After spending some more time with his father, General Pierce ordered one of the two soldiers to escort James back to the civilian quarters.
Angelo sat back on the bed. Pierce glanced at him and said, "Come with me."
Angelo raised an eyebrow. "Where?"
"I'm moving you to a proper room," Pierce replied. "You busted up this one too much." His eyes swept over the cracks and dents before he muttered under his breath, "The repairs will cost an arm and a leg."
Angelo deadpanned, "More like the whole body."
Pierce shot him a side-eye. "One moment you're crying, the next you're making deadpan jokes. Something's wrong with your mental health, kid."
He turned and started walking out. "Follow me."
Angelo stood and followed. As they walked through the hallway, soldiers and staff avoided his gaze. Fear flickered across every face that dared to look his way.
Angelo noticed. "Why is it that people act oddly around me?"
Pierce didn't slow down. "How do I put this… there's something around you. An aura, maybe. People with weaker minds tend to feel fear from that."
"Doesn't it affect you?" Angelo asked.
Pierce stopped and turned, meeting his eyes. "Kid, do I look weak-minded to you? I admit you could kill me anytime, but that won't stop me from taking a swing at you."
Angelo unconsciously stepped back. His thought slipped out. "You're scary."
Pierce turned away, resuming his stride. "You haven't seen how scary I can truly be."
Angelo blinked, then sighed internally. Note to self: don't mess with this guy.
"Keep moving," Pierce called over his shoulder. "I don't have all day."
Angelo quickened his pace to catch up.
After a while, they reached a secluded section of Fort Blackspire, where only two rooms stood. Pierce stopped in front of the farthest door.
"From now on," he said, "you'll stay here."
Angelo opened the door and stepped inside. The room was plain, cluttered with boxes and old supplies.
"Well," he muttered, "this is a dump."
"Don't worry about it," Pierce said. "It'll be cleaned while you do a demonstration of your abilities at the training ground."
"Demonstration?" Angelo frowned.
Pierce smirked. "Yeah. You're going to show me what you're capable of."
Angelo said nothing. Pierce turned away again. "Hurry up."
Angelo let out a quiet sigh and muttered, "What have I gotten myself into?" before following him toward the training grounds.
Pierce led him to a secured training field outside the base, far from any civilian eyes. Soldiers were scattered across the grounds, training hard—preparing for the battles yet to come.
Pierce walked a few steps forward and barked, "Attention, all soldiers!"
The drills halted instantly. Every soldier straightened, boots snapping together in unison.
"This is Angelo Walker," Pierce said, pointing toward him. His voice carried firm authority. "He'll be demonstrating what he can do shortly."
He lowered his hand. "Form three files on my right—on the double!"
The men moved quickly but cleanly. Within two minutes, three perfect lines stood beside Pierce, their eyes locked forward.
Pierce paced before them, glancing toward the distant shooting targets. His tone deepened. "Some of you might have seen what this kid can do. Some of you have only heard about it."
He turned and stopped beside Angelo. "Now, you're all going to see for yourselves."
Pierce gave him a light push forward. "Show us, kid. Show us what you can do."
Angelo stumbled a step, muttering under his breath, "I feel like a circus act."
Pierce replied dryly, "This is for turning my men into popsicles."
A few soldiers stifled their laughter.
Angelo faced the targets, exhaling slowly. His nerves showed, but he steadied himself. He drew a breath, stomped the ground—
Stone erupted from beneath his feet. Pillars shot forward in rapid succession, carving a jagged path toward the targets. By the time they reached the far end, the columns stood nearly three meters tall—powerful, but wildly off course. The formation veered left, crashing into the dirt a few feet shy of the targets.
Mouths hung open. A few soldiers instinctively stepped back.
Pierce, keeping his composure, nodded slowly. "That was… impressive. Wildly off target—but impressive."
He crossed his arms. "What else?"
Angelo raised his hand and demonstrated again—this time conjuring jagged icicles that cut through the air, followed by bursts of fire that scorched the ground. Then, almost casually, he lifted a few loose tools and rocks with his mind.
"I can also refill water bottles," he added with a faint grin. "Not exactly superhero stuff, but hey, it's practical."
Pierce arched an eyebrow. "How are you doing all this?"
Angelo glanced at his hands. "I don't know. When I woke up after everything… it just felt natural. Like I've always known how."
Pierce stepped forward. "Kid, I don't know what you are or where you came from—but I do know this: with powers like yours, we have a fighting chance. We just need to work on your accuracy." He smirked faintly. "And I've got the perfect person for that."
He turned to one of the nearby soldiers. "Call Lieutenant Marcelle Hale."
Minutes later, Hale arrived. Her movements were crisp, every step deliberate. The moment her eyes landed on Angelo, her expression hardened. A chill ran down her spine—the image of her squad being wiped out by the Watchers flashed through her mind.
Her hand twitched near her holster. "What is this thing doing here?" she snapped.
Angelo felt her bloodlust like a wave. Instinctively, he tried to step back, but Pierce placed a firm hand on his back, holding him steady. Angelo looked up at him—Pierce's face was calm, unmoved.
"Lieutenant Hale," Pierce said evenly, "you'll be training Angelo Walker."
Her jaw tightened. "Forgive my tone, General," she said coldly, "but you want me to train this… monster?"
Angelo flinched, his gaze dropping to the ground.
Pierce's voice cut through the field like a whip. "Lieutenant Hale!"
The sudden command froze the entire training ground. Every soldier turned to watch.
"This young man," Pierce continued, his tone sharp and commanding, "might be the only chance we have at stopping what's coming. Your job is to train him—make him as sharp and precise as you."
Hale clenched her fists, swallowing her anger. After a brief pause, she straightened and saluted. "Sir. Yes, sir! Leave him to me."
"Good." Pierce nodded once. "I want a daily report on his progress." He turned to the rest of the field and barked, "Show's over! Back to training!"
The soldiers quickly returned to their drills, though whispers still rippled through the ranks.
Hale turned back to Angelo, her voice clipped. "We start with the basics."
Angelo blinked, unsure. "Basics?"
She glared at him. "What are you staring at? Drop and give me a hundred pushups—now!"
Angelo didn't argue. He just sighed quietly and obeyed.
Weeks passed.
Under Hale's relentless guidance, Angelo changed. Every day was a new trial—running drills until his legs trembled, hand-to-hand combat that pushed his limits, hours on the firing range trying to steady his aim. He learned to strip and rebuild firearms, memorizing every click, every lock. He trained his mind as much as his body, forcing focus, taming the power inside him.
He learned fast. Too fast.
Every lesson sank deep, as if his body had always known how to fight.
The first time his bullet hit the center of the target, Hale gave him a small nod. "Not bad," she muttered, surprise flickering beneath her tone.
By the end of the month, Angelo was different—disciplined, precise, and sharper in every sense. With each passing day, Hale's cold disdain faded into something like reluctant respect.
One afternoon, after a brutal session, Hale tossed him a water bottle.
"Hey… about before," she said, her voice softer than usual. "I shouldn't have called you a monster."
Angelo caught the bottle, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"It's okay," he said quietly. "People fear what they don't understand."
He looked up at the pale sky, voice almost a whisper.
"When this is over… I just want to go back. To how things were. With my family."
Before Hale could respond, a voice rippled through his mind—cold, distorted, inhuman.
"Are you sure they'll ever accept you?"
Angelo froze, eyes darting around. The soldiers kept training. Hale drank her water, unaware.
"You don't belong here… and deep down, you know it."
A chill crawled up his spine. His hands clenched as the voice pressed harder, not from outside—but from somewhere deeper.
From the void.