Chapter 240 240: Retribution

The cafeteria was oddly quiet despite being filled with competitors and spectators. News of the matches had spread like wildfire—especially Diana Frost's clinical dismantling of Bailey. Noah picked at his food, his mind replaying the fight, looking for angles, weaknesses, anything that might have changed the outcome. "You're doing it again," Kelvin said, breaking the silence between them. "That thing where you analyze a fight frame by frame in your head." Noah's eyes refocused on his friend. "She's beatable." "Diana?" Kelvin raised an eyebrow. "You saw what she did to Bailey." "I saw a fighter who relies on precision targeting. Dead Zones have boundaries. Rules." Noah pushed his tray away. "Everything has a weakness." Before Kelvin could respond, a commotion erupted from somewhere near the competitor's area. Heads turned as excited voices rippled through the cafeteria. "Fight in the prep room!" "Someone's getting demolished!" Students rushed toward the source of the commotion, a wave of bodies moving with the magnetic pull that only unsanctioned violence could generate. Noah and Kelvin exchanged glances before joining the flow. They pushed through the crowd until they reached the edge of a hastily formed circle. At its center stood Oba Femi, Academy 12's mountain of muscle and technique. But he wasn't standing idle—his fists were a blur as he systematically dismantled an Academy 8 student whose face was already so bloodied it was unrecognizable. "That's Ares Thompson," someone whispered nearby. "Academy 8, Year 2." Oba's expression wasn't rage—it was something colder, more methodical. Each blow was calculated, targeting joints, pressure points, and vulnerable areas with surgical precision. This wasn't a fight; it was a punishment. "Someone stop him!" a voice called, but no one moved. Oba grabbed Ares by the throat, lifting him until his feet dangled above the ground. "You touch one of ours again," he said, voice barely above a whisper but somehow carrying through the silent crowd, "and next time I won't stop." He released his grip, letting Ares crumple to the floor, then turned and walked away, the crowd parting before him like water breaking around a boulder. As the crowd began to disperse, someone grabbed Noah's wrist with surprising strength. He turned to find himself face-to-face with a boy he didn't recognize—Academy 8 insignia on his uniform, eyes unusually intense. "Noah Eclipse," the boy said, his voice oddly melodic. "I know your secrets." A smile spread across his face, devoid of warmth or humor. "And I'll be the one to expose you." Before Noah could respond, the boy's eyes changed—the irises expanding until they were completely black, as if his pupils had consumed all color. Then, just as suddenly, they returned to normal, and he released Noah's wrist and melted back into the crowd. "Who was that?" Kelvin asked, appearing at Noah's side. Noah rubbed his wrist, disturbed but not frightened. "I don't know. But I think I just met someone from Academy 8 who has a personal interest in me." Kelvin started to press for details, but an announcement cut through the babble of voices "Attention competitors: Due to recent events, Oba Femi will not be advancing to represent Academy 12 at the next round of the competition" Murmurs swept through the remaining crowd. "That wasn't just a fight," Kelvin said quietly. "That was retribution." "For what?" Noah asked. But the answer would have to wait. Students were being ushered back to their respective areas, and security drones had begun patrolling the hallways, their blue scanning lights sweeping methodically across the floor. --- Three hours later, Noah and Kelvin sat at a corner table in the nearly empty cafeteria, talking in hushed tones about the day's events when a shadow fell across their table. Lucas stood before them, his normally immaculate appearance in disarray. His hair was disheveled, his uniform rumpled, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. Most telling was the hardness in his expression—the easy charm replaced by something dangerous. "We need to talk," he said, sliding into the seat across from them. Neither Noah nor Kelvin spoke, waiting for their senior to continue. "Someone attacked Bailey in the medical wing," Lucas said, his voice tight with controlled fury. "Tried to permanently damage her sonic implants while she was unconscious. Would have succeeded if Oba hadn't caught them in the act." "The Academy 8 kid," Noah realized. "Ares Thompson." Lucas nodded grimly. "Year 2, but not acting alone. It was a setup—Jayden's doing. They're thinning our numbers." "But Diana beat Bailey fair and square," Kelvin protested. "Why attack her afterward?" "Because they're afraid," Lucas said, leaning forward. "Our Academy is showing too much strength, especially in the lower years." His eyes flicked meaningfully to Noah. "They want to break our momentum before finals." "What does this have to do with us?" Noah asked, though he already suspected the answer. "I need backup," Lucas said simply. "Tonight, we're sending a message. Ares was discharged from medical an hour ago—apparently