Chapter 39 | Blue Steam

Don't stop, keep moving.

The next obstacle is a cargo net that demanded not just descent, but a leap to reach it. Twenty feet of empty air between the platform's edge and the swaying mesh. He couldn't afford to lose the momentum he fought so hard to build. He needed it to carry him through the leap.

With all the force he could muster, he launched himself, arms outstretched, while gravity pulled him down as he arced through the empty space. A faint warmth spread beneath his skin as his nanites working overtime to boost his leap. His fingers found hold on the rough rope, the impact jarring through his wounded shoulder as he clung to the shifting web.

The net shifted beneath him like it was alive, swaying and jerking on hidden tracks. One slip, one wrong move, and he would fall.

One hand, one foot. Find the rhythm.

His breath came in ragged gasps that echoed in his helmet, but he refused to let the sound break his concentration. The burning sensation in his muscles was intensifying, spreading deeper than normal exertion should cause, but he pushed the thought away. 

Hand over hand, foot by foot, he descended through the maze of rope and metal. When he reached ten feet from the ground, he released his grip and dropped, rolling to absorb the impact.

Without missing a beat, he jumped to his feet and sprinted toward the weighted spear-throwing station. The weapon rack held three identical spear.

He grasped one with his right hand, teeth clenched against the spike of pain that shot through his injured palm.

Thirty feet away, the target waited. A painted circle. 

He settled into his stance, right arm drawn back, spear balanced against his shoulder, and left arm extended for guidance.

He stepped forward with explosive power he could muster, driving off his rear leg as his hips rotated, channeling every ounce of strength and momentum into the throw. The spear left his hand, cutting through the air in a graceful arc toward its destination.

Thwack.

The spear buried itself in the dirt two feet short of the target, its shaft quivering with the force of impact. 

"Damn it!" Leon turned to the rack. He had two more attempts.

He grabbed another spear and performed the same motion, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. He gave it a bit more power then earlier adjusting his aim.

Thunk.

Off centered, but he hit the target nonetheless. 

Only the sprint is left, he thought.

Leon turned turned away from the station and ran as hard as he could. He didn’t care if his lungs were on fire or his breathing was ragged. He pushed on seeing the end in sight. The sprint was through a mud field.

His foot sank ankle-deep. The thick mud dragged him, slowing every step. His thighs burned, but the finish line was in sight.

His legs gave out, and he dropped to his hands and knees. Only 40 feet to go. 

He paused, took a deep breath, and steadied himself.

Just a little more

He pushed himself and crawled toward the finish line. He didn’t know why he was trying this hard. He didn’t need to finish anymore since there were others who had failed. He can take it easy and still not be last. 

He shook his head getting rid of any unnecessary thoughts. 

“Ngh!” stood up with a grunt. 

He wanted to be standing when he passes that finish line. He steadied himself then walked. Sounds were muffled and he couldn’t hear anything. His head hung low, focused on putting one foot forward at a time. 

After what seemed like a long time, he saw his right foot cross the line.

"Rraaagh!" he raised his fist in the air, basking in his accomplishment.

He then grabbed his helmet and pulled it off, gasping as cool air hit his face. 

Something warm and wet trickled down from his nose. He wiped at it absently, his hand coming away streaked with red. He looked up to see assistant instructors running towards him, their expressions alarmed.

He glanced at the faces of the second group that was watching and waiting for their turn. They all were looking at him with mouths open, some pointing, and others backing away. Instructor Zell was frantically waving the second group back to create distance.

Huh?

Confusion clouded his face. He looked to Nyra, who had her brows furrowed in concentration.

Or is that worry?

Her eyes widened. She said something, her lips moving, but he couldn't hear her.

Three assistant instructors reached him. They were shouting something. He could see their lips moving, but his hearing was still muffled.

Odd, I thought I took my helmet off.

He looked down and saw that the helmet was indeed in his hand. Then an alert from his CRI displayed in his vision:

USER CONDITION: CRITICAL
User Stress Level Normalizing. 

