The shuttle broke through the cloud belt like a silver arrow, its hull trembling faintly as they descended toward the sprawling city below. It wasn't like the glossy metropolises shown in Empire recruitment posters. No—Novaros was gritty, massive, and alive with a buzz that pulsed in Oliver's chest.
Glass towers stretched into the sky, streaked with vertical gardens and neon conduits. Hovercraft zipped between lanes like dragonflies, and far below, crowds swelled through markets and domes. Training arenas. Commerce quarters. Political hubs. All built around the vast coliseum at the center—The Corewell.
That's where the best were tested.
Oliver sat in his squad seat, eyes fixed to the window. Even from orbit, the coliseum had looked like the eye of a storm.
"This city smells like synth-oil and stress," Juno muttered, pulling on her jacket. "I already hate it."
"It's not supposed to be a vacation," Aria said flatly.
"She means it's supposed to smell like sweat and tears," Darius added cheerfully. "I like it. Has the vibe of a good bar fight."
Lira grinned from her seat, still tapping away at her wristpad. "Already hacked the public training schedule. Looks like squads from every region are converging. Some are... intense."
"Anyone we know?" Aria asked.
"Couple of ex-Solarborn squads. Some Ares Division folks. Oh—and a few cadets from the Outer Rim Academies. They don't play nice."
Oliver didn't respond. He was still looking at the Corewell.
It called to him.
The System remained quiet.
Arrival
They docked at the eastern pad, filed out in formation, and marched across steel walkways while surveillance drones clicked overhead.
Instructor Korr was already waiting by a wide transport skimmer. His visor gleamed.
"Novaros will host your squad for the next eight days," he said without preamble. "Training, evaluations, and preliminary match-ups begin tomorrow. You are officially in the open division—Earth Sector Three."
Juno groaned. "Open division? You're just throwing us to the wolves?"
"Better to die early than die delusional," Korr replied. "Now move."
The skimmer whisked them across the city, past towering banners and colossal screens showcasing replays of past tournaments—mechas locking horns, psychics launching buildings, martial artists shattering force barriers with bare fists.
It was overwhelming.
It was glorious.
The Dormitories
Their assigned lodging wasn't much—two small rooms stacked with modular bunks and a narrow common space. The scent of disinfectant and burnt ozone lingered.
Lira collapsed onto a couch. "You'd think with all this tech, they'd invent softer beds."
"I'd settle for thicker walls," Aria said, unpacking her gear calmly.
Juno claimed the upper bunk. "You two keep arguing and I'll sleep in the air vents."
Darius plopped down beside Oliver, who had been unusually silent.
"You okay?" Darius asked. "You've been staring off like you saw a ghost."
Oliver blinked, pulling back from his thoughts. "Just… taking it all in."
Truthfully, it was more than that.
He felt something.
A tug in his chest. The System humming faintly, as though responding to something in the city's core. Not words. Not even a command. Just presence.
Like it recognized this place.
"Detection: Energy anomaly within 3.2 kilometers."
Oliver flinched slightly.
"Source: Undetermined. Resonates with core protocol signatures. Proceed with caution."
The System fell silent again.
Oliver stared out the window.
He had a feeling this tournament wasn't just about ranking up.
Later That Night
Lights flickered as the city transitioned into its night cycle—purples, teals, and soft golds reflecting off the polished glass of Novaros.
The squad gathered in the commons, screens open with intel on their potential matchups. Darius was practicing combos in the air. Aria read quietly. Juno spun a knife between her fingers.
Lira finally broke the silence.
"Anyone else nervous?" she asked, unusually soft. "Like… not 'butterflies before a test' nervous. I mean 'something's wrong and we don't know what' nervous."
"I've felt it," Aria said without looking up. "Ever since we landed."
"I feel fine," Juno said. "But then again, I don't have voices in my head like Oliver does."
He nearly choked. "What?"
"Metaphorically," she added quickly. "You just seem… haunted sometimes."
"Great," Darius muttered. "Nothing says 'tournament prep' like existential dread."
Oliver smiled faintly.
He'd trained for this. Fought for this.
But as he looked at his squad—people he trusted, people who would one day be left behind—he couldn't shake the feeling that this city was a turning point.
He just didn't know where it would turn.