Xavier, Orin, and Mira stepped out of the common area into a corridor teeming with life. The steady buzz of chatter, clanging metal, and distant voices filled every corner. Fighters moved about in groups, huddled over notice boards or laughing over plans and mismatched training schedules, while others navigated the crowded hall with determined urgency.
"Man, this place never slows down," Mira said as she glanced around at a cluster gathered by a bulletin board, debating the latest changes in the daily drills. "Every day it's like a busy marketplace—chaos with a side of banter."
Xavier managed a small laugh. "It's exhausting sometimes, but I guess it means you're never really ignored. Even when I want to be left alone, somehow everyone's in your face."
Orin ducked after nearly colliding with a group of fighters. "You'd be surprised how fast a face spreads around here. One minute you're blending in with the crowd, and the next, you're the topic of every conversation."
They continued down the busy corridor, passing by groups of fighters cracking jokes while discussing training mishaps and the latest minor accidents in the gym. At one table, a pair of fighters bantered about the predictable disappointment of the mess hall menu.
"I swear, if the chow could surprise us once in a while, I'd sign up as a taste tester," one fighter joked.
Xavier chuckled softly. "Imagine if the mess hall put on a little show every time you sat down—like a jingle that makes you forget about the bland, day-in, day-out routine."
Mira laughed. "That'd be something. Instead of sweating over drills, you'd be chasing after a catchy tune!"
Their footsteps fell in rhythm with the clamor of the corridor. As they neared a quieter stretch near the outer corridor, Orin turned to Xavier. "So, about that talk with Rael—what's your plan? You still thinking of taking him up on it?"
Xavier rubbed his arm where the bruise was just settling. "I don't know. All this extra attention—I never asked for it, and suddenly it's like I'm forced into a role I never auditioned for."
Orin grinned. "Maybe Rael sees something real in you. Not some act—just you. And if that's the case, you might as well see what it means."
Xavier sighed. "I just wish the academy would let me work without making every little thing a big production."
Mira added quietly, "Sometimes a bit of extra noise isn't so bad. It might force you to find your own voice in all the chaos. And besides, we all have our moments in the spotlight—even if they come uninvited."
They reached a small seating area near a window where a group of younger fighters were laughing over a spilled drink and swapping stories about missed training sessions. The trio paused for a moment as the casual hilarity spread among the group.
"I'm beginning to think that even when everything here drives me nuts, there's always a moment that makes me pause and smile," Xavier admitted, his tone softening.
Orin leaned against a wall. "Maybe that's the secret. Find a little humor in the mess. Even the most annoying parts of this place can be a good distraction if you can laugh at them."
Mira smiled, nodding in agreement. "And tomorrow, at the central arena, who knows what'll happen? Maybe you'll finally get your chance to ask Rael some questions—or maybe you'll just enjoy another round of chaos."
At that, Orin dropped his voice to a teasing tone. "Seriously though, after all this, I really hope they serve pizza for lunch. Something decent for once."
Xavier grinned, shrugging off the worries that had clung to him earlier. "That would be perfect. Nothing like a slice of something delicious to remind you that there's more to life than endless fights and stiff expectations."
Mira laughed lightly. "If we see it on the menu, that might just be the best luck we've had all week."
As the three walked down the corridor, they reached the branching halls where fighters peeled off toward their rooms for the night. Mira paused at the entrance to her sector, adjusting her wrist strap slightly.
"Rank 290," Orin reminded Xavier in a low voice. "Don't forget she's way ahead of us."
Mira rolled her eyes but smiled. "Don't make it sound like some high pedestal. I'm just another fighter trying to survive like everyone else."
Xavier smirked. "Yeah, sure. Just another fighter who's ranked way above us."
She laughed, shaking her head. "See you both tomorrow. Try not to let the chaos get to you too much."
Orin saluted lazily before turning toward his own hall. "No promises."
Xavier gave a nod, then turned toward his own sector. His dorm was tucked in the far end of Segment 10—a shared space with four others. The second he stepped inside, his muscles tensed.
The place was trashed.
Gear scattered across the floor, overturned chairs, empty ration packs left in careless piles. His bunk—normally tucked neatly into the corner—was shoved aside, covers pulled halfway off as if someone had gone through his things.
His chest tightened. This wasn't just typical mess—it was deliberate.
His voice rang through the room before he could stop himself.
"Who did this?!"