The lights in Team Null’s dorm blinked on, cold and quiet.

  Gale sat on the edge of her bunk, rolling her shoulders with a tired groan. Ditto brushed through her hair, still half-asleep but awake enough to complain. “Glad Captain gave us a day off before the tournament,” Gale muttered.

  Ditto nodded. “My legs feel like they got hit by a truck.”

  Gale stood and stretched. “Bathhouse this morning?”

  Ditto perked up. “Yes. Please.”

  They grabbed their swimwear. Ditto glanced toward the far bunk.Selena slept curled up tight, quiet as always.

  Ditto hesitated. “…Should we invite her?”

  Gale stopped instantly. “Why? She’ll just dull the excitement. She always does.”

  Ditto bit her lip. “We’re a three-person team. If we don’t try… we’re dead tomorrow.”

  Gale groaned loudly. “Fine. But if she ruins it, that’s on you.”

  Ditto set down her swimsuit and walked over to Selena's bed.She touched her shoulder gently. “Selena… hey. Wake up.”

  Selena stirred, eyes fluttering, still halfway dreaming. “…Mm?”

  Ditto smiled lightly. “We’re going to the East Wing bathhouse. Do you want to come with us?”

  Selena blinked — slowly.

  No answer.

  Ditto leaned closer. “Selena… Did you hear me? I said, do you want to come with us?”

  Selena blinked harder this time. Almost like she couldn’t tell if this was real.

  Gale huffed. “If she’s not answering, she doesn’t want to go. Let’s go, Ditto.”

  Selena pushed herself up slightly. “I— I’m not even dressed yet. You two go ahead.”

  “See?” Gale said instantly. “Told you.”

  Ditto didn’t look back. “If you get ready and want to come, we’ll be there for about an hour.”

  Selena nodded once, small. “Okay… thank you.”

  Gale rolled her eyes and followed Ditto out the door.

  The door slid shut.

  Silence filled the room again.

  Selena stared at the empty space where they’d stood.Then a soft expression touched her face.

  Surprise.

  Because for once…

  she wasn’t completely invisible.

  ———

  Ayasha blinked awake first.

  The dorm was dim, the soft blue glow of the wall-lights barely touching the bunks.

  She sat up slowly… then frowned.

  Lior’s bed was empty.

  Not just empty — made up.

  He hadn’t slept there. “…Where is he?” she whispered.

  Cael stirred, rubbing his eyes as he sat upright. His gaze drifted toward Lior’s bunk — and his brows drew together. “Did… did he ever come to bed?”

  Ayasha shook her head. “He wasn’t here when we fell asleep.”

  Cael leaned forward, scanning the sheets more carefully. “He definitely didn’t come here last night. His bed is the same.”

  Ayasha exhaled. “Then where is he now?”

  They exchanged a look — the same one they’d shared every time Lior carried too much on his shoulders.

  They already knew the answer.

  ———

  The training grounds were supposed to be empty today.

  Every team had been ordered to rest before the tournament.

  But the sound of something clattering echoed off the walls.

  Lior stood in the center ring, breathing hard, sweat marking his collar.

  A wooden block lay at his feet.

  He snatched another one off the pile and pressed his fingers into it—

  Nothing.

  His Niche stayed silent.

  His jaw tightened. His grip strained until the skin pulled tight across his knuckles and the block creaked lightly in his hand. “Come on…” he whispered. “Please.”

  Still nothing.

  Frustration snapped out of him.

  He threw the block as hard as he could. “DANG IT!”

  A hand caught it.

  Lior looked up..

  Kojo stood at the edge of the arena, holding the block calmly, his bright Sahara-Gate uniform catching the low light.

  Lior blinked. “Oh. Kojo, right?”

  Kojo smiled lightly. “Yes. Yes, yes — that is my name.”

  He spun the wooden block once in his hand. “Training? On a rest day?”

  Lior shrugged. “Trying not to be worthless.”

  Kojo’s face softened — then tightened when he wasn’t thinking. “You’re not worthless. You’re the prophecy. You’re the one who’s supposed to—”

  He stopped himself.

