I turn down the path behind the cafeteria to the kitchen delivery docks and slow my pace for a better sense of what's coming.They never come at me straight on anymore, not since my speed increased. Guess it stopped being fun when they couldn't land a punch or catch me by surprise. But they never give up. They just get creative. Decomposing animals under my covers and insects or worse in my food. They like to sabotage my gear most of all. Because then the instructors can have fun with me for insubordination.

I reach the center of the parking area and wait. The overpowering fumes of hair gel waft over in the breeze. Cole's best friend Klaus saturates his yellow hair in it. He thinks slicked back helmet hair makes him intimidating. And, by the drag of untied combat boots, Drax is with him. But no Cole this time.

I slowly turn around while they're still several feet back. Klaus' eyes widen at losing his advantage. He raises his chin to give the appearance of looking down on me. He's about a foot shorter, so I have to admit, I'm impressed he pulls it off.

I shift to an at ease position, feet shoulder width apart, hands relaxed behind my back. Klaus gives a slight nod to Drax, who runs a hand over his buzzed red hair before walking a wide perimeter to get behind me.

"Don't think we've ever seen you coming out of the infirmary before." Klaus says to keep my attention on him instead of Drax, who's slowly moving to box me between them.

"You were out cold, all bloody." Drax's laugh turns into a snort. "You don't look like you're in too much pain now, though."

I should've put on a show, stood a little hunched to favor my wound. But I'm done acting for these idiots.

"You boys worried about me?" I say.

"What we're worried about is our medics wasting time and supplies on you. When they should focus on real warriors." Klaus grins wide, showing me the gap between his chipped front teeth.

Drax prowls behind me, chuckling. "Yeah," he says, leaning in close, "it's a shame those demons didn't do us all a favor and finish what they started."

"A shame." Klaus agrees, measuring his steps in a slow advance. "Wonder why it took so long for the arena doors to open?" He stops to tap a finger against his chin in thought.

"Weird how the door locks jammed like that, right Klaus?" Drax's hot breath hits the back of my neck. I clench my fists as power flows into my arms and legs.

"And how'd those high-level demons get out of their cages and into the arena?" Klaus asks Drax as he closes the distance.

"Yeah, so odd, all those fail safes, failing. Almost like it was planned." Drax whispers in my ear, making my teeth grind.

My mind runs through all the personnel it would take to tamper with my trial. No way it was just Cole and these idiots. Klaus moves closer, and I snap my focus back to him. I pull my hands from behind my back, causing Drax to jump away. I can't help but smirk. But I slow my moves, not wanting them to attack yet, in case they have more to share. I raise a hand protectively over the unnecessary bandage on my chest.

"I'm just grateful the instructors worked so hard to help your Primus." I say with a grin.

"The fog was too thick, but we would've loved to see what made you fall." Drax's voice is at my back again. "Having you as Primus is a disgrace." He spits.

I sigh at hearing, again, how they hate me for representing our class. My eyes drop to catch one of Drax's boots slide between my legs.

"Trust me when I say no one moved to rescue you for quite some time. Nobody wants an Oren associated with our class. You took our boy Cole's spot. And it's too late to change that now." Klaus finishes, pulling my eyes back up to his.

"But it's never too late to remind this traitor where he belongs." Drax calls over my shoulder to Klaus.

"Right, you are my friend." Klaus answers with a broad, feral grin and races towards me.

Before Drax can grab my wrists, I spin around to face him quicker than I'd ever let anyone see before. He pauses his reach in shock. The air shifts behind me as Klaus pulls his fist back, to deliver a blow. Drax shakes off his surprise as I slide out from between them with a simple side step.

Their plan would've worked perfectly on someone else. But instead of Drax holding me still while his friend wails on me, he takes a face full of Klaus' fist. It's a powerful bone-crunching punch. Drax is out cold, blood gushes from his nose to the concrete slab. Klaus shakes his head, confused, staring wide-eyed at what he's done to his friend. I push my hair away from my eyes, sighing loudly.

"We'll never have to be in the same place after today. It's over, Klaus. Tell Cole, message received." I turn my back on him to head to the arena.

"You may have survived the trial by running from the demons, Oren. And you may save yourself by running back to your village. But you can't run from who you are, traitor."

My warrior marks flash briefly, hearing his words. As if I need a reminder of who I am.

"Cadet Oren." Sergeant Gray's stern voice echoes from behind Klaus.

We both turn to face him, as I answer, "Yes, sir."

"You are to report to the commander's office immediately."

"Yes, sir," I hold my stance until dismissed.

"And Cadet Finton."

"Sir," Klaus says.

"Take Drax to the infirmary and get back to the arena before I have you running so many laps you miss graduation." His voice is a full yell by the end of his command.

"Sir, yes sir." Klaus grinds out through clenched teeth.

"Move, Oren. I'm to deliver you myself. Stop wasting my time."

