The stability check at 0600 was exactly as invasive as it sounded.
A different Order officer—older, clinical, the kind of professional detachment that came from doing the same job for twenty years—scanned Aki with some kind of Curio device that hummed and clicked while measuring god-knows-what about his emotional core. The whole process took ten minutes of standing there while a stranger pointed glowing technology at his chest.
Neither of them spoke. Very intimate. Very bonding experience.
"Stable," the officer finally said. Made a note on his tablet. "Next check, 0600 tomorrow."
"Thrilling. Can't wait." Aki's voice was flat. "Really the highlight of my day."
The officer left without responding. Probably used to Forsaken being sarcastic about the daily "are you a bomb yet" check.
Aki showered. Put on the grey uniform with purple trim. The suppression weave felt like wearing a weighted blanket made of judgment and expensive technology. The fabric clung just enough to remind him it was there, doing its job, keeping him from spontaneously exploding.
Very reassuring. Very "we don't trust you not to detonate."
He looked at himself in the small mirror above the sink.
The gold scars were impossible to hide. They branched across the left side of his face like lightning frozen under skin, connecting to eyes that glowed faint gold even in bright light. The scars continued down his neck, disappearing under the uniform collar.
But the rest of him looked… normal. Better than normal, if he was being honest. Sharp jawline. Dark hair that fell just right without effort. Cheekbones that his mother's friends used to comment on with that tone that meant *what a waste*.
The kind of face that would've opened doors if he'd been born with money and a Path.
Instead it just made the scars more obvious. Like someone had taken something conventionally attractive and marked it as dangerous. Slapped a warning label across it.
Perfect. Really helped with first impressions.
-----
Aki left his room at 0745. The walk to main campus took fifteen minutes—isolated dorms to the actual Academy grounds where the real students lived. Other Forsaken were making the same walk, all in grey uniforms with different colored trim. Green for Mend. Blue for Verse. Gold for Curio.
Nobody spoke. Everyone kept their three-hundred-meter safety bubble even while walking. Very social. Very integrated.
The main campus was already alive. Fated students in their proper colored uniforms—no grey, no suppression weave, no "please don't explode" fabric—moved between buildings like they owned the place.
Which they basically did.
Aki got stares immediately.
Not subtle ones. Full-on, stop-walking-and-gawk stares. At his face. At the gold scars. At the grey uniform that screamed "Forsaken" louder than any announcement could.
One group of Pulse students—purple uniforms, probably Thread 2 or 3 based on the way they carried themselves with casual confidence—stopped talking mid-conversation to watch him pass.
"That's one of them," someone whispered. Not quietly enough.
"Thought they'd be more… I don't know. Feral?"
"Give it time."
Aki kept walking. Eyes forward. Didn't react.
Reacting was what they wanted. Proving them right about Forsaken being unstable and dangerous. He'd save his instability for when it actually mattered.
-----
The Pulse Path lecture hall was in the western building—massive stone structure that probably predated the Academy itself. Very traditional. Very "we've been educating people here for centuries and you're lucky to be included."
Inside, tiered seating faced a raised platform where the instructor would hold court. The acoustics were designed to carry voices without amplification. Expensive. Thoughtful. The kind of room built for people who mattered.
Aki picked a seat in the back corner. Good sightlines. Wall behind him. Easy exit if things went sideways.
Old habits. Useful ones.
Other students filtered in. All Pulse Path, mix of Thread levels based on how they moved. Thread 1s looked nervous, still figuring out their bodies. Thread 2s looked confident. Thread 3s looked bored, like this was review.
Every single one of them noticed Aki.
Some stared openly. Others whispered to their neighbors. One girl—Thread 2 based on the subtle heat shimmer around her hands—looked at him with open disgust. Like he'd personally offended her by existing.
Nobody sat within three rows of him.
Fine. More room to breathe. More space between him and people who thought he was a ticking bomb.
At 0755, another Forsaken entered. The blue-scarred woman from the transport. Her eyes scanned the room, landed on Aki, flicked away immediately.
She sat on the opposite side of the lecture hall. As far from him as possible while still being in the room.
Also fine. Apparently even other Forsaken didn't want to be near him.
Very encouraging. Great team spirit.
-----
At exactly 0800, the instructor entered.
