The training hall was loud.
Steel clashed against steel, boots scraped against reinforced flooring, instructors barked corrections that were mostly ignored. Sweat and ozone hung thick in the air—black force residue lingering like static after lightning.
Isaac wiped his face with his sleeve and stepped back from the sparring circle.
"That's enough for today," the instructor called. "Next pair."
Isaac turned to leave—and nearly collided with someone solid.
"Oof—watch it, hero."
He looked up.
Sergio Odio stood there grinning, hands in his pockets like he didn't belong in a place built for killing. Tall, broad-shouldered, already carrying himself like he owned every room he walked into.
"Sorry," Isaac said automatically.
Sergio laughed. "Relax. You move like you're expecting to get stabbed every second."
"…You're not?" Isaac replied.
That earned a bark of laughter.
Before Sergio could respond, another voice cut in—calmer, sharper.
"You're Isaac Demonio."
Isaac turned again.
Roman Light stood a few steps back, posture straight, eyes observant. Where Sergio was loud presence, Roman was pressure—quiet, constant, judging everything.
"And you're the one who broke formation in the transit tunnel," Roman continued. "Saved two trainees."
Isaac shrugged. "They froze."
"And you didn't."
"No."
Roman nodded once, like he'd just confirmed a hypothesis.
Behind them, a girl leaned casually against a weapons rack, arms crossed, watching Isaac with open curiosity.
Rebekah.
She hadn't spoken yet, but her eyes were sharp—measuring him the way fighters measure distance. Confidence radiated off her, effortless and unapologetic.
"So you're the kid everyone's whispering about," she said finally. "You don't look special."
Isaac blinked. "Uh… thanks?"
Sergio burst out laughing.
"Oh, I like him already."
They ended up sitting together after training—no plan, no ceremony. Just four reapers occupying the same bench, exhaustion leveling whatever barriers might've existed.
"So," Sergio said, stretching his arms behind his head, "how long until you snap and turn into a killing machine?"
Isaac frowned. "I don't want that."
Rebekah tilted her head. "But you don't hesitate."
"I hesitate," Isaac replied. "Just not when it matters."
Roman watched him closely. "You don't enjoy it either."
Isaac looked away.
"No," he said quietly. "I don't."
Something shifted then—not dramatic, not spoken. Just understanding settling into place.
Rebekah smirked. "Good. Monsters who enjoy it don't last."
Their next mission wasn't assigned together.
But fate didn't care.
A mid-level rift breach in a residential block spiraled out of control when a Sol variant emerged—fast, adaptive, armored in bone plating. Two squads went down before command could reassign.
Isaac arrived first.
Sergio second.
Roman third.
Rebekah dropped in from above, iron screaming as it reshaped around her fists.
No orders.
No leader.
They moved anyway.
Isaac cut low, precise, severing tendons. Roman blinded the creature with concentrated light bursts, burning sensory organs. Rebekah shattered armor with brutal efficiency. Sergio finished it—raw power tearing through the exposed core in a single, decisive blow.
The Sol died screaming.
Blood painted the walls.
They stood there afterward, chests heaving, bodies trembling from adrenaline.
"…That worked," Sergio said slowly.
Rebekah cracked her neck. "Yeah. It did."
Roman looked at Isaac. "You didn't freeze."
Isaac wiped his blade clean. "Neither did you."
For the first time, Roman smiled.
Later, as medics dragged Sol remains away, Rebekah stepped closer to Isaac.
"You don't fight like someone who thinks they're invincible," she said. "You fight like someone afraid of losing."
Isaac met her gaze.
"I already have," he said.
She didn't ask more.
None of them did.
That night, four names were quietly written together in mission logs for the first time.
No titles.
No prophecy.
Just four reapers who survived better together than apart.
None of them knew it yet—but this was the beginning.
The moment GRIMM's future stopped being an idea
and became a bond forged in blood.