Joel woke up before his alarm.
His body was used to it—years of training had conditioned him to wake up at the same time every morning, whether he wanted to or not. He lay there for a moment, blinking against the dim lighting in his private dorm. The academy was quiet, but that wouldn't last.
He stretched, sitting up, pushing off the covers and standing to wash up. The water was cold, but he barely reacted. His mind was already moving ahead, planning out the day, thinking of what would come next.
There was always something next.
And, as usual, he expected to hear Adrian's knock before he even finished.
It came every morning. Sharp, precise, two short taps against the door.
Except today, it didn't.
Joel frowned slightly, glancing toward the entrance. No knock. No sound. Just the distant murmurs of academy movement beyond the walls.
Maybe Adrian was running late.
Except Adrian didn't run late. Ever.
Joel shook off the thought, grabbed his wrist strap, and stepped outside.
The corridor was waking up—not fully crowded yet, but enough movement to signal the academy was shifting into its usual routine. Fighters passed him, some talking in low voices, others focused on their own morning drills.
He walked toward Adrian's private quarters, slowing as he reached the door. He knew how this worked—fighters in Segment 3 and above locked their rooms using their identity-linked watches. It was an automatic process, secure, impossible for anyone to access without authorization.
Joel knocked twice.
No response.
He waited a beat before knocking again.
Still nothing.
He frowned and tapped the door panel.
It slid open.
Unlocked.
Joel felt his pulse spike.
Adrian wouldn't forget to lock his room. It was built into his routine, just like training, just like briefings, just like everything else in his precise, structured life. His watch should have sealed the entrance automatically once he left.
Which meant either he didn't leave—or someone else had found a way inside.
Joel stepped forward cautiously, scanning the room.
It wasn't wrecked. There was no sign of a struggle. But the lack of disturbance was the problem.
Adrian's belongings sat untouched, his bed neatly made, his equipment aligned exactly where it always was. His gear was still sitting on the far table, unmoved.
There was no sign of him.
Joel tightened his jaw.
Something was wrong.
He exhaled sharply and made a decision.
There was no time for doubt.
He walked toward the old Segment 2 administrative office, barely hesitating as he pressed his hand against the entrance panel, forcing the door open.
The principal sat behind a metal desk, scrolling through academy data feeds on a hovering screen. He barely looked up when Joel stepped inside.
"Adrian's missing," Joel said.
That got his attention.
The principal's fingers froze over the screen as he looked up, eyes sharp.
"What do you mean, 'missing'?"
"I mean he's not here," Joel answered, breath tight. "No movement records, no signs of him anywhere in the academy. This isn't normal—he wouldn't just disappear like this."
The principal didn't react immediately. His gaze narrowed slightly, then, without hesitation, he swiped across his panel, activating a secured frequency.
Straight to the Proprietress.
Joel stiffened.
This was bigger than he thought.
The screen shifted. Then, she appeared.
The Proprietress was never involved unless absolutely necessary. And if she was appearing now, it meant this situation wasn't just serious—it was critical.
She listened to the principal's report, her expression unreadable, then looked directly at Joel.
"Tell me everything," she said.
Joel repeated what he knew—Adrian's absence, the unlocked room, the failed searches across the academy. The uncertainty in every piece of information he had gathered.
The Proprietress barely blinked.
She swiped across her own screen, activating a system-wide search request.
"Check his signal," she ordered. "Confirm his last transmission within the academy walls."
The response came almost instantly.
"Signal ceased six hours ago. No movement detected."
The silence in the room was thick.
Joel felt it before she spoke.
The weight of it. The shift in atmosphere. The realization that something had gone terribly wrong.
Then, her voice rang through the chamber.
"Lock down the academy."
The words hit like a hammer.
The alarms blared. The emergency directive flashed across every academy screen.
And that was what led to the emergency call.