Kie stood shirtless before his bathroom mirror, marveling at his faded scars. He didn’t need glasses or anyone else to confirm what he saw. After his last mission against the Harbingers, whatever Legion’s dark spirits had done felt almost like a blessing. They had devoured his flesh, burned it to ash, and when he somehow healed, the scars that once traced his body were pale reminders of pain long past.

  Each time he woke from deep sleep, his reflection looked better. Something good was happening, though he could never forget the day he earned most of those scars. The joy in his chest dimmed, replaced by the memory’s shadow.

  The Commander had hinted that changes were coming to training, and it seemed that day would mark the beginning. Tee and her teammates had barely started their warm-up when the order came to suit up and report to the mission base.

  Tee dropped her hands to her sides. Her lifeless eyes fixed on the glowing hologram screens, wondering which remote wasteland the Commander would send them to that time. She still remembered the last encounter—how Sheena had been torn apart and left for dead, only for his body to vanish later. If that was another Prodigy mission, then it could only mean one thing. He was still alive. And that, Tee thought, wouldn’t surprise her.

  Images flickered across the holograms. Ash-colored marks staining people’s skin, appearing only on areas exposed to sunlight—the arms, legs, backs, and heads. Other screens showed spiked tentacles bursting from hosts’ flesh. Then came the final images. The dark, veiny monsters everyone in the room knew too well. Some were thin and fast, others thick and brutal.

  Tee narrowed her eyes as silence crowded her head. She focused on the Commander’s mouth, waiting for him to admit what she feared—that she was one of them. Her thumbs twitched, ready to press into her fists and summon her twin blades. If he dared expose her, she’d cut him down and the wrinkled elders in cloaks would be next.

  “The cataclysm that crashed into Earth two thousand years ago,” the Commander began, his tone heavy and rehearsed, “didn’t only bring us Ether energy and the Alpha Seal. It also gave us the most dangerous condition known to man. The Xenogene, a corruption that consumes its host and mutates them into human-craving monsters.”

  His words pulled Saeda’s drifting mind to old Academy lectures. She hadn’t slept well the night before and found herself fighting the same sleepiness she’d felt back then.

  The Xenogene, the Commander continued, had origins far older than Jorah-Reign. It was born from the dichotomy of Ether life energy into two forces—light and dark. The light became Ultramana, the pure form of Ether. The dark, stripped of its stabilizing balance, became known as Dark Mana. Dangerous, unstable, and hungry—it was the source of the Xenogene, the incurable enigma that could afflict any living thing from birth.

  The condition wasn’t hereditary, nor was it contagious. Its occurrence was unpredictable—marked only by the curse symbol appearing days or months after birth. For millennia, scientists had sought a cure and found none.

  Yet one truth stood firm—the Xenogene threatened only humans. Plants and animals with the condition mutated instantly upon formation. Seeds twisted during germination and animal embryos perished before birth, their bodies too weak to sustain the corruption. Humans, however, survived the bond. The Xenogene fused with them, its dark code buried deep within their cells, waiting.

  The host would live—strengthening the parasite—until one day, the mutation awakened. The longer the victim lived, the stronger both host and horror became.

  Naturally, the question persisted—the one no political head dared to answer. Why not kill the Xeno-victims? Once bonded, they were ticking time bombs—monsters-in-waiting. Why let them breathe another day?

  Tee’s teammates shifted uneasily, but she alone remained still. She wasn’t interested in the Commander’s history lesson. She was dissecting his words for danger. Each syllable passed through her mind like a filter. So far, nothing threatened her secret.

  The holograms blinked to black. The Commander clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly before the line of cadets. His gaze drifted past the white-haired girl at the end too deliberately. Then he spoke.

  “As cadets in the Mid-Guard program, I thought this would be a fitting exercise to prepare you for future operations against the Harbingers.” His tone sharpened, as if anticipating objections. “And yes, I’m aware Mid-Guard troopers don’t fight Xenosapians—but I’m bending the rules for my special Sentinel cadets.”

