The simulation wasn't real.
But the pain was.
And the fear?
You could cut it with a blade.
The first team didn't last five minutes. One cadet panicked, collapsed mid-assault, and the system force-ported him out—twisted on the floor, chest heaving like a siren.
The instructor gave a nod. "Stabilize. Disqualified."
The second team crumbled even faster. Tactical failure. Internal panic. The simulation devoured them.
One of them, pale and shaking, walked straight out of the training wing. Didn't even look back.
Up in the observation deck, no one said a word.
Not respect.
Dread.
Kaelen watched.
Silent. Still.
He saw the third team fall apart under pressure. Saw the fourth tremble before even entering.
Most of them had trained together.
Bled together.
Now?
He was alone.
And then his name appeared.
No team.
No speech.
Just him—and his blade.
He stepped toward the portal.
And for just a breath—a flicker—his heart slowed.
Not fear.
Awareness.
This time, it would be different.
—
The portal swallowed him. Sound warped. Color bled. Neural links snapped into place, and pain bit into his nerves.
Simulated pain, but it felt more real than anything outside.
The crypt was dark. Wet. He smelled iron. Smoke. And something burning.
Then came the growl.
From the shadows emerged a beast.
A chimera with three heads.
Left—flames.
Center—bone and rage, spiked fangs jutting like jagged obsidian.
Right—ice.
It struck first.
A fireball caught his side, hissing through the plates. His skin blistered beneath the surface. He grunted, teeth grinding.
Second—ice blades. One slashed across his thigh. Blood spattered. Real blood. Not simulated.
He dropped to a knee.
The chimera rushed him with a roar. The bone head slammed into his ribs.
Crack.
His lungs spasmed. He couldn't breathe.
Anyone else would've screamed.
He inhaled.
Shallow. Controlled.
And then he stood.
He didn't move to survive.
He moved to destroy.
Steel met flesh.
He lunged.
Left head—cleaved. Flames sputtered and died.
The ice head struck back. A fang pierced his shoulder. He didn't flinch.
He twisted into it and drove the sword up through its neck, shattering frozen bone.
Only one remained.
The chimera shrieked. Blood frothed from its triple maws.
Kaelen stepped forward.
Didn't dodge.
Didn't blink.
When the last jaw clamped around his forearm, he didn't cry out.
He leaned in.
And drove his blade down through its spine.
The beast collapsed, twitching.
He stood over it, chest heaving, blood dripping from his wounds.
—
He didn't walk out. He tore through.
One arm limp. His chest soaked. The blade still in his hand.
No victory cry.
No celebration.
Just the scoreboard behind him:
CLEAR — Solo
Damage Taken: 83%
Completion Time: 4:28
Someone whispered:
"That's not a cadet…"
"That's a weapon."
Others didn't speak at all.
One instructor looked away.
One cadet clenched her jaw.
One simply stood frozen, wide-eyed, unsure whether to cheer—or run.
Kaelen didn't hear them. Or didn't care.
He wiped the blood from his face and walked away—before anyone else could even breathe.
—
Up in the observation deck, a woman with piercing blue eyes watched him go.
She didn't speak.
Her screen blinked once. That was all it took.
"Solo. Controlled fury. Candidate."