“No pulse—bypass is at its limit…” someone said. The words were distorted, muffled.

  What? Who is that?

  “Heart and lungs sustained critical damage,” another voice added, clearer but strained. “We can’t possibly save her—”

  “I authorized the use of Angel Blood.”

  That voice.

  I know that voice.

  “Even if her body accepts it—”

  “Then I’ll put her in my Med Pod.”

  “You can’t do that,” the same stressed voice snapped. “She doesn’t have clearance. And she won’t make it through treatment that aggressive—her psyche would—”

  “She isn’t a normal recruit anymore,” the familiar voice cut in, pressing the point. “Now do as I say.”

  What is going on? Are they talking about me?

  “Doctor… she’s conscious,” someone interrupted.

  “What? That can’t be—”

  Violet opened her eyes. A bright white glare dissolved into shapes as her vision struggled to focus.

  Her body felt heavy—bruised, distant. When she tried to move, something resisted: straps, medical lines, adhesive pads pulling at her skin. Devices anchored to her half-exposed torso.

  She tested her limbs—slowly—until she realized her throat wasn’t free. A tube. A mouthpiece. Something in the way.

  “W-where… am I…?” The words came out as a rasp.

  She choked and tried to cough.

  “Sedate her immediately!” the doctor barked.

  “We’re past acceptable drug limits,” a nurse said, nervous.

  “Don’t bother,” the familiar voice replied. “Her body is adapting. Her Trial Key is compensating.”

  Violet remembered.

  The person with the ornamented armor?

  “That’s impossible,” the doctor protested, baffled. “Only Elite recruits can reach that level of integration with their Trial Keys—and even they need mastery to stabilize it.”

  “I told you,” the girl said. “She’s no longer a common recruit.”

  Violet forced her head up, fighting the restraints—just enough to see who had been speaking.

  And there she was.

  A pair of dark brown eyes met Violet’s.

  “Nice to meet you, Violet,” the girl said, almost gently. “But I don’t think you’re in the right shape for proper introductions.”

  “Forget the limits, make her sleep!” the doctor commanded.

  A warm wave rolled through Violet’s body—smooth and sudden.

  Her eyelids sank.

  She caught only a few details before the dark took her: lightly tanned skin, thick brows, a small nose, thin lips—an oval face with a slightly pointed chin.

  She’s… normal.

  That was Violet’s last thought before she lost consciousness again.

  — ? —

  Birds chirped somewhere outside. A gentle breeze made a translucent white curtain sway as warm sunset light spilled into the room.

  Nine-year-old Violet pushed herself upright in bed—back in her childhood room, surrounded by old toys and the books she loved.

  She yawned wide, then stepped onto the wooden floor barefoot.

  Cold. Just a little too cold for her liking.

  Her long black hair was a mess, but she couldn’t care less. Still… her eyes drifted to the standing mirror, as if she needed to confirm she was still herself.

  She’d fallen asleep in the cute white summer dress she loved. For a moment, she worried her mother would scold her for not changing.

  Violet walked toward the door, trying to catch up with her own thoughts.

  What day is it? What did I do before I fell asleep? Where is everyone?

  Nothing came. The answers sat behind fog.

  Her fingers touched the doorknob—

  “Violet!”

  A distant voice, calling her name.

  Who is that?

  “Violet, sis. Come play with me!”

  “Lily!” Violet cried, tears spilling before she could stop them.

  —

  She snapped awake.

  Violet sat bolt upright in bed.

  No sunset. No curtain. No breeze.

  Just a simple room—her bed centered under sterile light—and several virtual monitors floating nearby, cycling through streams of medical data. Some panels blinked into existence, others vanished before she could read them.

  She barely registered any of it. Her mind clung to the dream, to the sound of Lily’s voice like it might still be in the room.

  Then the cold reached her.

  Little by little, it crawled over her skin.

  She remembered the last thing she’d seen before blacking out—those dark brown eyes.

  Girl wasn’t the right word for her. She was short and fine-featured, and she looked younger than Violet… but the power behind her presence didn’t match her appearance. Not even close.

  Another thought surfaced—sharp enough to sting.

  What did she mean… not a common recruit anymore?

  Violet’s gaze drifted to the only door in the room. Anticipation tightened in her chest.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The door opened.

  And there she was.

  The brown-eyed girl—calm, composed, and somehow heavier than the room around her.

  “Finally,” she said, walking toward Violet. “You’re awake.”

  Violet’s instincts reacted before her mind did. Something deep in her spine urged stillness, the way prey goes quiet when it realizes what’s watching it.

  “Who are you?” Violet asked anyway, letting curiosity rise above common sense.

  The girl smiled—oddly casual.

  “I’m Kali,” she said. “The Chaos Knight.”