  The teens weren’t surprised by the mission. The Commander had warned them he’d keep throwing death their way until they were ready for the Harbingers. It was just a matter of time.

  The Lieutenant tapped the air, summoning a hologram screen with a glowing teleportation button. She didn’t press it yet, only kept her gaze fixed on the Commander.

  Hands buried in his jacket pockets, the Commander said, “District Ninety-Nine, Mercene Second Level Academy. Remember—to do the impossible, you must be willing to break free of your reality.”

  His words made the teens blink twice. He’d said that line before, but somehow, he always made it sound more cryptic than it needed to be. Why not just say—to do the impossible, you have to do the impossible?

  Tee froze. District Ninety-Nine. Her home district. She couldn’t believe they were being sent there—back where her Mid-Guard headquarters stood. She could’ve taken a hover-bus to visit… Jack.

  Her heart pounded so hard it almost hurt. The ground beneath her flashed red—the sign of teleportation activation—and reality hit her like cold water. She wasn’t going home. She was heading there to kill a Xenosapian.

  When the warp ended, Tee found herself in a corridor lined with old metal lockers. The air smelled faintly of industrial cleaners. She took one glance around and gasped.

  “No way,” she murmured, stepping over scattered papers toward a water cooler covered in graffiti. The words read “high on d+.” The teachers still hadn’t figured out that “d+” was slang for drugs which was why it was still there.

  “This is my Academy—District Ninety-Nine Academy,” she said aloud, as if she hadn’t heard the Commander say it minutes earlier.

  “This is your Academy?” Zod asked, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “What a coincidence. I wonder if the Commander did that on purpose.”

  Tee’s heart pounded faster—but not from fear. Jack was just a cab ride away. His face appeared in her mind, his easy smile twisting into that familiar, teasing smirk that made her pulse race.

  “How did the Commander even know there was a Xenosapian here?” Saeda asked, brows drawn tight.

  Kie stopped scanning the hallway, his eyes sharp with thought. He’d never been to a Second-Level Academy. He’d learned to read on his own by ten, and everything else came from years in the Mid-Guard.

  “He must’ve tapped into the mutation hotline,” he said. “MG officers always check it to track nearby Xenospaians.”

  But Tee didn’t hear him. Her mind was back on Jack again. If he was still on patrol duty, he’d be easy to find before curfew. Tingles ran up her legs—anticipation, excitement, maybe a little danger. She had to finish that mission fast.

  Saeda bent down to pick up one of the abandoned exam papers. “This place looks like a ghost town.”

  “You mean Academies don’t usually look like this?” Miko asked, half-curious. She’d been home-schooled her whole life.

  Zod studied the paper in his hand. “Looks like they ditched during an exam. History too—worst subject to not be prepared for.”

  They didn’t leave anything but papers,” Saeda said, tracing her hand along the dented lockers. “Maybe I can get a vision or something. Find the Xenosapian before Tee gets too distracted.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Kie slammed his fist into a locker, the impact echoing through the corridor. The metal caved in, leaving a deep dent. The noise snapped Tee out of her thoughts.

  She and the others turned toward him.

  “Why are you standing there?” Kie asked. “We can’t kill a Xenosapian if we don’t even know where it is.”

  Tee let the words slide as she was in too good a mood to argue. He was right anyway. The sooner they finished, the sooner she’d see Jack. She shut her eyes and opened them again with her alternate vision.

  Shadows leapt by too fast for her to track. The first flicker came from a cut-out poster ranking Xenosapians by threat level. The second from an open locker—its interior pitch black. Whoever owned it needed serious therapy.

  Then she froze. Wriggling tentacles, dark and slick, extended from a humanoid shape lurking near the cafeteria. Its body was swollen with veiny darkness, the silhouette of what used to be a student.

  A young Xenosapian. Six feet tall, maybe two wide. Nothing like the monster from Kie’s campfire story but still dangerous.

  Her stomach sank. Fast movers like that made missions long and Death-balls barely worked against them. If they didn’t finish it soon, she could miss her chance to see Jack before curfew.

