I followed the current of bodies as we moved through the hallways of the fortress like water through a storm drain.

  The morning alarm still rang in my ears, its shrill tone designed to drag prisoners from their bunks whether they wanted to get up or not.

  "Do try to walk like you have a functioning spine," Mabel's voice slithered through my thoughts.

  I straightened slightly but kept my eyes hollow and lost.

  "Where is everyone going?" I muttered under my breath, noticing the unusual size of the crowd.

  I glanced at the digital display as we passed. BRIDGE ONE PERSONNEL: PRE-DEPLOYMENT ASSESSMENT - 0600.

  "That's why there are so many people," I whispered. "They're going to watch Bridge One get evaluated."

  "Nothing motivates the doomed quite like watching others prove their worth before being fed to the tear."

  I found a spot near the back of the arena, keeping to myself as I leaned against the wall.

  The room was massive, designed for combat demonstrations with tiered seating surrounding a central arena floor. The guards patrolled the upper levels, weapons ready.

  Prisoners filled nearly every seat, the air thick with their conversations and the stink of their unwashed bodies.

  The crowd hushed as a door at the far end of the arena opened.

  I watched as Sadie entered, her movements graceful and controlled. She wore the standard-issue combat gear—reinforced bodysuit, light armor plates covering her vitals—it fit her like a second skin. Her silver hair was pulled back in a tight braid, her face expressionless and cold.

  The other prisoners gave her space instinctively. Even the guards seemed to stand a little straighter, hands tighter on their weapons

  "Watch her, maybe you can learn something from her." Mabel instructed unnecessarily.

  My eyes were already locked on Sadie as she took position in the center of the arena. She stood perfectly still, waiting. Calm and ready.

  Curtis stepped forward from a side door, holding a datapad in his hand. "Bridge One assessment will begin now. The first phase will consist of team cohesion and individual combat capability."

  Another door opened, and five prisoners entered… the rest of Bridge One. I recognized a few from the mess hall, all of them had their Origins active. They spread out across the arena, taking their positions.

  Curtis tapped his datapad. "Begin."

  The prisoners collapsed on Sadie, attacking simultaneously.

  She flowed between the first two attackers, redirecting one into the other with just a touch at the wrist and shoulder. As they stumbled, she was already dealing with the third, dropping low and sweeping his legs from under him.

  The fourth came at her with a glowing fist—some kind of energy projection Origin—but Sadie stepped inside his guard, and struck three precise blows to his torso, and he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.

  The fifth managed to grab her from behind, arms locking around her waist.

  Sadie didn't fight the hold. Instead, she relaxed into it, dropping her weight suddenly. As her captor adjusted his grip, she twisted, using his own tension against him. He flipped over her shoulder, landing hard on his back.

  All five attackers were down or disabled.

  Sadie hadn't even broken a sweat. And she hadn't used her Origin ability once.

  "She fights as if she were taught to kill from birth, It's... irritating." Mabel said, her mental voice tinged with grudging respect beneath the critique.

  The assessment continued. Sadie faced each opponent individually, then in pairs, then in shifting combinations.

  Each time, the result was the same.

  She dismantled them with surgical efficiency, using nothing but technique and training. No Origin power. No flashy abilities. Just pure, lethal skill.

  "What am I watching?" I asked Mabel silently.

  "She's showing them exactly what she wants them to see, nothing more."

  The final opponent stepped forward as the others retreated to the edges of the arena.

  It was Rafe.

  The golden boy with his perfect smile and the easy charm. Except there was nothing easy about him now.

  His expression was focused, almost predatory.

  Curtis raised his hand, then dropped it.

  Rafe vanished in a blur.

  One moment he was across the arena, the next he was behind Sadie, throwing a punch at the back of her head.

  She ducked without looking. The punch whistled over her hair as she pivoted, already facing where Rafe would land.

  He blurred again, attacking from three different angles in the blink of an eye.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The same blurring speed from his Trial legend, but seeing it in person was something else entirely. Each attack should have been impossible to predict or counter.

  Sadie blocked or evaded each one, moving just enough to avoid his strikes.

  Her expression was full of ice.

  "He's significantly faster than I expected, how vexing." Mabel said, her mental voice tight with frustration.

  Rafe increased his speed further, becoming little more than a golden streak circling Sadie.

  The air cracked with the force of his movement.

  The other prisoners watched in awed silence.

  Sadie stood motionless in the center of the arena, eyes closed.

  Then she moved, it was only a single strike… a perfect strike.

  Her fist connected with empty air, but a heartbeat later Rafe materialized exactly where her punch had landed, his momentum carrying him directly into the blow.

  The impact echoed through the arena like a thunderclap, as it sent a shockwave across the arena.

  Rafe crashed to the mat, bouncing and sliding several feet before coming to a stop.

  Silence fell over the stands. No one moved, nobody breathed.

  Sadie hadn't used her Origin ability at all. She'd defeated a Sacred speedster through pure skill and prediction.

  "How the hell is that possible, it can't be." I whispered.

  "And yet, we just witnessed it," Mabel replied. "She read him like a book… you humans are predictable, even at superhuman speeds.”

  Curtis gave a brief nod, his expression revealing nothing.

  Rafe climbed to his feet, rubbing his jaw. He didn't look angry or humiliated. If anything, he looked... proud.

  "Well done, everyone," Curtis announced. "Bridge One, report for deployment at 0900."

  And with that the crowd began to disperse, I stayed motionless, processing what I'd seen. The gap between myself and these trained Sacred was way too large.

  "Now you understand," Mabel said quietly. "Raw power isn't enough, not here. Not against them."

