Ripples Before the Storm
The soft chime of the capsule brought Raghu back from the green silence of the Whispering Wilds. The scent of earth and rain still lingered faintly in his mind — the aftertaste of a place too alive to forget. As his eyes opened, the world of steel and light returned, and the hum of the Doom Train pressed against his senses again. The walls felt colder now, as if the forest had been a dream that refused to let go.
His halo watch blinked twice and updated itself with a faint shimmer.Current Credits: 16,000. Rank: 4.
A quiet satisfaction flickered inside him. Whatever Jivan had sent him into, it had paid off.Then, as if on cue, his halo pulsed and a message appeared.
Jivan:"How's my favorite woodland explorer? I bet you're still picking leaves out of your head. Think of it as an early investment — you got a forest's blessing and a brand-new trick. Don't thank me yet. Next time, I might send you somewhere warmer… with volcanoes. Or snakes. Depends on my mood. ;)"
Raghu sighed, smiling despite himself. "Funny guy," he muttered, stretching as the capsule opened fully. His body felt different — lighter, sharper. The Verdant Pulse hummed like a heartbeat, an echo of something wild now living beneath his skin.
The corridor outside was unusually crowded. Candidates stood near the walls, murmuring in clusters. Every face was turned toward the glowing leaderboard projected near the ceiling.
The top twenty list flickered as the names rearranged themselves. Raghu's name blinked into the fourth slot, drawing a collective ripple through the crowd.
Someone whistled low. "Fourth? When did he get that high?" "Must've done a Pocket. I heard he burned half his credits…""Maybe he's got backing."
Raghu walked through the murmurs without meeting anyone's eyes. He didn't need to — the attention followed him anyway. Lucien spotted him near the junction and waved half-heartedly. His expression was a mix of awe and mild panic.
"Mon ami," Lucien said, falling into step beside him. "You disappear for two days and come back a legend. You know what that means, right?"
Raghu raised an eyebrow. "That I need sleep?"
Lucien snorted. "That every faction in this coach will want you now. Especially with the Ascension Trial coming up."
"The trial in seven days. Top three advance straight to Compartment Two. Everyone else fights to keep their ranks. It's madness, Raghu. But it's also the fastest way up the train."
Before Raghu could reply, a low hum rippled through the floor — the sound of the CNC's communication relay activating. Every halo flickered as a single message scrolled across their vision:
"Ascension Trial – 7 days remaining. Details in your halos. Ranking updates every 12 hours."
The noise in the compartment swelled. Some cheered, some cursed. Others went silent. The balance of power had shifted again, and everyone felt it.
By the time Raghu returned to his capsule row, someone was already waiting. A tall man in a deep red coat leaned against the wall, his expression smooth as glass. His eyes, the color of dark wine, gleamed with charm that felt too deliberate.
"Raghu, right?" the man asked, straightening with a grin. "Name's Kieran. Crimson Core."
Raghu nodded cautiously.
Kieran chuckled. "Relax. I'm not here to sell you poison — though we do own the trade rights for that too." His tone dripped with practiced ease. "I came to talk about opportunity. The Crimson Core doesn't care where you came from. We care where you're going. And clearly," he gestured to Raghu's rank on the halo wall, "you're headed somewhere interesting."
Raghu folded his arms. "And what's in it for you?"
"Growth," Kieran said smoothly. "When you grow, we grow. When you ascend, we get access to your results. We fund candidates, share resources, run coordinated Pocket missions. You'll have what you need — protection, equipment, knowledge. You'd be surprised how fast the world bends when the Core whispers your name."
He smiled, as if sealing a deal with his own confidence. "Think about it. We don't rush recruits. We let them see what they're missing first."
As Kieran left, Raghu felt the faint burn of manipulation under the man's charm — a merchant's hand dressed as friendship.
Hours later, another visitor arrived. A woman in pale silver robes, her movements slow and deliberate, stood at the edge of the corridor. Her insignia — a single stylized shield — glowed faintly.
"The Order of Aegis extends its respect," she said simply. Her voice carried no warmth but no threat either. "We value discipline, not promises. If you seek structure, we provide it. If you seek chaos, go elsewhere."
She handed him a thin slate etched with training sigils. "You will find us in Pocket 12 when you decide." Then she bowed and left, silent as a falling page.
That night, a faint glyph appeared on Raghu's pod door — a simple spiral of black light, gone before he could touch it. His halo pulsed with a brief message that carried no sender ID.
"Sound moves unseen. Patience is power. Listen."
He stared at the fading glyph, unsure if he felt intrigued or uneasy.
By the next morning, the Dominion of Storm made their move. Their recruiter didn't knock — he arrived like thunder. A broad man with storm-grey hair and electric tattoos snaking up his arms.
"You're Raghu," he boomed. "Good. You've got the look. We don't do politics. We do strength." He cracked his knuckles, lightning flickering faintly across them. "Join us, and you'll fight with warriors, not schemers. We don't hide behind words."
Raghu studied him. "And if I say no?"
The man grinned. "Then we'll fight anyway. At least that's honest." He clapped Raghu's shoulder hard enough to jolt him, then walked off laughing.
By the end of the day, Raghu's name had become a whisper that drifted through the compartment. Some admired him, others wanted to see him fall.
Lucien met him in the dining corridor that evening, his face pale. "Everyone's choosing sides," he said. "Half of them have already joined factions. The others are pretending they haven't decided. You'll have to pick soon too. The Ascension Trial favors those with backing."
Raghu sipped the lukewarm liquid the train called coffee. "Maybe. But someone once told me — alliances make you predictable. Maybe it's better to stay unreadable."
Lucien frowned. "That's exactly what the Sound of Silence would say."
Raghu smiled faintly. "Then maybe I'll let them wonder."
Later, as he lay in his capsule, the metallic ceiling above him hummed softly. The train felt alive — restless — as if aware that the next seven days would draw blood, alliances, and betrayals in equal measure.
Far away, behind another sealed compartment door, Brenda read the updated list, her expression tightening. She sent a short message to Nathan:
"He's ranked fourth now. You didn't tell me he'd rise this fast."
The reply came almost instantly.
"I didn't know either. Keep him close. The next storm will start from him."
Epilogue: Brenda's Report
The transmission room was dim, its air filled with the low hum of encoded sound. Brenda stood before a mirrored terminal where faint blue light traced her face.
"Report," said a cold voice from the other side — her superior, faceless, calm.
Brenda straightened. "As of last update, the candidate codenamed Raghu has reached fourth position with sixteen thousand credits. Multiple factions have approached him — Order, Crimson, Dominion, and Silence. He has declined all so far."
There was a pause. "And your assessment?"
She hesitated. "He's an anomaly. Either he's being guided… or he's guiding himself with something none of us understand. I suspect interference from circle."
A brief silence followed, then the voice replied, "Observe him closely. If he rises further before the Ascension Trial, initiate Phase Blue. No contact until then."
Brenda's jaw tightened. "Understood."
As the transmission cut, her reflection looked back — tired, frustrated, but determined. She whispered under her breath, "Nathan, you dropped a storm into my lap… and now it's growing teeth."
Outside, the Doom Train continued its endless thunder through the void — a steel beast carrying secrets, rivalries, and destinies waiting to clash.