Donnie didn't speak for nearly ten minutes.
They were safe—for now. But his mind wasn't resting. Every detail of that encounter kept playing over and over. The fifth operative's steps. The way the air distorted. The feel of his trace shutting down like a switch had been flipped inside his chest.
Kaito was pacing, hands twitching. Lora sat with her back against the wall, trace band flickering weakly as it tried to reboot from the mirror-blade backlash.
Trace Zero stood a few paces from the group, leaning on a pipe, watching the narrow entrance in case the Guild came again.
"We shouldn't be alive," Donnie finally said.
Zero replied, without looking at him. "You're not supposed to be."
Donnie blinked.
"They don't expect hybrid-builders to survive an encounter with a Class-Null operative," Zero continued. "That's what that was. Not a suppressor, not a scout. A terminator. They send them when data's not enough. When they want erasure."
"Why me?" Donnie asked. "Why now? I'm not the first builder."
"You're the first to get this far with no sponsor. No handler. No limiter band. The others—they were controlled. Used. Or silenced."
Lora winced. "He disarmed my distortion in one touch. I've never seen that before."
"You won't again," Kaito muttered. "Unless he comes back."
Donnie stood and walked to the center of the tunnel.
The place smelled like rust and old circuits. Wires dangled from pipes like veins in an artificial creature.
"How long do we stay here?"
"Long enough to reroute your trace signature," Zero said. "You've burned too many lines. They can track you by instinct now."
Donnie raised an eyebrow. "You can do that?"
"Not alone."
---
They moved deeper through the tunnels.
Ridgewood Academy was built on a web of old military passages, according to early maps. Some had been sealed, others collapsed. But a few remained—hidden and mostly forgotten. Only someone like Trace Zero, who had spent years off-grid, could navigate them properly.
Donnie followed as they passed rusted checkpoints, collapsed access doors, and cracked trace conduits.
Eventually, they reached a sealed vault door. Zero tapped a code into a panel beside it.
The door opened slowly.
Inside was a small chamber filled with dust-covered lockers, old trace mod units, and a single glowing device the size of a dinner plate.
Zero walked over and placed his Trace Band directly on the core.
It flickered.
> Trace Layer Reset Interface Detected
Identity Cloaking Module Ready
He looked at Donnie. "Your turn."
Donnie hesitated, then placed his Trace Band onto the device.
It burned.
Not heat—but resistance. Like his entire identity was being unraveled and reconstructed at once.
> Trace Signature Suppression: 67%
Alignment Phase: Delinked from Ridgewood Registry
Current Status: Phantom Thread Initiated
Donnie's knees buckled slightly. Lora caught him.
"What… was that?"
"You're off-grid now," Zero said. "No one can track you directly."
"Does that mean I'm safe?"
Zero shook his head. "No. But it means they'll have to guess where to aim."
---
That night, they didn't return to the surface.
They stayed in the tunnels, sleeping in shifts. Kaito stayed up first, whispering to himself as he polished his gear. Lora took second watch. Donnie pretended to sleep, but his mind kept spiraling.
He wasn't afraid anymore.
He was aware.
The difference was subtle—but everything had changed.
He had survived a direct encounter with a Class-Null. More importantly, he had hit him. Not enough to win. But enough to matter.
He stared at his sketchpad in the dim light, then began drawing again.
A new formation.
No names yet.
Just rhythm.
Just survival.
---
When morning came, they moved again—this time toward the abandoned practice dome just outside Ridgewood's northeast perimeter. The dome was a relic, used decades ago before the current academy structures had been built.
It still stood. Still functional. But long disconnected from the system.
Perfect.
"This is where you finish it," Zero said.
Donnie stepped onto the cracked tile at the center of the dome. It was faded, the old arena markers worn down by weather and time.
"I don't have a name for it yet," he said.
"You will."
Donnie closed his eyes.
Then he moved.
Spiral Surge.
Shatterstep.
Collapse Edge.
The chain formed automatically now. His body remembered it. But he didn't stop there.
He added a new turn at the end. A backroll. A rising slash. Something beyond reaction—something predictive. A final motion that didn't follow enemy behavior, but shaped it.
The trace exploded.
It didn't curve or arc.
It bloomed.
A sphere of controlled flame surrounded him—then collapsed inward in a blast of pressure and light.
Donnie fell to his knees, gasping.
Zero checked his Trace Band.
> Pattern Recognized: Break Arc Final Stage – Crimson Bloom
Type: Reactive Explosion
Function: Area Denial / Core Shield
Rating: Undocumented
Growth Status: Active
Kaito gave a slow whistle. "That's new."
Lora raised her eyebrows. "That's lethal."
Donnie didn't respond. He couldn't speak. Not yet.
But in his heart, something clicked.
He wasn't just surviving anymore.
He was shaping.
---
That night, far above the dome, in an observatory tower overlooking the region, Deputy Valen stood before a floating display.
The agents who had failed sat silently behind him—some bandaged, one in a sling.
Valen didn't look angry.
He looked curious.
"You're telling me the unranked hit a Class-Null operative?"
"Yes, sir," the lead agent replied. "Disrupted a spatial fold mid-cast."
Valen smiled.
"How poetic."
He turned toward the display.
Donnie's name had been removed from Ridgewood's trace list. His student file showed inactive. His trace registry read delinked.
A ghost.
"Let him run," Valen said. "Let's see what the unranked become when cornered."
---
End of Chapter 12
© Anthony Osifo 2025 – All rights reserved.