Assuming Combat Disengagement. 

Safety Protocol Override: Aetheric Combat State (ACS) shutting down

As soon as he saw the message of Aetheric Combat State shutting down, his vision swam. Colors shifted and blended together, the world tilting at impossible angles. He fell forward towards one of the assistant instructors.

"Tssss," the assistant jumped back as soon as Leon touched him, letting him fall.

"Get a stretcher and blanket. He is too hot to touch bare handed." The one who let him fall shook his hand as though burned.

Too hot? What is he talking about?

Leon's eyelids started feeling heavy. The blue ring around his irises were flickering and dimming like a failing light. He tried to get up, but couldn't. 

The strength was leaving his body as though someone had opened a drain. He glanced at his hand and saw his skin tinted red with blue steam rising from it. Then he blacked out.

Warcenturion Victor Vauhn’s POV

Knock knock

"Enter," Victor called, not looking up from the his datapad.

"Sir!" A man in gray and gold uniform saluted.

“At ease, Captain Zell.” Victor set his datapad down on his desk and looked at the time. 

It should only be lunch time for the recruits and the instructor meeting wouldn’t be until they were dismissed for dinner. “Is there something wrong?”

"Sir, we had a situation at the obstacle course," Instructor Zell stood at ease, but his posture remained rigid. "It pertains to Recruit Ezra. He is currently with the urgent care unit."

Victor frowned, not liking that the topic was the recruit he had personally sponsored. 

Did he injure himself? It's most likely the balance beam.

"Did he fail to keep up with the rest?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

"No, sir, he did start off at the back but was able to finish in the middle of the group, but—" The instructor paused, seeming to search for the right words. "Sir, I'm not even sure how to classify what happened."

"Oh, that doesn't sound like a typical incident." Victor raised one eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Explain."

The instructor recounted the events in detail, starting with Leon's performance at the balance beam. 

"To be frank, sir, what he did there was remarkable. When he lost his balance, he should have fallen. Instead, he executed a recovery maneuver I've only seen elite operatives perform. Something that should be impossible for someone with his saturation levels."

Victor leaned forward. 

"And after that?"

"He continued through the course, maintaining middle-pack positioning. Nothing seemed amiss until the final sprint." Instructor Zell's expression grew more troubled. "The first sign was steam. Actual visible steam coming off his exposed skin. Blue-tinged, sir, like overheated mana."

"Your medics scanned him?"

"Yes, sir. When he removed his helmet, we observed blood from his ears and nose. One of my assistants suffered second-degree burns just from brief contact with his arm." Zell shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Sir, his nanites were operating at nearly 300% capacity. By all medical understanding, that shouldn't be possible with his saturation level."

Victor's eyes narrowed. 

"And his current status?"

"Medical has him in an induced coma while they try to stabilize his system. They're calling it 'catastrophic mana feedback' but..." Zell hesitated. "Sir, I've seen feedback like that before. This is... different."

After a few seconds of silence, Victor stood up and made his decision. 

"Have his medical data transmitted to my personal terminal. I want to see it immediately. And Captain," he fixed Zell with a penetrating stare, "this matter is now classified. No discussion outside the command chain."

"Yes, sir!" Zell saluted again.

After the instructor left, Victor turned to the window, gazing out at the training grounds below. He reviewed Recruit Ezra's file displayed in his visual cortex while waiting for the medical data. 

He looked over the unremarkable test scores and physical metrics before focusing on one puzzling anomaly: the boy’s mana efficiency ratio was off the charts despite his low saturation capacity.

Perhaps I didn't make a mistake after all. Perhaps I found exactly what I was looking for.

He tapped his terminal, opening a secure communication channel.

"This is Warcenturion Vauhn. I need to speak with Director Kaine immediately. Authorization code Vermillion-Seven-Nine. We may have found a candidate for the Ruinari Program."