Chapter 11

Fort Eisenhower – Controlled Testing Area

Orion stood in the middle of a reinforced testing chamber, his breath coming fast, sweat beading along his brow. The room was stark—high concrete walls, bright overhead lights, observation windows lining one side where Vaughn, Chang, Monroe, and a few high-ranking military officials stood watching.

In front of him, a simple wooden chair.

"Erase it," Vaughn instructed over the intercom.

Orion exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

Easy.

He let his mind settle, focused—not on making the chair disappear, but on the reality where it never existed in the first place.

The chair flickered.

And then—gone.

No dust. No sound. Just an empty patch of floor where it had been.

Orion relaxed. He barely felt anything.

"Alright," Vaughn said. "Now, something more complicated."

A metal folding chair was placed in front of him. More components. More structure.

Orion reached out with Imperium.

The metal warped, shimmered—then vanished.

Still easy.

Vaughn nodded. "Next."

A steel filing cabinet.

Orion flexed his fingers. Focused.

It resisted at first. He felt it—an underlying weight, not physical, but conceptual. The more moving parts, the more purpose an object had, the more real it was in the structure of the world.

But then—

The cabinet blinked out of existence.

Orion inhaled sharply.

His heart rate spiked. A dull ache pressed at the edge of his skull.

Vaughn's voice remained clinical. "Signs of fatigue?"

Orion wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. "Not bad. Just… heavier."

Chang spoke next. "It's not just the size of an object. It's the complexity. The more defined something is in reality, the more effort it takes to remove it."

Orion rolled his neck. "Makes sense. A chair's just a chair. A filing cabinet has compartments, mechanisms, a function."

"Let's push further," Vaughn said.

A military-grade safe was wheeled in. Reinforced steel, digital locking mechanisms, interior compartments.

Orion frowned. "Okay, yeah. This is gonna suck."

He planted his feet. Reached out.

The safe resisted. Hard.

Orion grit his teeth. He could feel it—reality itself pushing back. This thing wasn't just an object. It was a structure, a system, an identity.

He shoved harder.

The air crackled.

The safe trembled—flickered—

And then, with a deep, gut-wrenching pull—

It was gone.

Orion stumbled, catching himself against the wall. His limbs trembled. His breath was ragged.

"Fatigue response detected," Chang noted. "Heart rate elevated. Oxygen consumption spiking."

Orion wiped his face. "No kidding."

Vaughn murmured something to one of the military observers. "This confirms it. His power isn't limitless. Larger, more complex manipulations drain him exponentially."

Monroe finally spoke. "So what happens if he tries something bigger?"

Vaughn turned back to Orion. "Let's find out."

Orion groaned. "Dude."

Orion stood outside now. Open air. The training facility had cleared an entire sector for this next test.

Ahead of him, a parked military Humvee.

Orion swallowed. "You're not serious."

Vaughn's voice crackled over a nearby speaker. "This is a necessary test. You don't want to be in the middle of a fight and push yourself beyond what your body can handle."

Orion sighed. "Alright, alright. Let's get this over with."

He focused on the Humvee.

Imperium coiled around him, waiting, anticipating.

This was bigger than anything he had erased before. Heavier. More parts. A complex engine, reinforced armor, electrical wiring, fuel lines, a thousand components working in perfect cohesion.

He took a deep breath. Reached out.

The Humvee trembled.

Reality buckled.

And then—

It was gone.

Orion's knees buckled.

His vision swam. The world tilted dangerously.

"Jesus—" Monroe was suddenly beside him, catching his arm before he collapsed. "Orion?"

His skin was clammy. His chest ached. His brain ached.

"I'm—" He swallowed bile. "I'm fine."

Chang's voice was sharp. "He's not fine. Look at his vitals!"

Vaughn ignored the alarm. "We need to understand his upper limits."

Orion forced himself upright. "I think… I think that was it."

"The Humvee nearly knocked you out?" Monroe asked.

Orion nodded, gripping his forehead. "It's not just mass. It's—" He gestured vaguely. "It's meaning. The more defined something is in reality, the harder it is to erase."