  Lior looked away. “Not that again. I’m not the prophecy. I’m not anything.”

  Kojo stared at him for a beat.

  Then his voice lowered — deeper than usual. “You have to be.”

  “No,” Lior snapped. “No, I don’t. And I’m tired of everyone saying it. The prophecy, the chosen one, the boy who’s supposed to save everyone—”

  His breath trembled.

  Words spilled faster.

  “—I’m the one who let people die. I’m the one who failed. I’m the one who—”

  He cut himself off and shook his head hard. “You don’t get it. None of you understand.”

  Then something shifted behind Kojo’s eyes.

  He stepped forward, slowly.

  His posture straightened.

  His jaw set.

  His eyes sharpened.

  “Do you think you’re the only one here who has watched someone die?” Kojo said quietly. “You think you’re the only one who felt useless? The only one who had to stand there… wishing you were strong enough to save the ones you love?”

  The words hit Lior like a punch.

  Kojo stepped closer. “Every single cadet in this building carries something, Lior. Some of us lost our families. Some lost our futures. Some lost everything before we were old enough to notice it.”

  He tapped the block lightly against Lior’s chest. “You are not the only one who hurts. So stop acting like the world is crashing only on you.”

  Lior’s mouth tightened — defensive, but shaken.

  Kojo wasn’t finished. “When I heard the prophecy-boy was here, I wasn’t excited because I expected you to save the world.”

  He pointed at his own chest.

  “I was excited because I thought I’d get to stand beside someone strong enough to help END this nightmare we have all been living. Someone who could fight with us — not above us.”

  He shook his head slowly. “But all I see right now is a boy who says he doesn’t want the world to revolve around him… while acting like it does.”

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  Silence sat heavy between them.

  Then Kojo tossed the wooden block back into Lior’s hands. “You have two Niches and can’t even break one little block. Maybe you’ll need three Niches. Maybe four.”

  Lior exhaled through his nose, a tiny smile cracking. “…Might need five.”

  Kojo grinned back. “If that happens, please warn us before you sneeze.”

  He turned and began walking toward the exit.

  He raised a hand without looking back. “I’ll see you later, Lior.”

  “Kojo,” Lior said grabbing his attention.

  Kojo paused and turned his head slightly.

  “…Thanks.”

  Kojo shrugged lightly. “I did nothing.”

  But as he walked down the hall, his expression changed — darkened.

  You have to get past this point, Lior…

  Because if you don’t… we’re all doomed.

  —---

  The turbine core rumbled like a heartbeat beneath the metal flooring.

  Red warning lights pulsed across the steel walls, casting long shadows across the massive chamber.

  Carter and Rei crouched behind a support pillar on the upper catwalk — still, silent, breath tight in their chests.

  The door below hissed open.

  Sentinel walked in first. Each step carried the weight of a man carved from military doctrine. As he entered, the air seemed to steady itself around him.

  Behind him, Trigger strolled in slow, cigarette already between his lips.

  The next figure in was Vane.

  He didn’t walk so much as glide into the room, expression flat with casual boredom. He took in the space, spotted the nearest desk, and without a word—

  dropped into a chair and propped both feet right up on the tabletop.

  Sentinel didn’t even turn his head.

  He simply reached out with one massive arm and shoved Vane’s boots off the table with a single, controlled push.

  Vane’s eyes snapped toward him — sharp, irritated.

  For a second his jaw flexed, like he might say something reckless—

  Then his gaze met Sentinel’s eyes.

  The kind of stare that told him exactly where the power in the room truly sat.

  Vane leaned back in his chair slowly…

  Calmed himself.

  And didn’t put his feet back up.

  Trigger pulled his lighter out, flicked it once—

  Sentinel didn’t even look at him.

  He simply held out a metal trash can beside him. “No smoking in here.”

  Trigger froze mid-flick.

  He stared at Sentinel, jaw shifting once — then flicked the cigarette from his mouth straight into the can. “…damn shame,” he muttered under his breath.

  Vane exhaled sharply through his nose.