He was older. Sixties, maybe. Bald head that probably would've made Aki make another joke if he wasn't so tense. Scars on his hands that weren't Forsaken scars—just the regular kind from decades of training and probably making mistakes. His presence filled the room without him saying a word.
Authority. Real authority, not the kind you got from a uniform.
"Thread Fundamentals." His voice carried effortlessly. "I'm Instructor Maren. I've been teaching Pulse Path for thirty years. I've trained Thread 6 Transcendents and Thread 1 failures who couldn't enhance a finger without shattering it." His eyes swept the room. "Before we begin theory, we evaluate. New students, stand."
Aki stood. So did five others scattered throughout the room, including the blue-scarred Forsaken woman.
Maren pulled out a Curio device—different from the stability scanner, more compact. "This measures Thread level. It's not a judgment of your worth or potential. It's a baseline. A starting point." He gestured to the closest student. "Come down."
One by one, the new students were scanned. The device hummed, displayed a number on Maren's tablet.
"Thread 1," he announced for each of them. Standard. Expected. Normal.
The blue-scarred woman went fourth. Thread 1.
Then it was Aki's turn.
He walked down to the platform. Every eye in the room tracked him. The gold scars on his face caught the harsh lighting, probably glowing brighter than he wanted.
Very subtle. Very low-profile.
Maren held up the device. It hummed louder than it had for the others. The sound stretched longer. Like the device was confused. Or broken.
Maren's eyebrows rose slightly. He checked his tablet. Checked again.
Not a good sign. Definitely not a "congratulations" face.
"Thread 3."
The room went silent.
Not the good kind of silent. The *what-the-fuck* kind.
-----
Thread 3. Aki processed that. He'd awakened two days ago. Most people read Thread 1 for months, sometimes years. Thread 3 was what people worked toward, not what they started with.
The math didn't make sense. Unless his shattered core was leaking power so efficiently it registered as control. Which probably meant he was either more stable or more dangerous.
Possibly both.
Aki walked back to his seat through a room that was now openly hostile. The blue-scarred woman looked at him like he'd personally betrayed her. The Thread 2 and 3 students looked offended that a Forsaken—a brand new Forsaken who'd awakened in an alley covered in his own blood—was reading at their level.
The disgusted girl's voice carried across the room. "That's bullshit. He awakened two days ago. There's no way—"
"Are you questioning the reading?" Maren's voice was flat.
"I'm saying the device is wrong. Or he's lying about when he awakened. Or—"
"Or you're uncomfortable that a Forsaken tested higher than you did." Maren's eyes were cold. Professional. "Which says more about your insecurities than his Thread level."
The girl's face flushed red. But she shut up.
Aki sat down. Kept his expression neutral.
The whispers started immediately. Spreading like wildfire through dry grass.
"Thread 3 Forsaken. How is that possible?"
"He's unstable. The reading doesn't mean anything."
"Bet he doesn't last a week."
"Bomb. He's a fucking bomb and they put him in our class."
Perfect start. Really set a positive tone for the semester.
-----
"Before anyone gets the wrong idea," Maren's voice cut through the whispers, "Thread level is not a measure of strength. It's a measure of emotional control and efficiency."
A Thread 2 student raised his hand. "Then what determines it?"
"Excellent question." Maren pulled up a projection—diagrams of human figures with glowing cores at their centers. Very technical. Very detailed. "Here's how it works."
Aki leaned forward slightly. This was information he needed. Information that might keep him from exploding.
"Every person has an emotion core. It's biological reality, not metaphor. Your emotion core generates emotional energy. Normally, this energy stays contained—you feel things, process them, move on. But if you expose your emotion core to extreme emotional stimuli, deliberately and carefully, something changes."
The projection shifted. The core began to glow.
"A Path opens."
"This process is called awakening. There are two ways it can happen."
-----
**Controlled Awakening—Becoming Fated:**
"A Transcendent oversees the process. They guide you to relive events that trigger a specific emotion. Pulse Path requires anger. Ink Path requires grief. Echo Path requires ambition—the desire to be more than you are. Verse Path requires shame. Curio Path requires determination. Mend Path requires love. Dream Path requires wonder."
