"Good morning, cadets!" Commander Jones's voice boomed, reverberating through the dimly lit gymnasium and bouncing off the cold gray stone walls, the only sign of life being the worn-out blue mats scattered across the floor. Silence fell instantly, the only sound the rhythmic shuffling of boots. "I hope you all had an amazing two weeks off—I know I did," he continued with a smirk, though it was a complete lie. Jones, a man who lived and breathed the academy, hadn't had a single moment of peace. The thought of his cadets getting a break almost brought him to tears, but he refused to allow such weakness. Instead, he spent the time refining new, even more brutal training methods.
"As you all know, the selection tournament is in one week. That means we have precious little time left together," he said, his voice softening just slightly. "I'm sure this is as sad for you as it is for me." That was the only truth in his speech. Jones may have been harsh, stubborn, and downright unfair, but parting with this group of cadets stung more than he'd care to admit. A single tear threatened to well up in his right eye, but he fought it back, refusing to show any weakness. The strong don't cry. "Everyone who has awakened their ability—go with Rodgers!"
Most cadets were only seventeen, and their powers were still unstable and erratic. Even fully grown Deviants were often caught off guard by their abilities. "The rest, with me," Jones added, his tone brooking no argument. Damien felt irritation flare as he eyed the towering brute of a man in front of him. Dammit, why does it have to be Jones today? The last time Damien trained under him, he'd thrown up for the first time in his life. And now, he was about to endure it all over again. Reluctantly, he dragged himself toward the growing group of cadets gathering in front of Jones.
Then—BOOM. Jones's voice shook the very air of the gym. "As you all know, you haven't awakened an ability yet." The cadets exchanged glances. No kidding. It wasn't exactly news. "So, in one week, you will participate in a separate tournament for the unawakened." A collective wave of relief rippled through the crowd. Damien let out a quiet sigh. Fighting people with abilities was a disaster waiting to happen. He could hold his own without powers, but that didn't mean he wanted to prove it.
But then—
"Damien." Jones's gaze locked onto him, sharp as a blade. "It's my understanding that your ability will awaken after your first match. Is that correct?"
Damien straightened, caught off guard by the intensity of Jones's stare. "Yes, sir!"
Jones gave a curt nod. "Understood. There's someone in the other academy with the same predicament. He'll be your first match. The winner moves on to the awakened tournament." Damien's heart pounded. A direct path into the awakened tournament? He didn't hesitate. "Yes, sir! Understood!" It wasn't ideal—he wouldn't have time to train with his ability like the others—but he didn't care. In fact— A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. He couldn't wait.
But now, as he lay face down on the blue mat, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, he seriously regretted ever thinking that.
"Get on your feet, Damien! You still have five more laps!" Jones's voice thundered, making Damien flinch. He pushed himself upright with shaky legs, forcing his lungs to cooperate. Each breath felt like fire in his chest. Damn this old man. Somehow, he managed to drag himself through the last five laps, his legs feeling like they were made of lead. When he finally finished, he collapsed back onto the mat, no longer caring how loud or ragged his breathing sounded. At this point, he sounded like a dying animal.
A shadow fell over him. "Need a hand?"
Damien looked up, his vision blurry from exhaustion. Summer stood above him, her short brown hair damp with sweat. For a moment, he just stared. She's cute. He grabbed her hand, and she pulled him up with ease. "Thanks," he said, flashing a tired grin.
Then—he realized. He was still holding onto her hand. Heat surged into his face. He quickly let go, cursing inwardly.
Summer's lips curled into an amused smile. "That was brutal today, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, it was," Damien said, his voice rougher than he intended. There was no point in pretending. Today had been one of the most challenging workouts he'd ever endured. His body, out of shape after two weeks off, had betrayed him. Summer, however, had made it look effortless. He coughed, trying to cover the awkwardness. "Well, you crushed it anyway."
She giggled, and the sound was light and easy. "My dad made me train all break, so I'm still in shape." Then she shot him a teasing grin. "What did you do? Just eat the whole time?"