  “So,” he said, voice bored and razor-thin, “can someone tell me what the plan is?”

  Sentinel slowly uncrossed his massive arms and planted both feet on the floor.

  When he leaned forward, he did it like a commanding officer addressing a war table.

  “We have intel,” Sentinel said, voice low but hard enough to vibrate the air,

  “that the boy of prophecy will come here. This is where we snuff out that so-called light of his.”

  Trigger smirked and lifted one of his revolvers lazily. “One shot to the head oughta do it.”

  Sentinel’s arm shot out immediately, blocking the aim. “No. The boy has to do it himself.”

  Trigger lowered the gun.

  Sentinel continued. “The scribe said it’s the only way to change the prophecy.”

  Up on the catwalk, Rei and Carter exchanged a look — eyes wide.

  Change the prophecy?

  Carter leaned toward Rei and whispered barely above breath. “How do they even know Lior is coming here? That’s supposed to be Veritas-only intel.”

  Rei hissed, “Shh—” eyes locked back on the scene below.

  Trigger reached up out of habit — forgetting there was no cigarette in his mouth. His fingers pinched empty air. “…dammit.”

  Then he shrugged. “Fine. Then I’ll take out the other two annoyances that run around with him.”

  Sentinel shook his head. “And leave Titan to me.”

  Vane finally turned his head, eyes faintly glowing under the red lights.

  His voice was quiet.

  Cold.

  Possessive.

  “I really don’t care who you take out. Don’t dare come between me and my fight."

  He leaned back in the chair, bored again. “He’s mine.”

  Carter swallowed hard.

  Rei made the final retreat signal — a sharp, flat hand cutting diagonally downward.

  Carter responded with the silent OK gesture.

  Below them, Sentinel stood.

  His shadow stretched across the floor like a verdict.

  “It’s time,” Sentinel said. “For Potestas to end Veritas once and for all.”

  He stepped toward the core. “Along with their herald prophecy.”

  The sounds of machinery grew louder.

  Rei and Carter slipped away into the darkness.

  They had heard enough to know—

  The storm was coming — and Lior was its purpose.

  —---

  The hallways in Veritas felt darker today, more than usual.

  Lior walked down it with his thoughts swirling too loud for him to see straight.

  He wasn’t looking—

  THUD.

  He slammed right into someone’s chest.

  He stepped back fast… looked up…

  Rex of Team Ironclad.

  Massive. Broad-shouldered. Long, heavy arms with that rough, animal-built strength — mutated due to the effects of the serum..

  Behind him: Lockjaw and Blend both stiffening on instinct the moment someone touched their comrade.

  Rex’s posture tensed instantly… but the voice that came out of him—

  “Sorry.”

  Lior froze.

  That voice wasn’t the deep, gravelly growl everyone imagined he had.

  It was small.

  Soft.

  A boy’s voice.

  For a second, Lior just stared at him in confusion — and Rex mistook the look instantly.

  His shoulders slumped. His head lowered. Lockjaw and Blend mirrored him, that familiar defeated posture Ironclad wore on occasions.

  They started to walk past him.

  Lior reacted fast. “—Hey! Wait!”

  He jogged a few steps, cutting slightly ahead of them. “No, no — hold up. That wasn’t about you. I wasn’t giving you a look.”

  Rex paused, hesitant, gaze stuck to the floor.

  Lior reached his hands out to Rex in a slow, calming gesture. “I… I’ve never heard you speak before,” he said honestly. “You startled me. That’s all.”

  Rex’s eyes flicked up for half a second — like he was bracing for mockery.

  Lior stepped closer and extended his hand further.

  Rex froze. Because last time someone reached a hand out to him, it was pulled away in front of everyone.

  Humiliating him.

  The memory hit him hard — and he hesitated, breath catching.

  But Lior just held the handshake steady, offering a small, lopsided smirk. “Come on, man. I don’t bite.”

  Rex stared at the hand like it might disappear.

  Then — slowly — he reached.

  His huge palm engulfed Lior’s.

  Lior squeezed firmly.

