By morning, the world had already started choosing sides.
The TV in the dorm lobby was turned up too loud, its speakers buzzing with the same frantic energy as the anchors.
"...self-proclaimed followers gathering outside Evaluation Centers across the country—"
The footage cut to a crowd kneeling in front of military barricades. They were holding up cardboard signs, some professionally printed, others scrawled in thick marker: ARCHANGEL DESCENDED. CHOSEN PROTECTORS. THE NEW ERA BEGINS.
Mira choked on her coffee, coughing as she stared at the screen. "Oh, absolutely not. Tell me that's a joke."
Lucien didn't look impressed. If anything, he looked slightly sick. "They're serious?"
The news shifted to a clip of a different group chanting outside a hospital entrance, their faces upturned to the sky. "Blessed! Blessed!"
Seris grabbed the remote and muted the television, plunging the room into a sudden, heavy silence. "They're elevating Authority candidates to divine status. It's a coping mechanism for the fear."
Kaida was hunched over her phone, her thumb moving in a constant scroll. "It's not just here. It's happening globally. The internet is basically a shrine right now."
Orion glanced toward the window, his eyes tracking a bird as it flew beneath the silver scar. "Religious institutions are having a meltdown. Everyone's trying to claim a piece of the narrative."
Then, every phone in the room buzzed at once—the same jarring, emergency alert tone.
AUTHORITY USERS REQUIRED TO REGISTER FOR MONITORING COMPLIANCE.
Mira blinked at the text. "Monitoring compliance? That's a very polite way of saying 'surveillance.'"
Garrick folded his arms, his massive frame casting a shadow over the coffee table. "They're escalating. They realized they can't stop the power, so they're trying to leash it."
Lucien glanced at Nox, who was leaning against the doorframe. "They're scared," Lucien said.
"Yes," Nox replied.
The message on the screen scrolled further: UNAUTHORIZED AUTHORITY ACTIVITY MAY RESULT IN DETAINMENT UNDER EMERGENCY STABILIZATION PROTOCOL.
"So, what?" Mira asked, her voice rising. "If someone accidentally freeze their morning cereal, they get arrested?"
Seris exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. "They don't know how to regulate this yet. They're grasping at straws because they lost the monopoly on force."
Lucien walked over and turned the TV off entirely, the screen going black. "Good."
Mira looked at him, surprised. "Good? Lucien, they're threatening to lock us up."
"Yes," he said, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair. "Let them panic. It means the system is breaking." He looked at the group, his golden-rimmed eyes reflecting the morning light. "We train."
Garrick didn't hesitate. "Agreed."
Kaida tilted her head toward the window. "They'll be watching the campus. Drones, satellites, thermal scanners."
"Let them watch," Lucien replied, his voice gaining that steady, lead-singer authority.
Nox finally moved from the door. "They can monitor the energy output. They can see the flare, but they can't see the technique."
"Then we keep it controlled," Lucien said, looking at Nox. "You said this was a gradual manifestation, right?"
"Yes."
"Then today we figure out what that actually means."
They didn't go to a gym or a field; they went back to the roof. No grand rituals, no divine chanting, no spotlight. Just the biting morning wind, the grit of concrete beneath their boots, and the scar in the sky watching them like an unblinking eye.
Lucien stood in the center of the roof, his feet shoulder-width apart. "Alright," he said, sounding remarkably calm. "How do I call this thing without it calling me?"
Nox stepped closer, his shadow stretching long across the roof. "Don't try to summon it."
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "That's very helpful, Nox. Really."
"Invite it," Nox clarified. "If you pull on it, it snaps back. If you open the door, it flows."
Lucien inhaled slowly, closing his eyes. The golden warmth beneath his skin responded—a low, humming vibration that felt like a distant engine. It wasn't flaring out of control this time; it was listening.
Mira leaned against the railing, her eyes scanning the streets below for any unwanted visitors. "If a bunch of cultists start climbing this building to get your autograph, I'm blaming you, Lucien."
"Focus," Lucien muttered, though he didn't open his eyes.
The warmth gathered at his shoulders. It wasn't the vast wings from the previous night, nor was it a blinding pillar of light. It was just potential—a shimmering, golden haze that clung to his skin like a second layer of atmosphere.
Seris watched him closely, her hand instinctively hovering near his wrist. "Pulse is steady. No spikes."
Garrick stood nearby, his weight cracking the concrete slightly without him even trying. Kaida's shadow rippled and stretched unnaturally behind her, while Orion's gaze remained sharp, measuring the wind direction as if he were already lining up a shot.
Lucien exhaled a long, measured breath. The gold flickered one last time, then dimmed until it was gone. He had let it out, and he had brought it back in.
He opened his eyes, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "...Okay."
Nox nodded once. "That's enough for Day One."
Mira groaned, dropping her head back. "That's it? We didn't even break anything?"
"Yes," Nox said.
Garrick frowned slightly. "We're not pushing the limit? We only have few days left."
"Not yet," Nox said, his voice brooking no argument. "Forced growth is how you destabilize. You'll burn out before the Gates even settle."
Lucien studied Nox, searching for the hidden meaning in his words. "Then we build the foundation first."
"Yes."
Below them, the city continued to spiral. A helicopter thudded past, its searchlight cutting through the pale morning. In the distance, the faint sound of chanting drifted over the campus walls.
Chosen. Blessed. Divine.
Mira glanced over the railing at the world below. "They're calling you an Archangel, Lucien. They're making you a god."
Lucien didn't even look over the edge. "They don't know me."
Nox's voice was a cold anchor. "They don't need to. They're just looking for a shield."
Lucien glanced sideways at Nox, the gold in his eyes flashing faintly. "Do you? Know me?"
Nox held his gaze, the silence between them weighted with the memory of a life Lucien couldn't remember. "Yes."
The gold flickered briefly between them—not a divine sign, but something grounded. Something human.
Lucien turned away from the edge, heading for the rooftop door. "Then that's enough for today."
The scar in the sky pulsed, a silent countdown. The world was fracturing—governments tightening their grip, cults rising, the media spinning into madness. But on that rooftop, they weren't gods.
They were a unit. And they wouldn't waste a single second.