The battlefield simulation faded away, leaving rows of metal dummies lined across the platform. Each one gleamed under the cold lights — targets for what came next.
Jack folded his arms and gestured toward them.
> "Let's see what you've got, Vex."
Vex nodded and took position. His hands started to glow faint green, veins pulsing as small spheres of venom formed at his fingertips. He aimed at the nearest dummy and fired.
Pft—
The venom shot hit… but barely splattered, dripping down the armor.
Dex chuckled from the balcony.
> "Uh, did you just sneeze on it?"
Vex shot him a glare.
> "How about I sneeze on you next?"
Jack said nothing. He just stepped closer, calm as ever, and watched the next few shots. Each one was weak — too slow, too unfocused. They bounced off like soft raindrops.
After the fourth failed hit, Jack finally spoke.
> "You're rushing it. You're forcing the venom out — that's why it's weak."
Vex frowned. "Then how am I supposed to do it?"
Jack tapped two fingers against his chest.
> "Your power listens to your rhythm. Right now, your heart's too loud. Calm it. Breathe slower. Picture the venom as part of your blood — not something you're trying to throw."
Vex hesitated, then inhaled slowly. His pulse steadied. The glow in his hands brightened — cleaner, steadier.
He raised his arm again, eyes narrowing.
This time, the shot cracked through the air like a whip — thick, fast, precise. It hit dead center, burning a clean hole through the dummy's armor.
Dex's jaw dropped.
> "Okay, whoa! That went through solid metal!"
Jack nodded once.
> "Again."
Vex fired again. And again. Each shot grew faster, sharper — venom rounds now slicing the air like bullets. Within moments, the targets were shredded with clean punctures, sizzling from the toxin's heat.
Jack stepped forward, placing a hand on Vex's shoulder.
> "You see now? Power doesn't need to be loud to be deadly. Focus gives it strength."
Vex looked at his hand, a small grin forming.
> "It feels different now — heavier, but easier to control."
> "Good," Jack said quietly. "That means it's finally listening to you."
Dex leaned over the rail, eyes wide.
> "Alright, calm and wise master, your turn with me! Let's see if you can teach a genius anything."
Jack smirked faintly.
> "Then step up, Dex. Let's see what your 'genius' can do under real pressure."
The floor panels shifted again, tools and parts rising from hidden compartments as the next trial began.
Vex stepped aside, watching — still feeling the faint hum of venom pulsing in his veins, stronger than ever.
Tools and spare parts rose from hidden compartments, clattering into place as the chamber reconfigured. Jack watched from the floor, arms folded, expression flat but focused. Dex bounced on his heels, palms already glowing with the low hum of his creation power.
> "Long range," Jack repeated. "Make me something that reaches out and hits where it counts."
Dex grinned like a kid. "Pistol. Fast, dirty, awesome."
He threaded energy into polymer molds, spun a barrel from condensed metal, and snapped a trigger into place. For a second the thing looked brilliant—tiny vents, an energy cell pulsing in its grip. He aimed at the far target, breath steady, and fired.
The shot punched out… and then stuck. The bullet rattled in the barrel with a wet, futile clang.
Dex swore and cursed under his breath, quick fingers ripping apart the weapon and feeding the failed round back into his core until it fizzed out as raw energy.
Jack didn't flinch. He stepped forward, reached down, and picked up a bent fragment of the barrel. He turned it in his hands like it was a chess piece.
> "You don't know what it's made of," he said simply. "You're copying a shape. That's why it fails—you need to know how the parts behave under stress. Materials matter as much as design."
Dex ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed. "I thought making stuff was the fun part. Not the boring science."
Jack's lips twitched. "The boring science is what keeps you from dying. Try something simpler. Long-range doesn't mean more complicated. It means efficient, reliable."
He stepped back and laid out a blueprint in the air with a flick of his fingers—a clean, patient sequence of vectors and tension maps.
> "Make a bow," Jack said. "Simple mechanics. Frame of carbon composite, layered for flex and recoil. String—tough fibers, braided tight. Arrows—fiberglass shaft, metal tips. No fancy energy cells to jam. Rely on structure and speed."
