Kai didn't sleep that night.
He lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling, Holt's words echoing in his mind. A single drop every few weeks. A needle fine enough to barely pierce the exoskeleton. Treat it like a partner, not a resource.
The Signal Gnat rested in his Hive Core Realm, pulsing softly, unaware of what Kai was planning. Could he really do this? Could he hurt his own bonded creature, even a little, even for a good reason?
He thought about Milo's sister Lena. Eight years old, hiding in closets, listening to things scratch at the door. He thought about his own mother, alone in the house with Lux and Rize, vulnerable every night. He thought about the breach night—the sirens, the fear, the helplessness of not knowing what was coming. The way Rize had curled against Lux, trembling. The way his mother's eyes had scanned the darkness, seeing threats Kai couldn't perceive.
For family, he told himself. This is for family.
But the guilt didn't disappear. It sat in his chest like a stone, heavy and cold.
---
Morning came grey and cold. Kai dragged himself to the workshop before breakfast, hoping to catch a quiet moment before classes started. The corridors were empty, his footsteps echoing off stone walls. Lanterns flickered in their sconces, casting long shadows that seemed to reach for him as he passed.
He found Milo already there.
Milo was hunched over his station, the exoskeleton arm disassembled in front of him. His hair was even messier than usual, and dark circles ringed his eyes—deeper than Kai's own. He hadn't changed clothes from the day before.
Milo looked up. "Couldn't sleep either?"
Kai shook his head and sat down. For a long moment, neither spoke. The workshop hummed with the quiet of empty space, the only sounds their breathing and the distant drip of water somewhere in the walls.
Then Milo said, "About last night. What you said. About making a G3 charm for Lena." His voice cracked. "I need you to know—I'll pay you back. Whatever it costs, whatever you need, I'll find a way to—"
"Milo." Kai cut him off. "Stop."
Milo stopped.
Kai pulled out his notebook, flipping to the pages filled with Holt's lecture notes. The margins were crowded with his own observations—questions, diagrams, half-formed theories. "This isn't about payment. It's about figuring out how to do it without hurting my gnat. Holt said a drop every few weeks. That means I need to learn how to take it safely." He looked at Milo. "That's going to take time. Practice. Probably some failures."
Milo nodded slowly, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "How long?"
"I don't know. Weeks. Maybe longer." Kai closed the notebook. "But I'm going to do it. For Lena. For my mom. For all of us."
Milo's eyes were wet again. He didn't speak. He just nodded.
The workshop door banged open, and a group of Support students flooded in, chattering about the morning's upcoming lecture. Kai and Milo straightened, packing away their private moment. But something had shifted between them—a deeper trust, a shared purpose that went beyond crafting and credits. They were in this together now, whatever came.
---
The morning session was theory with Instructor Venn—more about resonance frequencies and material compatibility. Kai took notes on autopilot, his hand moving while his mind turned over blood extraction techniques. He needed a needle fine enough. He needed to earn the gnat's trust. He needed to practice on something before trying it on a living creature. He thought about using fruit, maybe, or a piece of meat—something to simulate the feeling without the risk.
Venn's voice droned on about thermal expansion and microfracture spread, but Kai barely heard her. His pencil moved mechanically, filling pages with notes he wouldn't remember writing.
Milo nodded off twice and received a sharp look from Venn that jolted him awake. The second time, a piece of chalk flew past his head and struck the wall behind him.
"Greaves," Venn said flatly, "if you can't stay awake in my class, you can spend the afternoon cleaning the theory hall. By yourself."
Milo straightened, eyes wide. "Yes, Instructor. Sorry, Instructor."
By midday, Kai's head ached and his notebook was full of half-formed ideas about blood collection. His hand cramped from writing. His stomach growled, but he ignored it.
---
As students filed out of the lecture hall, a notice on the main bulletin board caught Kai's eye. Bright paper. Bold letters. A crowd already forming around it, voices rising in excitement and panic.
He pushed through with Milo at his side.
FIRST-TERM TOURNAMENT ANNOUNCEMENT
Date: Two weeks from today
Format: Teams of 4 (random draw)
Tracks: 2 Combat, 1 Support, 1 General per team
Location: Main Arena
Prizes: 500 credits per winning team member + advancement consideration
Kai read it twice. Five hundred credits. That was more than he'd earned in total since arriving at the academy. Enough for materials, library access, maybe even a better carving tool. Enough to speed up the work for Lena's charm, for his mother's protection.
Milo grabbed his arm. "Five hundred credits. Kai, that's—"
"I know."
Around them, students erupted in chaos. Combat students flexed, already planning their victory speeches. Support students panicked, worried about being paired with strangers who would see them as dead weight. General students looked calculating, weighing their options, already thinking about team compositions.
Kai's mind was already working. Teams of four. Random draw. Two Combat, one Support, one General. That meant he'd be thrown together with strangers—or maybe with people he already knew.
He scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces. Darius stood with a group of Combat students, arms crossed, looking confident. His jaw was set, eyes calculating—already thinking about strategy, about who he might get paired with. Rafe was nearby, cracking his knuckles and laughing with his friends, his voice carrying over the crowd. He caught Kai's eye for a moment, then looked away.