So each Path needed a specific emotion. Real emotion, not manufactured. That's why you couldn't fake it.
The projection showed a figure surrounded by a glowing aura—controlled, steady, not exploding.
"The Transcendent regulates the emotional intensity during this process. Prevents your core from overloading. The ritual takes two to three hours depending on how slowly you proceed. Most people take their time. They don't rush the emotion—they let it build naturally, genuinely."
Two to three hours of carefully controlled emotion. Meanwhile Aki had gotten about thirty seconds of uncontrolled rage and his core shattered like glass.
Very fair system. Very balanced.
Maren's voice stayed clinical. "When your core opens properly under supervision, you become Fated. Thread 1, typically. You can then develop that Thread level over years of training."
He pulled up a graph. Numbers. Projections. Very scientific.
"Thread level correlates directly to two things: emotional intensity during awakening, and your control over that emotion afterward. A Thread 1 Fated user has baseline control. A Thread 3 has refined that control significantly. Thread 6 and above means you've achieved Transcendent mastery—you've surpassed normal limitations."
A Thread 1 student raised her hand nervously. "What if someone doesn't have the right emotion? Like, what if they want to open Pulse Path but they don't have natural anger?"
"Then they won't open a Pulse Path," Maren said flatly. "Emotions must be genuine. Real. You cannot fake your way into a Path opening. Some people try. They attempt to manufacture anger, or grief, or whatever emotion they think they need." He shook his head. "Most fail completely. The core remains closed. The few who succeed through forced emotions achieve Thread 0 or 1—barely functional. Their Path is fragile and weak because it was built on false emotion."
The room was silent, absorbing this.
So you couldn't fake it. Couldn't pretend your way into power. Had to actually *feel* it.
Aki had plenty of real anger. That wasn't his problem.
His problem was that his anger had been so intense it broke everything.
-----
**Uncontrolled Awakening—Becoming Forsaken:**
"Then there are Forsaken."
Maren's tone shifted. Colder. More clinical. Like he was describing a disease.
Great. Very encouraging.
"Forsaken awaken accidentally. Violently. Without Transcendent supervision or guidance. This happens when someone experiences a sudden, overwhelming surge of genuine emotion. Trauma. Terror. Rage. Grief so intense their mind fractures."
The projection changed. The core cracked. Shattered. Power leaked from the breaks in chaotic bursts.
Aki stared at it. That was him. That broken, leaking core. That was what happened when you tried to save someone and got beaten for it and your rage finally cracked everything you'd been holding together for eighteen years.
"When this happens, the emotion core doesn't open. It shatters."
"Instead of controlled release, the core fragments. It breaks apart. And from those fractures, power leaks. Constantly. Uncontrolled. Raw."
"A Forsaken is someone whose core shattered instead of opened."
The projection showed power spraying in all directions. Uncontrolled. Dangerous. Exactly like what happened every time Aki tried to breathe properly.
"Because their awakening is traumatic and uncontrolled, Forsaken typically read higher Thread levels than equivalent Fated users. Aki Sith is Thread 3 because his emotional surge during awakening was intense. His core fractured under pressure that would have destroyed a normal person."
Thanks. Very flattering. Really makes me feel special.
"But that comes with a cost."
Of course it does. Everything comes with a cost. Nothing in life is free, especially not power.
Maren turned directly to Aki.
"Your core leaks power constantly. That leak manifests as raw strength—you're stronger than a Fated Thread 3. But you have no control. Your leak is chaotic. Erratic. It hits your muscles randomly instead of where you direct it."
The projection showed power spraying everywhere. Like a broken faucet. Very flattering visual representation of Aki's entire existence.
"Additionally, Forsaken cores are unstable. Prone to fragmentation. Prone to emotional destabilization that can cascade into complete psychological breakdown. Some Forsaken explode literally—their emotional energy builds to critical levels and ruptures, killing them and everyone nearby."
Several students shifted in their seats. Moving slightly away from Aki even though he was already isolated in the back corner.
Very subtle. Very tactful.
"That is why Forsaken are feared. That is why you wear suppression weave. That is why I am telling you now: Aki Sith is dangerous not because he is evil. He is dangerous because his core could fail at any moment."
Silence filled the lecture hall.
Great. Very reassuring. Really makes me want to be here.