Chang's expression darkened. "Which means if you tried something bigger…"

Orion exhaled. "I'd probably black out."

Vaughn exchanged glances with the military observers. "That's enough for today."

Orion nearly collapsed in relief.

Monroe kept her hand on his arm as they walked back inside. "You need rest," she said.

Orion huffed. "You're starting to sound like my mom."

Monroe smirked. "She's probably right."

Orion smiled slightly.

He could feel it now—the weight of what he had done.

He wasn't invincible.

Not yet.

But he was getting there.

Fort Eisenhower – Hallways

Orion walked beside Monroe through the dimly lit corridors of the underground facility, his legs still shaky from earlier. The silence between them wasn't awkward, but it was heavy—like she was waiting for him to say something.

"You good?" she asked finally, glancing at him.

"Peachy," Orion muttered, rubbing his temple. "Just your usual 'erased a military vehicle from existence and almost blacked out' kind of exhaustion."

Monroe smirked. "Sounds rough."

"You think?" Orion shot her a look.

She gave a slight shrug, arms crossed as they walked. "You handled it better than I expected."

Orion snorted. "Oh? What exactly were you expecting?"

Monroe arched an eyebrow. "For you to pass out and drool on the floor."

He rolled his eyes. "Glad to know you have so much faith in me."

She smirked. "I don't believe in faith. Just results."

Orion chuckled. He was starting to understand her a little better.

Monroe was a strange mix of direct and unreadable. She had this calm, observant energy about her—like she was always analyzing everything, always a step ahead. Her sharp blue eyes had a way of locking onto people, like she could see through them instead of just at them.

And she was… well. Distractingly good-looking.

Not in a forced, glamorous way—she didn't try to stand out. But she had that effortless kind of presence. Short blonde hair, cut just above her shoulders, smooth and practical. She was tall, lean, athletic—not in a bulky way, but in a way that said she knew how to handle herself in a fight.

Her face was sharp, refined. High cheekbones, a strong jawline. No makeup, no jewelry. Just raw, intentional beauty. Like everything about her was streamlined for efficiency—including how she looked.

But what stood out the most? Her confidence.

She didn't fidget. Didn't hesitate.

She walked like someone who knew they were dangerous.

Orion exhaled. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

Monroe shot him a sideways glance. "Done what?"

"Helped someone like me."

She didn't answer immediately.

Then—"No."

Orion frowned. "Really?"

Monroe nodded. "You're my first assignment like this."

"Huh," Orion muttered. "Could've fooled me. You act like you've been doing this forever."

Monroe smirked. "That's because I'm better at this than you are."

Orion groaned. "Why does everyone here have the same cocky attitude?"

"Because we have to," Monroe said simply. "Confidence keeps you alive. If you hesitate, you die."

Orion sighed. "Yeah, well, I don't plan on dying anytime soon."

Monroe gave him a long, unreadable look.

"Good," she said.

And then she walked ahead, leaving Orion alone with his thoughts.

Orion sat on his bed in the barracks, staring at his hands.

His fingers curled. Uncurled.

He could feel it—the hum of Imperium just beneath his skin, waiting.

A thought had lodged itself into his brain.

He could rewrite anything.

So what about… himself?

The idea had first crept in after the experiments. The moment he realized his power didn't just change reality—it chose it. Defined it.

What if he made himself stronger?

Faster?

More capable?

What if he erased his limits?

He inhaled sharply.

The temptation was there.

But the risk? Unknowable.

What if he erased something essential? What if he removed something from himself that he didn't even understand? What if the version of Orion Graves that woke up after wasn't him anymore?

No.

That was a line.

One he wouldn't cross.

He exhaled slowly, unclenching his fists.

He'd win this tournament as himself. Not as some altered version of who he was.

And if that wasn't enough?

Then he deserved to lose.

Countdown: Five Days

The first round was approaching. Fast.

Five days.

Five days until Orion was thrown into a fight that would decide his fate.

Five days until people started dying.

The tournament bracket hadn't been released yet. He didn't know who he'd be up against. Didn't know if he'd gotten lucky with a bye or if he'd be fighting on day one.

All he knew was that the world was watching.

Waiting.

And he had to be ready.