We reached the mountain base at sunset.

  Most of the journey passed in silence. Maybe they really had started fearing me? Only Aris seemed more comfortable lately, talking to me about random stuff. The others joined in sometimes, but reluctantly. Their first real demon fight, no instructors watching., and we still had a long road ahead.

  After the tournament, people called us all kinds of things. "Savage survivors." "Barbarians." "Rejects who fight like animals." But we were alive when others had died. Maybe that's why they sent us here.

  By the third evening, we reached our destination. Even from a distance, we could see distortions in the air, backlit by a faint blue glow. Otherworlder barriers.

  The closer we got, the more memories of the laboratory surfaced. What if they grabbed me right here and flew off? Who could stop them? No, unlikely. The academy knew I was here. Elliot had probably found out by now, and he and Selena would figure something out.

  "Impressive."

  Tara stood in shock, like the others. Mira stayed silent, her pressed lips saying everything.

  "Nothing special."

  Kyle said. He'd apparently pulled himself together, but his tense posture betrayed his nerves.

  The gates opened on their own, like they'd been expecting us. The airlock released a wave of sterile air with a metallic aftertaste. A man in a gray jumpsuit with a strange logo stepped out to meet us. Tall, with unnaturally white teeth and polished skin. Implants along his temple bone flickered blue.

  "Welcome to Training Complex Alpha-17. I'm Raze. Follow me. Standard evaluation procedure begins shortly."

  They led us to a massive building shaped like a barn—same oval roof, massive doors. Inside stretched a vast space with neatly arranged targets, tables, robots, and other equipment. A perfectionist's paradise.

  In the corner, I noticed different types of robots. They stood motionless, but their sensors were definitely tracking me.

  Raze turned, his smile unnaturally perfect.

  "Today you'll demonstrate your combat skills. Individually. Who wants to go first?"

  The weight inside me hardened into a bad feeling. I looked at the robots and knew: they weren't here just for training. And all of this was about me.

  The first fights flew by. Kyle handled his opponent almost playfully, his strikes nullifying the robot's magical pulses and turning the match into a one-sided beatdown.

  Tara worked smarter: her potions disrupted on the machine's sensor systems, making it attack its own shadow. Aris, using what remained of his fading shadow magic, lured the robot into a corner and immobilized it, cutting off its ability to scan the area.

  After the tournament, everyone's magic had worked erratically, though it was recovering. Aris couldn't hold shadows for long anymore. Tara's potions came out weaker than usual.

  Mira refused to fight—her psychometry was useless against machines. But after each bout, she secretly touched the deactivated robots and frowned harder each time. When I walked past, she grabbed my sleeve.

  "These aren't standard training units. Something's been done to them. Be careful."

  "Luten Caers. You're next."

  My opponent moved into position without a sound, moving not in mechanical jerks but in fluid motion, like water. No. This wasn't a training model. Curved body segments, concealed weapon ports, a sensor mesh instead of standard optical blocks. Predator-class, PM-7 series, maybe higher.

  Where the hell did I know that from?

  Raze moved to the console. His fingers danced across the interface, face frozen in professional indifference, but his pupils were dilated. He was nervous.

  "Begin."

  I didn't move. The machine froze too, scanning me. One second. Two. Three. Silence.

  "You're supposed to attack." Raze sounded irritated by my inaction.

  Reminded me of Karl so much it hurt. I gave him a mocking smile in response.

  "No. I'm not."

  The robot took its first step—not straight at me, but in an arc, like a predator studying prey. Its movements didn't match standard programming. This wasn't an attack. It was searching for weakness.

  "What series is this? Military prototype?"

  Raze flinched.

  "You shouldn't—"

  He cut himself off and touched the communicator in his ear.

  "Continue the trial."

  Trial. Not training.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The robot attacked without warning: not a standard strike pattern, but a system of overlapping movements. Its limbs seemed to multiply, creating an illusion of plurality. Tactics designed for experienced fighters.

  I didn't block or dodge. I stepped forward, straight into the heart of the storm, and time collapsed into a point of absolute clarity.

  Its right manipulator passed millimeters from my temple. The left transformed into a cutting blade but froze mid-motion: the machine hadn't expected me to enter close range.

  "Luten, what are you—"

  Val's voice drowned in the roar of blood in my ears.

  I caught a micro-pause in the robot's algorithm. A fraction of a second to recalibrate tactics—and I struck. Not with my fist, not the way they'd expect. The edge of my palm sliced through the air between the joints of its body, where the main power line should be. Should be. But how did I know that?

  The robot jerked, glitched. Its counterstrike missed. It started to reconfigure, but I already saw its entire algorithm laid out like a schematic.

  "Termination Protocol Seven."

  Something changed in the machine. Its optics flared red. The body began transforming—not the usual military reconfiguration, but something organic. Horrifying. Like the robot was trying to mimic... a demon?