Elowen stood at the edge, watching everything with her usual silent intensity. Her gaze moved from face to face, cataloging reactions, filing away information. When her eyes met Kai's, she held his gaze for just a moment—long enough to acknowledge—then looked away.
Milo followed his gaze. "If we get paired with Darius, that could be good. He's strong. And Rafe... well, he's an ass, but he can fight. I've seen him in drills."
Kai nodded slowly. "If we get paired with them. If not..." He trailed off.
Milo paled. "We could get paired with anyone. Complete strangers. People who don't know how to work with Support. People who'll blame us when things go wrong."
"Then we make ourselves valuable enough that they have to work with us." Kai touched the detection charm in his pocket. "We have items. That's more than most Support students can say. We're not useless anymore."
Milo nodded, but his face was still pale. "Two weeks. That's not much time."
"It's enough." Kai turned away from the board. "We'd better get started."
---
That afternoon, Holt gathered the Support students in Workshop Hall 41. His expression was as flat as ever, but something in his posture suggested he'd expected this announcement. He waited until the last student settled, then began.
"You've seen the notice," he said. "Two weeks. Teams of four. Random draw."
A student near the front raised a hand. "Instructor, how are we supposed to compete with Combat students? We don't have—"
"You don't have what?" Holt cut in. "Skills? Items? Brains?" He walked slowly along the front row, his eyes raking over each student. "Combat students fight. General students adapt. Support students equip. If you go into that arena without something useful, you deserve to lose."
Kai felt the words land like stones in his chest. Beside him, Milo straightened.
Holt continued. "You have two weeks. Use them. Build something. Improve something. Figure out how to make yourselves valuable to whatever team you're thrown into." He paused, letting the silence stretch. "And if you're smart, you'll start thinking about who you might get paired with. How your skills could complement theirs."
He began listing possibilities—detection charms for awareness, binding agents for control, reinforcement items for defense. Kai took notes, but most of it was review. He already knew what he needed to build.
When Holt finished, he turned to leave, then glanced back. "Entoma. Greaves. Stay after."
---
The workshop emptied quickly, students murmuring anxiously as they filed out. Soon it was just Kai, Milo, and Holt standing in the silence.
Holt looked at them for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "You two have something the others don't. Actual functional items. G2 detection charm. Working exoskeleton." He nodded slowly. "That puts you ahead. But it also makes you targets."
Kai frowned. "Targets?"
"Other students will notice. Some will want to learn from you. Some will want to beat you. And some..." Holt's eyes narrowed. "Some will want to take what you've built and claim it as their own."
Milo paled. "They can't just—"
"They can try." Holt cut him off. "The tournament rules allow captured items to be used during matches. If someone disarms you, that charm becomes theirs for the duration." He looked at Kai. "You need to protect your creations. And you need to be ready for people who see you as a threat."
Kai absorbed this. "What do you recommend?"
Holt almost smiled—the barest twitch of his mouth. "Don't lose."
He walked out, leaving them alone.
---
That evening, Kai and Milo sat in their corner of the workshop, practice blanks scattered between them. The lanterns had dimmed, casting long shadows across the empty hall. The rest of the workshop was deserted—everyone else had gone to dinner, to study, to sleep.
"Targets," Milo muttered. "Great. Just what we needed."
Kai was quiet, thinking. Holt was right. The tournament changed everything. It wasn't just about building items anymore—it was about protecting them, using them strategically, surviving against people who wanted to win at any cost.
"We need to be ready," Kai said finally.
Milo looked at him. "Ready how?"
"Better items. More reliable. And plans for how to use them in a team." Kai pulled out his notebook. "The draw is random, but we can still prepare. Detection, communication, coordination—if we build items that help any team, we'll be valuable no matter who we're paired with."
Milo nodded slowly. "And if we get paired together?"
"Then we're lucky." Kai almost smiled. "We already know how to work together."
They spent the next hour sketching ideas, planning improvements. Kai focused on the detection charm—how to make it smaller, more reliable, easier to conceal. He sketched a wrist-mounted version, something that could be worn and activated instantly. He calculated the resin ratios, the groove depths, the optimal patterns from the library booklet.
Milo worked on the exoskeleton, adding a second arm piece for balance, a chest plate for protection. He sketched attachment points, core housing, stress points. His hand moved with growing confidence.
By the time the lanterns dimmed fully, they had a plan.
Two weeks. Fourteen days. And a tournament that could change everything.
---
Kai walked back to the dorm alone, his mind still churning. Five hundred credits. Recognition. Advancement consideration. But also targets on their backs.
He thought about Holt's warning. Some will want to take what you've built.
He touched the detection charm in his pocket. His first real success. His proof that he could do this.
He didn't care if someone tried to take his creations. He could make more. Better ones. The patterns were in his head, the techniques in his hands. Let them steal. He'd outbuild them every time, outthink them, outlast them. They could take the charm, but they couldn't take what he knew.
But if someone touched what mattered—his family, Milo, the few people who'd shown him kindness—that would be different.
If anyone touches my reverse scales, he thought, I'll make them understand that death is the greatest mercy.
The thought came cold and quiet, without anger, without heat. Just fact. A line drawn in stone. A promise he would keep.
Not while Kai was still breathing.
He climbed into bed and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, the real work began.