Dex stared at the projection, nodding slowly as comprehension clicked. He spread his hands and let his power flow, but this time he channeled it into material logic: carbon strands pulling into a curved riser, fibers braided into a taut string, shafts spin-formed from fiberglass with small machined tips of steel alloy.
Jack watched every movement—Dex's shoulders, his breath, the way his hands trembled when he tried too hard. Jack stepped in with small corrections: angle the limb taper by a degree, bias the fiber braid for torsion, temper the tips so they expand on impact.
Dex adjusted, faster now, focus sharpening. When the bow was finished it looked simple and cruelly elegant: matte black limbs, a dense braided string, a quiver of narrow, featherless arrows that hummed with condensed kinetic potential.
> "Test it," Jack said.
Dex nocked an arrow, drew back, and released. The shot sang through the air—clean, thin, and true—slamming into the target dead center. The impact didn't scorch or tear; it punctured with clean force, the tip lodging with a satisfying thud.
Dex whooped, the grin returning tenfold. He fired again—three arrows in a line, all tight. Jack's expression softened almost imperceptibly.
> "Good," Jack said quietly. "You made something that works with you, not against you."
Dex looked at his hands, then at Jack. "Feels… different. Less panicked."
> "That's because you thought it through," Jack answered. "Power without thought is chaos. Thought without power is useless. Combine them."
Dex slung the bow over his shoulder like a showpiece and bounced on his heels. "Okay, okay—next time I'll make a crossbow that actually—"
Jack cut him off with a short laugh. "One step at a time. We refine. You learn to build with purpose. Then we kill with precision."
Above them the runes along the wall pulsed, approving—or perhaps merely recording. Dex's confidence had taken a real shape now: not the flashy jammed pistol, but a clean tool he could rely on when it mattered.
Jack nodded to the observation deck where Vex watched, still breathing slowly from his earlier training. "Now we put both of you together and see how well you cover each other."
Dex's grin turned serious for a beat. "Yeah. Let's do that."
The training chamber sighed as it shifted. Platforms retracted and a low fog rolled in, swallowing the edges of the floor until only the central arena remained lit. Jack stood at the far side, hands folded, the runes on the walls pulsing a slow, steady beat.
> "This one's simple," Jack said. His voice carried without force — a teacher calling attention. "I'll bring out one of my basic constructs. Nothing elite. Think of them as training hounds."
Vex cracked his knuckles, veins still humming faint green from the last drill. Dex slung the bow over his shoulder, fingers already itching to create backup gear.
> "If it gets too much," Jack added, "you say the word. I'll make them disappear. No heroics for the sake of ego. This is about control and cooperation."
Dex blinked. "Wait — you'll erase them?"
Jack nodded once. "If you can't handle it, say it. I won't let you break."
A hush fell. Then the air shivered. From Jack's shadowed palm seeped a pale smoke that coalesced into shapes — four lupine silhouettes that stepped into the arena on silent paws. They looked less like flesh and more like smoke given teeth: lithe, fast, edges blurred as if painted in twilight.
> "Basic hounds," Jack said. "They bite, they swarm, they test your spacing. They're not smart, but they are relentless. Move together. Cover angles. Use the bow for distance, Vex for interruption."
Vex flexed, venom brightening at his fingertips. Dex tightened his grip on the bow. The first hound lunged — a blur that braided through the fog.
Dex drew and loosed a single arrow. It flew true but the hound twisted mid-leap; the arrow nicked its flank and fizzed—too shallow. Another dog circled, teeth flashing.
> "Again," Jack called. "Predict, don't react."
Vex swallowed, inhaled slow, then exhaled. His hand pulsed and a venom round shot out like a needle — faster this time — and struck the second hound in the shoulder. The creature staggered, slowed, its leap shivering as toxin ate at its nerve reflexes.
Dex used that opening. He adjusted his stance, braided tension into the bow exactly as Jack had taught, and let loose three arrows in quick succession. Where the first had glanced, the next two punched through—clean, precise—pinning the hound's shoulder to the ground with sizzling impacts.
> "Good," Jack said, voice low. "Vex — keep the lanes clear. Dex — pick the lines and stay mobile."
