The next room was narrower, colder, and more sterile than the one before. Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting clean white light over the sleek machinery that lined the far wall. Mounted screens blinked awake, and a row of circur panels embedded into the wall began to glow faintly in a pattern.

  Verity stood in front of a control console, tablet in hand.

  “Reflex testing is straightforward,” she said. “This is a kinetic response wall. Each panel will light up randomly, and you’ll tap it as fast as you can. No predictive patterns. No rhythm. Just reaction.”

  Hazel stepped forward first.

  “Whenever you're ready,” Verity said.

  Hazel didn’t answer. She simply raised her hands, standing perfectly still before the wall.

  The first light blinked on. Hazel tapped it instantly.

  Then another. Then two more, across the wall.

  Her arms moved fluidly, her motions precise and economical. No hesitation. No dramatic flinching. She didn’t chase the lights—she intercepted them, her fingertips finding their mark before the full illumination had even peaked.

  The lights accelerated.

  Hazel matched them, eyes sharp and focused, her breath steady. Her figure blurred at the edges—just slightly—like she existed one step ahead of time.

  The machine gave a soft beep. Test complete.

  “Average response: 0.04 seconds,” Verity said. “Well below any human threshold.”

  Hazel stepped back wordlessly.

  Mariah was next.

  She rolled her shoulders once, like she was preparing for a sprint. “Let’s see if I’m still second pce.”

  The wall lit up.

  Mariah struck the first target fast—then the second. Her movements were more aggressive than Hazel’s, sharp and snapping. Where Hazel moved like a wave, Mariah moved like a whip. Every motion came with a small shift in posture, a coil and release.

  When the lights increased in frequency, her jaw tensed—but she kept up, never missing a beat.

  When the final tone sounded, she stepped back, breathing lightly.

  “Response time: 0.045 seconds,” Verity read off. “Slightly slower, but higher pressure per strike. Interesting.”

  Mariah smirked. “Told you. Whip, not scalpel.”

  Then came Celine.

  She looked more anxious now, but approached the wall with her chin lifted. Her hands hovered, and the first light blinked on.

  Her strike was clean. Then the next. She missed one—flinched too far—but caught up quickly. As the pace quickened, her rhythm smoothed. Her hesitation faded. She adapted.

  By the end, she was a blur—less aggressive than Mariah, less graceful than Hazel, but present. Alert. Fast.

  When it ended, her chest rose slightly, though she wasn't winded.

  Verity smiled faintly. “0.048 seconds.”

  Celine blinked. “That’s… close?”

  Hazel gave a small nod. “Very close.”

  Verity looked over all three of them, tablet in hand. “You react faster than you should be able to see. That’s not just the virus. That’s adaptation. Nerve response, muscle alignment, even subconscious prediction.”

  She turned. “And now we test how that holds under pressure.”

  Verity tapped a final command on her tablet. The light panels dimmed, retreating into the wall with a soft click. From the side of the room, a new mechanism emerged—a track system running along the ceiling and floor, dotted with unching points and motion sensors.

  Hazel’s eyes tracked it immediately. Mariah tilted her head, already intrigued. Celine looked… wary.

  “This isn’t just about pressing buttons,” Verity said. “Now we simute unpredictability. Objects will be unched toward you—different angles, speeds, trajectories. You don’t have to catch them, just react. Dodge, deflect, evade. Don’t get hit.”

  Mariah cracked her knuckles. “Now it’s a game.”

  “Don't let that mindset get you bruised,” Verity warned. “These won’t be sharp or lethal—but they’ll sting.”

  She gestured toward the center of the space. “Hazel?”

  Hazel stepped forward and removed her coat again, folding it over the bench before walking into position beneath the unch grid. The lights overhead dimmed, and a low hum signaled the system powering up.

  A mechanical voice sounded from above: “Begin.”

  The first object shot out—small, round, and fast. Hazel shifted to the side. No wasted movement. It missed her by inches.

  Another followed from the opposite direction—then two at once.

  Hazel spun, her foot skimming the floor as she pivoted out of the way. A third came low and fast—she stepped back and it whizzed past her knees. Her eyes tracked everything, her limbs moving like the motion had been rehearsed.

  The fourth object fired from behind without warning.

  Hazel ducked before it even cleared the unch.

  It shattered harmlessly against the far wall.

  “Pause test,” Verity called out.

  The hum slowed. Hazel stood motionless, her breathing calm, body perfectly still.

  Verity’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You heard that?”

  “No,” Hazel replied. “I felt the air shift.”

  Mariah let out a low whistle. “Okay, your turn to be creepy.”

  “Next,” Verity said.

  Mariah stepped in, bouncing once on the balls of her feet. “Don’t hold back.”

  The system unched—Mariah dodged the first few with exaggerated twists, fast and tight. She swatted one midair with the back of her wrist. Another came from below—she leapt back, pnting and pivoting smoothly.

  One clipped her side—barely—but she didn’t flinch.

  She finished the sequence with a short ugh. “Not bad.”

  “Contact point: right ribs,” Verity noted. “But solid performance. Controlled aggression.”

