Kaelen finished his food in silence.
As always. As expected. As required.
He stood up, placed the tray away, and walked out without a word.
Behind him, footsteps followed.
Rheya and Torren.
Not close. Not far.
Somewhere in the shadow of his presence.
They didn't speak to him.
They spoke about him.
He heard them. Pretended not to.
But he didn't mind that they followed. Not really.
"Does he ever talk?"
"Only when it matters, I guess."
"He scares the hell out of me."
"Yeah, but did you see what he did to Alric?"
"Still—he's in our training group. We need to figure out what he is."
"Not what. Who."
A few paces behind, Alric Veil walked in silence.
His steps slower than before.
His pride still bruised.
His thoughts—less loud.
The lecture hall was bright and wide, a stadium of tiered seats and mana projectors floating overhead.
Practical Combat and Scenario Sims.
Not real fighting—yet.
But planning. Teamwork. Role coverage.
Things Kaelen didn't care for.
But he listened. Every word.
At one point, Instructor Grath stopped pacing.
A scarred veteran with a limp and a voice that could crack glass.
He didn't need authority—he was authority.
"Can anyone tell me what happens when your wristband fails in a real deployment?"
The room stilled.
He tapped his own device.
"No data. No oversight. No backup.
We've lost cadets that way.
Their pain wasn't registered.
Their death wasn't even logged.
No one came. Because no one knew."
A murmur.
Torren leaned forward slightly.
Rheya stared, jaw clenched.
Alric's fingers tightened on the edge of the desk.
Kaelen didn't move.
But he felt it.
Another reminder.
You're alone out there.
For real.
---
Afternoon came.
Program Shift: Free Training or Assigned Duties.
Assigned Duties were for squad-based tasks—coordination drills, patrol prep, field logs.
Kaelen had no squad.
So: Free training.
Of course.
He turned toward his favorite place already.
The weight arena.
He trained alone. Just like always.
No instructions. No guidance.
He lifted until pain blurred the room.
Until sweat ran like blood.
Until memory burned into muscle.
The shelters.
Push-ups in the dark. Crunches between food drops.
Sprints through supply tunnels.
The old school.
Rusty bars. Broken floor tiles.
Pull-ups over steel doors that never opened again.
His muscles burned.
Not the clean kind of burn.
This one lingered.
This one tore a little deeper each day.
There were times he couldn't lift the sword clean on the first rep.
Times his fingers spasmed without reason.
The body keeps count.
Even when you stop listening.
He didn't stop.
Because he couldn't.
No matter how much he trained, the numbers had stopped rising.
Stats hit a wall.
Every cadet had a cap.
You didn't pass it by will.
Only levels break the wall.
---
A flash of memory.
A teacher's voice during middle combat theory:
"Every time you level up, your cap resets.
Each person's limit is different. Unique.
Some get small jumps. Some explode forward."
Kaelen grunted through another set.
I'll break it when it counts. In the field. When I finally kill for real.
---
Evening came.
The call for dinner echoed across the halls.
Kaelen wiped his face.
Rolled his shoulders.
And walked toward the mess hall.
Hungry.
The cafeteria was half full.
Kaelen sat in the far corner, as always.
He didn't look around.
Didn't care who watched.
His tray was half empty when someone approached.
Torren.
Not Rheya. Not Veil.
Just the quiet kid who sometimes watched from a distance.
Kaelen didn't move. Didn't acknowledge.
But he didn't reject the presence either.
Torren sat across from him without a word.
Kaelen didn't speak.
Torren didn't either.
They just ate.
Silence. Tension. Mutual acceptance.
After a while, Torren looked up.
"You look worse than last time."
Kaelen chewed and swallowed.
"Training."
Torren nodded slowly.
"Yeah. Looks like it's breaking you."
Kaelen didn't respond.
Torren didn't expect him to.
After the tray was empty, Kaelen stood.
Didn't say goodbye.
But he didn't leave first either.
They parted ways at the hallway fork.
Kaelen didn't look back.
But he didn't forget either.
---
By the time the last tray was cleared, Kaelen was already gone.
For more than food.
For the ache.
For the test.
For the thing that would finally push back.
The hall emptied behind him.
But something stayed.
Something heavier than food.
And it followed him into the silence.