Dysarchial Raptures

The low hum of the shuttle's engines reverberated through the cabin, a steady rhythm beneath Orion's feet. He sat across from his father, Cassian, who remained composed, arms resting on his knees, his eyes fixed ahead. The lights flickered slightly as they adjusted for atmospheric transition, casting shifting shadows over the Ashen Wolf's sharp features.

Orion knew his father well enough to recognize that he wasn't just here for a congratulatory visit. The man had arrived with the Krasnikov—his personal warship, one deployed only in war campaigns. That meant something serious was happening. And given the way Cassian studied him now, with the measured gaze of a commander assessing a soldier, Orion had a feeling this was about more than just his upcoming birthday.

Cassian finally broke the silence, a rare glint of approval in his eyes. "I gotta say, I was impressed back there. You handled yourself better than expected."

Orion smirked slightly, tilting his head, letting a slow grin spread across his face. "Jealous much? I mean, it's okay to admit it. I would say I handled that pretty flawlessly."

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "Honestly, I wouldn't blame you if you were. I mean, if I were you, I'd be a little threatened too. Watching the next generation outshine you, that's gotta sting."

Cassian scoffed, shaking his head. "As if."

"Sounds like it to me," Orion teased, crossing his arms. "Maybe next time, I'll let you take the spotlight. Wouldn't want the great Ashen Wolf feeling overshadowed."

Cassian let out a dry chuckle. "Oh please, like you could ever outshine me."

"Already did," Orion quipped. "But hey, no shame in second place."

Cassian rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation. "Keep talking, kid. Let's see how cocky you are beaten into a pulp."

Orion leaned back, shrugging. "Oh, I'm counting on it."

For a moment, the air between them was light, tension dissolving in playful jabs. But then Cassian's face hardened, the amusement draining away as reality settled back in.

His posture straightened, and his tone lowered. "Orion. In three weeks, you'll turn five. That means your real training begins."

His gaze sharpened, settling on Orion with the weight of something heavier than words. The playful banter had served its purpose, but now the real conversation had to begin.

Orion had expected as much. The baseline enhancement stabilization rate dictated that training couldn't start before five—any earlier, and it would risk stunting his development. The science behind it was clear, a principle drilled into him through countless hours of study. But something about Cassian's tone told him this wasn't just about the usual preparation for the academy.

There was a weight in his words, something unspoken that lingered in the air between them. Cassian was never one to elaborate unnecessarily, but Orion had learned to read between the lines. The way his father measured his words, the way his posture was just slightly tenser than usual—this wasn't just another step in his training. It was something else, something larger.

A shift in direction.

Orion kept his expression neutral, but his mind raced. Was this a deviation from the standard path? If so, why? And more importantly, who had decided it? His father? The academy? Or something beyond both?

His father confirmed that suspicion with his next words. "You won't be only training for the trials anymore."

A pause. The meaning behind that settled in Orion's mind like a shifting fault line.

"You're preparing for something more dangerous." Cassian's gaze was unreadable. "Special Candidates don't just aim to be Apex—they're trained to lead. That means your path is different from here on out."

Orion frowned, processing the weight of his father's words. "Special Candidates?" he asked, the term was used by the Academy official yet laced with a significance he couldn't ignore.

Cassian met his gaze, his expression unyielding. "They are trained to lead exploration teams into the Dysarchial Raptures."

Orion's jaw tightened slightly. "Do I have a choice in the matter?"

Cassian's expression didn't change. He let the question linger before continuing, his voice steady. "Yes, you do. I will leave the choice to you. Take your time to consider it. Until you enroll in the academy, you could decline."

Cassian continued, his voice steady. "To prepare you in case you didn't decline. You'll be assigned two instructors—Master Varun and Master Irma. Both are veterans from my cohort, and I trust them completely. Their methods will be… rigorous, but necessary."

The gravity of those names settled over Orion like a weighted cloak. Varun and Irma weren't just elite instructors—they were survivors of countless missions, warriors shaped by the very dangers he would one day face.

"And after the academy?" Orion asked, already piecing together the structure of this path.

Cassian's eyes sharpened. "You'll have to serve for five years. Three as a trainee. The last two on low-risk deployments." His tone darkened slightly.

Orion didn't flinch. Five years was a long time, but compared to what he was being offered—the knowledge, the power, the chance to carve his own place in the future—it was a small price to pay.

Cassian leaned back slightly, giving him space to process before shifting gears. "You need to understand why this training is different," he said, voice lowering. "It's not just about combat. It's about the Raptures."

Orion blinked, unfamiliar with the term. "What's so special about them?"

Cassian's expression didn't change. "Raptures are the most dangerous frontiers we have. No sector is predictable, and no mission is ever routine. Every deployment is a step into the unknown, where the laws of time and space distort, and the mind itself becomes the battlefield. The Raptures don't just take the unprepared—they consume them. That's why only the best, the ones who can adapt faster than they falter, are chosen."

Orion tilted his head slightly, frustration flickering in his eyes. "If they are that important then why have I never heard of them?"

"That's because access to information on them is restricted," Cassian said simply. "The Raptures are the greatest paradox of our time—anomalies that have given humanity both its greatest advancements and its most devastating losses. The Genesis Strain was first discovered within one, and countless military breakthroughs stem from studying what civilizations may lie beyond them. But they are also unpredictable, volatile. Every gain comes at a cost."

He let that sink in before continuing. "I'll be increasing your clearance in the library. You'll need to educate yourself."

"The Dysarchial Raptures are measured using the Reyes-Lorentz Scale," Cassian began. "It quantifies two things: Temporal Distortion and Cognitive Interference."

Orion tilted his head slightly. "Hmm."

Cassian nodded. "Temporal Distortion measures how much time bends within a Rapture's boundary. Cognitive Interference gauges how much it disrupts human perception, thought, and sanity."

Orion absorbed that carefully. "So the higher the RLS value, the more dangerous it is?"

Cassian exhaled. "The more dangerous it is to our world. But it doesn't necessarily tell us what's inside."

That part struck Orion as more important. The scale measured the effect on the outside world, but not the dangers within. Meaning there were things inside the Raptures that no scale could properly quantify.

Orion's fingers curled slightly against his knee. He had always known he was different. That his path would not be ordinary.

Now, it was being laid before him.

And it was far more treacherous than he had ever imagined.