They moved with a rough rhythm. Vex's venom rounds no longer sputtered; they struck with surgical speed, breaking the dogs' momentum. Dex's arrows found gaps in the smoke-fur as if the bow had become an extension of his will. When one hound tried to circle behind them, Vex angled a shot that hit the ground and blossomed into a concussive cloud—enough to topple the creature long enough for Dex to finish it.
The pack shifted tactics, swarming faster, trying to separate the two. For a breathless second they did: a dog latched at Dex's thigh and another bit at Vex's forearm. Pain flared—but Jack's shadow blinked. He stayed hands-off, watching them learn, stepping only when necessary.
> "You good?" he asked over the noise.
Dex gritted his teeth, thumb already sliding to notch another arrow. "Yeah—yeah. Keep them on me."
Vex grunted, venom leaking faint and hot. "Don't… stop moving."
They adjusted. Dex began leading with feints, baiting angles he'd practiced. Vex learned to time toxin bursts into the openings Dex carved. Their sequence sharpened into a dance: Dex the reach, Vex the cripple, Dex the finish. The dogs, relentless but simple, fell one by one to that rhythm.
When the last hound lunged, the arena felt smaller—heartbeats faster, fog thick. Vex inhaled, steadied, and released a triple volley of venom rounds. They sliced through the air like needles and struck the final beast in its chest. The creature stumbled, howled as if made of empty wind, and then dissolved into that pale smoke.
Silence came slow and heavy. Dex stood breathing hard, bow lowered, palms shaking slightly with adrenaline. Vex rubbed at his wrist where a fang had grazed him; a green afterglow faded from his skin but the wound had sealed quicker than it should have—proof of his own strange resilience.
Jack stepped forward, expression unreadable for an instant, then softened. He rested a hand on Dex's shoulder and gave Vex a nod.
> "You learned spacing," he said. "You learned timing. That's more than most rookies get in a week."
Dex laughed—half elation, half relief. "Man. That was… rough. But I actually hit things."
Vex exhaled, a small, rare grin: "Felt good. Different."
Jack looked at them both, the room's runes dimming to a slow pulse.
> "Next time," he said, "I'll add speed. Then numbers. We'll build from here. You two cover each other, or someone dies. That's the truth of team fights."
Dex slung the bow over his shoulder like a trophy; Vex flexed his hand once and then relaxed it as if testing new limits.
> "Say the word," Jack added quietly, "if it's too much. But remember—if you want to be warriors, you don't shrink from the burn. You learn in it."
They nodded, both of them breathing a little lighter now, eyes bright with that strange mixture of fear and possibility.
Jack watched them with the kind of calm that came from years inside his own head. He'd given them a taste of the forge—and they'd taken the first blows and not broken.
> "Good," he said. "Reset."
The arena dissolved its fog. The next phase waited
Jack watched them breathe in the settling quiet of the arena. The pale smoke had just cleared; the score of their first run still thrummed in the room. He let the lull sit for a moment, then spoke softly.
> "We can stop for tonight and work out tomorrow," he said. "Or — we do one more and call it a night. Your choice."
Dex and Vex glanced at each other. Dex's grin was the first to return.
> "One more," he said. "I want the practice."
Vex shrugged, already wiping the last of the smoke from his sleeve.
> "Fine. One more."
Jack smiled, small and almost approving. He stepped toward Dex first and crouched to meet the other man's eye.
> "Your power isn't just weapons," Jack told him, calm and flat. "You can make things that keep people alive — braces, support rigs, bandages that hold under strain. You can make tools that speed up someone's reflexes or stabilize broken limbs in the field. That's value. That's why I picked you."
Dex blinked, the grin dipping into something more focused.
> "You really think I can do that?"
Jack nodded. "I do. But you need memory. Muscle memory for making, and mental memory for knowing why you make what you make. So we'll train that. Start with simple blueprints, then complicate them. Learn materials, learn purpose. I want you building things that keep us alive first — then things that kill things second."
He handed Dex a slim tablet. The screen glowed with schematics: clear, annotated blueprints for basic support gear, simple long-range rigs (conceptual), field med-kits and redundant parts lists — all written in plain, tactical terms.