  “By the way…” he said quietly, “that fight you put up against Captain Hiroshi? You didn’t back down once. Standing against a Captain like that? That’s real strength, Rex.”

  Something flickered across Rex’s face.

  Shock.

  Then something softer.

  The faintest, fragile smile.

  Behind him, Blend nodded once, silent but approving. Lockjaw gave a small grunt — her version of thanks.

  Lior stepped back and jerked his chin toward the dorm hall.

  “Anytime you guys want to chill… or train… or just get out of your own heads a bit — come knock on my door.”

  Rex swallowed hard, nodded once, then turned with his team.

  And as Ironclad walked away, Lior saw it clearly,

  Rex walked as if something lifted off of him.

  And for one quiet moment in that empty hall…

  Team Ironclad didn’t feel unreachable.

  Lior watched Ironclad disappear around the corner — three silhouettes that suddenly didn’t feel so far away.

  He turned to walk back toward his dorm… and slammed straight into someone else’s chest.

  Thump.

  He staggered back. “Man— how many people am I gonna run into today?”

  Snapback rubbed the spot Lior hit, scrunching his face dramatically like he’d been hit by a truck.

  Then he leaned in with a grin. “Hey, question — have you seen a little kid running around? Way too much energy? Talks fast? Eats everything?”

  Lior let out an exhausted breath and said the answer as if it could be no one else.“…Bastian.”

  Snapback snapped his fingers, finger-guns and all. “Yes! Wow. You’ve become familiar with him quick.

  Lior rolled his eyes and looked away from SnapBack as he murmured under his breath. “Not like he gave us a choice in the matter.

  SnapBack continued. “Me and his captain been lookin’ for him everywhere. Dude teleports like he has my Niche.”

  Lior shrugged. “Believe me, there 's no need to worry about him. Well… unless he starves to death.

  Snapback nodded hard. “Kid’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Do you know where he might be?”

  “Nope,” Lior said. “Haven’t seen him in a while.”

  Snapback groaned, throwing his head back. “Dang it!”

  He looked at Lior, pointing two fingers at his own eyes, then at Lior. “If you see him… Tie him up for me.”

  Lior smirked. “Yeah, sure.”

  As they came to the dorm hall, the two split.

  ———

  The hall lights were dimmed, running on night mode. Soft blue strips glowed along the floor as Snapback and Drift walked through the common lounge — Drift with his slow, exhausted shuffle, Snapback with his light, easy bounce.

  Nightveil followed behind them, silent as always.

  Snapback stretched both arms over his head with a lazy groan. “Maaaan… feels like a long day.”

  Drift blinked slowly. “I haven’t seen Bastian since breakfast.”

  Snapback lowered his arms. “He okay?”

  Drift shrugged — the smallest, laziest lift of a shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about that kid… but maybe this facility.”

  Nightveil cut in instantly, arms folded. “He means he loses track of him all the time.”

  Drift shrugged his shoulders, not denying her statement .

  Snapback snorted. “Figures.”

  They split toward their rooms. Nightveil vanished first. Drift gave a flick of two fingers and slipped inside his door.

  Snapback wandered to his own room, rolling his neck.

  He pushed the door open and froze as he stepped in..

  Bastian was sprawled sideways across Snapback’s bed, mouth hanging open, one leg dangling, and four empty cups of ramen scattered around him.

  He was snoring softly.

  Snapback’s eye twitched. Then slowly…

  A grin stretched across his face.

  “…this kid.”

  He picked up the cups from the bed and removed the few noodles from his face that survived the carnage and pulled the blanket over him.

  Bastian mumbled. “…Ramen…”

  Snapback stifled a laugh.

  He crossed the room and hopped lightly onto his hammock, flipping open a paperback, foot dangling off the edge like always.

  “Sleep tight, little man.”

  Snapback slipped onto his man-made hammock made of stitched uniforms.

  As Veritas Prime slept, anticipation filled the quiet halls.

  Tomorrow’s tournament would begin — a clash that would shape futures in ways none of them were ready for.

  End of chapter 44

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