By morning, the gong returned—louder and more obnoxious than ever. Riley groaned, dragging the pillow over his ears for a moment before accepting his fate. His body still felt like it had been wrung out and hung to dry, sore from training and drained from the echo he'd stepped through the night before.
Above him, Thompson dropped down from his bunk and gave Riley a faint grin. "Still alive, huh? That's something."
Riley didn't answer. He was too busy pulling on his boots and forcing his limbs to cooperate. Whatever strength he'd gained from touching the fracture last night, it hadn't come without a price.
Once the recruits were gathered in the training yard, Major Pain greeted them with his usual disdainful sweep of the eyes.
"Today, you'll be sorted by Affinity," he said, his voice sharp but calm. "You'll be grouped according to Talent type. From here on, your training path will reflect what your body—and your mind—were built for."
He gave a curt nod to a soldier nearby, who began numbering everyone off: One through Six. The process was mechanical, aggressive—eye contact, shouted numbers, memorization by force. If someone forgot, Riley got the sense it wouldn't end with a warning.
Riley was tagged as a Three. He didn't care much for the number, but he had bigger things to worry about.
They were lined up into six columns. Each line now had a soldier at the front, standing beside a cart of jagged stones. The instructions were simple:
Grab a rock. Face away. Let the Talent happen.
Simple—except for the part where Riley had no idea what his would look like.
The first few recruits stepped up. A girl in Group Three grabbed a stone, turned toward the edge of the yard, and within seconds, the rock crumbled to dust in her hand. A small flame flickered in her palm.
No panic. No explosion. Just a murmur of interest from the soldiers nearby. She was directed to speak to the clipboard soldier and moved aside.
More followed—sparks of wind, crackles of static, tremors in the ground, illusions of light. Some held their rocks for a full minute before anything happened. Others had no reaction at all.
Riley watched, increasingly tense.
He had two sets of abilities now—his Natural Talent, and the eerie system tied to the Wisps.
He'd just let the soldier know about the one Proxy already knew about. Riley firmly believed in keeping your best cards hidden for as long as possible.
When it was his turn, he stepped forward, palms dry against the rough stone. He turned away from the group, just like they said, but inwardly, he couldn't help questioning the logic.
If someone's Talent explodes like an aura, is facing away really going to help?
He didn't get long to think as the stone disintegrated in his hand.
A loud gasp echoed to his right, and when he turned toward it, everything began to move like molasses.
And the world slowed.
His thoughts sharpened instantly. Time seemed to fold around him like a curtain being pulled aside.
A jagged arc of lightning had cut through the air. Fast. Violent.
But not fast enough.
Riley tracked its movement easily. His body felt heavy, but he had time—time to calculate, time to shift. While his body still moved slowly, he could at least still move and with an effortless motion, he leaned subtly to the side. The bolt tore past him, missing his shoulder by inches.
And then time snapped back.
To the others, it must've looked like Riley had casually sidestepped a lightning strike.
Gasps rippled through the group. Laughter. Confusion. Fear. But no one seemed to notice what he had done due to the sheer power and flashiness of the lightning arc.
No one, except the soldier with the clipboard
The man gave a sharp nod and beckoned him over.
Riley quickly glanced toward the source of the bolt. Standing at the end of another line was the broad-shouldered recruit he'd bumped into on day one—expression blank, gaze unapologetic.
He's going to be a problem, Riley thought.
"Name," the clipboard soldier said as Riley approached.
"Riley."
The man scribbled something. "That was… reflexes. Super speed?"
Riley blinked. "No. Not exactly."
He summoned the blue panel. It appeared at once, faint but legible.
[Natural Talents Unlocked]
• Eyes of Focus (Active) — Your eyes can see, and your mind can understand things at incredible speeds.
Riley read the description of his talent aloud, then added, "It's perception. Not movement. I don't move faster. I process faster."
The soldier scratched his head. "So... Juggernaut, then?"
Riley frowned. "What? No. I'm not a Juggernaut. I'm an Augur. Perception is the whole point. The world slows down. I don't speed up."
The man hesitated, clearly torn between the observed result and Riley's explanation.
Then, reluctantly, he nodded. "Fine. Augur for now. If it doesn't stick, we'll reclassify."
Riley exhaled, relieved. "Thanks."
He turned and walked back toward the others, his thoughts were busy processing what had just happened.
The precision and clarity his natural talent offered were undeniable. With enough practice, Riley knew he could use it deliberately—reading people, and moving through the world with a sense of controlled insight. It was a perfect expression of control.
But he also knew that this alone wasn't enough. His true strength didn't lie only in perception. He still had to learn how to navigate fractures—those strange, ethereal cracks covering the land—and uncover the hidden truths buried in the echoes of the land. Why did they exist? And why, to his knowledge, was he the only one who could interact with them? It felt like a gift, but one that came with a price.
To see the world for what it truly was—
—but to face what he saw.