The Lower Combat Wing sat beneath the academy like a buried scar.
Arem felt it the moment the elevator doors slid open—a pressure in the air, heavy and stale, like the building itself was holding its breath. The lights were dimmer here, yellow strips humming faintly overhead. Concrete walls bore old cracks, some patched, others left open like reminders.
This was where they sent problems.
"Out."
Vale's voice cut through Arem's thoughts. He stepped forward, the elevator doors closing behind him with a final hiss. No going back now.
The corridor stretched long and narrow. Training halls branched off like ribs. From behind reinforced doors came the sounds of impact—flesh on flesh, bone on mat, sharp exhalations of pain that were never quite screams.
Arem swallowed.
"This isn't punishment," Vale said as they walked. "It's filtration. Only those who adapt stay."
"And the rest?" Arem asked.
Vale didn't slow. "They break."
They stopped in front of a metal door marked L-7.
Vale keyed it open.
Inside was a wide training chamber, stripped bare. No weapons racks. No observation seats. Just reinforced floors and faint red scarring across the walls—burns, gouges, fractures.
A single person stood in the center.
Tall. Lean. Shirtless despite the cold. His skin was mapped with old scars, some pale, some dark. His hair was long and tied back, his eyes half-lidded like he was already bored.
He looked at Arem.
Then he smiled.
"So this is the anomaly," he said. "You're smaller than I expected."
Vale stepped aside. "Arem. This is Instructor Kade."
Arem stiffened. He'd heard the name whispered upstairs.
Kade the Breaker.
"You'll train under him," Vale continued. "If he clears you."
Kade laughed softly. "Clears him for what?"
Vale met his gaze. "Survival."
Vale turned and left.
The door sealed shut behind him.
Arem's heart pounded.
Kade rolled his shoulders lazily. "Relax. If I wanted you dead, you'd already be bleeding."
"That's… comforting," Arem muttered.
Kade chuckled. "Show me."
"Show you what?"
"Your Web."
Arem hesitated. "I can't just—"
Kade was suddenly in front of him.
Not walking. Not running.
There—then here.
A fist slammed into Arem's stomach.
The world folded.
Arem flew backward, crashing into the wall hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. He slid down, gasping, vision blurring.
Kade stepped closer, calm as ever. "You don't activate it on command. You activate it when you're cornered."
Arem coughed, pushing himself up. Pain screamed through his ribs.
"Good," Kade said. "You're learning."
Arem clenched his teeth. Fear crept in—hot, sharp.
The pressure returned.
A tremor ran through his arms.
Red threads flickered into existence, thin and unstable, snapping in and out like broken signals.
Kade's smile widened.
"There it is."
Arem lunged.
The threads lashed outward, slamming into the floor, pulling him forward faster than his body could handle. His foot slipped. His shoulder slammed into Kade's chest—
And stopped.
Kade hadn't moved.
He grabbed one of the glowing threads with his bare hand.
Arem screamed.
The thread vibrated violently, feedback ripping through his nerves. His vision went white.
"Rule one," Kade said calmly. "Your Web connects you to everything it touches."
He twisted.
Pain exploded through Arem's arm. He collapsed, convulsing, the threads shattering into sparks.
Kade released him.
Arem lay on the floor, shaking, teeth chattering uncontrollably.
"That recoil?" Kade said. "That's mercy. Push harder without control and your muscles tear themselves apart."
Arem forced himself to breathe. "Then… teach me."
Kade crouched, eyes sharp now. Serious.
"I don't teach heroes," he said. "I teach survivors."
He stood and stepped back. "You'll fight three times a day. Lose every time. When your body can't move, you'll still stand."
"And if I can't?" Arem asked weakly.
Kade's gaze flicked to the ceiling, then back to Arem. "Then the Web will choose something else to wear."
A chill ran through Arem.
Suddenly, the room lights flickered.
A low hum vibrated through the floor.
Kade frowned. "That's not me."
The air tightened.
Red lines began to seep through the cracks in the walls—slow, deliberate. Not Arem's threads.
Different.
Older.
Arem's chest burned as the familiar pull returned—stronger than before, answering something unseen.
Kade turned sharply toward him. "What did you bring down here?"
Before Arem could answer, the wall behind him cracked open.
And something stepped through.