Morning Above Arcanum
The Arcanum Dome shimmered like dawn contained in glass. M.A.N.A. currents wove slow rivers of color across the upper panels while vapor rolled from vents in rhythmic bursts. Beneath that light stood the two most watched pilots of the academy, Dean Knicko Pineda and his younger sister, Jasmine. Their names carried rumor and reverence in equal measure: the calm strategist and the reckless storm.
Dean's Divine-Class Astra Nova stood behind him like a sentinel carved from light,silver-and-azure armor folded in regal symmetry, runes breathing softly. Across the deck, Jasmine's Arcane-Class Tempest Wing gleamed a deep violet-blue, its translucent fins vibrating with stored charge. When their Frames faced each other, the air itself seemed to tighten, as if the dome waited for the first note of a symphony.
"Still think you can outfly me?" Dean's tone was mild, his eyes sharp.
Jasmine pulled her gloves tight. "Outfly? No. Outshine? Always."
"Predictable."
"Efficient."
Their exchange drew a ripple of quiet laughter from cadets watching nearby. To them, the siblings were mythic, two forces destined to collide. What no one suspected was that every word was choreography. The rivalry was their armor, a test to expose who admired them and who merely sought to stand in their reflected light.
Commander Varros's voice thundered from the control gantry. "Pineda Team, Simulation Dome Three. You're up."
Jasmine leaned close as they walked. "Let's make them think we hate each other again."
Dean almost smiled. "They never learn."
The Sim Squad Trials
Below the main hangar, the subterranean training wing thrummed with energy. Three other pilots prepared for their own scenario: Allen Maniego, broad-shouldered and perpetually grinning, running diagnostics on his Helion / Vanguard, armor plates flickering amber; Jade Ronquillo, silent behind tinted lenses, calibrating the skeletal limbs of his Bio-Core Revenant; and Gene Armas, standing within a half-lit synchronization chamber where the prototype Cross Zero Unit rested, unfinished, unstable, magnificent.
Unlike the others, Gene's Frame had no fixed form yet. Its crystalline chassis hovered in magnetic suspension, components reconfiguring as engineers adjusted parameters. The core pulsed in multicolored resonance, proof of the first All-Spectrum Reactor, still experimental.
Allen whistled. "You sure that thing's safe to stand near?"
Gene didn't look up. "Define safe."
Jade snorted. "Translation: no."
Commander Varros's assistant relayed orders. "Squad C,mixed-environment simulation. Combat discharge limited to sixty percent. Proceed when ready."
Allen cracked his neck. "Time to remind the seniors we exist."
Jade replied without emotion. "Or die trying."
Gene simply closed his eyes. Somewhere beyond the walls, he could feel faint harmonics, the after-echo of the Pinedas powering their own Frames above. Two clear frequencies spiraled together in the spectrum, silver and violet. His core reacted subtly, colors bending toward that harmony. He whispered to no one, "Resonance is listening."
III. Dual Flight
Inside Simulation Dome Three, light unfolded into the sky. Digital clouds, fractal winds, simulated gravity, every detail perfect. Dean launched first, Astra Nova rising with deliberate grace. Jasmine followed in a blur of violet, her Frame slicing through contrails like lightning through silk.
"Formation Delta," Dean ordered.
"Formation Freedom," Jasmine countered, spinning upward.
Their banter echoed across comm channels while telemetry spiked. Dean's crystalline wings projected clean vectors of thrust; Jasmine's fins flared unpredictably, channeling Astral turbulence. Onlookers at the control deck gasped as the pair threaded through one another's wake, a duet of discipline and chaos.
"You'll lose lift in that draft," Dean warned.
"Maybe I want to fall."
"Then I guess I'll catch you again."
Jasmine pulled a vertical climb, plasma contrails painting arcs of violet fire. Sensors warned of oversynchronization, but she pressed on. Tempest Wing responded instinctively, its runes expanding, re-shaping, the early pulse of evolution. Dean matched altitude, Astra Nova's azure feathers scattering radiant motes that steadied the turbulence around her.
For a heartbeat, they flew parallel. The dome's AI recorded their shared frequency: two distinct cores beating in precise unison. Then Jasmine rolled, diving through simulated lightning, laughter crackling through comms.
Below, cadets cheered. Above, the stars programmed into the sky seemed to flicker, not a digital glitch, but the faint interference of living resonance.