  — ? —

  Time stopped after those words—at least for Violet.

  She had to confirm what she already suspected.

  “You’re… a Star Knight?” Violet asked, even though her body had felt the answer long before her mind accepted it.

  “Correct,” Kali replied, plainly.

  Violet tried to process what that meant.

  “Bonnie said a Star Knight was…” she started, but the sentence died on her tongue.

  Kali tilted her head slightly, eyes never leaving Violet’s—an almost cute gesture that didn’t fit someone like her.

  Violet swallowed. “How…? Why are you here?”

  Kali closed her eyes as she paced around the bed. She stopped at Violet’s left side.

  “I was engaging those things,” she said. Her voice was high-pitched, but soft—pleasant in a way that didn’t match what Violet had seen. It reminded her, uncomfortably, of Lily.

  “Before I finished off their craft, I caught a Trial Key resonance spike—strong.” Kali opened her eyes again. “So I diverted to confirm it.”

  Violet listened, not sure what to do with any of that.

  “I saw that many-armed unit from above—I found it revolting,” Kali continued. “So I terminated it.”

  She moved back to the foot of the bed.

  “The rest is simple,” Kali said, almost bored. “I found you half-dead. I brought you to the nearest medical facility. I argued with stubborn doctors. I put you inside my Med Pod. While you were under, I annihilated all remaining hostiles in Tharos-5.”

  A pause.

  “And now you’re awake.”

  Violet tried to speak, but her throat still felt raw. Her mind stayed fixed on one phrase.

  Resonance spike.

  “By the way…” Kali said.

  She moved with a strange, feline ease—hands on the mattress, knees following—until she was on the bed and over Violet, as if personal space was something that only mattered to prey.

  Violet didn’t move. She didn’t flinch. She just watched.

  Kali was wearing a Trial Suit too—though maybe ‘trial’ no longer applied.

  It was a thin brown membrane, slick and tight, catching the light in subtle copper gleams. Along her frame, quiet devices pulsed deep red—functional and aesthetic.

  The membrane didn’t hide her build; it outlined it: compact strength, clean lines, ribs faintly visible when she inhaled.

  Violet’s eyes flicked over her before she could stop them—comparing, measuring, the way recruits did in locker rooms and sparring bays without meaning to.

  Except this wasn’t another recruit.

  Kali settled her weight like a predator checking whether its catch still had fight left.

  “How did you do it?” Kali asked.

  Violet forgot to breathe for a moment.

  When Kali’s eyes met hers from only inches away, Violet expected fear.

  Instead, she found herself staring back with the wrong but shared emotion.

  Curiosity.

  “I… I don’t know what you’re—” Violet began.

  Kali’s expression shifted.

  The matching curiosity in her eyes drained into something colder—boredom edged with impatience.

  Violet stopped. She understood, somehow, that the wrong answer would end the conversation.

  Deep down, Violet already knew what Kali wanted to hear.

  “I…” Violet swallowed. “I just didn’t want to die.”

  A new gleam surfaced in Kali’s eyes—interested, but not amused.

  “Survival,” she murmured. “Yeah. I thought so.”

  Just like that, Kali lost interest. She straightened and stepped away from the bed, turning toward the door.

  “You’ll be summoned in the next few days.”

  Violet was still trying to reconcile the contrast—how quickly Kali’s attention could sharpen, then vanish.

  Kali paused at the door and turned her head just enough to catch Violet’s gaze again.

  “Congratulations on your promotion,” Kali said, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “Elite Recruit Violet.”

  — ? —

  Violet spent two more days in Central Hospital—the citadel’s largest medical facility—undergoing scans, tests, and repeated examinations while doctors confirmed her injuries had fully stabilized.

  On the third day, she was escorted to an office for discharge. The head physician would brief her on her current condition.

  Violet waited in silence while the doctor behind the desk skimmed through a floating console.

  “Hm. Yes.” He finally looked up. “Elite Recruit Violet Mayer, ID 029. You are fully recovered.”

  Being called an Elite Recruit still feels weird.

  Wait… that isn’t my ID. Do I get a new one now?

  Violet gathered her thoughts.

  “Thank you, Doctor…” She glanced at his name tag. “Henderson.”

  He didn’t seem bothered by her hesitation.

  “Yes, well. Your case was extraordinary—quite literally.”

  “I… see,” Violet replied, not sure why she said anything at all.

  “Your chest was pierced. Lacerations reached the heart and lungs. You aspirated blood, and then your heart arrested.”

  Violet stayed quiet, absorbing the words like they belonged to someone else.

  “Thanks to our medical technology—and a Star Knight’s intervention—you were saved,” Henderson continued.

  Violet didn’t speak, but relief and gratitude settled in her chest.