Damien stiffened. Dammit, that's the second time a beautiful woman has made fun of my eating habits. His face reddened slightly. "Among other things, yes." He forced a smile.
Summer laughed again, and somehow, it made him feel better. Wanting to change the subject, Damien stretched his arms, his muscles sore from the relentless training. "Anyway, I stink. I'm gonna shower."
Summer looked him up and down and nodded. "Yeah, you do. I think I'll join you."
Damien froze. Did I hear that right?
He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Join me?"
She looked at Damien with a blank expression. "Well-yes! I stink, too. Why wouldn't I showe..?" She froze mid-word, the realization hitting her like a freight train. Her face turned bright red, and she quickly waved her hands. "I meant separate showers!"
Damien threw his head back in laughter. "I know, you dork. Let's go."
Dinner at the cafeteria was one of the few things Damien genuinely looked forward to. Not just because of the endless food, but because it meant he was one step closer to sleep. God, I really took sleep for granted over break.
But something was off tonight. As Damien glanced at Luka, he noticed the twisted, manic grin stretched across his face. Damien frowned. He looked to Summer for an explanation, giving her a subtle nod toward Luka. She returned the look with equal concern. They'd known Luka long enough to tell when he was planning something dangerous.
Then, as if noticing their stares, Luka muttered, "I'm going to kill him."
The flatness in his voice sent a chill down Damien's spine. This wasn't a joke. Damien shot a startled glance at Summer. This wasn't Luka being angry—this was something colder. Something more deliberate. Summer's eyes widened, her unease mirrored in Damien's chest as she asked, "Who are you going to kill?"
Luka's gaze snapped to hers, but his eyes, usually so full of energy, were now empty, soulless. Then, after a long pause, something in them softened. His manic grin became a little more normal, though still unsettling. He let out a small laugh. "Oh, no one. Don't worry about it."
Before either of them could press him further, Luka stood up and walked away. Damien sat there, mouth slightly agape. He'd seen Luka lose his temper before, but this was something else. Luka wasn't angry. He was planning murder.
After a long silence, Damien closed his mouth and turned to Summer. "Do you know what that was about?"
Summer hesitated, clearly shaken, before nodding. "Yeah… I think I do."
That surprised Damien. Luka hadn't said anything about it, so how did Summer know?
"What is it?" he asked, leaning in.
Summer exhaled slowly, her voice weighed down with something heavy. "I only heard the story second-hand, but it's from someone in the awakened section. Luka lost."
Damien blinked. That wasn't so strange. Luka wasn't invincible. But there was something about Summer's tone that felt… wrong.
Before he could ask further, she continued. "But it wasn't just that he lost. He was mutilated."
Damien's blood ran cold. "What?"
Summer's voice was barely a whisper now. "His arm was severed. His leg, too. It's a miracle he's even walking right now."
Damien's fists clenched under the table, the heat of his anger rising, slow and steady. His blood boiled, and every muscle in his body tensed. Fights at the academy were brutal, but there were unspoken rules. You fought to win, not to maim. This wasn't a fight. It was something else.
His jaw clenched so hard it hurt. "Who did this?"
Summer's lips pressed together, and her face hardened. "Daeron."
The name hit him like a slap.
Daeron.
The bastard.
Summer added before he could process the implications, "And it wasn't fair. Luka and Daeron agreed to fight without their abilities. But Daeron… he cheated."
That explained why Luka had lost. But one question remained.
"...Why?"
Summer hesitated, disgust evident on her face. "Apparently, Luka killed Daeron's cousin over break. And… mutilated his body in the process."
Damien froze, the world spinning for a second. His mind flashed back to that alley—the corpse at Luka's feet. Was that Daeron's cousin? He hadn't thought much of it at the time—just another Deviant who got what they deserved. But this… this wasn't over.
Deviants held grudges. And they didn't settle them with words.
The air between them grew thick with tension. Damien finally muttered, "Daeron's in trouble."
Before Summer could respond, a voice rang across the cafeteria.
"Hey, Summer! Why don't you leave the pipsqueak and hang out with me tonight?"
Damien didn't even need to turn around. Julius. He already knew what was coming.