_Terry_

Tobias Anderson was supposed to be a ghost. New name. New life. No questions.  
  
But when his past claws back with a threat he can’t ignore, Tobias is forced to infiltrate Aegis Academy, the world’s most elite training ground for metahumans.  
  
His mission? Infiltrate. Pass the trials. Don’t get caught.  
Simple—until the simulations turn deadly, alliances blur, and his teammates start bleeding.  
  
Now Tobias is surrounded by monsters in training, power-hungry rivals, and a system designed to break anyone who doesn’t follow the rules. Worse? He has a lot to hide.  
  
But secrets burn. Loyalties bend.   
And when sparks ignite—will Tobias protect the system or burn it down with him?  
  
Tobias has scars.  The academy has phases.
And not everyone makes it past Phase Two.

Project Babel

The ceiling still had a hole in it. A ring of smoke and cracked glass marked the point where he'd vanished.

But we didn't have time to look up. Because she was moving again.

The proctor blurred forward, aimed straight for Raika this time. She was ready—barely. Her arm snapped up and blocked the kick, but the impact skidded her backward across the floor.

I followed with a feint to draw her attention. Zoey reshaped the ground beneath her feet to slow her advance. Erik threw his knife—anchored. But she dodged everything.

We weren't slow. She was just unreal.

She dipped low, rolled beneath one of Zoey's raised stone spikes, and twisted mid-air to grab Milo by the collar.

He dodged—barely. He countered with a jab to her shoulder.

She drove her knee into his gut, then spun and slammed him headfirst into the ground.

"Milo's down!" I called, already moving. "Pull back! Don't cluster!"

Zoey reinforced the ground beneath us. Erik vanished into the backline. William circled wide.

Raika looked like she wanted to charge, but she held back.

The proctor adjusted her stance again. She wasn't even breathing hard.

Heat pressed down like gravity had just remembered it was angry.

Above us, past the broken ceiling, a blue light streaked down from the clouds like a comet.

A figure was falling. No—diving.

Blue flames roared around his form, bending the air, shaking the walls.

He crashed through the ceiling, landed hard in a crouch, steam rolling off his armor.

The fire around him didn't flicker. It flowed. It pulsed like a living thing. Controlled, but barely.

Burn Pattern