Oba was careful enough not to cause any lasting damage. He's back in the Year 2 dormitory section of the Nexus Arena." "You want to go after him," Noah said. It wasn't a question. "I want to go after all of them," Lucas corrected. "Starting with Ares. He's just the foot soldier. But after that, we pay a visit to Academy 8's Year 3 quarters." Kelvin's eyes widened. "That's insane. The security—" "Can be handled," Lucas cut him off, looking directly at Kelvin. "If we have the right technician." A beat of silence fell over the table as Kelvin processed what was being asked of him. "You want me to disable the security systems," he said finally. Lucas nodded. "Cameras, drones, electronic locks—everything. You're not competing anymore since you already won your crafting event. You've got nothing to lose except disqualification if we're caught." "Which would still suck," Kelvin pointed out. "But wouldn't erase what you've already accomplished," Lucas countered. Noah had remained silent, weighing the implications. "If we do this, we're escalating. This becomes war." "It already is war," Lucas said, his voice hardening. "Jayden fired the first shot. The 25 ranked—what's left of us after the Harbinger attack on Cannadah—we take care of our own." He looked between them. "I'm going, with or without you. But I'd rather have you with me." Noah met Lucas's gaze and nodded once. "I'm in." All eyes turned to Kelvin, who sighed dramatically before a slow smile spread across his face. "Fine. But we do this my way. No powers that leave traces—that means no lightning from you, Lucas. We go old school on this one." Lucas's tension visibly eased. "Deal." "And," Kelvin added, pulling a small device from his pocket, "I've been working on a little something that might come in handy. Non-lethal, but highly unpleasant." "What is it?" Noah asked. Kelvin's smile turned mischievous. "Let's just say it'll give them fevers they won't forget anytime soon." --- Three hours later, they stood outside the Year 2 dormitory section, hidden in the shadow of a maintenance alcove. Kelvin's eyes glowed a faint green as his fingers danced through the air, manipulating unseen digital systems. "Security feeds are on a six-minute loop," he whispered, his voice detached as part of his consciousness interfaced with the Nexus Arena's systems. "Proximity sensors disabled. We've got a clear path to Ares's room." Noah adjusted the thin gloves he wore—leaving fingerprints wasn't part of the plan. "Room number?" "2187," Lucas replied, pulling on similar gloves. "Northeastern corner." "Remember," Kelvin said, his eyes still glowing, "no powers. No energy signatures. Just good old-fashioned physical intimidation." They moved silently through the corridors, Kelvin occasionally raising a hand to halt them when a patrol drone passed nearby, its sensors temporarily blind to their presence. The Nexus arena system prided itself on security, but it had never accounted for a prodigy technopath like Kelvin who could slip through its digital defenses like water through a sieve. This was mostly achievable ever since learning of the Purge plans. Now kelvin was given free reign to hack however he felt to discover weaknesses and barricade it. In this scenario however, he was exploiting all weaknesses. When they reached Room 2187, Kelvin placed his palm against the electronic lock. The light shifted from red to green without a sound. Inside, Ares Thompson slept soundly, his face bruised but already healing—likely the work of healers. He didn't stir as they surrounded his bed. Lucas nodded to Noah, who promptly clamped a hand over Ares's mouth. The Year 2 student's eyes flew open in panic, struggling immediately until he registered who was holding him down. "Hello, Ares," Lucas said softly. "We need to have a conversation about Academy 12 students and why it's a bad idea to touch them." What followed wasn't pretty, but it was precise. No powers, as promised—just calculated strikes to already tender areas. When they finished, Ares wasn't permanently damaged, but he wouldn't be competing anytime soon. "Who sent you after Bailey?" Lucas demanded, his voice cold. Ares spat blood but remained silent. Noah stepped forward, leaning close to Ares's ear. "We can do this all night. Or you can tell us what we want to know." He didn't even know he had this in him. Somehow all these gave him was Lila vibe. She was the one that did the unpleasant thing as far as he was concerned. However, something in Noah's voice—the absolute certainty, perhaps—broke through Ares's resistance. "Jayden," he gasped. "He said if I proved myself, I could join the inner circle. Said Academy 12 needed to be taught a lesson in humility." Lucas and Noah exchanged glances. "That's all we needed to know," Lucas said, and nodded to Kelvin, who stepped forward with his device. "This won't kill you," Kelvin explained clinically as he pressed it against Ares's neck. "But for the next seventy-two hours, you're going to wish it had." A soft hiss, and Ares's eyes rolled back as the biochemical compound entered his system. "Phase one complete," Lucas said as they slipped out of the room. "Now