The academy had never felt this uncertain before.
For years, everything had functioned under strict structure—training, ranking evaluations, leadership directives, and the ever-present unspoken hierarchy that kept things in balance. Fighters knew their places, their limits, their routines. Each day followed a carefully planned sequence, every movement governed by protocol, every action monitored and assessed. There had been no room for chaos, no space for doubt. The academy was meant to be an unshakeable force, a foundation upon which discipline thrived, stability reigned, and fighters dedicated their lives to order.
But the lockdown had broken that rhythm completely.
No one entered. No one left. Movement inside the academy was tracked, but even that felt different now—more invasive, more absolute. The weight of surveillance had always existed, but now it pressed heavier, more suffocating. Fighters whispered to each other in passing, casting uneasy glances across the halls, murmuring about theories that none of them had solid proof for. Some spoke of internal betrayal. Others speculated about outside involvement, imagining unseen forces pulling strings in the background, disrupting the academy's harmony for a purpose none of them understood.
And some, quietly, wondered if Adrian had left on his own.
Joel didn't believe that for a second.
He stood stiffly inside the command center, arms crossed, listening as reports were read aloud from academy officialsers working on the investigation. He had demanded to be present. It wasn't about rank. It wasn't about protocol. It wasn't about waiting for someone to allow him permission. It was about Adrian.
His best friend had vanished. And Joel wasn't going to sit around waiting for someone else to tell him why.
The findings were worse than he had anticipated.
Adrian's watch signal had stopped transmitting, but there was no record of forced entry into his quarters. No alarms had been triggered. No security breaches had been detected. No signs of struggle, no trace of disturbance. It was as if Adrian had simply ceased to exist within the academy's system. One moment, he was there—his identity logged into every security database, every record, every restricted clearance access. And then, suddenly, nothing.
Joel clenched his fists. That wasn't possible.
A fighter couldn't just disappear without leaving any data behind—unless someone had made it happen.
He barely noticed when one of the lead investigators called his name. His mind was locked on one thought.
Someone did this deliberately.
The Proprietress had been silent during the initial discussions, simply listening as reports were presented one by one. She was methodical, calculating, absorbing every detail without reacting. Her presence alone was enough to command absolute focus from everyone in the room. Even those who outranked her in hierarchy dared not underestimate the sharpness of her perception. But then, she finally spoke.
"Expand the investigation," she ordered. "Check if any unauthorized access codes were used within the last twenty-four hours."
The command was executed instantly.
A deep hum settled over the room, the weight of the situation pressing down on every fighter present. Each person shifted uncomfortably, aware that the unraveling of this mystery could expose truths none of them were prepared to confront. Silence lingered, stretching out as investigators moved swiftly to process the Proprietress's request, their fingers gliding across interfaces, their eyes scanning through encrypted logs, searching for any anomaly.
Joel forced himself to stay still, to breathe evenly.
But he knew, deep down, that they weren't going to like whatever they found next.
Outside the academy, the Vaerin family had already begun making their own moves.
The academy's leadership had received multiple inquiries from the Vaerin estate, demanding updates on the search, questioning how an elite-ranked fighter had managed to disappear within one of the most secure institutions in the country. The urgency in their tone was unmistakable—the disappearance was unacceptable, and they expected results. It was no longer simply an issue confined within academy walls. The ripple effects were spreading, pulling other forces into the equation.
And while the academy scrambled for answers, the Vaerins weren't waiting.
They had activated their own private investigation teams, independently tracking digital activity, pressuring government security forces to intervene, using their vast connections to piece together any clue that might tell them what had happened. They weren't interested in theories or speculation. They wanted evidence, tangible proof, real answers. Their influence ensured that doors would be opened that otherwise remained sealed shut, and where the academy had limitations, the Vaerins had none.
This was more than an academy crisis now. It was a national issue.
---
Meanwhile, across the academy, Xavier had his own problems.
He had tried to ignore Rank 289 after their last confrontation, but the guy was persistent. Following him. Watching him. Testing him. His patience wore thinner with each passing day, the tension gnawing at his composure. Xavier wasn't in the mood for distractions, not now. Not when the entire academy was already on edge, uncertainty gripping everyone in its hold. Yet 289 continued pressing, never backing down, never yielding.
And after ignoring the warnings, 289 followed Xavier straight into his dorm room.
Xavier turned fast, fists tightening. "I warned you."
289 smirked. "And I ignored you."
Tension cracked through the air.
Then, the door opened.
One of Xavier's roommates stepped inside.