The simulation hall felt larger than it had the first time. This was as a result of the massive failures among the first module trainees. The light had a sharper hue, the reflections of the ceiling lattices stretching like cold veins of silver across the smooth floor. Rows of Explorers stood in silence again as the hum of the neural stabilizers filling the hall like a faint metallic heartbeat. The scent of ozone hung in the air. It was their second full-scale module in the vortex field. The first one had ended in exhaustion. This one though, promised something different.
Instructor Jet's calm and deliberatevoice carried through the internal comms.
"Simulation Module Two. Focused on stability and resonance. Sync ratio targets are displayed on your neural bands. Maintain cohesion and adapt to the field's pulse. Focus on the link between intent and construct. Let the neural current respond to your thought, not your fear."
Bale's pulse quickened. He had been hovering around twelve percent during the last session, but it had never felt stable. His mind still wandered too often. His focus cracked under the weight of his own thinking. He kept remembering the red flicker that always danced at the corner of his neural interface, that brief ripple that made the instructors pause in their readings.
Tora was two lines ahead. Her stance was steady, her neural band glowing in a deep blue hue that pulsed softly, almost alive. Tosin stretched beside her, his grin still bright even in the subdued light. His hair caught the glow from the containment panels, each strand reflecting like frost dusted with static. Glancing around, he caught Bale's eyes across the line and nodded once, as if saying you'll get there without words.
The floor plates then began to shift. The hum of the stabilizers deepened as the air thickened with static. Bale closed his eyes as the simulation field layered itself over reality. A wave of disorientation swept through him. Then, the world unfolded again.
The metallic chamber seemed to melt into a field of gray dunes stretching beneath a pale sky. The horizon curved inward, as though the land was inside a sphere instead of beneath it. The simulated gusts of wind across the dunes carried glimmers of fractured light, with brief illusions of distant humanoid shapes that dissolved the moment they were seen. The sky was still, but the world beneath it moved with an invisible rhythm.
"Vortex density: forty-two percent. It also implies Sequence three vortex," Jet's voice said through the link. "Maintain group spacing. Spread out... Begin!"
At that instant, the paranoid cadets spread out, reaching out in groups, each moving toward a dune. Bale could feel his own pulse sync with the hum in his head. The heat rose behind his eyes as the neural current flowed through his veins. He could almost taste the energy in the air, like metallic snow dissolving on his tongue.
"Construct phase begins," Jet instructed.
Listening to Instructor Jet, Bale exhaled and reached inward with his mind. Then the neural current stirred in response. The sensation felt strange each time. It flowed from the brain, behind the heart, then climbed through his shoulders and down his arms, a rushing warmth that was neither fully real nor fully imagined. The field around him shimmered. A swril of pale light spiraled from his palm, spinning in small loops...
'Yes!'
Bale's heart leaped for joy. Entering into the simulation field, the Explorers with the aid of their neural capacity were able to form a weapon of any shape with the use of their minds, serving as their only medium of attack and defense on the field depending on the type of weapon formed, along with their combat intelligence. Since the vortex field was just a simulation, what they would be constructing with their minds was also a simulation of the weapon that comes to mind, spiraling into one that feels real. Seeing his imagination spiraling into form on his first try - actually, in this module - he couldn't help but anticipate what the ghostly scythe he imagined would feel once spiraling to form in his hands.
... However, the pale light of simulated energy broke apart into drifting shards fo fragmented light, without even beginning to assume form.
'Heh..'
They firstly hung there for a heartbeat... before snapping back together into a scythe. The energy fragments of light rippled and folded inward, shaping something that resembled the outline of a blade, though translucent and faint.
The scythe then wavered as it's edges flickered. Uncomfortable, Bale gritted his teeth. The neural current slipped out of sync, then the blade collapsed into fragments of light that scattered across the sand and faded. Cadets who noticed this were already muttering some words. Well, he knew what those words were. He then looked at his side.
Tora's construct formed cleanly beside him. Her resonance took the form of a narrow glaive that shimmered in violet tones. Swaying her simulated weapon around, each motion she made left ripples of light trailing behind, as if the weapon carried memory in its wake. Tosin's shock baton manifested with a quick surge of energy sparks, solid and confident. His laughter carried faintly through the field as he twirled it once.
'Always the odd one,huh?' Watching them, Bale gritted his teeth in disappointment.
"Focus, Bale," Jet's voice came through the link. "Do not force the shape. Breathe with the flow."