Aki kept his expression neutral. Didn't let them see that Maren's words were just confirming what he already knew.
He was a bomb. Everyone was waiting for him to explode. The only question was when.
-----
"Before we continue," Maren said, dismissing the projection, "understand the reality of the system. The world did not always allow Forsaken to exist openly. Historically, they were hunted. Killed. Locked away. Why? Because uncontrolled Paths are catastrophic. A Forsaken experiencing emotional destabilization can destroy cities."
The projection shifted to images—historical records, maybe. Destroyed buildings. Craters. Aftermath.
Very inspiring. Really motivating stuff.
"The Integration Act changed that. Now Forsaken are offered training and supervision. They're given a chance to learn control. To become functional members of society instead of walking catastrophes."
Maren paused.
"Most fail. Most destabilize. Most die."
The blue-scarred woman made a small sound. Aki didn't look at her. Didn't want to see his own fear reflected back.
"Thread level determines survivability. How long you last. A Thread 3 Fated can sustain Second Form enhancement for extended periods. A Thread 3 Forsaken can barely maintain it for minutes before their leak overwhelms them."
So his Thread 3 reading meant nothing if he couldn't actually use it without exploding.
Perfect. Just perfect.
"But here's what makes Aki dangerous in this room: He reads Thread 3. That means his leak is less catastrophic than average Forsaken. That means he might actually succeed. Might actually reach Thread 4, Thread 5. Might actually become controllable."
Maren looked at the rest of the class.
"That terrifies you. Rightly so. Because if Forsaken can be elevated, trained, integrated—then the system that marked them as cursed was wrong. And if the system was wrong about Forsaken, what else is it wrong about?"
No one answered.
Aki wanted to. Wanted to say *everything*. The system was wrong about everything. About who mattered and who didn't. About pathless people being worthless. About rich families deserving transplants more than his mother.
But saying that would just prove he was unstable.
So he stayed quiet. Swallowed the words. Added them to the eighteen years of rage he'd already been carrying.
-----
"Now." Maren pulled up a new diagram—a human figure surrounded by geometric patterns. "Pulse Path has structure. Forms, breathing styles, and skills. These are not suggestions. They are requirements for survival."
The figure shifted into a basic stance. Neutral. Balanced.
"Forms are states of body enhancement. Five progressive levels, each corresponding to Thread proficiency." The figure began to glow. "First Form: Foundation. Thread 1 and 2 can perform this. You enhance your entire body at a low, sustainable level. Strength increases by approximately 30%. This is baseline."
A Thread 1 student raised her hand. "How do you know when you're in First Form?"
"Your body steams. Your muscles feel warm but not burning. Your heartbeat increases but stays rhythmic. If you're shaking or your vision blurs, you're flooding—that's not a Form, that's losing control."
So there was a difference between controlled enhancement and just spraying power everywhere. Good to know. Aki had definitely been doing the second one.
The projection shifted. The glow intensified, concentrated around the figure's arms and legs.
"Second Form: Concentration. Thread 3 and 4. You channel enhancement to specific areas instead of spreading it thin. Output increases to 60% strength boost, but only where you focus it."
Thread 3 means I can theoretically do this. Theoretically being the key word since I can't even control my leak during basic breathing practice.
A Thread 3 student spoke up. "What happens if a Thread 1 tries Second Form?"
"Their body can't handle localized intensity. The concentrated enhancement overwhelms the area. Bones crack. Muscles tear." Maren's voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. "I've seen it. The student enhances their arm to 60%, punches a target, and their radius and ulna shatter outward through their skin. Fated students spend weeks in Mend clinics. Forsaken regenerate and experience every second of the pain."
The room went quiet.
Very reassuring. Really makes me want to try things above my Thread level.
"Third Form: Intensity." The projection's entire body glowed bright, heat distorting the air around it. "Thread 5 and 6. Full-body enhancement at combat levels. 100% strength increase. Your bones reinforce automatically to handle the stress. You can maintain this for minutes if you're Transcendent. Seconds if you're not."
"Fourth Form: Overdrive. Thread 7 and 8, Divine-level users. 200% enhancement. Your body enters hypermetabolic state. Regeneration becomes combat-active—injuries heal while fighting. Maintain it too long and you'll burn out."