The Mask Behind Rivalry
When the simulation ended, the dome returned to neutral light. Applause echoed through corridors. Jasmine exited her cockpit first, pretending nonchalance; Dean followed, already reviewing flight data. Commander Varros met them at the debrief platform.
"Exceptional control," he said. "Too exceptional. You're syncing beyond projected limits."
"Guess we're just compatible," Jasmine teased.
Varros's gaze lingered on Dean. "Compatibility can become dependency. Be careful."
When the others dispersed, the siblings slipped into the observation lounge above the hangar, a quiet alcove wrapped in glass, overlooking hundreds of dormant Frames. The noise below faded to a hum.
"You held back," Jasmine said.
"So did you."
"Because if I didn't, I'd lose control again."
"And if I didn't, I'd stop you."
Silence stretched between them, filled only by the low thrum of reactors far beneath. Dean leaned against the railing, eyes on the glimmering horizon. "Our act's working. Half the cadets think we're enemies."
"Good. Let them waste time choosing sides."
"While we watch who moves between them."
She smiled faintly. "That's my brother, weaponizing gossip."
"Intelligence gathering," he corrected.
Their laughter broke softly through the quiet, genuine for the first time all day. In that fragile moment, their masks fell, revealing what few would ever know: that rivalry was their shield, and loyalty their true weapon.
Cross Currents
In the lower levels, Gene's chamber vibrated with sudden light. The Cross Zero Unit had awakened of its own accord. Data cascaded across the monitors. Jade blinked at the readings. "This frequency, identical to the Pinedas' sync pattern."
Allen frowned. "They're in another dome."
Gene's eyes opened, multicolored reflection dancing in them. "Resonance doesn't care about walls."
He stepped closer to the suspended Frame. The crystalline core spun faster, projecting thin filaments of light that brushed the other mechs in the bay. Revenant's red veins brightened; Vanguard's armor hummed with new tension. For an instant, every pilot felt a synchronized heartbeat inside their chests.
Jade whispered, "He's linking us…"
Allen grinned despite the unease. "Then let's ride the wave."
They entered their cockpits. The simulation field erupted in a kaleidoscope of motion, each Frame moving with micro-instincts not its own, borrowed fragments of the Pinedas' aerial rhythm. Energy output climbed dangerously close to system redlines before stabilizing, as though an unseen hand moderated the flow.
On the surface level, both Dean and Jasmine paused mid-debrief. The hair on their arms lifted, their Frames' cores pulsing once without input. A faint sound, like a second heartbeat, thrummed through the hangar.
"Did you feel that?" Jasmine asked.
Dean nodded slowly. "Gene."
In the engineering bay, Liwayway Cruz glanced from her monitors, recognizing the spectral signature she once called runic resonance. The network of machines across Arcanum hummed together for precisely three seconds before falling silent, leaving behind an electrical calm that felt like reverence.
The Unspoken Pact
Night descended on the academy. The domes glowed with soft auroral color, and the city beyond pulsed like a living organism breathing through steel. On the outer terrace, the Pineda siblings stood beneath open sky, helmets under their arms, uniforms unzipped at the collar to let the cool air in.
"You think it was him?" Jasmine asked.
Dean nodded toward the horizon. "His Frame's still unfinished, but the resonance doesn't wait for permission."
"Feels like… we're all being tuned toward something."
He watched the spectral currents shimmer overhead, bands of green, silver, violet weaving together. "Not destiny," he said. "Just a pattern we don't see yet."
Jasmine smiled, faint but sure. "Call it whatever you want. It feels alive."
Below them, Astra Nova and Tempest Wing rested side by side in the hangar, cores pulsing in slow unison, azure and violet threads intertwining like breathing stars. Technicians working late swore they heard faint harmonic tones rising from the machines, as if the Frames were whispering to one another in a language older than code.
High above, in orbit's edge, satellites registered a minor energy fluctuation, two converging streams of resonance that curved around Earth's magnetic field before parting again. No one on the surface saw it, yet every pilot sensitive to M.A.N.A. felt a soft pull behind the heart, a reminder of connection.
Dean exhaled. "Let them think we compete."
Jasmine chuckled. "Let them. When the real fight comes, they'll know why."
They stood together, the air shimmering faintly around them. Far below, Gene's chamber lights dimmed at last, the Cross Zero core settling into a low, steady pulse, as though waiting for its moment to join them.
For now, Arcanum slept. The Frames dreamed in their cradles, auroras drifted across the glass sky, and two siblings watched in silence, storm and sun in perfect orbit, guardians of a harmony the world had yet to understand.