Obei stepped into the center of the room, the faint echo of his footsteps swallowed quickly by the padded floors. The instructor crossed his arms, stance firm. The woman with the tablet readied her device, eyes sharp with scientific hunger.
"Whenever you're ready," she said.
He inhaled slowly and then willed for its activation
No prompt presented its this time instead vapor instantly began to emit out of him.
A thin, pale mist unfurled from his body, swirling in slow spirals before blooming outward. Within seconds, it had thickened, rolling across the room in ghostly sheets. The temperature dropped a few degrees. The air took on a damp heaviness. The lights overhead dimmed as if struggling to pierce the growing haze.
The fog expanded smoothly—ten meters, twenty, thirty—until it filled the chamber with a dense, semi-solid presence. The edges shifted with a liquid grace, every ripple responding to Obei's intent.
Then a flicker of movement brushed past the woman's ankle it was cold enough to make her flinch, hallucinations began, shadows twisted at the edges of her vision, the faint sound of footsteps echoed where no one walked.
The instructor was experiencing the same thing, he blinked hard his jaw tightening.
"What…?" he muttered.
The fog thickened behind him. A silhouette appeared his very own silhouette, turning its head with just a beat too much lag, as though something wearing his shape was trying to keep up.
The instructor stumbled back a step before he caught himself.
"Interesting," the woman breathed, already typing furiously on her tablet.
Obei deepened his focus. The fog responded with the increased focus.
A whisper brushed the instructor's ear—his own voice, distorted and stretched.
"Behind you."
He spun, fists clenched, only to see the fog parting around a shape rising from the floor. A figure, human-like but faceless, drifted toward him with a wavering gait. When he raised an arm defensively, the figure dissolved instantly—like smoke blown apart by a gust.
The woman fared surprisingly better something brushed her shoulder it was light, almost fingerlike.then a faint laugh echoed from behind her, then from above, then from nowhere.
"This is… sensory warping across multiple channels," she muttered, breath trembling. "Visual, auditory, minor tactile. Illusions responding to proximity and individual attention. Adaptive. Dynamic."
A shadow peeled itself from the fog behind her.
She gasped, stumbling forward and nearly dropping her tablet.
The entity flickered, twisted—and reshaped into a towering silhouette with branching antlers, its body stretching unnaturally as though someone were pulling reality like taffy. Her heart spiked.
"Enou.." Before the instructor could command him to stop the fog receded, obei stood in the middle of the testing area arms holding his knees. His breath coming in ragged gasps. The ability had obviously cost a substantial amount of stamina.
The woman steadied herself, pushing her glasses up her nose with a hand that still trembled slightly.
"That... was extraordinary." she exhaled
The instructor exhaled slowly, the last threads of fog curling away from his boots. He gathered himself, then stepped forward with a measured, almost grudging nod.
"You've got something dangerous," he said, voice low but steady. "Very dangerous."
Obei straightened, still breathing hard.
The instructor gestured at the lingering haze. "That fog of yours on its own, is disorienting, It messes with every sense we rely on. But if you learn to use it tactically?" He clicked his tongue. "It becomes lethal."
The instructor continued, pacing slowly around him. "You can make a man flinch at a threat that isn't there. Make him block the wrong angle. Make him hear footsteps behind him while you strike from the side." His gaze sharpened. "You can force an opponent to divide their attention—then punish the hesitation."
He stopped directly in front of Obei.
"Used right, your fog becomes a feint factory. Every illusion? A false move. Every shadow? A trap. You don't need raw strength when you can make someone believe the killing blow is coming from the wrong direction."
Obei swallowed, the implications settling in his mind.
The instructor's voice lowered, a hint of satisfaction threading through. "With training, you could fight opponents who never actually see you. Enemies swinging at ghosts while you attack from a blind spot they never expected you to be."
He gave a single, approving nod.
"Master that, and your fog may be more dangerous then that of a higher tiers." he said.
The instructor's approval lingered only a moment before he straightened, all business again.
"That's enough for today," he said. "You're drained, and if you push further, you'll pass out on my floor. Report back to the receptionist. She'll issue your equipment and assign your next steps."
Obei nodded.
"Good work," the instructor added quietly. "Now go."
Obei stepped out of the training chamber, leaving the faint chill of his ability behind. The corridor greeted him with its sterile brightness, the same glass-paneled walls and soft overhead lights guiding him forward. He retraced his steps through the silence, past the doors marked with tier symbols, past the faint hum of distant machinery.
By the time he reached the main lobby, the receptionist was already waiting, her posture straight, her screen glowing with his profile.
"Mr Draven," she said, a professional smile plastered across her face. "Your assessment is complete."
She slid open a thin drawer beneath the counter and placed three items on the desk.
First was a sleek silver keycard, marked with the Initiative insignia—white lines swirling into a trifold spiral. "Your clearance key," she said. "This grants access to your dormitory, training halls, and designated operational sectors."
Next, she lifted a matte-black bracelet, smooth and segmented, like a cross between wearable tech and medical equipment. "This works as your communicator. Messaging, calls, logs, mission updates. Think of it as your phone, just one you can't drop, crack, or lose without us knowing."
Finally, she set down a thin, dark-metal necklace on a chain barely thicker than a thread. Its pendant was a small, geometric plate etched with micro-runes that glimmered faintly.
Pointing at the necklace. "This," she said with more weight, "is a Tracker-Barrier Unit. Developed by Professor Gerald." Her eyes flicked up to him. "If you're attacked either physically or by Narrative ability—it can generate a single-use defensive field strong enough to block a Tier Two strike."
Obei's hand hovered over it.
"It will keep you alive," she added softly. "And yes, it tracks your position… but only for emergency response."
He gathered the items carefully, the cool metal of the pendant sending a pulse of reassurance through his mind.
"Welcome to the Initiative," the receptionist said, her voice steady. "Your new life starts now."