"Before you step into the vortex, remember - what it reflects is not the storm outside, but the one within you." — Instructor Jet, Training Archives
The morning light filtered through the high, misted glass of the Simulation Hall, pale and silver, like the sky itself had forgotten its color. Rows of Explorers stood in silence, their neural bands pulsing faint blue in perfect unison. Every hum of the containment walls vibrated faintly in their bones.
This was their first full-scale simulation since becoming Explorers. The instructors called it "The Field Within." A test of focus, control, and cohesion. A projection of a minor vortex field recreated through layered dimensional rendering. For the cadets, it was the closest thing to stepping into the unknown.
Bale stood among them, hands locked behind his back, eyes forward. His breathing matched the low rhythm of the machines. Around him, the others whispered, adjusting their visors, muttering guesses about the coming scenario. Beside him, Tora remained still, eyes shut, her expression unreadable.
Then came a voice that broke the quiet.
"Man, I didn't know silence could make my skin itch."
Bale turned slightly. A tall boy with deep brown skin and hair as white as frost stood a few paces away. His grin carried no weight of fear, only a kind of wild curiosity.
"Tosin Alar," the boy said, tapping his chest as if introducing himself to the whole hall. "Sanctuary of Eve. Rural division. Don't get too attached though, I'm told I make people nervous."
A few chuckles stirred among the cadets. Even Bale felt the corner of his mouth twitch.
Tora's eyes opened. "Nervous is one word," she said without looking at him.
Tosin leaned a little closer, grin unshaken. "You know, I like your hair. That shade of purple? Looks like something that could bend gravity if it tried hard enough."
Tora turned her head just enough to meet his eyes. "It could," she said flatly, "if gravity had your level of intelligence."
The cadets broke into low laughter. Tosin raised his hands in mock surrender, smiling wider. "Fair. I'll remember that when you fall first."
The instructors entered then, silence falling back into place as the chamber lights dimmed.
"Neural sync ready. Begin initialization," a mechanical voice announced.
Following that voice, the vortex simulation field rippled awake around them. One moment, Bale was standing in the smooth metallic chamber of the hall; the next, the floor fractured into sand and ash, the ceiling unraveling into a bruised sky that pulsed with dim red veins. The air shifted, tasting metallic and thick, humming faintly like the world itself had a pulse.
"Simulation sequence three," Instructor Jet's voice rang through their neural links.
Bale's eyes widened a little.
'Sequence three?What's that?'
"Vortex-class instability. Focus on synchrony and reflex coordination. Remember, cadets, the field reacts to fear."
The air shimmered with static. Tora flexed her wrist, her neural band flickering in response. "Feels too real," she muttered.
Beside her, Tosin grinned, his white hair catching the simulated lightning. "That's the point, isn't it? Besides, Tora, if we're dying in here, at least we're dying beautifully."
Tora shot him a flat look. "You'll die first if you keep talking."
Bale almost smiled, though the tension pressing behind his ribs didn't ease. He could feel the faint vibration of his neural band syncing with the artificial rhythm of the simulation. The hum of it ran deep in his skull, a faint pulse of heat in his veins.
The ground trembled.
"Contact," Jet's voice cut through again. "Projection incoming. Maintain formation."
Out of the black horizon, shapes began to move. Not monsters, not soldiers—just distortions, humanoid outlines bending in and out of phase, like reflections struggling to stay solid. Every few seconds, their forms shifted, flickering between transparency and shadow.
'... simulating Riftborns too?'
Then Bale's neural band communicated in his head. "Targets confirmed. Energy fields unstable."
"Remember," Jet said, "this isn't about killing. It's about control."
They moved.
Tora sprinted ahead, her training spear dissolving into her palm as her neural field formed a shimmering blade of light. Tosin followed, laughing as he launched himself from a crumbling ledge, his shock baton crackling in his grip.
Bale stayed back, regulating his breathing, focusing on his sync ratio. The red distortion at the corner of his sight was a reminder—his band still misbehaved under high load. He stepped forward, feeling gravity twist slightly beneath him.
A distortion lunged. Bale met it halfway, his neural field reacting on instinct. The ground splintered beneath his boots as the projection's energy dispersed through his guard.
"Focus your flow," Jet's voice reminded. "You're thinking too hard. Let the sync guide you."
He adjusted, letting the neural band's hum take over his rhythm. Time seemed to bend. Each movement was sharp, every breath counted a measured note in the simulation's heartbeat. Minutes later, Tora's strikes kept flashing to his left, while Tosin's laughter kept echoing to his right. He was barely keeping up with the humanly distortions here too on his own.
'What's the deal with that guy?'
For a moment, it almost felt real. The thrill, the chaos, the pulse of danger.
Then the storm broke.
The simulation collapsed into a surge of static, and the field blinked out. The chamber returned, silent except for the collective sound of heavy breathing.
Jet's voice softened. "End of module. Data recorded. Evaluation pending."
Tora rested her hands on her knees, sweat beading on her temple. "That felt longer than five minutes."
Tosin stretched lazily, flashing his usual grin. "Five minutes in the vortex feels like five lifetimes. Still, I looked good."
"You looked ridiculous," Tora said without looking up.
Bale exhaled quietly, feeling the faint echo of the simulation still humming inside him. His neural band flickered red once, then faded to gray.
He looked around the room, the metal walls glinting faintly under the sterile lights. For a moment, he wondered if one day the real vortex would feel any different.
Jet's voice came again, distant but deliberate. "Good work, cadets. Next cycle, we raise the instability threshold. And Bale, stay after class. Prometheus requested your sync data."
Bale's breath caught slightly, but he nodded without replying.
As the others filed out, Tosin tossed him a lazy wave. "Hey, hero. Don't get abducted by the smart guys. I still need you to introduce me properly to Tora."
Tora turned without stopping. "In your dreams, Tosin."
He grinned. "That's the plan."
Bale almost laughed. Almost.
The chamber lights dimmed, the hum of the simulation subsiding into silence. Somewhere inside that stillness, he could still feel the faint echo of the vortex, like it was waiting.