> "These are starter designs," Jack said. "Learn them. Then improvise. The day you can make someone a splint in two minutes and a secondary weapon in four, you're ready."
Jack turned to Vex, his face shifting to a gentler, almost curious line. He folded his arms and spoke like someone addressing a student he'd known for years.
> "I read about your power while I was inside," he said quietly. "You can use any toxin you've taken into you — injected or ingested — as a tool. Tell me what you've got inside you. No judgment. Just facts."
Vex's voice was flat but honest as he listed categories, not recipes:
> "I've got stuff that numbs — puts limbs to sleep. I've had things that scramble a head — make people see or feel things that aren't there, slow them down mentally. I've swallowed corrosives that burn or eat through materials — dangerous, obvious. I've got compounds that dull pain, keep someone from feeling wounds long enough to survive. And… a type that can kick a heart back into a faint beat for a short window — buys time if someone flatlines, doesn't resurrect them, just gives a chance."
Jack listened without flinch, letting each word land. When Vex finished, Jack didn't smile or wince — he simply folded his hands and looked at him like a man making a promise.
> "Useful," Jack said. "Dangerous, yes. Useful, yes. That's the balance. Poison is a tool — it can break a system, or it can buy a life. We'll practice timing and precision. You'll learn doses and delivery that incapacitate without killing, that steer effects away from permanent harm when needed. You'll learn to shape and withhold heat and anger when a surgical touch is what's required."
Vex's jaw worked once, then he gave a small, reluctant nod.
> "I don't want to hurt people more than I have to," he said. "But I don't want to be useless either."
Jack's answer was a half-smile.
> "Then we train until you're both dangerous and careful. Dex, memorize those blueprints and sleep on the designs. Vex, catalog what you've taken — names, effects, windows of time. We test in the simulator tomorrow. We don't make real casualties. We make scenarios. You learn control."
He stepped back, letting them absorb it. The tablet hummed in Dex's hand; Vex flexed his fingers, feeling the echo of the venom still under his skin, now tamed by intent.
> "One more drill?" Jack asked, already moving toward the console. "Or bed?"
Both of them exchanged the smallest of looks — the look of men who had just touched the edge of becoming better.
> "One more," they said in the same breath.
Jack nodded and began to bring the arena back to life — not to break them, but to teach them how to stand when everything tried to push them down.
Jack stepped into the center of the arena and slowed. The hum of the lights dipped as if listening. He folded his hands together, palms touching, and closed his eyes for a single breath — not to sleep, but to call.
The air answered.
From the edges of the fog something moved — not footsteps but a whisper, like fabric sliding over stone. Four shapes slid into the light: wolves taller than a man at the shoulder, their pelts matte-black and threaded with faint runic scars from Jack's inner forge. They had no eyes — smooth flesh where eyes should be — and their muzzles twitched as if tasting the air.
But you could see them hear.
Their ears were oversized, cupped and mobile; every movement of the arena — a guard's breath two corridors over, the faint hum from the power core — bent toward them. Muscles rolled under fur like coiled steel. When they turned their heads, the world seemed to stutter, as if sound itself had reshaped to point toward where they listened.
Jack opened his eyes.
> "These are not training dogs," he said softly, not at Dex or Vex but to the room. "They're sensors, hunters, and judges. They find what hides in noise."
Dex's jaw dropped; he stepped backward as if the beasts might lunge.
Vex watched with a predator's calm, arms folded, eyes calculating angles and threat ranges.
Jack gestured. "You won't fight them like the basic hounds. They don't rely on sight. They track movement, breath, heartbeats. You have to be quieter, more deliberate. Dex — your shots need to be dead-silent and precise. Vex — your rounds must not stun their hearing pathways or they'll close fast. Work as one: bait, blind, strike."
The nearest wolf snuffed, nostrils flaring at a temperature change from Vex's earlier venom training. It cocked its head and let out no sound, but every hair along its neck rose.
Jack stepped forward, hand flat against one flank. The beast leaned into him like a horse into a palm — not affectionate, but bound by the same rite that had forged them.
> "If this is too much," Jack said quietly, eyes on both of them, "you say the word. I'll pull them back. But trust me — you've done the groundwork."
