly to Gwen before returning to mine. “You and anyone who’s willing to fight back. Quietly, for now. But when the time comes, we’ll need strength. Strategy. Allies.”

I leaned back in my chair, considering his words. It wasn’t a proposition I could dismiss outright—not when it aligned so closely with my own goals. But trust was a currency I didn’t spend lightly. Still, there was no denying the potential in what he was suggesting.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, echoing the same words I’d given Gwen.

Kallen nodded, satisfied for now. “Do that. And when you’re ready, find me. This place has more cracks than you think.”

As he left, Gwen approached, her arms crossed and an amused smile playing on her lips. “You’ve got a knack for drawing people out, you know that?”

“Or maybe they just see an opportunity,” I replied, closing the book in front of me. “Either way, it’s a risk.”

“Everything’s a risk,” she said, her tone light but her gaze serious. “But if there’s a chance to level the playing field, we’d be fools not to take it.”

I didn’t respond right away, instead letting her words settle in the silence between us. Gwen had a point, but it wasn’t just about leveling the playing field. It was about survival. About carving out a space in a world that seemed determined to erase us.

As we left the library that evening, the weight of what was to come pressed heavily on my mind. The alliances forming in the shadows were fragile, their motives untested. But they were there, and they were growing. Whether they would be a boon or a burden remained to be seen.

**

An Unexpected Test

The announcement came without warning, as if the faculty had decided on a whim to shake things up. The dining hall was buzzing with activity when Lieutenant Garven entered, his commanding presence enough to silence even the loudest conversations. All eyes turned to him as he strode to the front of the hall, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable.

“Attention, cadets!” His voice cut through the room like a blade, sharp and uncompromising. “A special assessment has been scheduled for tomorrow. This will not be a routine exercise. Consider it a test of your adaptability, your teamwork, and your resolve.”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room. Gwen shot me a questioning glance, but I could only shrug. Even from my brief time at the academy, I’d learned that surprises were a favorite tool of the instructors. They thrived on unpredictability, pushing us into situations designed to expose our weaknesses.

“The details will be provided tomorrow morning,” Garven continued, his piercing gaze sweeping the room. “Until then, rest well and prepare yourselves. Dismissed.”

The room exploded into conversation as soon as he left. Speculation filled the air, each theory wilder than the last. A simulated battle? A survival exercise? Perhaps another trek into the Wedelia Forest? Whatever it was, the uncertainty gnawed at everyone.

Gwen leaned closer, her voice low to avoid drawing attention. “They’re testing us for something bigger. You can feel it.”

I nodded, my mind already racing with possibilities. A test like this wasn’t just about skill—it was about strategy and composure under pressure. The faculty wanted to see who could adapt, who could lead, and who would crumble.

Later that evening, the dormitory buzzed with restless energy. Some cadets sharpened their weapons, others poured over maps and combat manuals, and a few simply sat in silence, steeling themselves for what was to come. Gwen and I retreated to our room, the tension between us unspoken but palpable.

“This feels different,” she said, pacing the small space. “Like they’re deliberately trying to catch us off guard.”

“Probably because they are,” I replied, sitting on the edge of my bed and running a hand through my hair. “They’ve been ramping things up ever since the forest incident. Maybe this is their way of seeing how far they can push us.”

Gwen stopped pacing and turned to face me, her eyes sharp. “Then we can’t afford to falter. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

I nodded, her determination fueling my own. Whatever this test was, failure wasn’t an option. Not for me, not for Gwen, and not for the fragile alliances we were starting to build.

That night, sleep came fitfully, my mind haunted by the unknown challenge awaiting us. When morning finally came, the academy grounds were shrouded in an eerie calm, the usual morning routines replaced by a palpable sense of anticipation. We gathered in the training yard, where Lieutenant Garven waited, flanked by other instructors. Their stern expressions left no room for doubt—this was going to be brutal.

