The transport vehicle screeched to a halt.
Zane stepped out, eyes narrowed. Around him, Sector 7 stretched like a metallic fortress—gleaming towers, mechanical drones humming above, roads lined with surveillance poles. It was cold, organized, and sterile… yet beneath the order was a tension even more suffocating than the rubble of Sector 9.
People stared.
Men in uniform. Women with augmented eyes. Teenagers in elite uniforms marked with silver emblems. Every gaze Zane met carried a single message:
"You don't belong here."
Ren stepped down behind him, clinging to the frayed hem of Zane's coat. He was silent. Wide-eyed. And utterly out of place.
A woman in a sharp military uniform approached them. Her voice was crisp and void of sympathy.
"Identification."
Zane handed the chipped Federation tag he had received two hours ago during intake.
The officer scanned it.
"Zane Arclight. Refugee classification. Transfer approved for provisional evaluation."
She tapped on her wrist console. "You are to report to Provisional Zone C. Barracks 11. Do not stray outside designated lines. Surveillance is constant. Any violation will result in deportation or disciplinary action."
Then she looked down at Ren.
"This one?"
Zane nodded. "He's with me."
She stared for a moment, then turned away. "He'll be scanned separately. Any anomalies, and he's out."
They passed through the checkpoint without a word. The scanning arch hummed as light swept across them.
> [Warning: External scan in progress...]
[Suppressing anomaly signature… Complete.]
[System remains hidden.]
Zane exhaled quietly.
They were in.
---
Barracks 11 was little more than a long corridor of bunk beds stacked like containers. The steel walls echoed every sound—footsteps, whispers, breathing.
Zane sat at the edge of a lower bunk. He could feel the weight of dozens of eyes judging him already. Cadets, refugees, recruits—all divided by invisible lines.
Ren curled beside him, exhausted.
Zane waited until lights dimmed, then pulled up his system silently.
> [Eclipse System – Active]
➤ Talents Acquired:
• Bladestorm (Rank A)
• Heatfield Manipulation (Rank B)
• Shadow Pulse (Rank A)
➤ Talent Scan: Active
➤ Fusion: Available
➤ Eclipse Points: 4
➤ Talent Quest Mapping: Online
His eyes flicked to the fusion prompt:
> ⚠️ Fusion Available
Bladestorm + Heatfield
Potential: ★★★★★
Fusion Risk: High
He stared at it for a few seconds… then swiped it aside.
Not yet.
Suddenly, a new window appeared.
> [📍New Target Detected]
Name: Dale Keran
Talent: Shadow Pulse (Rank A)
Location: Training Arena – South Wing
Quest Available: Shadow Trial II
Requirement: Direct Duel + Talent Contact
Zane's brows furrowed.
Dale Keran.
He recognized the name from Federation announcements during the intake session. A prodigy. Not just talented—politically backed. Someone they planned to push to the front lines soon.
"Looks like you're next," Zane muttered under his breath.
---
The following morning, the training arena echoed with the clash of steel and the hiss of elemental energy. Rows of cadets sparred under supervision. Drones floated overhead, recording every movement.
Zane walked through the gate. His presence drew immediate attention. He didn't look like the others—his gear was second-hand, his boots torn, and his eyes too cold for someone so young.
"Hey, isn't that the refugee kid?" someone whispered.
"What's he doing here?"
"He doesn't have clearance for this wing—"
Zane ignored them.
His eyes locked onto the center ring.
There—Dale Keran. White-blond hair tied back, dual shadowblades spinning in his hands. He was fighting two cadets at once—and winning without breaking a sweat.
Zane stepped forward.
He waited until Dale dismissed his opponents, then spoke.
"I want to challenge you."
The entire arena seemed to pause.
Dale turned slowly. His gaze swept over Zane like a butcher sizing up cattle.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Zane Arclight."
"I don't recognize that name."
"You don't need to."
Dale raised an eyebrow. "And why exactly do you think you can challenge me?"
Zane's voice remained even. "Because I want to see what someone with a Rank-A talent is capable of."
Laughter broke out.
Someone in the crowd shouted, "He's from Sector 9! Figures he'd be delusional."
A training officer marched over. "What's going on here?"
"New guy wants an official duel," someone called out. "Against Dale."
The officer narrowed his eyes. "Are you serious?"
Zane nodded.
The officer looked to Dale. "Do you accept?"
Dale stretched his neck lazily. "Sure. I'm in the mood for target practice."
The officer turned to Zane, voice grave. "You understand the terms? If you lose, your evaluation fails. You'll be expelled from Sector 7 and relocated to external zones."
Zane glanced briefly at Ren, who stood just outside the ring, fists clenched. Then back to the officer.
"I accept."
"Then the duel is sanctioned," the officer declared. "Arena lockdown initiated. All bystanders, remain outside boundary lines."
A metallic shield sealed the perimeter of the dueling ring. Energy barriers crackled to life. Everyone leaned in.
> [Quest Activated – Shadow Trial II]
Objective:
• Survive Shadow Pulse
• Make direct contact
• Duration: 15 seconds
• Status: Live
• Audience: 110 Verified
Dale rolled his shoulders.
"Let's get this over with," he said, and unleashed his power.
Darkness bloomed at his feet—tendrils of living shadow surged like a rising tide. They twisted and struck with surgical precision.
Zane dodged the first strike, but the second clipped his arm, throwing him off balance.
> [Timer: 00:06]
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself back up. The pain was sharp, but familiar.
Dale smirked. "Still standing?"
Zane ran forward, evading a spike of shadow, then sliding beneath a whip of darkness.
> [Timer: 00:11]
A blade of shadow grazed his side. Blood dripped down his ribs.
> [Timer: 00:13]
He leapt forward, heart racing.
Contact.
He slammed into Dale's chest—hand against his collarbone—just as another wave of shadow knocked him back.
> ✅ Quest Complete
Talent Copied: Shadow Pulse – Rank A
Eclipse Points +2
He hit the barrier wall, coughing. But even as he dropped to one knee… he smiled.
> ⚠️ Fusion Triggered…
Components: Bladestorm + Heatfield
Fusion Path: Confirmed
Stability: Acceptable
Sync: 100%
Initiating…
Heat erupted from Zane's skin.
The air shimmered. Dust lifted from the ground. Sparks floated around him like fireflies. Wind circled his body, spinning faster and faster—until it became a vortex.
> [FUSION TALENT UNLOCKED]
✸ CRIMSON TEMPEST – Rank S
Description: A hybrid technique combining high-velocity blade movement and localized heatfield combustion. Creates a flame storm with lethal AOE.
Dale's eyes widened. "What the hell—?"
Zane stood.
His sword was no longer cracked metal. It blazed red and gold—its edge a blur of motion.
He stepped forward once.
Twice.
Then—he spun.
A cyclone of burning wind exploded outward. The very ground cracked beneath his feet. The shockwave hurled Dale backward. The barrier flickered as energy surged against it.
Silence.
Everyone watched as the flames dissipated.
Zane stood in the center. Smoke curled from his shoulders. His eyes burned silver.
He lowered the sword.
"If this world respects only power…" he whispered.
"…then I'll become the power it cannot control."
---