Timestamp: Cycle 4, Month 4 — Solar Season
Location: Arcanum Base – Resonant Hangar & Civilian Supply Sector Delta
I. The Arrival
The hangar hummed like a deep metallic heartbeat—steady, low, alive. Every vibration crawled up through the floor into boots and bones. Morning sunlight speared through the steel beams above, scattering gold across rows of Frames standing motionless like ancient guardians. Dust floated in the light, swirling like fragments of memory caught between air currents.
Cadets filled the walkways in hushed tension. Some leaned against the railing, arms folded, pretending calm. Others adjusted gear that was already perfect—just to keep their hands busy. No one said it out loud, but every one of them felt it.
The Riftguard were coming.
Real soldiers. The kind who'd walked through Rifts and made it back.
A low siren blared once—short, sharp, final—and silence fell.
From the far side of the hangar, the massive bay doors split open with a hydraulic hiss. A wave of cold air rushed in, carrying the faint ozone scent of Rift transit crafts—half metallic, half electric, like a storm trapped inside a machine. Through the glare of light and mist, four figures appeared. Their silhouettes were sharp, their coats long and battle-worn, trimmed with silver lines that shimmered like scars of experience.
They marched with the kind of discipline that didn't need an audience. Not slow. Not fast. Just inevitable.
Jade Ronquillo stood near the front line, hands half-clenched by his sides. He'd been warned to keep still—no waves, no chatter, no awkward gestures. His palms itched anyway. His eyes tracked the movement of their coats, noting the burns, the faint chemical stains that even base sterilizers couldn't clean.
"Those are the Riftguard?" Celene Yusay whispered beside him, her tone hovering between awe and disbelief. "They look like—"
"—like ghosts that never died," Dean Knicko Pineda muttered, arms crossed tight. "That's what the outer warfronts do to you."
The four veterans stopped at the center of the hangar. The lead figure stepped forward—tall, sharp-eyed, beard trimmed close but uneven, like he didn't care enough to perfect it anymore. His presence alone made everyone straighten their backs.
"I am Commander Virel Kaen, Division Delta," his voice carried through the air, steady without needing amplification. "With me—Lieutenant Aras Menoa of Epsilon Division, Major Drevan Holt of Sigma, and Warrant Officer Sari Ilen of Theta."
His gaze swept across the formation. "You've survived the synchronization trials. You've touched the M.A.N.A. field directly—and you're still standing. That alone makes you more than most who try."
A few nervous glances exchanged between cadets. A small smile flickered across Jasmine Pineda's face. Allen Maniego only grunted quietly, the sound lost in the hangar's echo.
Virel continued. "We're here under orders of the Outer Arcanum Command to evaluate your readiness for Rift exposure. That means observation, combat protocol, and most importantly—ethics."
He let that last word hang. "If you can't remember the purpose of your power, you're a liability. And liabilities die first."
He scanned the front row again. His eyes locked on Jade.
"Cadet Jade Ronquillo," he said evenly. "You wrote the Countercode that neutralized the Rift malware breach, correct?"
Jade's heart tripped a beat. "Yes, sir. Countercode version three-point-one, built to—uh, re-sequence the defensive kernel and isolate corrupted transmission nodes."
Virel nodded once. "In simpler words—you stopped the Academy from burning."
A ripple of quiet laughter rolled through the crowd. "That was good work, cadet."
Jade managed a small nod, the compliment sitting awkwardly but warmly on his shoulders. Celene smirked beside him, whispering, "Told you your nerd code would save us."
Dean muttered something like, "Show-off," but there was pride buried under the sarcasm.
Commander Virel stepped back. "All units, prepare for evaluation drills. Training Sector Delta is now under Riftguard control. Full observation conditions—no fatalities allowed, but expect injuries. Begin deployment."
The veterans dispersed, each heading toward a control deck. Lights across the hangar flared alive. The Frames began to stir, their Resonant cores glowing to life—like hearts remembering how to beat again.
II. The Observation
Training Sector Delta sprawled beyond the cliffside, a vast open field enclosed by towering holographic walls. The terrain shimmered to life—cracked streets, leaning towers, drifting dust. An entire ruined city reborn in light.
Jade and the others stood at the deployment line, helmets tucked under arms, suits humming faintly with pre-sync energy.
"Alright," Commander Virel's voice echoed through comms. "This isn't about who looks good in a fight. We're testing coordination, control, and cohesion. Survive the simulation as one unit."
"Define 'survive,'" Jasmine muttered.
"Functioning systems at the end of the test," Virel replied flatly.
Dean chuckled. "So… no explosions?"
"Dean," Jade warned.
"Right, right," he sighed, grinning. "No promises."
