Three weeks had passed and in that stretch of time, Zander's world had narrowed to a single heartbeat that seemed to thrum through everything—his breath, the water, even the steel veins of the training dome.
He trained like a man hunted by his own potential.
Every dawn began in the same silence.The currents waited for him. The chamber's floodgates opened, and the ocean rolled in, a shifting mirror of pressure and weight. Inside it, Zander moved—not swimming, not struggling—flowing. His movements had shed their awkward human edges. Every twist of his body cut through the water with intent. His pulse had synchronized with the sea.
He could now hold his breath beyond ten minutes, sometimes longer, his chest expanding like an elastic forge. The first time it happened, even Seven had gone quiet for a moment, recording the phenomenon with uncharacteristic reverence.
"Your lung compression ratio has stabilized at an abnormal rate. You are... evolving," the AI had said.
Zander didn't answer. He was too focused on stillness.In stillness, he could hear the ocean.
It wasn't just the waves—the sound of life beneath it, the quiet swarming vibration of plankton, the echo of his own heartbeat scattering through a school of silverfish. When he moved, they scattered, but not far. The fish had learned something too: that he was not entirely alien anymore.
He had begun experimenting with his senses—first, smell. Then taste. One by one, he dulled them through controlled meditative blocks, forcing his mind to adapt.At first it felt wrong, disorienting—like his body was missing part of its own map.But then, without smell, the world became texture and rhythm. Without taste, sound sharpened. He started to feel the pulse of movement before it happened, the subtle current shifts caused by even the smallest gestures nearby.
He didn't know why he was doing it—only that someday, it might save him.
By the end of the third week, even Sensei had begun to look at him differently.
That morning, the training platform's air shimmered as Sensei stepped onto it. The water parted for him with mechanical grace. His eyes were calm as ever—storm-colored, half-hidden beneath the glow of the dome lights.
"It's time," he said."Time for what?" Zander asked."For you to test your progress."
Sensei unlatched the restraint bands from his arms and rolled his shoulders. For the first time in weeks, he wasn't holding a datapad or a diagnostic sphere—just the slender silver staff that he rarely used except in demonstrations. The moment he took his stance, the water trembled around him.
"Seventy percent," Sensei said quietly. "No techniques. No Echelon rise. This is me… barely trying."
Even without activating his Echelon, the man's aura pressed against the room like gravity. Zander exhaled once and dropped into position—low, balanced, blade at his side. The chamber lights dimmed.
For three seconds, they were still.Then the world blurred.
The first clash rippled through the dome with the force of a collapsing wave. Zander parried and twisted, barely managing to deflect a diagonal sweep. Sparks hissed underwater, glowing like drifting embers.
He countered—thrust, pivot, drive. Sensei's staff moved with impossible speed, fluid and absolute, every strike a lesson in precision.
Zander's muscles screamed with each exchange, but he didn't stop. His focus tunneled. He could feel the water parting around every motion, could feel the echo of Sensei's movement before his eyes caught up to it.
"Good," Sensei murmured. "Your instincts are starting to see before you do."
Zander launched forward, feinting left and spinning through the current—his blade slicing a glowing arc through the blue haze. The impact of their weapons sent a shockwave that shattered a wall of condensed water pressure, scattering droplets like stars.
Sensei shifted—barely—and the staff cracked across Zander's ribs. Pain bloomed hot, sharp. Zander twisted with it, not against it, letting momentum carry him back into position.
Every second stretched into eternity. The fight had become more than a spar—it was communion.Sensei's eyes reflected pride. Zander's reflected hunger.
He didn't realize how deep he had gone into his Echelon state until his vision sharpened, the world slowing around him. Every droplet of water floated like suspended glass. Every heartbeat thundered like a drum behind his ears.
When the final collision came, both combatants vanished in a whirl of energy and vapor, reappearing meters apart, their blades locked midair—then disengaged.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then, Sensei smiled.
"End session," he commanded softly.
The chamber lights returned. Water drained from the dome floor as both men lowered their weapons. Zander's chest rose and fell like a war drum. His knuckles were bloodless from how hard he'd gripped his sword.
Seven's voice came over the intercom, crisp and clinical.
"Combat analysis complete. Baseline physical output: approximately thirty thousand newtons.""Applying multiplier for current Echelon resonance—factor four," the AI continued."Resulting potential force output: one hundred twenty thousand newtons."
The silence that followed was almost reverent.
Sensei nodded slowly.
"Unofficial, of course," he said, glancing at Zander. "You haven't gone through formal calibration yet. But if I had to guess… you're hovering around Stage Eight, Martial Master level."
Zander exhaled, a thin smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Unofficial sounds fine to me."
Seven logged the entry silently, marking the file CONFIDENTIAL — UNVERIFIED.
When the room settled, Sensei leaned against the staff, gaze softening.
"You've come far, Zander. Faster than I thought possible.""Not far enough," Zander replied.
A pause. The older man studied him. Then his expression changed.
"There's something I should tell you."
He walked to the edge of the dome, where the holographic horizon shimmered like open sky.
"Three days ago, Aeris Vale returned."
The name hung in the air like static.
"You mean the Aeris Vale?" Zander asked."The same," Sensei nodded. "Earth's top-ranked fighter of my generation. While you were here training, he was out beyond the Belt. Rumor says he encountered an entity—something ancient. Whatever it was, it recognized him… and gave him a chance. A seat at something called the Genesis Tournament."
Zander frowned.
"Genesis?""An intergalactic martial conclave," Sensei explained. "The first of its kind in nearly a century. Each world gets one contender. One. The strongest of their youth or their champions. Vale secured the invitation, but not the seat. Earth still has to decide who will represent humanity."
Zander's pulse quickened.
"When?""Selection begins in three and a half years."
For a moment, the air seemed to hum with possibility.
Sensei turned toward him, eyes narrowing slightly.
"For decades, no one's crossed the barrier past Echelon Three. Aeris Vale came the closest. But you… there's something different in your resonance."
The words lingered between them like prophecy.
Zander didn't answer right away. His hands tightened around the sword's hilt, faint ripples spreading from where his boots touched the water.
"Then I'll start tomorrow," he said finally.
Sensei smiled faintly, turning away.
"Progress echoes the loudest in silence."
The dome lights dimmed once more, leaving only the soft pulse of the sea—and the sound of a young man breathing, steady, unbroken, preparing for a future that would shake the stars.