Two weeks have passed.
Two weeks of waking up sore, dragging ourselves to the Colosseum, and letting Évra break us down in ways that don't feel human.
The routine is carved into our bones now: pain in the morning, pain in the afternoon, and pain before sleeping.
We don't question it anymore.
We don't move out of motivation.
Just… acceptance.
A quiet surrender to the inevitable.
And as always, she's there.
Standing in the center of the arena.
Towering.
Unshakable.
A force of nature carved into the shape of a woman.
But today…
Her smile isn't the same.
There's something behind it—
something bright, almost mischievous.
Something that smells like trouble.
We're still half-asleep, half-broken from yesterday, but with Évra, the first punch is always enough to wake anyone up.
Except today, she doesn't strike.
She just looks at us, eyes gleaming, and says:
"Today, we're going on a little trip. Follow me. We're heading out."
No explanation.
No context.
But honestly?
Who would be stupid enough to ask?
If she's not planning to kill us in the arena, I'll take it.
We follow her silently.
And then—we're somewhere else.
A vehicle waits for us.
Not a car.
Not even a military transport.
A monster.
A luxury 4x4 with absurd comfort: leather seats, a six-person cabin, integrated screens, glowing interfaces, enough leg room to host a banquet.
The air inside is warm.
Inviting.
Almost sinful.
Aris takes the passenger seat beside Évra.
Fortuna and I each take a side, letting ourselves sink into the cushions like royalty who forgot they were prisoners.
I rest my head against the window.
Watch the world roll by.
We're leaving the HQ.
It shrinks behind us—
a colossal beast of steel and glass, its main entrance wide enough to swallow convoys whole.
But as we drive away, I notice side roads branching out like arteries—
discreet, functional, almost secret.
The HQ is geometric madness:
rectangles layered on triangles layered on twisted shapes that shouldn't fit together…
yet somehow do.
Then the city takes over.
Buildings, trees, storefronts.
Crosswalks.
Traffic lights.
People beginning their day.
Everything is orderly.
Predictable.
Alive.
It feels like I haven't seen this world for years.
Breathing clean air, air that isn't soaked with sweat or fear, feels unreal.
Fourteen days of this training feel longer than fourteen days of normal life.
Time stretches when you suffer.
It twists, crawls, mocks you.
…But for me, that's normal.
I never had anything to cling to anyway.
Yet today, something feels different.
A pressure I can't name.
We leave the city.
Take the highway.
The road straightens, smooth and endless.
And then—
Something clicks inside me.
Fourteen days.
The red point.
The frontier.
My eyes widen.
No.
No, no, no—don't tell me we're going there.
Not for that.
I look at Évra.
She drives with a smile too bright, too joyful, too wrong.
Finally, I break the silence.
Because silence around her is often worse than the truth.
"We're going to recruit a new anomaly, aren't we?"
She glances at me.
Grins.
A terrifying, delighted grin.
"AHAHAHAHA! I thought you'd never ask."
She laughs like she just announced a picnic.
"Yes. Today is recruitment day. A new anomaly should appear out there. I plan to recruit them… if they're worth my time."
Great.
I rub my eyes.
Not from sleepiness.
From spiritual exhaustion.
Everything here wears me down.
All I wanted was a normal training day.
No drama.
No disasters.
But with Évra?
Nothing is ever normal.
Nothing is ever safe.
I already know the script.
She'll throw us forward like hunting dogs.
Call it "experience."
Call it "education."
Call it "for our own good."
Right.
Just thinking about it makes me yawn.
Still… I can't deny it.
These past days changed me.
I feel it in my bones, in my breath, in my gaze.
I don't see how a newly awakened Word-bearer could overwhelm me.
Unless they lose control.
Unless they explode like I once did.
Like the day I almost tore the world apart.
That's why I didn't want to be here.
Because I know what it feels like.
How it can end.
And this…
This feels wrong.
But if I'm doomed, I might as well rest.
My eyelids close—
then Évra's voice detonates:
"Get ready. One minute before we step out."
I open my eyes with the grace of a corpse being resurrected.
We arrive at a checkpoint.
A barrier.
Two armed guards.
A watchtower that looks abandoned.
Nothing special—
a mundane urban border.
Yet everything here feels tight, like a wire stretched to snapping.
Évra parks, steps out, and walks straight to a guard with the calm authority of a predator approaching prey.
"You. Come here."
The guard obeys instantly, stiff as stone.
He looks like he's seen death speaking directly to him.
She waves for us.
"Everyone out."
Then tosses her keys to the guard.
"Take care of my baby."
She says that like she's in a hotel.
Like the guard is her personal valet.
The guard salutes.
"Your vehicle is in good hands, ma'am. Good luck out there."
Ma'am?
Really?
I'd have gone with "Pack Leader," "Walking Disaster," or "Bipedal Cataclysm," but fine.
We cross the barrier.
And I stop.
Dead still.
Because now I see them.
Walls.
Five, six meters tall.
Thick.
Heavy.
Unpassable.
Cold concrete giants surrounding the capital.
They loom above us like judgment itself.
And for the first time, seeing them from this close…
I feel something twist inside me.
These walls are meant to protect us.
But all I can think is:
They look like a cage.
A cage meant to keep something out…
or to keep something in.
And a horrifying thought slips through me like a whisper:
What if I'm one of the things they're trying to keep outside?