"Yes, sir."

I follow silently. I'm no stranger to being reprimanded by the commander. But with what happened at my trial, I'm afraid to think too hard about what the commander wants and why I need an escort.

I follow Sergeant Gray's rigid steps into the office. The air is cool from the air conditioning and bitter from years of cigar smoke coating everything. Ten years of weekly visits to this office and it hasn't changed once.

Sparsely furnished with pictures of the commander alongside other officers hang from the dull beige walls. Plaques and awards of the commander's achievements sit on every surface of the metallic file cabinets that outline the room. Reminders of his glory days distract from his current lazy decades.

The commander's never here to receive me. He thinks the wait is part of the punishment. He likes to make me sweat. I never do, but after Klaus and Drax's insight into my trial, I'm glad for this slight break. I need to think through what I'm going to say. What answers can I give when he asks about my trial? What will I say if they saw my powers?

I stand behind the threadbare chair in front of the commander’s dark wooden desk, at ease. Sergeant Gray is against the wall on my right facing me. He's an escort and now a guard. This can't be good. I usually stand here alone, ready to take the blame for whatever Cole and the other cadets have inflicted on me. One time, they left me tied up against the barrier wall, covered in their piss. The Sergeant blamed me for putting the academy in danger by drawing the demons to the wall with my scent. As if I could cover myself, head to toe in my own piss, while tied up. I'll likely be taking the blame for what happened during my trial, too.

I hear several footsteps approaching from the arena. My heart rate kicks up. I need to get my story straight. If they saw me jump, I'll deny it. It's the only thing that's worked in the past when I did something odd or unexplainable. It's easier to believe the goggles had a tech glitch than a cadet jumping over a nine-foot tall Blaze demon.

"How did you do it?" Sergeant Gray's voice is so low and quiet. For a minute, I think I imagined it. I swallow thickly, controlling my expression before turning to face him.

"Sir?"

How did I move so fast, jump so high, take on three demons by myself? What is he asking and, more importantly, what did he see?

"I've watched you for years, cadet. I knew they wouldn't want you to pass. They would do everything they could to push you down. Anything to keep another Oren from graduating, Primus."

The thick muscles in his arms bunch up as if ready to attack. I release my hands, letting them fall slowly forward to my sides. I can't fight back if that's what's coming. He's my superior. I should lower my eyes in submission, get this over with, but I can't look away from the hard tick of his jaw. His whole body is coiled tight.

"The last Oren." He continues, each word now forced out between his teeth as his breathing speeds up. "The family that caused the demon attacks. The family that killed my little sister."

His chest rises and falls rapidly. I school my emotions at the familiar accusation. I've killed sisters, brothers, fathers, mothers, husbands, and wives without lifting a finger at six years old.

"I'm not supposed to let a traitor succeed." He takes a couple of deep breaths. "I'm not supposed to be impressed by an Oren."

His voice rings around the quiet office as the air conditioner cuts off. His eyes are trained on the opposite wall, never once acknowledging me.

"You survived on your own. A true warrior. You deserve more than your family name will ever allow."

The office door slams open, making me jump in surprise. It may be the first time I've been caught off guard since my abilities manifested. In reflex, I spin around to the open doorway in a salute. And just like that, the moment is gone. The only words spoken to me that haven't been an insult, accusation, or command in the last ten years, gone.

"Thank you, Sergeant Gray. You're dismissed." The commander nods to the sergeant's salute before squaring his eyes on me.

The clank of medals and swish of shoulder tassels sound as Sergeant Gray addresses each officer. I want to catalog each one, see who I'm up against, but I have to keep my gaze past their shoulders or above their eyes. Direct eye contact is a sign of challenge or disrespect. And I need to be a model cadet right now. The tape around my bandage feels loose against my now damp, sweaty skin.

"At ease, cadet." The commander's bark has lost its timber, worn from the thick dark cigars he brands like an extension of himself.

"Let's move this to the meeting room, officers." He motions to the door in the back corner of his office before leading the way.

I get my first glance at the officers I'll be answering to as they walk to the door behind the commander's desk. I recognize General Fallow, part of the committee that oversees all the academies across the nation, followed by a younger red-haired general I don't know. General Targe enters last.

Sergeant Gray steps up in my face. I drop my gaze to his. His dark eyes are hard and the deep lines around his mouth stretch tight as his mouth opens and closes a few times, just like before my trial. I'm not sure what to do.

"True strike, Warrior Oren," he finally says, then turns, and takes long strides to exit the office.

"Cadet, you may enter." The commander summons me from the next room.

I stand frozen with my head still turned to the exit. Despite who I am, what he lost because of my family, Sergeant Gary gave me a warrior's respect. This day has been full of surprises I can't process now. I turn and take measured steps into the meeting room, carefully slipping on a blank expression and trying not to panic.