The interrogation room in the Administration Building had no windows, only smooth gray acoustic panels and a single reinforced steel table. Caine sat in a high-backed chair, his arms resting quietly on his lap.
Directly across from him stood Director Thorne.
Thorne was a man in his late fifties with slicked-back gray hair and a spotless, dark navy uniform pinned with military medals. He didn't sit down. He stood with his hands folded behind his back, staring at the holographic display floating above the table.
On the projection was a slow-motion playback of Caine's strike from Field B, along with a seismic stress map of the shattered monolith.
"A standard Level 10 strike delivers approximately twelve hundred joules of kinetic force," Thorne said, his voice cold and measured. "Your fist delivered zero external energy projection, yet the internal core of a military-grade dampener shattered into dust."
Thorne clicked a button, bringing up Caine's personal file: his school grades, his father's death ten years ago, his mother's employment record, and two years of stagnant CHPower results.
"You have been at the bottom of Section 4 for twenty-four months, Caine," Thorne continued, turning his gaze toward him. "Then, overnight, you display structural bypass force. How do you explain this?"
Caine kept his breathing even. He remembered Silas's warning—if they figure out your true density, they will dismantle you.
"My materialization has always been incomplete, Director," Caine said, holding up his right hand. "I can't push my CrystalHeart outward into a weapon like the others. When I tried to hit the pad, I didn't project energy. I just held it inside my arm because I couldn't get it to leave my body."
Thorne's eyebrows twitched slightly. "You held it inside?"
"It hurt," Caine added, letting a slight tremor into his voice to make it believable. "It felt like my bones were going to snap. I didn't mean to break the machine. I was just trying to pass the baseline so I wouldn't get expelled."
Thorne stepped closer, leaning over the table. His eyes narrowed as he studied Caine's face for any sign of a lie.
"An internal blockage causing localized pressure," Thorne muttered, considering the explanation. "A crude, dangerous flaw. If what you're saying is true, you aren't an Anomaly. You're a biological ticking time bomb. One wrong channel and that compressed energy will blow your arm clean off."
"I know," Caine said softly. "That's why I need to stay in the Academy. To learn how to fix it."
Thorne stared at him for three long seconds before straightening his posture. He tapped his wrist tablet.
"I won't expel you, Caine. But I won't rank you either. Your official CHPower remains at 10," Thorne declared. "However, starting tomorrow, you are reassigned from standard weapon drills to the Auxiliary Vanguard."
Caine's eyes widened slightly. The Auxiliary Vanguard wasn't a classroom—it was the Academy's active containment unit, sent to clear low-level Jahgred incursions in the outer ruin zones.
"If your 'flaw' makes you durable, you can prove it against real beasts," Thorne said, walking toward the door. "Survive three field deployments, and we'll re-evaluate your status. Fail, and your file gets closed permanently."
The heavy door hissed shut, leaving Caine alone in the room.
Caine looked down at his right palm and slowly clenched it into a fist. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Real Jahgreds.
He wasn't being punished; he was being given exactly what he needed—a front line with zero surveillance, where he could test his true power without holding back.