“Cadets,” Garven began, his voice cold and measured, “today’s test will place you in teams. You’ll face a series of challenges designed to push you to your limits. These challenges will test your combat skills, your problem-solving abilities, and your capacity to work as a unit. The specifics of each challenge will be revealed as you progress.”

I exchanged a glance with Gwen, her jaw tight with resolve. Teams. That meant relying on others, a prospect that made my stomach twist. Trust was a rare commodity in this place, and I wasn’t sure how much of it I was willing to spend.

“The teams have been pre-assigned,” Garven continued, reading off a list of names. When he reached mine, my heart sank. Gwen wasn’t on my team.

Instead, I was grouped with Tristan Hale, a boisterous boy with more confidence than skill, and two others I barely knew. Gwen gave me a small, reassuring nod from across the yard, but it did little to ease the tension building in my chest.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

**

Tensions Within the Team

The moment our team was announced, I could feel the friction brewing. Tristan Hale strutted over with an overconfident grin, his sword slung casually over his shoulder. “Well, well, looks like we’ve got ourselves a winning combination,” he declared, his voice dripping with bravado. “Stick with me, and we’ll breeze through this.”

I bit back a retort, focusing instead on assessing the others. Beside Tristan was a wiry boy named Kalden, whose nervous fidgeting spoke volumes about his unease. He kept adjusting the strap of his bow, his eyes darting between the instructors and the other teams. The fourth member, Alisha, stood a few paces away, her arms crossed and her expression hard as stone. She exuded an air of competence, but her closed-off demeanor suggested she wasn’t thrilled about being paired with us.

“Alright, team,” Tristan continued, clapping his hands together, “let’s get a strategy going. Obviously, I’ll take the lead—”

“No,” Alisha cut in sharply, her tone brooking no argument. “We’ll discuss roles as a group. This isn’t about showing off.”

Tristan’s grin faltered for a moment before he recovered, laughing it off. “Sure, sure. We’ll discuss. But you’ll see—I’ve got the experience to handle this.”

I exchanged a glance with Alisha, silently acknowledging her frustration. Tristan’s arrogance was going to be a problem. Meanwhile, Kalden looked like he wanted to shrink into the ground, clearly intimidated by the clash of personalities.

“Let’s focus,” I said, stepping forward to defuse the situation. “We don’t know what the challenges are yet, but we can’t afford to waste time arguing. Everyone has strengths—we need to play to them.”

Alisha nodded, her gaze softening slightly. “Agreed. I’m a spearman, so I’ll focus on mid-range combat. Kalden, you’re our archer. Stay at a distance and provide cover. Tristan—” She paused, her lips tightening. “You’re up close, I assume?”

“Of course,” Tristan replied with a cocky smirk, patting the hilt of his sword. “Leave the heavy lifting to me.”

“And you?” Alisha asked, turning to me.

“Swordsman,” I said simply. “I can adapt to support or take the lead, depending on what we face.”

Alisha gave a curt nod. “Good. Then we’re covered across the board. Let’s just hope you all can keep up.”

Tristan opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. “Save the banter for later. We need to focus on staying coordinated.”

Tristan huffed but relented, though his expression made it clear he wasn’t used to being sidelined. Kalden mumbled something inaudible, and I couldn’t tell if it was agreement or anxiety. Either way, I made a mental note to keep an eye on him; he looked like the type to freeze under pressure.

As we waited for the instructors to explain the next steps, I caught Gwen’s eye from across the training yard. She was standing with her own team, looking far more composed than I felt. She gave me a small, encouraging smile, and I felt a flicker of reassurance. If nothing else, I had her faith in me—and I wouldn’t let her down.

“Listen up!” Lieutenant Garven’s voice snapped us all to attention. “Your first task is about to begin. Remember, this test is about more than just individual skill. Teamwork will determine your success—or your failure.”

I glanced at my team, feeling the weight of his words. Teamwork. It sounded simple enough, but with this group, it was going to be anything but.