Chapter 4: Edge of the Unknown

The Quantum Academy's testing chamber hid deep underground, its black walls smooth and humming with a faint glow. Albert Jr. Faustin stood in its center, Aetherion gripped tight in his hand. The blade's runes pulsed soft, throwing flickers of light across the stone floor. His dark blue jacket clung to his back, sweat soaking through. The air buzzed thick, charged with quantum energy that pricked his skin like thorns. Yesterday's drone drop still gnawed at him—luck he didn't trust. Now, Rhyd wanted a test, and Albert wasn't here to falter.

Professor Calen Rhyd stood across the chamber, arms crossed, wild gray hair catching the dim light. His eyes—sharp behind thick glasses—locked on Albert, hard and steady. "Start when you're ready," he said, voice rough like stone. "Show me what that thing does."

Albert nodded, his gray eyes cold. He hated eyes on him—Rhyd's or anyone's—but he'd come too far to pull back. The chamber's walls glowed with screens, tracking quantum waves, set to catch every move. A few students watched from a raised platform—Sera, Toren, Elara, Mira, and a new face, Kael, a cocky kid with a smirk. Albert ignored them, focusing on the sword. The hum in his chest stirred, his Coherence Bloodline waking, raw and restless. His mother's scream flashed in his head—sharp, helpless, gone. He'd never be that weak again. This was his.

Kael leaned forward, his voice cutting through. "That sword won't save you, Faustin. Phase 1's all I need to outdo you." Albert didn't look up, just swung Aetherion slow, feeling its weight. The air rippled, a faint shimmer trailing the blade, and the hum sharpened. He'd bury that taunt in results.

A target cube—metal, solid—sat ten feet away. He pictured it moving, his blood humming louder. The blade flashed, and a thin wave shot out, hitting the cube. It wobbled, slid five feet, then stopped, denting the floor. Kael snorted, but Albert's focus didn't break. He swung again, faster, and the air cracked, loud and sharp. The cube lurched—eight feet now, scraping stone. His head throbbed, sweat stung his eyes, but a cold smirk tugged his lips. Closer.

Rhyd's eyebrow lifted. "Not bad," he said. "But not enough. Push it."

Albert's jaw tightened. He didn't need Rhyd's words—he craved this himself. He pictured the cube flying, not just sliding. His blood roared, the blade sang, and he swung hard. A sharp wave blasted out, slamming the cube. It shot across the chamber, crashing into the wall with a clang, leaving a crack behind. His breath hitched, a thrill cutting through his frost. The screens flared, red lines spiking—quantum surge, strong and rough. Kael's smirk faded, his eyes wide.

Rhyd stepped closer, eyeing the dented cube. "Better," he said. "That's raw power. But it's wild—needs control."

"Working on it," Albert said, voice low. He wiped sweat from his brow, Aetherion steady in his grip. The hum settled, but his blood buzzed, alive like never before. This wasn't the shaky lifts from days ago. This was his—earned, not given.

Rhyd waved a hand. "One more. Bigger target." He tapped his holo-watch, and a slab—stone, twice the cube's size—dropped from the ceiling, thudding onto the floor fifteen feet away. "Move it."

Albert's eyes narrowed. Bigger meant tougher, but he didn't flinch. He swung Aetherion, the air cracking sharp, and a wave hit the slab. It shuddered, slid an inch, then stopped. His head pounded, his arm shook. Too weak. He glared at it, his mother's scream echoing again—failure wasn't an option. He swung again, harder, and the slab lurched, scraping five feet, dust rising. His chest burned, but it wasn't enough. He reset, cold and deliberate, ready to try once more.

A shadow shifted near the chamber's edge. Albert froze, his grip tightening. A figure stood there—tall, cloaked in dark gray, face half-hidden under a hood. No academy gear, no holo-watch. The air around him flickered, faint and wrong, like light twisting inward. A second shadow hovered nearby—smaller, sharper—then vanished. Albert's gut twisted—Quantum Shroud.

Toren's voice cracked from the platform. "Shroud?" His grin was gone, his face pale. Elara gasped, stepping back, her hands trembling. "They're here?" Sera's smirk vanished, her eyes darting, while Mira's went wide, her breath shallow. Kael shrank against the rail, muttering, "No way…" The chamber buzzed with fear, thick and heavy.

Albert turned, his gray eyes burning with hate. Quantum Shroud—they'd taken his mother, snuffed her out in some dark corner of New Haven. He didn't know how, didn't have proof, but he felt it—their shadow fit the hole she'd left. These cowards up there, shaking, whimpering—they weren't Shroud, but he hated them anyway, hated their weakness. His grip on Aetherion tightened, the hum flaring.

"Who's that?" he said, voice low, nodding at the figure.

Rhyd spun, his glare cutting like a blade. "You," he roared, voice booming off the walls. "Name. Now."

The figure tilted his head, unmoved. "No name you'd want," he said, smooth and cold. His hand twitched, and the air shimmered—a quick pulse, sharp and gone. A screen flickered, static slashing across it, and Albert's next swing faltered, the wave veering off. The figure smirked, a thin curve under the hood.

Rhyd stepped forward, his voice thundering. "Out. Now!" The chamber shook, the screens trembling, and the figure froze. Then, with a flicker, he turned and slipped into the shadows, the second shape gone too. Gasps broke from the platform—Toren's jaw dropped, Elara clutched Mira's arm, Sera blinked hard, Kael stared like he'd seen a ghost. Rhyd's shout had bent the air itself, raw power none of them expected from the gruff old man.

Albert's eyes narrowed, hate simmering. The Shroud ran—not from him, but from Rhyd. He'd make them run from him one day.

"Focus," Rhyd said, pulling Albert back. "They're gone. Finish it."

Albert's jaw clenched, but he nodded. He faced the slab again, his blood flaring, Aetherion's runes pulsing brighter—older than he'd thought, shifting like they knew him. He pictured it moving—fifteen feet, clean. He swung, hard and sharp, and a wave blasted out. The slab shot forward, smashing into the wall with a boom, dust exploding. The screens spiked wild, red lines jumping. His breath came fast, a cold rush filling him. He'd done it—raw, messy, but his.

Rhyd crossed his arms, nodding slow. "Good. That's a start. Sword's strong—your Coherence Bloodline's waking up. But you're far from done."

"Didn't think I was," Albert said, voice steady. He lowered Aetherion, its runes dimming, but the hum stayed, solid in his grip. His head throbbed, his body ached, but the emptiness shrank—a spark of control, his own, growing.

Toren whistled, shaky. "That was… wild. Rhyd's a beast." Sera smirked, faint. "Guess the old man's got teeth." Elara stepped closer, her smile soft but unsure. "You're amazing, Albert," she said, voice trembling. He brushed past, cold, not answering. Mira's quiet "Careful" followed, softer than before, her eyes on the sword. Sera lingered, her jab sharp. "Less dull now, rich boy," she said, glancing too long.

Rhyd waved a hand. "Out. Test's over." He glanced at Albert. "Keep that blade close. It's no toy."

Albert nodded, sliding Aetherion into the crate's foam. He dragged it out, the chamber's hum fading. Alone in the hall, he paused, running a hand over the crate—solid, real, like the hardcovers he loved. The Shroud's flicker stuck with him—his mother's killers, he was sure. Not these scared kids, not yet Rhyd. He'd grind until they feared him too