The training gym of Wing Zero was stifling. The sound of metal hitting the reinforced punching bag was the only constant noise. Raven breathed with difficulty, sweat blurring his vision. Every time he focused on a movement, it felt as if his muscles weighed twice what they should.
In the real world, he was just a man training with an elite instructor. But in Raven's vision, the world wouldn't stop generating more work and responsibilities.
He tried to deliver a straight punch. His arm seemed to move through a pool of mud.
"Again, Raven!" Sarah shouted, watching with arms crossed. "You're hesitating mid-strike. If you're this slow in the field, anyone with a combat knife will open you up before you can even blink."
Raven snorted, deactivating the tension in his shoulders. The relief was immediate, but his heart hammered against his ribs like a drum. In the corner of his vision, the persistent numbers glowed:
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Resistance: Metallic Skin (Active): Level 3 [RANK C]
Dash (Passive): Level 2 [RANK C]
Muscular Potency (Passive): Level 4 [RANK C]
Structural Resistance (Passive): Level 3 [RANK C]
Reaction Time (Passive): Level 2 [RANK C]
Motor Coordination (Passive): Level 2 [RANK C]
Reflexes (Passive): Level 2 [RANK C]
Instinct (Passive): Level 2 [RANK C]
Bug Exterminator (Unique Passive)
Vitality Recovery (Passive): Level 3 [RANK C]
Sensory Perception (Passive): Level 2 [RANK C]
Kinetic Efficiency (Passive): Level 3 [RANK C]
Note: Molecular density increased by 300%. Kinetic readjustment required. Neuronal Adaptation: 34%
"Three weeks..." Raven muttered, wiping his face with a towel. "Three weeks and I feel like I'm walking on the ocean floor. Why is progress so... stuck?"
Sarah walked over to him, handing him the same old, dented water canteen. To her, Raven was just a raw talent starting to feel the fatigue of high-level training, but over time, she had grown fond of his acidic and chaotic way.
"You're progressing fast, Raven. Too fast, actually," Sarah said with a calm that contrasted with his internal chaos. "What you're feeling is your body reaching a new level of strength. It's normal to feel this 'friction.' You're getting stronger, faster. You just need to learn not to fight against your own body."
Raven took a gulp of water. "For a giant paperweight, I guess I'm doing alright."
Sarah smiled slightly as she cocked her training weapon. "Let's go, paperweight. Training isn't over yet."
She looked at the canteen and then at Raven, a half-smile mixing amusement with the kind of patience one only has for someone they truly respect. To her, Raven's "stuck progress" was the delusion of someone who had no idea of their own strength; she saw a man who, in less than a month, had changed absurdly.
"You complain too much, Raven," Sarah said, leaning against the metal support of the punching bag, which showed a clear dent where he had hit it. "What you call 'the ocean floor,' I call consolidation. You're not just 'getting hard' anymore; you're becoming a physical constant. Your body is learning to carry its own weight so that when you hit someone, it's not just a punch—it's the impact of a landslide."
Raven took a long swig of the lukewarm water, tasting the metallic tang of the canteen. He couldn't explain to her that the 34% Neuronal Adaptation was what truly dictated the pace of his evolution. To Sarah, he was a natural prodigy; to the System, he was a biological machine.
"If I get any stronger, I'm going to need help opening doors without breaking them," Raven grumbled, feeling his body prickle as it recovered from the training damage. "I just wanted a job that let me rest once in a while."
"Less talk, more action." Sarah gave him a sharp slap on the shoulder, feeling the rigidity beneath his damp shirt. "Ten minutes of rest and we're back to reaction training. If you can't activate Metallic Skin before my first strike, I'll leave a bruise so bad they'll think you were hit by a truck."
Raven sighed. Adult life was an endless cycle of responsibilities and exhaustion accumulated by others.
Raven dragged himself through the corridors of Wing Zero, his body throbbing with the kind of fatigue that a hot shower would hardly solve. He just wanted the silence of his room, but the life of an "intern" provided no moments of peace.
Before he could reach the elevator, a familiar silhouette blocked his path. Helena stood there, in the same impeccable suit that never seemed to wrinkle, holding a data terminal.
"Director Brandt has approved your new unit, Raven," she said bluntly. "He thinks you need 'technical support' for Rank C missions."
Raven sighed, leaning his head against the cold wall. "Technical support? I can barely carry my own arm today, Helena. Who are the unlucky ones?"
Helena turned the screen toward him. Two photos appeared, the blue glow of the hologram illuminating the exhaustion on Raven's face.
"The first is Daemon," Helena said. The image showed a Black man with features so hard they looked carved from granite. He wasn't smiling; his dark eyes had the depth of someone who had seen the abyss and decided to live there. "Former police investigator. He was sidelined because he tried to arrest people too powerful and influential for a simple investigator to handle. Before the crisis began, he did everything for justice until he saw it step on him as if he were nothing. His power is Gravitational Control."
Helena paused, letting the information sink in.
"Daemon doesn't just knock enemies down, Raven. He imposes the weight of his own justice upon them. But there is a price: gravity is an absolute law, and his body is no exception. Every time he crushes a target, his own bones suffer the same pressure. He lives in a state of constant micro-fractures. He is a just man, but a bitter one. He hates hypocrisy and laziness, so try not to seem more lethargic than usual around him. He won't hesitate to increase your weight if he thinks you're slowing down the team."
Raven looked at Daemon's locked jaw in the photo. A cop who breaks himself to bend the world. Wonderful.
"And the second?" Raven asked, feeling a headache coming on.
Helena swiped her finger, revealing the photo of a red-haired man with a smile that belonged in a luxury watch commercial, but whose eyes were a cold, empty gray.
"Leopold, former high-level banker. He had everything: money, influence, and the life everyone envies, but he always lived in a void that nothing could fill. His awakening simply gave shape to that emptiness. His power is Light Generation."
She expanded Leopold's vital data.
"He converts his body's calories and vital energy into pure brightness. He can blind an army or fire thermal beams, but the more he lights the way for you, the more he withers away. Leopold uses humor and charisma to mask the fact that, deep down, he feels absolutely nothing for anyone. He's a lightbulb praying for the filament to finally burn out."
Raven let out a long sigh, leaning his forehead against the cold metal of the wall.
"Great," he grumbled. "A detective who wants to crush the world and a human lamppost who wants to vanish. Where do I fit in, Helena? Besides being Sarah's punching bag?"
"You are the resistance, Raven." Helena put away the terminal, her voice dropping to a near-confidential tone. "They are powerful, but they are brittle. Daemon breaks on the outside; Leopold empties out from the inside. Brandt needs someone who can take the hit when their minds and bodies fail. To them, you're still just the Rank D who got lucky. Keep that facade."
She stepped forward, gripping him by the shoulders. "I know you're capable of more than you've shown."
"Be at the hangar at 06:00. The Industrial Sector is showing anomalies that require the strength of all three of you. Daemon does not tolerate lateness."
Helena left without looking back. Raven stood there, staring down the dark corridor. The "intern" now had a unit, which in his personal logic meant only one thing: he would have to work twice as hard to ensure those two idiots didn't kill themselves—or him—in the process.