The arcade was a assault on the senses. Lights flashed in seizure-inducing patterns. Sounds of magical explosions and synthetic chimes layered over the chatter of a hundred students.

Vane stood in front of a machine called Reflex Arc: Void Defense.

It was a simple game. Holographic orbs appeared in the air around the player. You had to tap them before they turned red and "detonated." It measured reaction speed and peripheral vision.

Vane cracked his knuckles.

"Watch and learn," Vane said.

He stepped onto the platform. The game started.

Vane moved with surgical precision. He didn't flail. He didn't waste energy. His hands moved in tight efficient arcs tapping the orbs the millisecond they spawned. He entered a flow state treating the pixels with the same seriousness he treated a knife fight in Oakhaven.

The machine beeped rapidly. The score counter climbed.

8,000... 9,000... 9,850.

The game ended. A digital fanfare played.

NEW HIGH SCORE: VANE (RANK 3)

Vane stepped back wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. He looked at the leaderboard. He was at the top beating a Rank 2 student named "Kael" by fifty points.

"Not bad," Vane muttered. He felt a rare spark of genuine pride. It wasn't life or death. It was just a number on a screen but winning felt good.

"You move like an accountant," a voice drawled from behind him.

Vane stiffened. He knew that voice. It sounded like gravel crunching under a boot.

He turned.

Ashe Razar was standing there.

She wasn't wearing her armor. She was wearing a loose black bomber jacket over a grey tank top and cargo pants. Her dark red hair was tied back in a messy ponytail. There was a faint smell of antiseptic clinging to her likely from the infirmary.

She looked at Vane's score. She scoffed.

"Efficiency," Ashe said shaking her head. "You tap the targets like you're afraid you'll break them. It's boring."

She stepped up to the machine next to his. She swiped her student ID.

"Let me show you how a predator plays."

The game started.

Ashe didn't tap the orbs. She punched them.

Her fists were a blur. She wasn't using efficiency. She was using explosive speed. Every hit sounded like a gunshot. The machine shook on its foundation. She wasn't just reacting to the targets she was anticipating them moving faster than the program could spawn them.

10,000... 20,000... 50,000.

The machine started smoking slightly. The holographic projector struggled to keep up with her violence.

GAME OVER.

SCORE: 99,999 (MAX)

Ashe stepped back. She blew a stray hair out of her face. She looked at Vane and grinned. It was a sharp shark-like grin.

"Too slow Rat."

Vane stared at the score. Then he looked at her.

"I thought you were a training maniac," Vane said. "Don't you have iron bars to bend or mountains to punch?"

Ashe shrugged. She winced slightly as the movement pulled on her bruised ribs.

"The healers locked the gym," Ashe admitted. "They said if I cast one more high-density spell my ribs would puncture my lung. So I'm banned from the training grounds for twenty-four hours."

She kicked the machine lightly.

"This is therapy. Killing pixels is better than killing nothing."

Vane looked at her. For the first time he saw her not as a terrifying Warlord but as a bored teenager who didn't know what to do with her hands when she wasn't holding a weapon.

"You're going to break the machine," Vane pointed out.

"Then I'll pay for it," Ashe said dismissively. "I'm going to find the strength tester. I want to see if I can max it out without using mana."

She turned and walked away into the crowd. Students parted for her like the Red Sea. She didn't even notice them. She just marched toward the next challenge with a singular terrifying focus.

Vane watched her go.

"She is intense," Isole commented. She was still sitting at the table holding her coffee watching the interaction with her chin resting on her hand.

Vane walked back to the table and sat down. He felt a little deflated about his high score.

"She's a monster," Vane said. "Even injured she moves faster than I do."

Isole stirred her drink.

"Do you know who she is?" Isole asked.

"Ashe Razar," Vane said. "Rank 4. Fire and Physical affinity. Likes to hit things."

"I meant her blood," Isole said. Her mismatched eyes watched Ashe's retreating back. "Do you know who her father is?"

Vane shrugged. He leaned back in his chair.

"Let me guess," Vane said. "Some Duke? A Grand Marshall? The guy who invented swords?"

He shook his head.

"I don't care Isole. Everyone in this school has a last name that opens doors. They have crests and legacies and trust funds. To me they're all just 'Rich Kid A' and 'Rich Kid B'. Knowing their pedigree doesn't change the fact that they want to beat me up."

Isole looked at him. She let out a long sigh.

"Your ignorance is truly a shield," Isole murmured. "If you knew who the Patriarch of the Razar clan was you wouldn't be so casual about talking to his daughter. He makes the Headmistress look gentle."

"Good thing I don't plan on meeting him," Vane said.

He picked up his empty cup.

"Anyway. I'm going to try the racing simulator. Ashe can't punch a car so I might have a chan—"

Vane stopped.

The air in the plaza changed.

It wasn't a sound. It wasn't a smell. It was a physical sensation. The gravity in the area seemed to double instantly. The coffee in Isole's cup stopped swirling and went perfectly flat. The laughter of the students nearby died out as a heavy oppressive silence washed over the terrace.

Vane felt his heart skip a beat. It was the same feeling he had in Sector 4. The feeling of being near a star.

He looked toward the entrance of the plaza.

A girl was walking up the steps. She had violet hair that shone like molten amethyst and eyes that looked like dark diamonds. She wore a white dress that seemed too heavy for the wind to move.

Valerica Sol.

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