"Fifth Form: Ascension. Thread 9 and 10, Higher Divine. 400% enhancement. Your body transcends normal biological limits. Ten minutes in Fifth Form will cannibalize your own cells for fuel."
Another student: "Has anyone died from using a Form too high for their Thread level?"
"Every year," Maren said simply. "Overconfidence kills more Pulse users than combat does."
Great. Very comforting. Really inspiring confidence in the safety of this program.
-----
He dismissed the Forms projection and pulled up breathing patterns—flowing lines representing inhale-exhale cycles.
"Breathing styles determine how you channel enhancement. Three primary styles."
Gee Style appeared. Deep, rhythmic breathing patterns.
"Gee Style: Endurance and Durability. Deep, steady breathing. Maximizes oxygen absorption, prioritizes defense and stamina. Your muscles become dense. You hit slower but take more punishment."
A Thread 2 student frowned. "Slower? That sounds like a disadvantage."
"Depends on the fight. If you're facing a Kren user who's faster but fragile, you outlast them. They throw fifty strikes that barely hurt you. You throw ten that break bones. Who wins?"
The student nodded.
"Kren Style: Speed and Efficiency." The projection shifted to rapid, shallow breaths. "Fast oxygen exchange, minimal waste. Your muscles stay loose and explosive. You sacrifice raw strength for velocity. Good for multiple opponents or hit-and-run tactics."
"Dred Style: Damage and Strength." Irregular, forceful breathing appeared. "Aggressive oxygen intake, controlled hyperventilation. Maximum power output. Your strikes carry devastating force. You end fights in seconds or lose because you're exhausted."
Aki raised his hand. Maren nodded at him.
"If breathing styles determine how you fight, can you switch between them mid-combat?"
"Advanced question." Maren actually looked approving. First positive expression Aki had gotten all class. "Thread 6 and above can switch styles because their control is sophisticated enough to handle metabolic shifts. Below Thread 6, pick one style and commit. Switching between Kren and Dred when you're Thread 3 will cause your metabolism to spike erratically. You'll either pass out or your heart will fail trying to keep up with contradictory demands."
"What about Forsaken?" The blue-scarred woman's voice was quiet. Almost afraid to ask.
"Forsaken have to work harder. Your leak doesn't respect breathing patterns the way a controlled flow does. Gee breathing won't make you durable—it'll just channel your leak toward durability instead of letting it spray everywhere. It's damage control, not optimization."
Brutal honesty. Aki appreciated that more than false hope.
At least Maren wasn't pretending being Forsaken was anything but a massive disadvantage.
-----
Maren pulled up a new image—a Pulse user mid-motion, body glowing, technical annotations everywhere.
"Skills are techniques built on Forms and breathing styles. Every skill has minimum requirements. Attempt a skill below those requirements and you'll injure yourself. Guaranteed."
Flash Step appeared. A figure blurred across the screen.
"Flash Step: burst-movement technique. You flood your legs with enhancement using Kren breathing, compress your muscles like springs, and release in one explosive motion. Requirements: Second Form, Kren Style, Thread 3 minimum."
A Thread 2 student: "What if someone Thread 2 tries it?"
"Their legs explode. Not metaphorically. The force output exceeds what First Form enhancement can contain. Femurs shatter. Muscles tear completely off the bone. I've seen it twice. Both students survived but needed six months of Mend treatment before they could walk normally."
Aki's legs remembered exploding. The memory was vivid. Visceral. Not something he wanted to repeat voluntarily.
The disgusted girl spoke up. "What about weapons? I heard most Pulse users in the Order carry swords or gauntlets."
"Correct. Pulse Path works with weapons because enhancement applies to whatever you're holding. A sword in the hands of a Thread 3 Pulse user hits with the same force as their enhanced fist—but with better reach and cutting power." Maren pulled up images of various weapons. "Swords are standard for soldiers. Gauntlets for close combat specialists. Daggers for assassins who need speed over power. Some Pulse users in civilian sectors use their enhancement for heavy labor—construction, mining, freight loading."
"Do weapons need special Forms?"
"No. Forms enhance your body. Your body enhances the weapon. The mechanics stay the same. A Flash Step works whether you're holding a sword or empty-handed."
