In the blink of an eye, a month passed. I was no longer the same kid who flinched every time his power sparked.
Now? I had a lot more control over it.
The training drones flew up one by one, weaving through the air in a tight formation.
I didn't wait.
I raised my hand. Lightning coiled up my forearm, humming like it knew what came next.
One flick of my wrist.
Blue arcs split the air, lancing through the first drone before the rest even finished calibrating. I pivoted with the momentum, sliding into a burst shot that fried the remaining four in a single sweep.
They dropped like pieces of scrap metal.
The buzzer rang.
I'd cleared the course in five seconds. A new record.
Mr. Turner eyebrows went up in shock. He scribbled something down and sighed, "Reset the bay." He walked away with his face in his hands muttering, "poor Reyes, Cael's gotten too good at this."
As a few other trainees cycled in, I wiped sweat from my neck and left early.
Back by the supply wing, I found someone already inside the sealed control room—knee-deep in scorched casing and wiring from the drones. Sparks leapt from a loose circuit. The guy didn't even blink.
Tan jacket. Gloves with the fingers cut off. Smudged goggles pushed back in his dark brown curls.
He looked up just once and scowled.
"You."
I blinked. "Me?"
"Yeah, you're the lightning kid, right? The one who keeps flash-frying every damn drone I patch back together?"
"…Maybe."
He sighed like I'd just confessed to stabbing his dog. "Do you know how much of this system is irreplaceable? Do you know what kind of ancient firmware I'm working with here?"
I shrugged. "They fall apart when I hit them."
"They fall apart because you overkill everything. It's target practice, not a boss fight." He jabbed a screwdriver at me. "Name?"
"Cael."
"Reyes," he said, going back to the mess. "I'm the poor bastard who keeps rebuilding this graveyard."
I watched him pop open a scorched module and whistle under his breath.
"You vaporized the signal port," he said. "Didn't even know that was possible."
"I thought these things were built to take a hit."
"They are. Just not from you."
He looked back, studying me like a broken piece of tech he hadn't figured out yet.
"You're new, right?"
"Sort of."
Reyes nodded slowly. "Huh. That explains the reports. You're not in any of the older logs. Just kind of… appeared."
He stood, wiped his hands on his pants, and offered a hand.
"Try not to blow anything up for the next three days. Give me time to fix these suckers."
I shook it.
"No promises," I said.
Reyes chuckled. "Didn't think so."