None of them spoke a word.
"History," huh? That word felt so heavy… It's like it belonged in dusty old textbooks or archives, not attached to a realm that smelled like rotting plastic and burnt ozone making your eyes water and your throat tickle.
Ethan's hands were sweaty on the armrest of the simulation chair. The light buzzed overhead, flickering like it had been listening too closely to what was happening.
"Go get some rest," Mr. Huxley finally said, standing tall with that same crooked grin. "Tournament preparation starts in two hours. You'll be assigned your match window and receive your arena map to scout out beforehand."
He tapped a few buttons on the terminal and added, "Oh, and Thorne?"
Ethan blinked. "Y-yeah?"
"You're gonna want to take that 'Unknown Bloom' seriously. We're filing a realm flag for it. It might mean nothing or... it might be something that could change everything."
Of course. Just what I needed—more weight.
Like tossing me straight into the deep end with weights tied to my feet.
They left the simulation lab in silence.
The hallway outside buzzed with low chatter.
Other teams were coming and going, the air filled with excitement and tension. Some students looked laser-focused, while others seemed overconfident—probably too much so. Everyone was preparing, everyone wanted to win that trophy.
Team "Scrap Reclaimers" found an empty prep pod on the lower level. It was basically a cozy little box with padded walls, a holo-table, and a few neural connectors.
Iris sat cross-legged on the table and pulled up their assigned match data.
"First duel," she said, eyes bright. "Tomorrow, in the afternoon."
A 3D map floated above the table, rotating slowly.
----------------------------------
[Simulated Arena Type: Terraformable Shell – Urban Collapse Biome.]
----------------------------------
Buildings overgrown with vines, flooded streets, cracked concrete, skyscrapers frozen mid-crumble… it looked like chaos waiting to happen.
"It's gonna be crazy," Jasper whistled, leaning forward.
"There's more," Iris added, swiping to the next screen. "Three entry points, four high spots, eight contested areas, and—" she pointed—"three realm anchors."
She glanced at Ethan.
"That's you. You will be the Anchor."
Great. Just keep reminding me I'm the team's weakest link… or maybe its root. Same thing, right?
Jasper tapped the arena layout. "Alright. Let's assign the roles before someone gets all touchy and dramatic."
"I'm taking recon and sensor projection," Iris said immediately. "I'll keep an eye on enemy movements, realm fluctuations, and look for ambush spots."
Jasper nodded. "Makes sense. You're good at spotting traps before they happen. I'll handle midline control—defense with a little offense. I'll use my biotech spawnlings to control zones, push enemies back, and patch up holes."
Then they both looked at Ethan.
He felt like someone had shoved a flashlight in his face.
"What… what do I do?"
Iris raised a brow. "You're the Anchor. You're the only one who can channel your realm into the arena. We're supporting you."
No pressure.
None at all.
Jasper grinned. "Think of it this way. You're the core processor. We're the keyboard and the monitor."
"That's the dumbest analogy I've ever heard," Iris muttered.
"I liked it," Ethan said, almost out of obligation.
But the truth was... his chest felt tight.
They're counting on me. Not just showing up—leading, anchoring. My polluted realm isn't like theirs. There's no shining waterfall or lush grass. Just rot, decay, and filth.
What if I mess up again? What if it cracks in the middle of the match?
"Hey," Iris said softly, noticing his worried face. "We'll adapt to your realm."
"You saw what happened during the interface. Something's changing in there. Maybe that's not your weakness, that could be your potential."
Ethan swallowed. "But potential doesn't win fights."
"No," Jasper agreed, placing a hand on the table. "But grit does. And I've seen you chew mystery fungus like it's snack time. So trust me—you've got plenty of grit."
They started the first recon simulation.
The projected arena shifted around them—holograms flickering into shape. They navigated the streets of the ruined city, tested communication delays, scouted spawn points, and synchronized their anchors.
It was awkward.
Twice, Ethan's control signals lagged, and once his simulated realm pulse glitched— releasing toxic gas that nearly stunned Iris's avatar.
"I'm still trying to get the hang of it." he muttered, frustration creeping in.
"You'll get through it," she said, brushing off the virtual goo. "At least you didn't bring down a tower on us this time."
"You make it sound like that's an improvement," he muttered, rolling his eyes.
They kept practicing, hour after hour, until the preparation pod's lights dimmed and the system pinged them with a break notice.
Ethan leaned back, sweat on his brow despite the chill.
Tomorrow's the big day—the Inter-Class Realm Cup. And honestly, we're not even a proper team; we're just a ragtag bunch.
I can't afford to screw this up. Not again.
But even with all the doubt curling in his stomach, there was a tiny flicker of hope still burning.
That green leaf.
That weird, glowing anomaly in his realm.