Maren switched to another skill. "Iron Fist: striking technique. Requires only First Form, Dred Style, Thread 1 minimum. You concentrate enhancement into your arm, hyper-compress muscle density. Your punch carries force beyond your body weight. This is accessible to beginners because it doesn't require explosive movement. Just controlled output."
More skills cycled through. Steel Skin—defensive technique, Gee Style, Second Form. Phantom Strike—rapid multi-hit, Kren Style, Third Form. Titan's Roar—full-body burst, Dred Style, Fourth Form.
Aki studied each one. Memorizing requirements. Noting which ones he could theoretically attempt and which ones would kill him.
Thread 3 means Second Form is possible. Flash Step is possible. If I don't shatter myself trying.
Big if.
-----
"Here's the reality," Maren said, dismissing the projections. "Skills are not separate from Forms and breathing. They're Forms and breathing applied with specific intent. You master the foundation, then build techniques on top. Trying to learn Flash Step before you can maintain Second Form is like trying to run before you can walk. You'll fall. Hard."
He took a deliberate breath. Deep. Slow. Gee Style.
His body began to steam.
Not metaphorically. Actual vapor rose from his skin as his internal temperature spiked. The muscles in his arms visibly compressed, becoming denser without growing larger. His heartbeat became audible—a steady, powerful rhythm that resonated through the floor.
The room watched in silence.
This was what control looked like. What Aki should be able to do but couldn't.
"Your mitochondria break down ATP at five times normal rate," Maren said, voice steady despite the visible enhancement. "Producing heat and energy. Your muscle fibers recruit additional motor units—more fibers contracting simultaneously. Your heart rate climbs to 180 beats per minute, flooding muscles with oxygenated blood. Your bones reinforce in real-time, osteoblasts activating to handle the stress you're about to generate."
His skin flushed deep red from increased blood flow. The steam intensified.
"Your nervous system shifts. Pain tolerance increases. Reaction time decreases. Your body enters controlled hyperstimulation. This is First Form. I can maintain this for an hour because I'm Thread 7. You'll maintain it for five minutes and collapse. That's expected."
He exhaled. The enhancement faded gradually. The steam dissipated. His breathing returned to normal like he'd just finished a light jog.
Control. That's what Aki needed. What he didn't have.
"Every Form asks your body to perform beyond normal limits. Thread level determines how long you can sustain that request. Forms determine what you're asking for. Breathing styles determine how efficiently you ask. Skills are the specific applications."
A Thread 1 student raised his hand nervously. "Does it always hurt?"
"First few dozen times, yes. Your body isn't used to the stress. Eventually, the pain becomes background noise. You learn to function through it." Maren looked directly at the Forsaken students. At Aki. At the blue-scarred woman. "For you, it'll always hurt more than Fated students. Your regeneration fixes damage, but you feel every break, every tear, every repair. That's the trade-off for your raw power."
The blue-scarred woman looked like she might cry.
Aki's hands clenched under the desk. Six months of this. Constant pain. Constant repair. Control through suffering.
"Questions?" Maren asked.
Silence. Everyone was processing.
"Good. We have thirty minutes. Thread 1 and 2 students—practice entering First Form. Gee breathing only. Don't enhance hard, just maintain. Thread 3 students—Second Form, concentrate on your dominant arm. Two minutes sustained."
He looked at Aki and the blue-scarred woman.
"Forsaken—breath control practice. No enhancement yet. Learn the patterns before you try directing your leak."
-----
The class stood. Moved to the open space at the front.
Aki walked down to his designated area. The room gave him a wide berth. Like he was radioactive.
Maren approached. Quiet. Professional. "You read Thread 3, but your control is Thread 1 at best. Don't let the number make you cocky."
"Wasn't planning on it."
"Good. Gee breathing. Deep and slow. Feel where your power leaks and try to direct it inward. You won't succeed today. But eventually, you'll feel the difference."
Aki took his position. Neutral stance. Feet shoulder-width apart. Hands relaxed at his sides.
Around him, Thread 1 students were already struggling—bodies steaming erratically, enhancement flickering on and off like faulty lights. Thread 2s looked more stable. Thread 3s had visible control, their arms glowing brighter than the rest of their bodies, concentrated enhancement exactly where they wanted it.