  “You underwent partial physiological reconstitution,” he said. “A process not everyone survives.”

  “I can’t remember any of it,” Violet admitted, searching for the memory and finding only blankness.

  “Well,” Henderson said dryly, “that’s probably for the better.”

  Violet hesitated. “I heard something about a… Med Pod.”

  “A Med Pod is an emergency device issued to Star Knights,” Henderson explained. “It’s a last-resort system designed for catastrophic trauma. Some Elite Recruits can interface with one under certain conditions, but the strain is severe. That’s why you needed days to fully recover.”

  “Doctor… why am I an Elite Recruit?”

  Henderson’s expression didn’t change. “I can’t answer that. You’ll have to ask the Star Knight Order.”

  “I understand.” Violet lowered her gaze slightly. “Thank you again for taking care of me.”

  “Wait for instructions from your last commanding officer before you return to duty,” Henderson said. “You should already have the last mission debrief in your personal inbox.”

  “Thompson’s alive?” Violet asked, surprised by the way hope jumped out of her voice.

  “I believe so,” Henderson replied. “But refer to the debrief. I don’t have operational details.”

  “Understood.”

  Henderson nodded once, then turned back to his console. “Farewell, Recruit Mayer. Thank you for your service.”

  Violet stepped out of the office.

  In the lobby, a hundred thoughts tried to rise at once—until one froze everything.

  Nina.

  — ? —

  Violet pulled up Nina’s contact and attempted to open a private voice channel.

  The CONNECTING prompt felt eternal.

  Then the call went through.

  “Violet?” Nina’s voice came through, real and alive.

  Violet’s chest loosened. So much lighter.

  “Nina! You’re alive!” Violet blurted, joy cracking through her voice.

  “Yes,” Nina said softly. “And I think I owe you for that.”

  Violet let out a shaky laugh. Her joy turned into tears before she could stop them.

  “You don’t owe me anything,” Violet said. “I’m just glad you’re fine.”

  “Well,” Nina replied, awkward now, “at least let me buy you dinner.”

  “Fine. I’m in the mood for noodles.”

  “Why that place?!” Nina groaned.

  “Hey—I’m the one being celebrated,” Violet joked.

  For a moment, it felt like nothing had happened.

  That warm familiarity returned—like a blanket thrown over the world.

  “Fine,” Nina sighed. “The store’s wide enough, so I won’t have a problem moving around.”

  Violet blinked. “What… what do you mean?”

  “I think it’s better if we meet,” Nina said, voice suddenly plain.

  Violet caught it—something faint underneath. Sadness.

  “Okay,” Violet said carefully. “Then… the garden you like. The one near Central.”

  “Good idea,” Nina replied. “Meet you there at first twilight.”

  “Until then,” Violet said, then cut the channel.

  She stood there, console display still on, heart beating too fast.

  — ? —

  Violet headed toward the nearest RTS, distracting herself from any ugly thoughts and focusing instead on the chance to meet Nina again.

  Central was buzzing with activity. Several buildings were under repair, but routine transports still flew overhead as if nothing had happened.

  The streets were mostly intact—only a few cracks and blast scars waiting to be mended.

  Violet passed a repair crew of automated machines and bots, hauling smart-concrete canisters and advanced composites used to reconstruct damaged structures in minutes.

  The moment Violet stepped into the station, a prompt blinked on her arm console:

  ELITE SERVICES ENABLED

  “What?” she muttered to herself, clueless as to what that meant.

  She ignored it for now and continued to the boarding platform.

  At the platform edge, she noticed the cautionary yellow strip along the floor turn orange—only around her position.

  Another prompt blinked:

  TRANSPORT PRIORITY

  ESTIMATED DESTINATION: MAIN PARK, CITADEL CENTRAL GROUNDS

  A small RTS cart approached and opened its doors.

  Violet stepped in on instinct.

  The cart was empty except for her, which felt strange given how populated Central usually was. The cabin lights shifted to orange as the cart began to move.

  The route display—normally filled with station names and branching circuits—showed only a single uninterrupted line ending at the RTS station near the Main Park.

  Violet decided not to give it much thought.

  She sat and looked out the window as the cart glided along the elevated track at high speed.

  In the distance, industrial 3D printers traced lattices of light while the twin suns slid toward the horizon. The first twilight was nearly upon the city.

  — ? —

  The cart stopped at its sole destination. Violet stepped out and walked toward the park slowly, her heart racing again with anticipation.

  The park looked intact—like it had never witnessed the recent battle.

  Flashbacks returned uninvited: her fight in the other park days ago. Similar fountains and kiosks reminded her of how she’d risked her life—and how, for a moment, she’d enjoyed the hunt. She’d felt powerful. Unbeatable.