Listening again, this time more stoic and calm, Bale inhaled slowly. The energy swirled again. He let go of the image of the blade and instead thought of rhythm, of balance, of the pulse of the field matching the beat of his heart. Light gathered again at his palm. It curved, then folded, and twisted until it became the same faint outline of a blade. This time it held longer, vibrating gently in the air like glass catching sunlight. The shimmer of it cast faint reflections across his visor.
"Good," Jet said. "Now move."
As if commanding the next phase, the horizon pulsed and the sand beneath their boots trembled. Vague shapes began to emerge from the crest of a dunes in the distance. They were not creatures, not truly alive, but simulated distortions crafted from compressed energy. These distortions were automatically programmed to formulate once every player spirals their weapons into form. They resembled human silhouettes, tall and vague, with shifting lines of motion across their forms. Each movement sent faint ripples through the air, slightly distorting the world around them.
"Engage and maintain sync above twenty!," Jet ordered.
Tora was the one who moved first. Dashing forward like a cheetah, her glaive sliced through the closest distortion with a clean arc of light. Tosin followed, his baton striking with bursts of electrical light that carved through another target in rapid succession.
Seeing that the two succeeded their attacks, the other cadets, feeling more vigorous and encouraged, moved forward, dashing toward the distortions of vague humanoid shapes. The sand shifted under their boots. The distortion nearest to Bale tilted its head, as though noticing him for the first time.
'Huh, not as scary as that ominous eye...'
He tightened his grip on the flickering blade. The hum of the neural current wavered inside his skull. He could feel every fluctuation of doubt pulling at its form.
Then he charged forward. Unexpectedly, the distortion mirrored his motion. The moment they met, the air bent around them, producing shockwaves that cleared out a region of simulated sand away from their point of contact. The sound was like glass splintering underwater. The impact jolted through his arm, breaking his focus. The blade cracked, its edges splintering into pieces that scattered in glowing dust. Bale held on, his feet pressing against his weight to support his onward attack. Moving back slightly, the distortion lunged again at him, its formless arm sweeping toward his chest. Bale threw himself sideways, rolling across the floor now cleared of sand. His neural band flickered violently, dropping from twelve percent to eleven. His breath came ragged, his body shivering with the static feedback of neural disorientation.
"Reform your construct, cadet." Jet said evenly. "You will not stabilize until you stop fearing collapse, and your neural sync won't stop fluctuating. It's not a normal thing if it does."
Listening quietly, Bale forced himself to kneel. His hands were trembling. He focused on his breathing. The neural current then throbbed right from within his brain, then moments later erratically at the edges of his mind. Every flicker of fear magnified the instability. He could hear Tosin shouting somewhere ahead, and the hum of Tora's glaive slicing through another distortion. Different forms of weapons danced around in clangor, lights of arcs sweeping through the air.The sounds around him momentarily faded and returned in waves, like echoes carried by a storm.
He centered his thoughts again. The field pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. The energy gathered, this time slower and denser. Then light curved around his arm, weaving into a coherent strand that wrapped itself into the shape of a blade once more. The edges glowed faintly, their hue a dim gold. He stood and faced the distortion still approaching him, drawing closer now. Retorting back to stance slowly, he moved forward, step by step.
Then moments later, the impact came again. This time, he did not lose the rhythm. He guided the neural flow along his arm, adjusting the frequency of his breath to match the pulse of the weapon. The distortion's attack met his guard. The blade held. Sparks of light flared where their forms met. For a moment, the two forces seemed balanced.
Then, the field shifted. A surge of instability rippled through the simulation, momentarily but sharp. The distortion suddenly multiplied, splitting into two overlapping projections. Bale's eyes suddenly widened, faltering his focus. One struck low, the other high. He raised his blade to block, but one of the distortions had already hit him on the forehead, sending a wave of pained shock across his skull. The impact seemed to affect his neural circuit like static lightning. The world blurred. He stumbled back, the weapon flickering again. He managed to maintain his stance, as he tried clearing his mind of haze.
At that moment, Tora appeared at his side, her glaive slicing through both distortions in one sweeping arc. The projections shattered into fragments of light. She glanced at him briefly.
"You are still fighting it. Stop thinking so much."
Bale nodded, though his jaw was tight. He wanted to answer, but he was trapped in perplexity. Of course not considering his condition, three distortions from a distance took to form, moving as one... and surged towards Bale. Bale's face contorted, but Tosin sprinted past, his baton spinning as he leapt. He struck the center projection mid-air, landing with a burst of static that rippled across the sand. His laughter echoed again.
"You're overloading your channel, Bale! Let it breathe!"
Groaning, he muttered, "One last chance."
