Trials and Truths

The combat chamber of Echelon Academy roared to life.

A sphere-shaped arena of transparent alloy shimmered under the weight of graviton locks, suspended midair inside the Academy's central dome. Observation tiers circled above, filled with students, instructors, and select guests from the Descovinio Council.

It was Trial Day—an institutional tradition where Echelon cadets displayed their worth in real-time evaluations. Skill, composure, and loyalty were tested in front of the highest echelon of the ruling world. And for Enzo, it was the first time he'd fight in front of them since he vanished.

No mask. No shadows. Just him, under the Descovinio name he despised.

"Cadet Clarenzo Descovinio," the voice boomed from the speakers, "versus Cadet Varek Solten."

Murmurs surged through the audience.

Varek—the son of a general known for leading purges in rebel zones. Tall, brutal, with a reputation for taking trials personally.

Enzo stepped into the center calmly. Tavien was already leaning over the rail in the upper gallery, anxious. Lyra sat two rows behind, unreadable.

"You don't belong here," Varek sneered as they circled each other.

Enzo didn't answer. He wasn't here for words.

The arena's sensors chimed. "Begin."

Varek charged instantly, twin blades drawn. His attacks were brutal—hammering sweeps and plunges meant to break defenses fast. But Enzo wasn't a child anymore. He flowed around each strike like wind around stone.

He wasn't just defending. He was learning.

Two minutes in, he turned the tide.

A feint. A shift. Varek lunged—and Enzo struck with surgical precision. A knee to the gut. A blow to the wrist. Then a pivot that dropped the opponent to his knees. Enzo's foot pressed the man's chest to the ground.

The match ended.

The room went silent.

Not just because of the victory—but because of how he moved. How precise. How ruthless. It was unmistakable: the blood of Descovinio was in him, whether he wanted it or not.

The council members in the gallery clapped. A few even smiled.

Tavien watched with a conflicted face. Lyra's fingers curled just slightly around the rail.

He walked off without a word, the phantom hum of Cain pulsing in his spine though it never left its sheath.

---

Later, the cadets were ushered into the Simulation Wing—what everyone called the Moral Conditioning Hall.

Rows of curved chairs faced massive projectors. Each cadet was plugged into a neural simline—a localized system that injected lifelike scenarios into their minds. Designed to test loyalty, ethics, and alignment.

Enzo sat quietly, knowing exactly what was coming. This was the part Kael had warned him about.

A voice echoed in his ear: "Scenario loading. Urban conflict. Civil unrest in outer district. You are an Echelon officer with full authority."

The scene manifested instantly.

Smoke. Screams. A crumbling district that looked too much like Novar.

Virtual citizens screamed for help. Rebels with no weapons ran. An order came in: Eliminate all escapees. Noncompliance is treason.

He froze.

The simline tried to force his hand. His fingers moved—but he didn't fire. Instead, he turned, simulated pulse-rifle aimed at a collapsing building. He shot overhead, giving the civilians a path.

Tavien's sim-seat was close by. The boy was hesitating, shaking. He looked… horrified.

Most of the room complied. Executed targets. Obeyed the doctrine.

Lyra's screen flashed—she had paused, then deviated. She ordered a ceasefire. A nonconforming choice.

Enzo's trial result: Flagged. Strategic Deviation.

His heart raced. Not from fear—but because he remembered those screams too well.

---

After the session, he walked alone through the east corridor, the one facing the academy's monument garden. He felt Lyra's presence before she spoke.

"You didn't follow the simulation."

He didn't stop walking. "Neither did you."

"You were supposed to choose victory."

"I did."

She fell into step beside him. "You made enemies in there. The evaluators noticed."

"Let them."

Lyra stopped. "That wasn't the Enzo I used to know. That was someone else. Someone… sharp. Someone dangerous."

He turned toward her.

"I'm still me, Lyra. I just stopped pretending the world makes sense."

Silence again.

Then, her voice low: "Who are you really fighting for?"

He wanted to say her. Bell. The forgotten cities. The broken children. He wanted to scream Zero's name. But he said nothing.

She nodded once. "Be careful. Because if you slip, they'll come for you. And I won't be able to stop them."

She walked away.

Cain thrummed softly against his back.

Trial Day was over.

But the real test had just begun.