  She didn’t wait for her vision to fully return, already knowing the way to the cafeteria. “Got it,” she said with a blink. “It’s near the cafeteria, probably a six-by-two rank,” were her last words before she hurried off.

  The others followed until Tee stopped short. The hallway ahead was blocked by rolled-down metal grilles.

  “Damn it!” she cursed, gripping the bars to peer through. “These weren’t here before. Maintenance security must’ve locked the area trying to trap it.”

  Saeda frowned. “Guys, let’s not wreck the place, okay? I remember coming to class one day and finding everything destroyed. My desk was broken. I had to use my lap as one. Worst day of my life.” She sighed. “I wanted to die.”

  Tee stepped back from the grille. “We’ll have to go outside—loop halfway around to the teachers’ entrance.”

  Her gaze slid toward a grilled window that could serve as an exit, but Kie summoned his sword.

  “That’s a waste of time,” he said. “We’re cutting through.”

  Tee’s brows lifted. “I was about to say that.”

  Saeda’s words about property damage fell flat. That was her old Academy, and she couldn’t care less about preserving it. If the creature escaped and reached the sewers, it’d grow and start hunting people near curfew. No chance she was letting that happen.

  Kie struck first, slicing through the metal with one clean swing. Tee followed, matching his precision. The others stood back, letting the two most capable among them do their work.

  When the grilles fell, they stepped through the jagged opening ready to finish the mission and whatever waited beyond it.

  “What’s that?” Miko asked after they passed through the second grille. Pictures on a hologram notice board flipped to new faces and held her attention. “These people can’t be students. They look so scary.”

  Zod grinned. “That’s an honor board—previous years’ top performers in the Mid-Entry tournament. We have those at my Academy too.”

  The Mid-Entry tournament judged students on unbiased metrics used to apply for Mid-Guards. It wasn’t just the fancier resources or comfier dorms at top-ranked Mid-Guards that drove competitors. Many believed the high death rate in lower-ranked schools was the government’s way of culling the weak.

  “Hey, First-Class is here. And there’s Tee,” Saeda breathed. “That’s the Mid-Guard Kie told me about. I hear they only take the best of the best.”

  Tee and Kie both heard her but kept moving. Tee had been assigned to First Class Mid-Guard but she passed it up to join the Mid-Guard Jack got assigned with. His stamina scores weren’t as high as hers, but that didn’t matter to her.

  Kie couldn’t believe Tee was supposed to go to the same Mid-Guard as him. But it wasn’t the time to press the issue. Besides, being beside her as they cut through grilles felt like a sign. He liked having her there.

  Zod’s voice floated through as they sliced the last metal barrier. “This reminds me of a fake Xenosapian alarm at my Academy once. We got locked down, then dismissed early to finish lessons online. Cameras later showed there was no threat. The students tripped the alarm to get to a concert.”

  He gave a weak chuckle. “They didn’t get expelled. Those kids had top stamina scores. They always get away with things. They take bullying to another level once they hit the MG because the authorities look the other way.”

  “Why do you think they call it Mid-slavery instead of regular bullying?” Saeda asked.

  Miko had never heard any of it before and stayed quiet. She, Zod, and Saeda redirected their attention to Tee and Kie, who were cutting through the final grille.

  “Hey Kie, what was your score in the Mid-Entry?” Zod asked as he stepped through the triangular opening. “You must’ve gotten a perfect score.”

  “I did,” Kie replied flatly. “But I was already in the Mid-Guard I wanted, so I didn’t need the entry.”

  “I ranked level three,” Zod laughed.

  “Level four for me,” Saeda said, unbothered by being near the bottom.

  Zod and Saeda looked at Miko. “I don’t remember my score,” she said. “I don’t even remember doing a test.”

  A blue light flashed from a sensor in the corner, and Tee’s question died on her tongue. Her Academy was wealthy enough to afford camera sensors that detected Xenosapian mutations unlike Zod’s, which relied on manual alarms.

  The detector analyzed movement and color data. It triggered the shutdown, but that wasn’t what bothered Tee. The cameras were tied into the surveillance network. She felt the despicable MG tools watching her.

