He entered the sparring chamber with its high glass walls and reinforced flooring. The air pulsed with energy, saturated with the heat of raw power. Grunts, crackling auras, and triumphant shouts clashed and collided in a symphony of effort. It was a furnace of progress.
And Vikram was content to be a cinder at the edge of the flame.
He slipped into a quiet corner and dropped onto a bench, cigarette nestled between two fingers. The smoke filled his lungs, warm and biting, grounding him in the present. Around him, his peers shot him sideways glances—some amused, others dismissive. He didn't care. Pretending to be something he wasn't had long since lost its appeal.
Across the chamber, Brunus stood by a control panel, arms crossed, face unreadable.
And then it happened.
A voice detonated across the chamber like a sonic bomb.
"Like hell I can wait!"
A shockwave tore through the air. Vikram flinched, expecting impact, but none came. The space around him shimmered, the defensive barrier flaring faint blue. Brunus, no doubt, had intervened with calm precision.
Then came Kayala's voice, sharp enough to cut steel.
"What can't you understand, you dumb fuck! I need reinforcements! This is a fight for the Central Galaxies!"
Her anger crackled like a live wire. She ripped the communicator from her ear and hurled it with venomous force toward the observation glass.
Brunus caught it midair with the same ease one might snatch a falling leaf.
Vikram, deadpan, blinked once.
Then he stood, dragging a chair across the floor with the most obnoxious screech imaginable. Several heads turned. He dropped into it with an exaggerated sigh, legs spread, arms loose.
Neither Kayala nor Brunus acknowledged him. He might as well have been part of the furniture.
He hadn't come for drama. Just wanted to kill time in Kayala's office and maybe nap under the excuse of "monitoring squad morale." But seeing the fury in her eyes, he instantly regretted stepping foot inside.
"Get. Out."
One look was enough.
Brunus and Vikram exited the chamber in perfect sync, no words exchanged. The door sealed shut behind them like the end of a chapter.
Out in the corridor, silence stretched a few beats too long.
Then both of them reached up and scratched their heads.
"Well," Vikram muttered, exhaling smoke from his nose, "that went about as well as expected."
Brunus gave a small shrug and tilted his head toward the hallway window, where starlight streamed through reinforced glass. "Actually… you doing anything tonight?"
Vikram arched an eyebrow. "Unless you count surviving Kayala's wrath as a full-time job, no."
Brunus nodded. "Come to dinner. My place. There's someone I want you to meet."
That evening, the world slowed.
They walked together through the residential quarter, where the buildings were smaller, warmer, almost human. The kind of place that resisted the sterile brutality of outpost life. Lanterns glowed in shaded porches. A breeze carried the scent of baked bread, toasted spices, and something nostalgic Vikram couldn't place.
Brunus led them to a modest unit. Clean lines. Trim garden. The door opened with a soft chime.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The tension of war and training vanished. The air was soft, alive, filled with laughter coming from the kitchen.
And then she stepped out.
She was small, petite enough to make Vikram, who was no mountain himself, feel oversized. Her pointed ears peeked through a cascade of silver-touched hair. She moved like music, every gesture unhurried yet full of presence.
"This is my wife," Brunus said simply, the pride in his voice quiet and solid. "Everwinter."
Vikram's thoughts screeched to a halt.
He'd expected a soldier. A tactician. Someone grim, grounded, with eyes that had seen battlefields.
But Everwinter looked like she belonged to another world entirely. Like she'd stepped out of a forgotten fable.
"Nice to meet you," she said, voice melodic, hand extended.
Vikram took it, still reeling. "Likewise. I'm Vikram. I, uh… thought your name was a title."
She laughed, the sound like wind brushing over water. "It probably should be."
Dinner was simple but perfect. Warm bread, rich stew, and laughter that came easy. They spoke about mundane things. No talk of trials. No mention of the system. Just food, stories, and the soft hum of a home built on something real.
And somewhere between the second helping and a poorly told joke, Vikram felt it.
Relief.
That strange shadow that had followed him, those thoughts about Kayala and Brunus, about what they were to each other, dissolved like mist under morning light.
They weren't that. They never were.
And that made everything feel a little clearer.
A little lighter.
Whatever was between Brunus and Kayala had its own depth. But this, right here, was something different. Something whole.
And strangely, Vikram felt more at peace than he had in weeks.
He took another bite of food, let out a slow breath, and smiled to himself.
He was glad he got kicked out.