Dex swallowed, fingers inching toward the bow. "We got this."
Vex's gaze was steady. "We do."
At Jack's nod, the wolves folded into motion — silent, precise, a quartet of living sonar sweeping the arena. The test began.
The arena lights dimmed until only the runes beneath the floor glowed faint orange. Jack gave one final nod.
> "Begin."
The wolves exploded forward. Not a sound, not a snarl — just motion. They moved like shadows, air slicing in their wake. The floor sensors flared where their claws struck.
Dex didn't even have time to breathe before the first lunged. He rolled aside, bow snapping up as three arrows blurred into the dark. Two missed — the wolves were too fast — but one clipped a shoulder and drew a low rumble that was more vibration than sound.
> "They're reading your heartbeats!" Jack called. "Slow it down. Think, don't panic."
Dex exhaled hard and tried to calm the hammer in his chest.
Vex crouched low, hand glowing faint green as toxin gathered at his palm. When the nearest wolf bounded toward him, he thrust out his arm — a burst of venom mist struck midair, searing through fur and coating the floor in a thin film. The wolf landed and skidded, paws hissing where the mist burned.
> "Dex, now!"
Dex drew and fired three more arrows in rhythm with Vex's pulse. The arrows weren't fast this time — they were timed. The first struck a paw mid-slip, the second a flank, the third pierced through the throat as the wolf turned to adjust. It vanished into dark mist, reforming behind Jack — dismissed, not dead.
The others circled. Two split off toward Dex, another toward Vex. Their movement was too fast to track — pure listening predators, reacting to sound, not sight.
Dex remembered Jack's lesson: predict, don't react. He stilled completely, bow half-drawn, eyes closed, feeling for vibrations instead of watching.
Vex saw it too. He inhaled sharply, pulling a heavier toxin — the paralyzing type — and whispered to himself, "Two seconds delay."
When the wolves lunged again, Dex's first arrow fired blind — it struck metal, ricocheted once, then buried itself in one wolf's leg. Vex spun and flung two poison shots into the mist. They detonated in thin clouds. The wolves leapt through, slowed — not stopped, but lagged.
Dex fired again, faster now. One arrow hit the ground and bounced upward into a throat. The second caught a jaw. The third struck an ear canal and the wolf folded mid-air, collapsing.
Vex used the window. He darted in close, slammed a palm into the side of another wolf's head, and released a numbing toxin in a quick burst. The wolf staggered, trembling, then dropped, claws scraping concrete before evaporating like smoke.
One left. The largest.
It circled both of them, low and silent, chest rumbling with low-frequency growls. The runes flickered from orange to red as the room reacted to the wolf's rising aggression.
Dex had two arrows left. Vex's hands were trembling from toxin fatigue.
> "Vex," Dex hissed, "I'll draw it out. You aim for the heart."
"How? It's got no eyes."
"Then listen like it does."
Dex stepped into open ground, made one deliberate sound — a sharp tap of his arrow against the bow. The wolf lunged toward it instantly, jaws wide.
Vex exhaled, centered, then launched a single toxin burst — not corrosive, not burning, but the heart kickstarter compound. It hit as Dex's arrow struck. The two impacts overlapped — one physical, one chemical — and for a second, the wolf's heart overloaded in response to the pulse of both. Its entire form rippled and then dispersed into dust, leaving the arena silent again.
Dex fell to one knee, breath ragged. Vex wiped sweat from his face and laughed weakly.
> "We did it," Dex said, panting. "We actually did it."
"Barely," Vex muttered, half-smiling.
Jack stepped forward slowly. He looked at the scorched floor, at the fading mist of his wolves, and then at his two recruits — bloodied, exhausted, but standing.
> "You both lasted longer than most rank fives would," he said. His tone wasn't proud exactly — it was assessing, grounded. Then his voice softened. "That's enough for tonight."
Dex dropped onto the floor, lying flat on his back. Vex sat down next to him, breathing through the tremors.
Jack looked between them and gave the smallest nod.
> "You fought like survivors," he said. "Next time, you'll fight like warriors."
The arena lights dimmed again, this time in approval — the wolves gone, the silence earned