Far from the gray alleyways and the smell of death, a completely different scene unfolded beneath the midday sun.
Training Sector C of the Central Spirit Academy basked in brilliant light.
Inside this fortified arena, surrounded by metallic stands, the atmosphere was electric.
It vibrated with the energy of a privileged youth that still believed itself invincible behind the institution’s walls.
On the main training ground, the air suddenly distorted.
A violent detonation rang out, raising a thick cloud of pale dust and making the ground tremble beneath the feet of the fifty or so students present.
“Harder!” shouted a voice from the center of the freshly formed crater.
Kaïs Trabelsi landed heavily on his feet, a confident smile plastered across his sweat-soaked face.
He radiated passion, raw ambition, and the determination of someone who wanted to leave his mark on this new world.
His Spirit was a true ticking time bomb.
It did not generate fire, but instead compressed the surrounding air to an extreme degree before releasing devastating shockwaves.
It was an impulsive and fearsome power.
The drawback was that physics always demanded its due: every use subjected his own organs to potentially fatal internal pressure.
Kaïs brought his hands together, ready to trigger another explosion.
But suddenly, his vision blurred.
Oxygen seemed to abandon his lungs.
He staggered, his knees nearly giving way beneath a lightning-like pain in his sternum.
Before he could hit the ground, a firm hand rested on his back.
Leila Amrani.
She was his exact opposite.
Calm, thoughtful, and firmly grounded in reality.
A gentle aura of pale, almost translucent green flowed from her palms and immediately enveloped Kaïs’s torso.
As the bearer of a Healing Spirit, her gift went far beyond simple surface-level recovery: she manipulated biology itself.
In a fraction of a second, she stabilized her partner’s blood pressure, slowed his frantic heartbeat, and repaired the microscopic tears in his blood vessels.
“If you keep compressing air that close to your center of gravity, you’re going to blow out your lungs before you even earn your diploma,” Leila said in a neutral tone, never stopping the flow of her restorative energy.
“Don’t worry about that, Leila!” Kaïs laughed as color returned to his face.
Straightening proudly, he brushed the dust from his shoulder.
“I’ve got to hit hard if we want to get noticed by the Investigation Commissions.
That’s where everything happens.” Leila sighed and withdrew her hands, allowing her aura to fade.
She looked at him with a hint of sternness, though genuine concern shone deep within her dark eyes.
Unlike Kaïs and the majority of the students in this enormous institution, she did not idolize combat or the uniform.
Around them, activity was in full swing.
Groups compared the power of their attacks, challenged one another, or discussed the latest rumors with complete carelessness.
It was a perfect bubble.
Until the heavy armored doors of Sector C opened with a grim mechanical groan.
The nearest laughter died instantly.
Within seconds, silence spread through the training complex like a virus.
Kaïs frowned, wiped the soot from his forehead, and turned toward the entrance.
Leila followed his gaze.
Two apprentices had appeared.
Kaïs narrowed his eyes.
He did not know them personally, the Academy had too many divisions for that, but he remembered seeing the first one in the hallways.
Tariq El-Hashem.
A student from another year, known for his loud mouth and usually overflowing with insolent confidence.
But the young man walking forward today bore no resemblance to that image.
Tariq walked with his head lowered, dragging his feet as if carrying an anvil on his shoulders.
His apprentice uniform, normally an impeccable midnight blue, was torn, sticky, and coated in a grayish crust.
Beside him, his partner, Issa Kaneshiro, looked like a walking corpse.
His empty gaze remained fixed on the ground, and he trembled slightly with every step.
A streak of dark blood still marked his upper lip, and his glasses were cracked.
The nearest students instinctively stepped back.
Kaïs and Leila moved toward the edge of the training ground, drawn in by the scene.
What chilled Leila’s blood was not the state of their uniforms.
It was the smell that struck the entire assembly when a gust of wind swept across the courtyard.
A suffocating mixture of scorched concrete, ozone, and rotting flesh.
The raw scent of Suppurations.
The smell of death.
Suddenly, within the heavy silence, a mocking voice rose from the stands.
A third-year student leaning against the railing pinched his nose with a disgusted grimace.
“What the hell is that stench?” he said loudly enough for the entire Sector C to hear.
“Did you guys mistake your internship site for a sewer or something?” A few nervous chuckles followed the remark.
Tariq stopped dead in his tracks.
His shoulders stiffened.
His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked ominously.
At his feet, his shadow suddenly stirred, stretching across the concrete like a beast preparing to bite, revealing the terrifying instability of his emotions.
Faced with that remark, faced with that crowd of clean, well-groomed students training comfortably within the safety of the Academy, Tariq’s mental dam finally broke.
The image of the civilian crushed by the Suppuration only hours earlier slammed into his mind.
With a violent motion, he tore the gauntlets from his uniform and hurled them to the ground.
CLANG!
The sound of metal striking concrete made several students jump, including Kaïs.
Tariq slowly raised his head.
His eyes were bloodshot and ringed with deep dark circles.
His gaze swept over the mocking student before lingering on the crowd, briefly meeting Kaïs’s uncertain eyes.
Then he spoke.
His voice was not loud, but it carried such profound hatred and fracture that everyone froze where they stood.
“The theory…” Tariq began, breathing heavily, his jaw clenched.
“The theory they keep feeding you here, your little training sessions to see who hits the hardest…” “…is completely worthless.” The silence grew heavier, almost suffocating.
The student in the stands had lost his smile.
Issa, his hands still trembling at his sides, slowly raised his head and stared at the smoking crater Kaïs had dug for fun.
He let out a nervous laugh.
Then, in a cold and monotone voice that sent a shiver down Leila’s spine, Issa added: “Your pathetic little training sessions are worthless against Suppurations.”