for the main event." --- The Year 3 dormitory section of Academy 8 was located in the uppermost level of the Nexus Arena's residential wing—a subtle symbol of their status. Unlike the lower years, these students had earned private rooms, a luxury that made their mission both easier and more challenging. "Twenty targets," Lucas murmured as they huddled in a maintenance shaft. "Minus the five still in competition." "Access codes downloaded," Kelvin confirmed, his eyes still glowing that eerie green as his consciousness extended through the arena's systems. "I've got control of the environmental systems too. When we're done, I'll drop the temperature in their rooms. Cold slows the nanites, gives our little presents time to take effect." The precision of their assault was its most impressive aspect. Room by room, they moved through the Year 3 quarters. Lucas led, his years of combat experience evident in every silent step. Noah followed, his analytical mind cataloging weaknesses even in sleep—a shoulder turned just so, an arm positioned vulnerably. Kelvin brought up the rear, maintaining their digital cloak while deploying his biochemical agent with methodical care. Some students they merely drugged deeper into sleep before administering Kelvin's fever agent. Others—those Lucas identified as Jayden's inner circle—received more direct attention. A dislocated shoulder here. A fractured wrist there. Nothing that couldn't be healed, but injuries that would send a clear message. No alarms sounded. No security forces descended upon them. In the digital realm, Kelvin was a ghost, erasing their presence as quickly as it formed. In the physical world, they were shadows, there and gone before their targets fully registered the intrusion. Less than forty minutes after they began, it was done. Twenty of Academy 8's Year 3 students would wake to illness and injury—a surgical strike that couldn't be traced back to them but would be unmistakable in its meaning. --- Dawn was breaking when they finally made their way to the roof of the arena's eastern tower. The first hints of sunlight painted the horizon in shades of gold and crimson as they sat on the edge, legs dangling over a thousand-foot drop protected only by a shimmering energy field. "It's sad it came to this," Lucas said, breaking the comfortable silence. "We're supposed to be the best of humanity. The defenders against what's out there." He gestured vaguely toward the stars still visible in the western sky. "Sometimes the best of humanity still needs to get punched in the face," Kelvin replied, stretching his arms overhead. His eyes had returned to normal, though fatigue lines etched his features. "Besides, they'll be fine. Most of them will just wake up with fevers that'll make them think they're dying. Once the healers figure it out—or after three days when I send them an anonymous tip—they'll be good as new." "More or less," Noah added. "I might have broken a few arms in their sleep." "Same," Lucas admitted. "The entry codes Kelvin gave us made it too easy." They lapsed into silence again, watching as the sun climbed higher. "The finals are still days away," Lucas said eventually. "But that's when the real threat comes. The Purge is planning something big." Noah and Kelvin straightened, their attention sharpening. "And we know of this. Perhaps the only students that do," Noah said. "Precisely," Lucas replied."What matters is that we're the last line of defense. The academies focus so much on competition they forget why we're really here." He turned to Kelvin. "How are the preparations coming?" Kelvin's tired expression gave way to a sly smile. "Don't worry about that. I'm cooking up something special." Noah couldn't help but smile as he watched his best friend. Kelvin was in his element—the challenge, the danger, the opportunity to push his abilities to their limits. This was what drew them all to the Earth Defense Force academies in the first place. Talents coming together for the greater good. And sometimes, Noah reflected as he thought of the night's activities, for the greater evil. The sun had fully risen now, bathing the arena in golden light that belied the shadow games played within its walls. Below them, students were beginning to stir, unaware of the night's events—or the larger dangers that loomed on the horizon. Noah's thoughts drifted back to the strange boy who had grabbed his wrist, whose eyes had turned to bottomless black pools. _"I know your secrets,"_ he had said. _"And I'll be the one to expose you."_ Despite the warmth of the morning sun, Noah felt a chill run down his spine. He hadn't mentioned the encounter to Lucas or Kelvin yet—some instinct had held him back. The boy hadn't felt like one of Jayden's cronies. He had felt like something else entirely. Something that, for the first time since Noah had activated the system, genuinely unsettled him. But that was a problem for another day. For now, they had sent their message. They had demonstrated that Academy 12 would not be intimidated, would not be victimized. And when the time came, they would be ready for whatever the Purge—or Academy 8—had planned.