  Then a simple crossway felt familiar… in the wrong way.

  The image of Dominic lying on the ground, soaked in blood, clenched her stomach.

  Her suit intervened with a mild dose. Enough to steady her.

  She walked past the spot and continued toward the fountain where she used to spend time with Nina.

  She knew Nina would be there.

  Her mood lifted as familiar trees and flower beds came into view. Excitement built with every step.

  And then, after the last turn, she saw it—the almost hidden fountain she’d held so dearly in her mind.

  Somehow, the Academy had grown on her. It held memories that rivaled the ones from her home world.

  Her smile vanished the moment she saw the figure by the fountain.

  It was Nina.

  But it also wasn’t—at least not the Nina Violet remembered.

  Nina sat in a hovering chair, a small flower resting between her fingers as she watched birds circle the fountain.

  Violet approached slowly.

  “Nina?” she asked, unwilling to acknowledge the truth in front of her.

  Nina turned toward her friend, eyes soft.

  “Hello, Violet. I missed you,” she said with a gentle smile.

  Violet dropped to her knees as tears welled up.

  “Why…? H-how?” The words wouldn’t arrange themselves.

  “Don’t worry. I’m fine,” Nina said, trying to lighten the moment with a small chuckle. “I’ve had it rougher.”

  “This can’t be… Doctors should be able to—”

  “They can’t do much for now,” Nina interrupted, voice steady. Then her gaze sharpened.

  “What about the Angel Blood?”

  Violet blinked.

  “Right,” Nina added quietly. “She visited you too.”

  Violet took a second to process what Nina meant.

  “…You’re talking about Kali?”

  “Yes.” Nina’s expression tightened. “The pompous Chaos Knight.”

  “She allowed doctors to treat me with Angel Blood,” Violet said. “She also cleared the use of her Med Pod to save me.”

  Nina’s smile faded. “I couldn’t.”

  “Why?”

  Nina looked away. Anger lived in the distance of her gaze.

  “Angel Blood is toxic for me,” she said quietly. “They tried the compatibility checks. It wasn’t happening.”

  Violet went still.

  “And a Med Pod…” Nina’s fingers tightened on the flower. “That isn’t ‘healing.’ That’s reconstruction. They told me it could be fatal without enough physical and mental strength. I wouldn’t survive it.”

  Violet swallowed.

  “I suffered a severe spinal injury,” Nina continued, voice lower now. “Heavy blunt trauma. That mechanical monster hit me so hard I broke on impact.”

  Violet felt her throat tighten.

  “My teammate carried me into a secure room before he passed out from blood loss,” Nina said. “He made it—barely. I stayed inside, unable to move because of the pain. I was hoping someone would help me. Hoping you would get to me.”

  Nina swallowed the urge to cry.

  “I-I tried…” Violet stuttered.

  “You didn’t make it,” Nina said, blunt—but not cruel. “But I survived.”

  Violet broke into tears.

  “I know it’s not your fault,” Nina said immediately. “You did your best. I truly believe that.”

  Nina reached out and brushed Violet’s cheek.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said softly. “So… let’s just enjoy what time we’ve got left.”

  Violet’s mind went to the worst place.

  A gloomy thought pierced her heart harder than the spear ever had.

  “Hey,” Nina said quickly, catching it. “Don’t. I’m not dying.” Her voice cracked anyway. “My fighting days are just over.”

  Tears finally slipped free from Nina too.

  “I won’t be able to walk by your side anymore,” she whispered. “But I’ll still pray for your success.”

  Violet threw herself forward and hugged her.

  “There, there,” Nina murmured, stroking Violet’s hair as her own emotions slipped out.

  “I’m so sorry,” Violet repeated.

  “Enough with the crying,” Nina said, forcing a small laugh through tears. “People will stare…”

  Violet stood up and tried to breathe herself steady.

  Then she laughed too—purely because Nina had made it possible.

  “Much better,” Nina said, already composing herself. “Now let’s go get those noodles.”

  Violet nodded.

  They made their way back to the RTS station. From there, they would take a cart to Violet’s favorite noodle place.

  For a moment, the urge returned—the urge to open the debrief and find out what happened to the rest.

  Then Violet looked at Nina’s face, and the urge dissolved.

  Tomorrow.

  Tonight, she deserved to be here—with her friend.

  Violet didn’t know what being an Elite Recruit would demand of her. She didn’t know what the Star Knight Order wanted. She didn’t even know what she was becoming.

  But as Nina’s laughter softened the weight in her chest, Violet made herself a quiet promise: whatever power waited ahead, she would find a way to use it for something that mattered.

  And she prayed—wordless, stubbornly—that Nina would heal.

  — ? —