Jade inhaled, fingers brushing the cool edge of Astra Nova's control pad. "Team Vanguard, formation Echo. Let's move."
"Copy," Celene's voice came through the link. "RX-Prism online."
"Tempest Wing ready," Jasmine followed.
"Helion Vanguard active," Dean confirmed.
"Cross Zero calibrated," Gene added, his tone steady but distant.
The others checked in—Mateo Reyes, Aegis Halo; Liwayway Cruz, Arclight; Jade Ronquillo, Revenant; Dalisay Arven, Spectra Nova—and the hum of synchronization filled the air, a resonant harmony that vibrated through the field.
Engines roared. Energy wings unfurled. The Frames rose into the simulated skyline like a storm ascending.
From the observation deck, the Riftguard officers watched in silence.
"They've got rhythm," Major Drevan murmured. "Instinctive, but unrefined."
Lieutenant Aras crossed her arms. "Give them months, not years. They'll surpass most rookies."
"Especially that one," Virel said quietly, watching Astra Nova blaze across the sky. "Pineda flies like he's thinking three moves ahead."
"And the anomaly unit," Aras added. "Cross Zero. His sync readings are unstable—but his reflex matrix is faster than recorded prototypes."
Virel nodded slightly. "Arcanum's researchers owe that pilot a medal. His resonance data stabilized the Frame protocols after the Rift incident. Without those results, half this unit wouldn't be flying."
Below them, the team engaged. The formation moved with fluid precision. Jade's voice cut through comms:
"Dean, left flank—Jasmine, phase shift—now!"
Tempest Wing folded its prismatic wings and vanished into slipstream. Helion Vanguard's kinetic vents ignited, shielding the others. Cross Zero blinked through the rift haze, dragging plasma trails behind it like fractured light.
The explosion that followed lit the field white—formation intact. Applause rippled through the hangar. Even the Riftguard cracked faint smiles.
Hours passed through waves of simulated Rift incursions. Liwayway rerouted defense arrays mid-battle; Dalisay stabilized their M.A.N.A. grid; Allen's heavy frame absorbed volleys that would've leveled a block.
They weren't perfect—but they were united.
Inside his cockpit, Jade's breathing fogged the glass. His hands trembled slightly, not from fear but from memory.
"You alright, Jade?" Celene's voice cut in.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Just thinking."
"Stop thinking. Start moving."
He smiled faintly. "Copy that."
On the deck, Commander Virel folded his arms. "They move like a single current," he said.
"Shared trauma," Drevan replied.
"Same difference," Virel said. "It keeps them alive."
III. Recognition
Dusk washed over the training sector in gold and violet haze. The holographic skyline dissolved, leaving the cliffs and real steel underfoot. Frames powered down, exhaling light and vapor like cooling giants.
Exhausted cadets leaned against their Frames, sweat mixing with pride.
The Riftguard approached again. Virel's tone softened, just enough to make them straighten.
"You've done enough. Your metrics have been reviewed. Eight of you met Riftguard standards."
A holographic panel shimmered to life.
"Jade Ronquillo. Dean Knicko Pineda. Jasmine Pineda. Celene Yusay. Mateo Reyes. Liwayway Cruz. Dalisay Arven. Allen Maniego."
He paused, then added, "Special acknowledgment to Specialist Gene Armas, for contributions to Cross Zero calibration and synchronization safety. Your data improved Frame survivability rates across all Divisions."
Gene blinked, surprised. "Didn't think anyone noticed."
Celene nudged him. "They notice when you don't explode."
A few chuckles followed. Even Virel smirked faintly.
"Effective immediately," Virel said, "you are elevated to Provisional Riftguard Officer Rank, under Delta Command mentorship."
Applause erupted, loud and genuine.
Dean grinned at Jade. "You realize this is your fault."
"Yeah," Jade said, still dazed. "Guess I should've crashed the system instead."
Celene elbowed him. "Please don't."
Virel extended his hand. "You've earned the right to face the real thing. Remember—real Rifts don't pause for you to think."
"Yes, sir," Jade said quietly.
The hangar doors opened, flooding the floor with amber light. The Riftguard walked toward the horizon, their silhouettes fading like the last flare of a dying sun.
The new officers stood in silence, watching the light fade. Dean broke it first.
"Well… guess that makes us official."
"Doesn't feel real yet," Jasmine murmured.
"It will," Jade said. "When the next Rift opens."
Celene looked at him. "And it will, won't it?"
He nodded. "It always does."
Outside, the world dimmed into violet twilight.
And in that silence, one truth settled deep:
The Riftguard hadn't just arrived to test them—
They came to pass the torch.