  A corner of her mouth twitched with disgust. She raised her sword, ready to take out the camera.

  “I sense movement close by,” Kie said, and then he bolted off without waiting for Tee.

  The others followed, Tee keeping pace at his side. As they neared the connecting hallway, each armed a sword in each hand.

  Zod hated that he couldn’t recreate his blasting attack. He wasn’t about to run at a monster unarmed. Pain had a way of sharpening focus, and even knowing it would end, he wanted escape routes. His eyes scanned for somewhere to fall back to if things went wrong.

  A boomerang blade hissed out from the corner and stole their attention. Tee barely avoided the spinning weapon that would have sliced heads clean off. A chill stabbed through her as she realized the other monsters she was going to face that day.

  They dodged the flying hazard and turned to see a group of MG guards pouring from the corner. Familiar ugly faces in blue uniforms made Tee grit her teeth.

  Beater still hadn’t put on a proper walking stick and his bat was a poor substitute. He fixed his wide eyes on the white-haired girl. “You,” he spat.

  A bushy-browed guard curled his lip. He remembered the girl who once slammed a bathroom door into his face.

  Then the biggest of the guards stepped forward. She had a partially shaved head and hit her metal bat into her palm as she sneered, “If it isn’t Terror-Tee.”

  Tee called the woman by her true name, Devastation.”

  Kie, at Tee’s side, felt the tension aimed at her. “Friends of yours?” he asked without taking his eyes off the group.

  “Tsk, as if,” she muttered.

  Zod mumbled, “The MG guards at my Academy don’t know my name to single me out. Tee, why didn’t you tell me you were a top student?”

  “‘Terror-Tee’ doesn’t exactly scream ‘top student,’” Saeda muttered to him.

  Tee’s gaze landed on the blade thrower a guard held—a weapon designed to slice the heads off Xeno-victims as they began mutating. MG offs rarely carried them. A Xenogenist had once gotten hold of one and made headlines for decapitating every Xeno-victim he saw on the streets. That incident, along with many others, had given the weapon a notorious reputation.

  The blade had a magnetic fail-safe meant to stop it from killing the wrong target, but wielders were rarely quick enough. Civilians died when the thing was used, and anyone who knew what it was did their best to run when they saw it.

  “I haven’t seen you in a year,” Beater said with a grin and a spit that landed near Tee’s boots. “No wonder it’s so quiet around here.”

  Tee glanced at the belt stretched tight around his middle. He should’ve used three belts to hold back the ballfield at his stomach.

  Devastation’s face stayed stone. “Can’t believe they never expelled you.” A memory flashed—Tee on top of Devastation once, arm around her neck, trying to crush the air from her lungs.

  It was Devastation who had mocked Tee, calling her a Xenoid. Tee had leapt at her like a wild animal. Devastation had tried to pry her off while the other guards hit Tee with their bats. Devastation almost choked to death that day. Tee would never forget that.

  Another guard pushed between Devastation and Beater, eyes flashing. “What in Geovalon’s name are you teenagers doing here? Didn’t you hear to evacuate?” he barked.

  Tee dismissed one of her swords and waved a hand. “Open your tiny eyes, you tools. We’re doing your job since you’re not worth the tissue I crap on.”

  Miko frowned at the crude remark as the other guards turned toward the speaker who said such foul words.

  Devastation twisted the top of her bat, removing a sheath to reveal a long blade. “I expected to meet one monster today, not two,” she said.

  Tee had no answer. They had no idea what she could truly unleash and she dreaded the names they’d invent if they ever found out.

  A radio crackled loud. “Hey! The Xenosapian’s moving inside the cafeteria!”

  “Leave them,” Beater said, turning away from the teens. “You can’t say we didn’t warn them. Their deaths will set an example for all the dumb brats out there.”

  The guards nodded and charged down the hall with the blade thrower.

  Damn it. They’d taken the route Tee and her team intended to use. There was no way she’d let those tools get to the prize first. Game on!