Aki breathed. Deep. Slow.
Gee Style.
His chest expanded. Heart rate spiked immediately.
The gold scars flared bright.
Power sprayed from his shattered core. Hitting his muscles randomly. Right arm tensed. Left leg twitched. His ribs burned where they'd cracked two days ago.
Control it. Direct it. Channel it somewhere useful.
The power ignored him completely.
His right arm seized. The muscles compressed violently, enhancement flooding the limb without direction. His hand clenched into a fist hard enough that his knuckles cracked.
Pain shot up his forearm. Not injury. Just raw, uncontrolled power hitting nerve clusters.
*Stop. Stop stop stop—*
His body steamed harder. Temperature climbing. The heat in his chest was building, responding to the panic, feeding the leak in a vicious cycle.
More panic meant more leak meant more panic—
Across the room, someone shouted. "He's destabilizing!"
Maren was there instantly. His hand pressed against Aki's chest—cold, so cold it burned worse than the heat.
The leak slowed. Didn't stop, but contained.
Aki gasped. His legs shook. The enhancement faded in jagged bursts, power retreating unevenly.
"Breathe," Maren's voice was steady. Clinical. Like this happened all the time. "Slow. Controlled. Don't fight the leak. Guide it."
Aki forced himself to breathe. Slow. Deep.
The heat dissipated gradually. The gold scars dimmed from blazing to merely glowing.
Maren stepped back. "Better."
Around them, the entire class had stopped. Everyone was staring. The Thread 1 students looked terrified. The Thread 3s looked vindicated, like Aki had just proven exactly what they'd been thinking.
The disgusted girl's voice carried across the room: "And they put him in mixed cohort. Great. Fantastic. Can't wait to die because administration wants to feel progressive."
Maren's head snapped toward her. "Out. Now."
She opened her mouth to argue.
"*OUT*."
She left. The door slammed.
The room was silent.
Maren looked back at Aki. "You good?"
Aki nodded. Didn't trust his voice. His hands were still shaking.
"Then continue. Everyone. Back to practice."
The class resumed. But the damage was done.
Aki stood there, hands shaking, knowing every person in this room had just watched him nearly lose control.
Thread 3 efficiency meant nothing if he couldn't channel it.
And everyone knew it now.
-----
Students filed out when class ended. Nobody looked at Aki. Nobody spoke to him.
The blue-scarred woman passed without acknowledgment. Like he didn't exist.
Aki stayed behind. Waited for the empty hallway. Didn't want to walk through crowds of people who'd just watched him almost explode.
Maren approached. "Your leak is aggressive. More than typical."
"Fantastic." Aki's voice was flat. "Just what I wanted to hear."
"It means high potential ceiling if you learn control. Or faster destabilization if you don't." Maren's voice was matter-of-fact. "Thread 3 efficiency with Thread 1 control is a dangerous combination. You're stable enough to attempt techniques you're not skilled enough to execute safely."
"You're really selling this."
"I'm telling you reality." Maren picked up his tablet. Made some notes. "Next class, 1500. Practical Application. We'll see if you can channel that leak into something useful." He paused at the door. "And Sith? What happened today? That girl getting ejected? That'll spread. The Fated students will use it as proof Forsaken don't belong in mixed cohorts. The Forsaken students will resent you for proving them right."
He left.
Aki stood alone in the empty lecture hall.
Thread 3. Nearly destabilized. Everyone watched.
He looked at his hands. The gold scars glowed faintly in the harsh lighting.
One class down. Five more today.
Six months to Thread 2.
And an entire Academy that just watched him almost explode.
The anger in his chest pulsed. Not steady anymore. Not controlled.
Sharper. Hotter. Fed by humiliation and isolation and the knowledge that he was completely alone here.
He forced it down. Breathed through it.
*Control. That's all that matters. Learn control or die trying.*
Aki left the lecture hall. The hallway was empty now. Everyone had moved on to their next classes.
He checked his schedule. Emotional Intelligence. 1000-1200. Forsaken only.
At least he wouldn't have to perform for Fated students there.
Small victories.
He started walking. The gold scars on his arms caught the light through the windows.
Thread 3. The number that made everyone either hate him or fear him.
Probably both.