Kali woke to pain.
Not the sharp kind.
The deep, grinding kind that seeped into bone and soul.
He was lying on cold metal.
Above him, white lights blurred in and out of focus. The air smelled of antiseptic and ionized energy.
Medical ward.
His body refused to move.
Memory rushed back.
The storm.
The fall.
Zhao Jie's last strike.
Kali tried to sit up.
Agony tore through his chest. His vision darkened.
A hand pressed him back.
"Don't."
The voice was unfamiliar — calm, controlled, dangerous.
Kali forced his eyes open.
A man stood at the foot of the bed, dressed in a dark Federation uniform with silver markings at the collar. His presence alone made the room feel smaller.
"You survived a full power clash at Planetary Rank 6," the man said. "That is not supposed to happen."
Kali swallowed. "Did I win?"
The man studied him.
"The storm field collapsed before we could determine the result."
Kali closed his eyes.
So neither of them had won.
The man continued, "Your opponent is alive. Barely."
Kali exhaled.
"What now?"
The man's lips curved slightly.
"Now," he said, "the Federation pays attention."
He slid a thin data-slab onto the table beside the bed.
Evaluation Result: Provisional Rank — Top 3
Status: Under Review
Designation: Priority Asset
Kali stared at the words.
Priority Asset.
The man leaned closer. "From this moment on, every faction in this institute will be watching you."
Kali's body throbbed with pain.
But inside, something colder and heavier took shape.
The climb had crossed a line.