  Metal flowed, taking new shape. Something inside me was shifting too—not magic, but something deeper.. It ran through my veins, whispered to me, guided my movements.

  I stepped back once, then again. The robot followed, no longer feigning—directly attacking now: fast, precise, lethal. Its limbs had become multi-jointed tendrils tipped with blades and clamps.

  "Stop the trial! This machine isn't meant for training!"

  Raze ignored everyone, fingers still dancing across the console.

  One tendril coiled around my ankle. Before I could think, I grabbed it and pulled, using the momentum to yank the robot toward me. Strange choice: drag the predator closer. But the voice inside apparently knew better.

  We collided. Metal to skin. Machine to human. Its sensor mesh was centimeters from my face.. I looked into it and saw... a reflection? No. Something else. Deeper. Older.

  "Recognize me?" I whispered, not understanding where those words came from.

  The machine froze. Its systems seemed to loop, trying to process impossible data. I used the pause to run my palm across its body—not striking, but reading. My fingers found an invisible junction between the main processor and power system.

  One touch. Not tearing, not destroying—just interrupting the flow.

  The robot shuddered. Its transformation stopped halfway. The tendrils twitched erratically, then went limp.

  The system shut down, and the machine collapsed to the floor—a helpless heap of metal.

  The arena went silent. After the tournament, they'd seen how I could fight. But every time, it still caught them off guard.

  Raze stared at me, wide-eyed.

  "How did you beat it?"

  Genuine fear in his voice.

  Raze shut down the console with one sharp motion. His face became a mask again—professional, detached.

  "That's enough for today. Your results are... satisfactory."

  He said it like we'd met some special expectations. Guess rumors about us had reached the otherworlders too.

  "Follow me. I'll show you to your barracks."

  Val helped me up. His fingers trembled slightly.

  "What was that?"

  I shook my head. Didn't know myself.

  Our handler led us down a long corridor. Sterile walls, ceiling lights recessed and cold. No signs or markers—a labyrinth for outsiders.

  "You're saying we're sleeping here?"

  Tara frowned when Raze stopped at a wide door with a code lock.

  "Not in separate rooms?"

  "Resources are limited. This is a standard training block."

  The door slid aside, revealing a spacious room with two rows of bunks. Metal, plastic, minimal comfort. In the corner—shower stalls without doors and a basic toilet.

  "There aren't even partitions."

  Everyone glared at Raze.

  "Figure it out if you want. Tomorrow at seven, training continues. Rest up."

  The door hissed shut behind him. We exchanged looks.

  "This is a cell." Kyle circled the room, checking corners. "They just forgot the bars."

  Mira immediately begins examining the walls and ceiling, methodically running her palms over surfaces.

  "This was built in a rush. Fast. Very fast."

  Val helped drag two bunks over, creating a makeshift barrier between the girls' section and ours. A curtain from camp tents became a wall.

  "Now we can talk."

  Tara perched on the edge of a bunk, pulling vials from her bag and arranging them in a specific order.

  "What's going on, Luten? That robot tried to kill you."

  I rubbed my temple, trying to collect my thoughts.

  "They're looking for something. In me."

  "What exactly?" Aris spoke surprisingly freely with me, though he still didn't get along well with the others.

  "Don't know. Maybe how I survived without magic?"

  I deliberately avoided the full truth. Not because I didn't trust them—I just didn't understand what was happening myself.

  "They noticed me on the way to the capital. Wanted to detain me, but I broke free and disappeared."

  "And that's why Raze activated a combat protocol?"

  Mira stepped closer.

  "I touched the console while everyone was watching you. That wasn't just training mode. It was a full combat program. 'Termination.'"

  Silence swallowed the room. Everyone processed the information differently.

  "So we're not at training." Kyle looked genuinely worried for the first time all day. "We're in an experiment. And the test subject is you."

  "And we're..."

  Tara's voice faltered. But Val finished for her:

  "Disposable assets. In case something goes wrong."

  "Like at the tournament," Mira added quietly.

  "Except back then, we didn't know we were being watched."

  I scanned their faces. Fear. Distrust. Confusion. And resolve—unexpected, but exactly what we needed right now.

  "What do we do?"

  "For now, play by their rules. They don't know we've figured out their plan. That's our advantage."

  Mira nodded, confirming the logic.

  "And in the morning?"

  "Morning, we adapt. Right now, we need rest."

  They scattered to their spots, but sleep wouldn't come. I heard their breathing, quiet whispers, creaking bunks. Everyone lost in their own thoughts, but the worry was shared.

  In the darkest part of night, when everyone finally slept, I caught myself thinking about the voice inside. Something in me knew how to beat that robot. The otherworlders were being cautious.

  whispered the voice in my head, and I didn't know if it was mine or someone else's.

  And strangely, that thought brought not fear, but a perverse calm.