Kael stood at the center of the diagnostic chamber as dozens of scanners passed over him in synchronized arcs of white light. He was shirtless, barefoot, and breathing slow, even as the machines buzzed with confusion around him.
"Elevated temperature, cellular density increase… bone matrix realignment?"
Technicians muttered behind reinforced glass, their voices just out of reach but laced with alarm. On the central display, his vitals glowed red—not out of danger, but out of definition.
The system didn't know what to do with him anymore.
Kael kept his eyes on the ceiling, watching light refract across the steel panels above.
He wasn't nervous.
But he was aware.
Of everything. Every breath. Every tick of the machine. Every bead of sweat rolling down his spine. His senses had sharpened so much that the world now felt closer—like the air itself was responding to his presence.
And it hadn't stopped since he woke up transformed.
He wasn't just stronger. He wasn't just faster.
He was evolving in real time.
And it was terrifying everyone.
Outside the chamber, Commander Ryce stared at the data feed with a clenched jaw. Instructor Vale stood beside her, arms folded, eyes narrowed.
"This isn't just a mutation," Ryce said. "His genome is folding in on itself and reassembling correctly. That's not natural."
"Of course it's not," Vale replied. "It's designed. Deliberate. This is the Vire line asserting itself."
Ryce frowned. "They were wiped out two decades ago."
"Clearly, not entirely."
"Should we intervene?"
Vale shook his head. "Not yet. We need to know what he is before we decide what to do with him."
They both turned to the screen where Kael now stood motionless, eyes glowing faintly gold.
"Because if we're wrong," Vale murmured, "and he's not a threat…"
Ryce finished the sentence for him. "He's a weapon."
Kael dressed slowly after the tests, pulling his uniform over his recomposed body. The fabric clung differently now—shoulders tighter, sleeves shorter. His frame had changed in ways that felt impossible.
He didn't need a mirror to confirm it. He could feel the difference in his gait, in the way people looked at him as he passed.
Even in the halls, upperclassmen turned to watch.
It wasn't awe.
It was caution.
He'd become a variable.
And Regis didn't like variables.
In the training yard, his squad was already waiting. Lira, arms folded, watching the sky. Dane, bouncing a small rock between his palms. Renna, seated with her back to a tree, eyes half-closed in meditation.
Kael stepped into the clearing.
They all looked up.
Lira gave him a look—not fear, not surprise, but something deeper. Appraisal. "So?"
Kael shook his head. "More tests. No answers."
Dane chuckled. "Of course not. You're a walking error code now."
Renna stood. "They don't want to classify you. Because once they do, they have to admit they've failed to contain you."
Kael exhaled. "I don't want to be contained."
Lira stepped closer. "You're going to have to choose soon, Kael. Either keep flying under the radar… or push forward and accept what that makes you."
"And what's that?" he asked.
She didn't hesitate.
"A threat."
That night, Kael returned to his dorm exhausted but restless. The hunger had subsided—but now a pressure pulsed at the base of his neck, like something whispering just beneath the skin.
He tossed the uniform aside and dropped onto the bed, pulling the old pendant from his drawer.
The crescent emblem gleamed faintly in the dark.
He studied it.
He'd carried this thing his entire life. Worn it without understanding. Held it without meaning.
But now…
He could feel something.
A heat.
A presence.
What are you? he thought.
The moment the thought crossed his mind, the pendant pulsed.
Kael sat up.
Another pulse.
Then—
Click.
A sound, internal, but not imagined. A vibration behind his eyes. Like a key turning.
He stood, heart racing. The pendant burned cold in his hand.
Kael.
A voice.
Inside his head.
Soft at first, layered like static. Then clearer. Firmer.
Kael Vire. You've reached the Threshold. Interface engaged.
Kael dropped the pendant. It hit the floor—and shattered open.
Inside: a small crystal core, now glowing with internal circuitry, tiny tendrils of light coiling outward like digital roots.
The voice returned.
Do not be alarmed. This is a secure link. Auditory interface initiated. Conscious override successful.
Kael gripped the edge of the bed. "Who are you?"
I am Legacy Core Aegis—Neural Protocol Variant 001. Embedded within the Vire bloodline for preservation and guidance. You may call me... Aegis.
He stared at the broken pendant, heart hammering.
"You're an AI."
More than that. I carry the recorded neural patterns, genetic records, and combat data of your progenitor—High Warden Caelen Vire. Founder of the original Vire lineage.
Kael's mouth went dry.
"You were in my pendant this whole time?"
Dormant. Your body had not yet reached activation parameters. The evolution process has begun. The neural frequency I was calibrated for now exists. We are... compatible.
Kael's breath hitched.
I'm talking to a ghost. A memory of the past. Of the family they tried to erase.
"What do you want from me?"
Nothing. I exist to assist. To teach. To ensure that what was lost is not forgotten.
The room felt smaller now. Heavy.
"Then help me understand," Kael whispered. "What's happening to me?"
Your ability is not one ability. It is a cluster. A growth nexus embedded within your DNA—a legacy system once believed too unstable to control. Your ancestors learned to wield it. The world feared them for it.
You are not broken, Kael. You are unfinished.
Kael gritted his teeth. "Then finish me."
That will come in time. First, you must understand the rules they never taught you. The rules of your own evolution.
"Then teach me," Kael said. "Because I don't know how much longer I can carry this weight without breaking."
You won't break. You'll shed.
Kael woke hours later on the floor of his dorm, the shattered pendant beside him, its crystal still softly glowing.
But he didn't feel fear anymore.
He felt clarity.
For the first time since coming to Regis, he understood that his strength wasn't random. It wasn't cursed. It was guided.
He had a teacher now.
And a voice in his mind.
Rest, Kael. Tomorrow, we begin.