"The first step into the unknown is never taken with courage, but with necessity."
— Cadet Orientation Log.
Cadet Academy,
VFP,
New Facility.
The New Facility woke slowly, a cycle after the August Visit. The air was quiet again with silence that felt earned. Lights along the upper grid pulsed with their usual rhythm, machines whispered back into order, and the scent of ozone that once haunted the corridors had faded into the background hum of recycled air.
And just like that, a new cycle meant new ranks.
Bale was seen standing before the cadet registry board, watching as his name flickered to life among the others. "VC-1, Explorer." The small tag glowed a faint blue beside his name. He didn't smile, not really, but there was a weight in his chest that lifted, just a little. Cadets whispered around him, comparing their new designations. Some were calling out to friends, while some were slapping backs, trading half-laughs that sounded almost human again.
For the first time in a long while, the Facility didn't feel like a cage.
Tora appeared beside him, hands in her pockets, still with that same easy grin she always carried.
"Explorer Bale. That sounds like someone who finally stopped breaking scanners."
He looked at her and shook his head. "You're acting like you didn't threaten to break one yourself last time."
She smirked. "Yeah, but I made it look cool."
That was one of their times during the sync tests.
They laughed softly, and for a moment, it felt normal.
Their daily schedule began to shift with their promotion. Explorers were given wider access to tactical classes, vortex fields simulations, and even short-range external patrols within the containment domes. The first division had grown louder, busier, and alive with the constant rhythm of drills and alarms. The sound of boots striking alloy had become its own kind of heartbeat.
Morning routines had started before dawn. Neural synchronization checks were always first, with the same dull hum of scanners tracing pulses through their bands... Well, Bale's neural band had grown stable, for once. The med staff still ran extra diagnostics, but they no longer stared at him like a problem.
After the neural sync checks were done, combat training was next. Rows of cadets sparred under fluorescent light, their movements sharp and deliberate. Bale, was performing fairly well, at least for a start. Of course, at least for a start, his performance still pale in comparison to his mates'. The instructors noticed, even if they didn't say it aloud. He was barely holding on to the combat practice, especially when he was not exposed to lifestyles like this. All his childhood, he had been in the public Foster House at Sanctuary of Eve, learning only how to repair drones. He had only grown up to live a usual life of being a cadet later on.
'Gross..'
In the afternoons, they trained in vortex simulations. The vortex simulations were controlled distortions that mimicked real anomalies. The simulated fields shimmered like glass, bending air and gravity in subtle, deliberate ways. Though not dangerous and pales in comparison to the real ones, every cadet who entered came out looking changed. They were taught how to fight disorientation, how to stabilize their senses when space itself shifted around them.
Tora always performed better in those sessions. Her focus was clean, her movements confident. She seemed to enjoy the challenge, while Bale approached it like walking a tightrope. Careful, tense, and mostly off balance. Yet every time, he adapted a little faster. He was improving.
Evenings were calmer. The Facility lights dimmed into deep blue, signaling rest cycles. Cadets gathered in mess halls, some sharing quiet conversations, others buried in their neural analysis reports. Bale often sat by the upper window panels, watching the faint glow of the Vortex Frontier beyond the sky barrier. He'd never seen a real vortex up close, but he could feel its pull. A strange, distant heartbeat that seemed to echo somewhere deep inside his skull.
Life had settled into rhythm again.
Eat. Train. Sync. Sleep.
A quiet cycle, almost peaceful in its repetition.
And yet, something lingered beneath the calm.
The Prometheus Division's interest hadn't faded. Every few days, new observers would arrive during neural tests, pretending to be technicians. They watched him too closely, noting every fluctuation of his sync pattern. Instructor Jet no longer approached him directly, but Bale could still feel the man's sharp, assessing gaze from afar, as if waiting for something to happen.
But nothing did. Not for now.
One evening, during rest hour, Tora found Bale sitting near the simulation wing again. He was staring through the transparent dome, at the thin streams of light that ran across the sky. They always met on occasions whenever they were less busy.
"You keep looking up," she said, settling beside him.
He didn't answer right away. "Just thinking."
"About?"
"Everything. The rain. The Unbounds. What they said after."
She tilted her head. "You think they'll come back?"
"Maybe," he said quietly. "Or maybe they never left."
They sat in silence for a while. The hum of VFP filled the space between their breaths. Beyond the sky, the faint red arc of a distant vortex shimmered and vanished again, like a heartbeat fading into the dark.
The cycle turned.
Another dawn came. More drills. More sync tests.
The calm continued. But beneath it, the story of humanity's survival carried on, quietly, endlessly, within steel walls and silent skies.
And somewhere deep within those walls, something faintly pulsed in rhythm with Bale's heartbeat.
It wasn't danger. Not yet.
It was simply the next beginning.