The dismissal bell shrieked, snapping the tension in the lecture hall like a frayed steel cable.

  By lunch, the central dining hall was a riot of noise. Hunger drove the freshmen to gorge themselves, temporarily ignoring the black-suited enforcers anchoring the room’s corners. Marcus and his group claimed their usual back table out of pure habit.

  Ethan shoved a slab of roast beef into his mouth, his jaw grinding heavily.

  “My head’s gonna split,” the large youth grumbled. “That Thorne lady trying to make us piss ourselves? Rules this, Council that. Ruins the damn meat.”

  “You’re stuffing beef down your throat when your breakfast eggs haven’t even digested,” Roy mumbled. He rested his chin against the cold metal tabletop, arms dangling limp at his sides. “I’m taking a nap…”

  Vanessa ignored the complaining. Her fingers flew across a holographic tablet, categorizing the morning’s historical matrices. Marcus sat in silence. His eyes tracked the patrol routes of the guards, measuring the exact intervals between their sweeping glances.

  Footsteps dragged across the tiles. The sharp sting of antiseptic mixed with the rusted-iron scent of blood hit Marcus’s nose. He pulled his focus away from the ceiling cameras.

  Jordan stood at the end of their table, clutching a plastic tray.

  The J-Flow rapper looked like he’d been run over by a truck. Thick medical gauze wrapped his torso up to his chin. Fresh, dark blood seeped through the white fabric in jagged patches. He moved with severe tremors, like a machine barely running on shattered pistons.

  “Yo…” Jordan rasped. His voice was a ruined, airy scrape. “Tables are… packed. You guys… mind if I crash here?”

  Ethan’s fork hovered mid-air. He stared at the bruised boy.

  “Hell. You look like chopped meat, rapper,” Ethan said, sliding over on the bench. “Sit down before you faceplant.”

  Jordan collapsed onto the seat with a heavy thud. He winced, hissing through his teeth. His tape-wrapped fingers shook violently as he tried to grip a soup spoon.

  “Thanks, big guy.” Jordan nodded, glancing back toward the corridor. “Thorne’s class… brutal. Thought she was gonna gut us on the desks…”

  Despite his wrecked body, the dreadlocked teen began tapping a weak beat against the table. The performer’s instinct refused to die.

  “She teaches history… but feels like a butcher block…” Jordan forced the raspy words into rhythm. “Council rules tightening… like a noose around the— Urgh! Hack!”

  The rhyme shattered into a violent coughing fit. Jordan grabbed his ribs, his face twisting in agony. The crimson stain on his chest widened.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I told you to keep your jaw wired shut, you idiot!”

  A tray slammed onto the metal surface, splashing broth. Valerie loomed over her team leader, her face twisted in exasperation. She shoved her hands deep into her cropped jacket pockets.

  “You can ignore this moron,” Valerie snapped at Marcus’s group. “His vocal cords are completely shredded from overdrawing his ether, and he still wants to run his mouth about the faculty. Dumbass.”

  “Ugh… my bad, Val…” Jordan wheezed.

  A third tray settled onto the table without a sound.

  Brook, the dark-skinned giant who dwarfed even Ethan, sank onto the opposite bench. He didn’t speak. He simply stared down at his food with dead eyes.

  Ethan looked at the battered trio, his eyes widening slightly as he took in Brook’s sheer mass.

  “A walking infirmary,” Ethan snorted, shoving mashed potatoes into his mouth. “What kind of magic breaks your own bones? Trash deal. And that giant… does he eat anvils for breakfast?”

  Brook ignored the jab, slowly lifting a spoonful of rice.

  Roy cracked one eye open. “Huh. Class start?” He immediately dropped his head back onto his folded arms.

  Amid the swelling chaos, Marcus leaned back in his chair and let out a slow breath. The coiled spring of his paranoia loosened a fraction. At least these microphone-obsessed idiots were predictable.

  I just wanted to stay out of the gears, Marcus thought, watching the mess unfold. Now I’ve got a bleeding rapper at my table.

  “Yo, big guy… beef too tough?” Jordan fought through the pain, speeding up his words. His shaking hand mimicked a DJ scratching. “Gonna crack your teeth before exams… gotta bob your head to the chew… like this…”

  Valerie rolled her eyes. “Shut the hell up! Drink the soup! You’re going to tear your throat open!”

  Ethan’s thick eyebrows crashed together. He gripped his fork until the metal handle bent.

  “Can you speak normal?!” Ethan barked, slamming the utensil down. “I can’t catch your damn rapping! Talk slow like a regular person!”

  Brook kept eating in absolute silence. Roy pulled his jacket over his head.

  Vanessa paused her typing. She adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses, her gaze drifting past the shouting match to land on the boy sitting across from her.

  Marcus hadn’t said a word. He just sat there with his arms crossed. But the faintest corner of his mouth twitched upward—a nearly imperceptible smirk.

  It was the first time she had seen him smile since they walked through the academy gates.

  SKREEEE—

  A piercing feedback loop ripped through the cafeteria chatter. The ceiling speakers hummed, followed by the sterile, freezing tone of the automated system.

  “Announcement.”

  Every conversation died. Jordan stopped tapping. Brook stopped chewing.

  “First-year student… Marcus Etherno.”

  The smirk vanished from Marcus’s face.

  “Report to Professor Silas. Building One.”

  Clatter.

  Ethan’s fork hit his ceramic plate like a gunshot. Roy snapped upright, his sleep-heavy eyes blown wide. Vanessa froze, her fingers hovering motionless above the glowing keyboard.

  The four of them locked eyes.

  No one spoke. They didn’t need to. The silent panic burning in their eyes asked the same question.

  Do they know?

  Jordan raised an eyebrow. “Damn. Called to the slaughterhouse on day one? Who did you piss off?”

  Valerie frowned. “Isn’t Building One the Enforcers’ investigation building?”

  Her words drove a rusted spike into the center of the group.

  Marcus shoved his hands deep into his pockets. His fists clenched. The slum-born survival instincts that had briefly settled now roared back to life, sharpening every nerve. His muscles locked tight. His mind shifted gears, bracing for impact.

  He pushed his chair back and stood slowly.

  Ethan opened his mouth, but Marcus cut him off with a single, lethal glare. Keep your mouth shut.

  “I’m going,” Marcus said. His voice was flat, his breathing measured. “Eat. Don’t wait up.”

  He turned his back on the table. Without looking left or right, Marcus walked into the sea of students and the waiting stares of the black-suited guards, heading straight for the heavy doors of Building One.