Bale steadied his stance again. His neural band read twelve percent, but barely stable. The weight in his chest felt heavier with every breath. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again to face the next distortion. The hum of the neural circuit merged with the faint heartbeat in his ears. The energy gathered, soft and slow. He swung once. The blade met the projection's limb and dispersed it cleanly. The form dissolved in front of him. The light lingered, then vanished. Bale felt elated. Seeing this happen successfully and swiftly this time eased him of his previous disappointments.
"Better," Jet said through the comms. "Do not chase perfection. Sustain flow."
'Huh, he seems to have been communicating with me alone...'
The session continued. Across the rest of the session, the waves came in bursts, the distortions growing denser, their shapes more defined. The cadets adapted, each one finding rhythm within chaos. Some faltered, but held still. Tora's movements were precise, her resonance leaving trails of violet arcs that lingered like ribbons of fire. Tosin fought with wild grace, every strike followed by a grin or a half-muttered taunt at his simulated opponents. His greatest advantage was his wildness and gaunt body. Bale followed in their wake, slower but persistent, each movement slightly more fluid than the last. His blade still wavered at the edges, but it held. From a distance, the simulated field was teeming with figures of distortions and cadets striking at each other on dunes of grey sand under the simulated pale sky.
By the end of the tenth sequence, originally called minute, the horizon fractured in a burst of light. The field collapsed layer by layer until only the metallic chamber remained. The cadets stood panting, their neural bands dimming as synchronization sequences disengaged. The scent of ozone lingered in the air. The silence afterward felt almost sacred.
Jet's voice broke through it, though.
"Module complete. Average sync ratio across squad: thirteen percent. Fair enough for your second module, though some cadets may repeat. Debriefing in five minutes. Evaluation results will be distributed later on to your neural comms."
Tosin let out a long exhale, hands on his knees, grin still intact. "Adequate is such a beautiful word for almost dying."
Tora shot him a sidelong glance, her voice steady despite her exhaustion. "You didn't die. You barely even synced above fifteen."
"Nah girlie, sixteen." Tosin corrected, raising a finger.
Bale leaned against one of the chamber's support beams, his pulse still uneven. His visor blinked faint red before turning neutral gray. Twelve percent. Better than before, but not enough. His arms ached from the just completed session. His head throbbed faintly from the neural sync. He stared at the faint imprint of his reflection in the metal wall, his expression unreadable.
Jet entered the chamber. A clipboard in hand, his eyes sweeping over the group. "Explorers," he said. "Your next session will increase resonance strain by ten percent. If you cannot stabilize your constructs within that margin, you will not proceed to Scout evaluation. Sync is not power. It is harmony. Learn the difference."
He paused briefly near Bale, his gaze unreadable. "You're improving, Cadet Bale. Slowly, but improving. The instability remains. You will report to Prometheus again for diagnostics."
Bale nodded once. "Yes, Instructor."
Jet left without another word. The cadets began to disperse. Tosin clapped Bale on the shoulder as he passed. "Don't let the diagnostics scare you. The machine probably just likes your brain."
Tora followed silently, massaging her wrist. She glanced at Bale once, then looked away. "You are still thinking too much," she said before leaving.
When the hall emptied, Bale remained. The faint hum of the chamber filled the air again. He stared at his hands, flexing his fingers. The echo of the energy still lingered beneath his skin, faint and rhythmic, as if the field had left a memory there. He could still see the golden shimmer of the blade's last stable moment. For a heartbeat, it had felt whole. Complete. Alive.
He closed his eyes. The silence deepened. Somewhere in that stillness, he whispered to himself.
"I'll get it right next time."
The chamber lights dimmed, marking the end of the session cycle. The sound of machinery winding down filled the air, soft and distant. Bale turned toward the exit, his steps slow, his shadow stretching long across the reflective floor. The faint hum of his neural band pulsed once more before fading to silence.
Outside the hall, the corridors of the Cadet Academy were quiet. The air smelled of cold metal and recycled oxygen. He walked alone through the long passageway, past the transparent panels that looked out onto the lower training bays. The flicker of distant simulations painted faint light across his visor. He stopped once, looking through the glass. Somewhere below, another squad began their own module, their neural bands lighting in synchronized rhythm. They were scattered across the vast metallic floor, each one seemingly fighting an unseen figure. The simulation field could only be seen by those putting on neural bands. They were a second batch of Explorers taking the harrowing session he just went through.
He watched for a moment longer before turning away. The hum of the facility followed him down the hall, steady and alive. He did not know if he would ever match the precision of Tora or the effortless control of Tosin, but the thought did not weigh him down. The memory of the golden blade flickered again in his mind, small but steady.
He would learn. Slowly. Quietly. Until the rhythm of the field became his own.
He will become stronger... and fall upwards.