Chapter 12

Fort Eisenhower – Training Grounds

Orion wasn't sure if military trainers were naturally sadistic or if they just enjoyed watching him suffer.

He had spent the last three hours in what could only be described as hell.

Hand-to-hand combat drills. Knife defense. Pressure point targeting. A crash course in weapons handling (which, unsurprisingly, he sucked at). And worst of all? Sparring.

Endless. Freaking. Sparring.

And now, he was flat on his back, staring up at the merciless morning sky while Monroe stood over him, looking… well. Disappointed.

"That's your seventh time eating dirt," she said, crossing her arms.

Orion groaned, rubbing his sore jaw. "You know, you could at least pretend to be supportive."

She raised an eyebrow. "I am being supportive. I haven't laughed once."

"Oh, so you want to laugh?"

Monroe smirked. "Oh, absolutely."

Orion scowled. "I hate you."

"You're supposed to."

A shadow loomed over them.

"You done flirting, Graves?"

Orion blinked up at Commander Isaac Shaw, who looked even more amused than Monroe. The man had his arms crossed, a towel slung over his shoulder, and that same infuriating expression he always had when Orion got his ass kicked—which was often.

Orion groaned. "For the love of God, Shaw. I just got my soul punched out of my body. Give me a second."

Shaw smirked. "A second's all you get. Back up."

Orion stared at him. "Are you serious?"

Shaw crouched, resting his elbows on his knees. "You want to survive your first fight, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then quit being a little bitch about it and get up."

Orion stared at him for a long moment.

Then he sighed. "I hate all of you."

With a groan, he rolled to his feet, wincing as his ribs protested.

Shaw nodded. "Alright. Again."

Orion dragged a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ."

Monroe leaned in slightly. "Don't worry. You'll win one day."

Orion exhaled. "Yeah?"

"Probably not today, though."

Orion lunged at her. Monroe effortlessly sidestepped, and Orion ate dirt for the eighth time that morning.

This time, Monroe did laugh.

Shooting Range

"So, uh," Orion said, staring at the rifle in his hands. "Is there, like, a beginner mode for this?"

Sergeant Hank Morales—a burly, no-nonsense weapons instructor—gave him the kind of look you gave a particularly dumb puppy.

"It's a gun, Graves. It shoots."

"Yeah, but like… is there a gentler way to do it?"

Monroe—who was watching from the side—smirked. "Would you like it to say 'please' before firing?"

Orion scowled. "Alright, first of all—screw you."

Morales sighed, rubbing his temple. "Just hold the damn thing and pull the trigger. You can handle reality-warping god powers, but this is where you struggle?"

Orion frowned at the rifle, gripping it tighter. "This thing has rules, Morales. It follows, like, actual physics. I can't just wish the bullets to hit something."

"You shouldn't be wishing at all," Morales muttered.

Orion exhaled. "Alright. Fine. Let's do this."

He lifted the rifle, aimed at the target downrange, braced himself—

And fired.

The gun kicked back hard.

Orion's entire stance collapsed backward, and the rifle's butt slammed into his shoulder. His shot went wildly off course, hitting absolutely nothing.

A long silence followed.

Then Monroe—who had, at this point, completely given up on holding back her amusement—said, "Wow."

Orion groaned, rubbing his shoulder. "I hate it here."

Morales sighed, shaking his head. "Graves, I swear to God, if you somehow survive this tournament, it'll be a miracle."

"Look," Orion muttered. "I just erased a Humvee from existence yesterday. Maybe let me suck at something for five minutes."

Monroe snorted. "Oh, don't worry. I think you'll suck at this much longer than five minutes."

Orion narrowed his eyes. "You know, Monroe, I can erase people too."

Morales immediately tensed. "NO. No erasing people. Jesus, don't joke about that."

Orion sighed, lowering the rifle. "I'm kidding. I wouldn't do that."

Monroe smirked. "Wouldn't you?"

Orion frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged. "Just thinking."

Orion stared at her.

There was something about the way she said it.

A question hidden behind her words.

Wouldn't you?

And for the first time, Orion wondered…

Would he?

Three Days Until the First Fight

The tournament was almost here.

He still didn't know if he had a first-round bye. The Voice hadn't spoken again. The world was waiting.

Three days.

That was all he had left.

And then?

Then the tournament would start.