  Then came Celine.

  She moved slower at first, letting the first object fly past her as her eyes adjusted. The second came faster—she stumbled, barely ducking it.

  But the third? She caught it.

  Her hands closed around it out of reflex. She blinked, as surprised as anyone.

  Then the barrage started. She ducked, rolled, spun out of the way of two—missed one but caught another.

  When the test ended, she stood blinking, her braid loose around her shoulders.

  Verity gave a faint smile. “Instinct under pressure. That’s what I needed to see.”

  Hazel stepped forward, calm as ever. “We’re adaptable.”

  Verity looked at them, one by one.

  “No,” she said. “You’re becoming something new.”

  Verity let them rest only briefly—just long enough to hand each of them a symbolic bottle of water and tap in the st set of data on her tablet.

  Then she led them into the far end of the facility, where a dimmer chamber waited—quiet, sealed, and oddly still.

  The room was padded, insuted. The overhead lights flickered to half-power, and no machines blinked or beeped. It was… silent.

  Hazel stepped in first, and the air shifted—cool and dry.

  “This room is designed to eliminate ambient interference,” Verity said. “Sound, scent, and even small light fluctuations can be controlled here.”

  She gestured to the far wall, where a partition divided the space. “Behind that panel, I’ll administer a series of sensory triggers. You’ll tell me exactly what you detect: words, smells, movements. No guesses. Precision only.”

  Mariah raised an eyebrow. “You’re making us guess invisible trivia?”

  “I’m seeing how your brains interpret stimuli humans can’t normally register,” Verity replied. “This test is quiet—but it’s the one that matters most.”

  Hazel remained still, already adjusting to the silence.

  “Hazel, you first.”

  She nodded and moved to the center of the room, standing with her arms loosely at her sides, eyes half-lidded.

  Verity stepped behind the partition and spoke—a single word in a whisper: “February.”

  Hazel didn’t blink. “February.”

  Verity raised a vial of scent and broke the seal. The faintest trace of lemon oil dispersed in the room.

  “Lemon,” Hazel said.

  Next, Verity moved her hand—once, slowly, just enough to disturb the air.

  Hazel turned her head slightly. “Two steps left.”

  Verity smiled faintly behind the screen. “Perfect.”

  She stepped out. “Mariah.”

  Mariah took her pce with more skepticism. “I swear if I smell your perfume I’m calling bias.”

  Verity didn’t reply. She repeated the process.

  “Word: river,” Mariah said, frowning slightly.

  “Sandalwood.”

  Then she flinched—only a little—when Verity tapped a metal panel behind the wall.

  “Something hit the wall,” Mariah said. “Back right.”

  “Correct.”

  Celine was st. She stepped into pce slowly, wringing her hands before straightening.

  Verity whispered: “Ashes.”

  “Ashes,” Celine echoed, quiet but certain.

  A scent followed—sharp and clean.

  Celine’s brow furrowed. “Mint. No… eucalyptus.”

  Verity raised a brow behind the screen.

  She moved her hand quickly this time—just one step and a reach.

  Celine flinched. “Movement. Left side.”

  She turned, eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Someone's watching,” she said aloud, as though realizing it for the first time.

  Hazel’s gaze lifted at that.

  Verity returned to view, arms folded.

  “You’re all tracking things beyond normal ranges. Scent, sound, motion, proximity… even spatial intuition.”

  She looked down at her notes.

  “Your senses aren’t just stronger—they’re yered. You’re interpreting things through a framework your bodies weren’t designed for.”

  Mariah exhaled, brushing her fingers through her curls. “That supposed to make us feel better?”

  “No,” Verity said. “But it means you’re not just harder to kill.”

  Hazel tilted her head. “What are we, then?”

  Verity’s voice didn’t waver.

  “Threats. Assets. Symbols. Depending on who’s watching.”

  Celine sat down slowly on the bench near the wall, her hands still trembling faintly.

  “I didn’t think I’d feel so much,” she murmured. “Like the room was watching me back.”

  “You did better than you think,” Hazel said softly, settling beside her.

  Mariah paced a slow line across the room, shaking out her arms like she needed to burn the tension off. “So we’ve got super senses, muscles that don't quit, and reflexes that’d shame a panther. That about cover it?”

  Verity set her tablet aside on the console.

  “Not quite.”

  Hazel’s eyes narrowed just a fraction.

  Verity turned to face them fully. “Final assessment. It’s not a game or a show of dominance. It’s controlled sparring. Non-lethal. No real harm.”

  Celine’s posture tensed immediately. “You want us to fight each other?”

  “Not a fight,” Verity crified. “A demonstration of control under dynamic pressure. I need to see how you move when instinct collides with strategy. And I need to know if you can stop yourselves.”

  Mariah’s lips curled. “Sounds like you think one of us won’t.”

  Verity’s gaze swept over them evenly. “I’m not assuming anything. I’m proving everything.”

  Hazel stood, spine straightening like a drawn line. “Who’s first?”

  Verity gave a nod. “You’ll take turns. Short rounds. No power pys, no blood. Show me what’s underneath the surface.”