  "I'll help you," Mabel offered, sensing my thoughts. "We'll begin today."

  I got up and joined the flow of prisoners leaving the arena. But my mind stayed in that fight, replaying Sadie's movements, how she predicted Rafe's movements.

  They had set the standard. Now I needed to reach it… or find a way to shatter it.

  The hallway outside the assessment hall buzzed with conversation, prisoners clustered in small groups discussing what they'd witnessed.

  I drifted toward the edges, appearing aimless while positioning myself near a group of high grades.

  "...didn't expect House Cicada's daughter to end up here," a voice said, low and cultured, an heir prisoner.

  The voices faded as they moved down the corridor. But more came, and with them, more fragments of the puzzle.

  "...not just an heir, she's the last of her direct line."

  "...already in SDC custody when it happened. I guess she is lucky, in a way."

  I listened to more conversations, piecing together the story. House Cicada had fallen, how or why remained unclear. House Getty—Rafe's family—had once been allies with Cicada. And Rafe had volunteered for Bridge One after learning Sadie would be there.

  "He's protecting her," I realized. "Or trying to."

  "How noble," Mabel said, her mental voice dripping with sarcasm. "The golden heir looking after the fallen princess. I wonder what he hopes to gain."

  "Maybe it's not about gain. Maybe it's about honor."

  "Oh, Fischer. Still believing in fairy tales? The worlds do not operate on some grand form of honor. They operate on what gives them the most advantages. If Rafe is protecting Sadie, it's because she represents value to him and his family. The question is… what kind of value?"

  I glanced at the time display on the wall. Still an hour before our unit's rotation.

  "Come," Mabel said, sensing my thoughts. "We have work to do."

  I found an empty storage room.

  It was little more than a concrete box, eight feet by twelve, with a single light panel in the ceiling and shelves along one wall. Dust covered everything, this place hadn't been used in months, maybe years.

  Perfect for what I needed.

  "Now then," Mabel said, as she emerged from my neck, taking her position on one of the dusty shelves. Her tiny worm-body undulated with excitement. "You've seen what trained Sacred look like. You've seen what we're not. Yet. Shall we begin addressing that deficiency?"

  I nodded, rolling up my sleeves. "Let's start with the basics from yesterday."

  I began with the exercises we'd practiced: the basic spike formation, projectile worms, precision shaping. My speed had improved overnight, neural pathways strengthening, muscle memory developing.

  Where it had taken concentrated effort to form a simple spike yesterday, today I could manifest one in seconds.

  Mabel observed, her tiny form swaying slightly. "This is progress, but it is not enough. We need more complex shapes. Barriers. Armor plating. Weapons with edges fine enough to cut, not just pointy ends for you to stick into things."

  I tried forming a shield on my forearm.

  The worms pushed outward, creating a rough oval shape, but it was crude, lumpy and uneven, more like a tumor than a defensive tool.

  "Focus," Mabel instructed. "Visualize the exact structure. The worms will follow your intent."

  I tried again, concentrating harder.

  The shield formed more cleanly this time, but still lacked definition around the edges. When I attempted to sharpen it into a blade along one side, the whole construct collapsed back into my arm.

  Frustration built in my chest. I'd watched Sadie's perfect technique, Rafe's controlled speed. And here I was, unable to make my own body cooperate.

  "You're treating them as tools, for you to use… stop that, they. We, are you. You wouldn’t force your hand into a fist by screaming at it," Mabel said suddenly, her voice softer than usual.

  I took a deep breath, trying a different approach.

  Instead of forcing the worms to take shape, I visualized what I wanted and invited them to participate. The sensation was strange.

  The worms responded immediately. A blade formed along my forearm… it wasn’t perfect, but it was recognizable. The edge looked sharp enough to cut. I held it stable for several seconds before it collapsed.

  "Better," Mabel said, her tiny body vibrating with approval. "Much better. Now let's try something inspired by what we saw in the assessment. Prediction. Can the worms sense incoming movement? Can they react faster than your conscious mind?"

  "How would we test that?"

  "I'll launch some spike-worms at you. Try to block them before you perceive the threat."

  I nodded, taking position in the center of the room. "Ready."

  Mabel's tiny form tensed, then she opened her mouth and spat a worm projectile directly at my face. I tried to form a shield, but my reaction was too slow. The spike hit my cheek, stinging as it wiggled there in my cheek before being reabsorbed.

  "Again," I said.

  We tried a second time. Again, I was too slow.

  On the third attempt, something strange happened.

  I felt my arm move before I was aware of the danger. A small shield formed on my forearm, intercepting the projectile midair.

  I stared at my arm in shock. "What just happened?"

  "The worms sensed the threat through their collective awareness," Mabel explained, excitement threading through her voice.

  "So they moved my body… on their own?"

  "No, no, no… not by themselves. They're still you… just a different part of you."

  I tested the concept again, focusing on letting the worms sense threats rather than trying to direct them consciously.

  My success rate improved with each attempt. By the tenth try, I was blocking projectiles without much thought, my body reacting on pure instinct.

  "This changes everything," I said, examining my arm as the shield retracted.

  "Exactly," Mabel purred with satisfaction. "You've stopped treating us as parasites and started treating us as a part of you. Only took a divine revelation and an existential crisis. But this is progress!"

  I practiced distributed perception for the remaining time, letting the worms extend my awareness throughout the room. It was exhausting, maintaining two modes of awareness simultaneously and it drained me quickly. But the potential was clear.

  An alarm sounded in the distance.

  I rolled down my sleeves, checked that no worms were visible, and moved toward the door.

  My mind raced as I moved through the hallways towards my team’s assembly.