A single spark in the rot.
Maybe… just maybe… it's enough.
After logging out of the recon simulation, Ethan staggered down the hallway like someone had unplugged his soul and forgot to turn him back on. His limbs felt heavy, but not from effort—more like from the thoughts swirling in his head.
Heavy, annoying thoughts.
Was I too slow syncing anchor pulses? Did the noxious gas weaken our link? Did Iris notice the realm flickering, or was that just my imagination?
Behind him, Jasper yawned loudly.
"Yo. Mental fatigue's real. I need grease, carbs, and zero questions for at least twenty minutes."
Iris didn't say anything, but she had that look—the one where she'd already started mentally reviewing footage of their run frame by frame.
The cafeteria smelled like mystery stew and chemical orange juice, but surprisingly, it was packed with energy. Students from all classes—Red, Blue, Grey, even a few rare Gold tags—had grouped into clusters. Some were excitedly discussing realm maps and summoning rituals, others were just flat-out trash-talking.
The "Scrap Reclaimers" barely made it to the food line before the whispering started.
"Isn't that Thorne? The guy with the polluted world?"
"Didn't his realm get flagged for anomaly?"
"Probably unusable now."
"They're only in Grey Class because no one else would team with them."
Ethan's cheeks burned.
He tried to ignore it, reaching out for a plastic tray like he didn't hear every word.
Let it go. Not worth it. They don't know your realm. They don't know what it took just to survive in that place.
But of course, Jasper couldn't keep quiet.
"You all got something to say?" he called out, spinning around, voice loud enough to echo off the cafeteria tiles.
Silence.
Then a slow, mocking clap—drawn-out.
"Relax, 'Scrap Reclaimer,'" a smooth voice chimed in. "We're just admiring your, uh… team spirit."
A tall student in red and black stepped forward. His uniform had the gilded trim of a Red Class combat rank, and his badge shimmered slightly with an extra seal—clearly a realm veteran.
"Bryce Maddox," Iris whispered, eyes narrowing. "Ranked fifth in solo simulations. His realm's a volcanic expansion class—it burns zones and resets terrain."
Bryce smirked. "Didn't realize the Grey kids were even joining this year. Isn't that cute?"
"Cute's not what we're going for," Jasper said flatly. "But feel free to cry when our scrap heap slaps your precious lava pets into the dirt."
A few students nearby snickered.
Ethan... just wanted to vanish into his tray.
Why does it always have to escalate? Why can't we just... I don't know, eat a sandwich without war declarations?
Bryce took a step closer. "You're the anomaly kid, right? The one with the weird bloom thing?"
Ethan tensed. "So what if I am?"
Bryce's smirk widened. "Nothing. Just curious, if you've started sprouting roots yet."
Iris put a hand on Ethan's shoulder—light, but grounding.
"We're not here to trade insults," she said. "Save it for the tournament."
"Oh, we will." Bryce winked. "Hope your realm doesn't crack before the match starts, Thorne. Would be a shame if it… rotted from the inside."
He walked away without another word, his posse following like loyal dogs.
Ethan exhaled slowly.
He got under my skin.
Jasper picked up a tray and grinned. "I liked that 'slap your lava pets' line, though. Think that'll go on a shirt?"
"Please don't," Iris muttered, finally grabbing a bowl of something beige and vaguely food-shaped.
They sat near the back of the cafeteria, far away from the noise.
Ethan poked his mystery protein cube with a spoon. "Do you think they're right? That I'm dragging us down?"
Iris didn't look up. "If I thought that, I wouldn't be on your team."
Jasper nodded. "Same. Besides, you've got something none of them do."
"A swamp filled with disappointment?"
"A mystery, an anomaly, a bloom. Dude!" Jasper leaned forward. "That scares them, dude. That's why they poke."
Ethan blinked.
Scares them? But… why would a dying realm scare anyone?
Then Iris added softly, "Unpredictability is power. Especially in the early rounds. Bryce just wants to rattle you. Don't let him."
Ethan sat back.
For the first time, he didn't feel like retreating.
Suddenly, their wristbands chimed with a school-wide alert.
----------------------------------------------
[Notice: Team Scrap Reclaimers – Your Inter-Class Realm Cup Match Starts: Tomorrow at 2:30 PM.
Arena Instance: UR-Collapse-013.
Please arrive at the Simulation Lab by 2:00 PM.]
----------------------------------------------
Underneath it was a smaller line of text:
----------------------------------------------
[Opponent Team: Crimson Rift (Red Class)]
----------------------------------------------
Jasper groaned. "Of course. Look at our luck."
"It's the first match, and what we get—fireboys—Great."
Ethan looked at the message, taking a deep breath.
It's time to stop being scared of what my realm is… and start figuring out what it could become.