The Path That Stays Closed
At exactly 05:00, Ryu's wristband lit up without a sound. A thin line of blue light extended from the metal surface and formed an arrow pointing toward the barrack door. On the bunk beside him, Aki was still asleep, one arm hanging over the edge, his face slack with the heavy exhaustion of a first day that had already gone too far for kids their age. Ryu watched him for a brief second, then swung his legs down to the floor.
He slipped into his standard shoes, took the matte black card from his locker, and moved toward the door. He did not bother with a last look at the room. Outside, the barrack corridor was empty, washed in a smooth, hospital-clean white that slid along the polished floor. The air felt filtered and thin, as if anything unnecessary had already been removed.
The moment the door closed behind him, his wristband vibrated once.
[INSTRUCTION: FOLLOW THE DIRECTION OF THE LIGHT. DO NOT SPEAK TO ANYONE.]
The blue line on his wristband shifted, bending forward like a living wire. Ryu lowered his gaze, accepted the rule without question, and started to walk.
Every time he reached a junction, the light turned on its own and marked the correct turn. There was no system voice echoing in the hallway, no public announcements, no patrolling drones humming overhead. The farther he went, the dimmer the wall lights became, until only a few remained to mark that this part of Vasena was still in use. The silence here was heavier, like a place that existed but was not meant to be remembered.
After some minutes, the corridor narrowed into a bare metal passage with no windows at all. Small floor lights rose and faded in sequence in front of his feet, as if the corridor woke up only to guide him and would go back to sleep once he passed. On the right, a large black door finally appeared, seamless with the wall, without a visible panel or handle. It looked less like a door and more like the idea of one.
Ryu's wristband clicked softly. That was the only signal before the hidden door slid open to the side. Beyond it, the room was pitch dark until thin strips of light flickered on in the ceiling. A compact platform rose from the floor.
[STEP ON.]
Ryu stepped onto the lift, braced his balance by instinct, and felt it begin to descend.
The lift moved without any mechanical sound, just a faint pressure in his ears as they went deeper underground. The air grew colder and carried a dry hint of ozone and metal dust. When the floor stopped, the doors parted and opened into a chamber that did not appear on any standard facility map.
SUBLEVEL 9 – CLOSED INSTRUCTION ZONE
The ceiling was high and flat like the roof of a hardened bunker. One wall was completely filled by a dark holographic display that had not yet fully initialized. At the center of the room stood a broad-shouldered man with short silver hair, a heavy build, and eyes that had seen too many kinds of violence. Ryu did not need an introduction to know who he was.
Darian Fox, the physical and war strategy god of Vasena, watched Ryu like he was measuring bone density. "Alverion," he said, voice flat and unhurried. "You are three seconds late." Ryu blinked once, checked the hour in his head, and answered, "I arrived at exactly 05:00."
"You were supposed to arrive at 04:57," Darian replied, as if giving a simple fact about distance or weight. "Closed-path trainees never show up on time. They show up early." Ryu did not defend himself, and for a moment the two simply looked at one another. Then Darian gave a slight nod, almost invisible, as if that silence was the first answer he had wanted to see. "Good. You understand context quickly. That is your starting capital."
Without warning, his hand moved. Something small and black cut through the air toward Ryu's face. The throw was fast enough that a normal child would only see a blur. Ryu's arm reacted before he had time to think about it, hand lifting and closing around the object with a clean snap. Darian's mouth shifted in the faintest suggestion of a smile.
"Reflexes are good," he said. "That was the test for children. Now we add work meant for something else." He tapped a command on his own wrist, and the dark displays around them came alive. Dozens of screens filled with images of Serpent and Gryphon trainees appeared, all of them running, climbing, lifting, or struggling under visible loads.
Darian pointed toward the screens without taking his eyes off Ryu. "That is what they are doing." Then he lowered his hand and tapped his heel against the floor. "But for you…" The chamber vibrated once as the front wall broke into moving panels and pulled apart.
Behind it lay a large training arena divided into zones. There were heavy resistance rigs, narrow balance platforms, high gravity running lanes, tactical firing simulators, and a sunken ring that looked like a cage without bars. One after another, the modules powered on, status lights flickering from red to green, as if the room was waking from a long sleep.
"You will train without explicit instructions," Darian said. "You will figure out the purpose of every device on your own. If you are wrong, your body will correct you." Ryu's gaze moved slowly across the space, counting exits, heights, and distances without thinking about it. "Where do I start?" he asked.
"With the most basic function," Darian answered. He pointed to a red circle painted on the floor. "Stand there." Ryu walked to the mark, stepped into the circle, and felt nothing for half a second. Then the floor hummed and the weight in his body doubled.
His knees bent under the sudden pressure. His spine compressed, his arms felt heavier. For a moment, his body wanted to drop. Darian studied every micro-adjustment, watching how long Ryu took to stabilize. "Most kids your age fall in one second," he said. "You lasted two. Interesting."
The field intensified again. Ryu's legs buckled and one knee touched the floor, his muscles burning to hold his upper body up. It felt like someone had stacked another version of himself on his shoulders. "This is only the beginning," Darian said. "Now stand."
Ryu shifted his center of gravity, pushed carefully from his hips, and began to rise. He stacked force through his core and spine, refusing to rush and waste strength. Three long seconds later he was upright again. Darian's brow moved a fraction. "Now I see why the Director wants you," he murmured.
Ryu's response was simple. "So, we begin now?" Darian's expression did not change, but his answer was clear. "We already did." The gravity test continued for fifteen minutes. There were no short breaks, no pauses for breathing, no kind of comfort.
When the field finally shut off, Ryu felt almost light in comparison. Darian walked past him toward the next module, a long metal bar suspended in midair, moving in unpredictable arcs. "Catch it five times," he said. Ryu stepped forward and jumped, reaching for the bar.
It snapped away like a mechanical snake. His hand closed on air and a sharp electric shock bit into his arm where the bar had brushed him. The current was intense, enough to knock less prepared trainees flat. Ryu flexed his fingers once, brows barely tightening, and watched again. The bar moved in what seemed like chaos, but under it was a rhythm.
He tracked the pauses between direction changes, the repeat of one particular angle. Five seconds later, his hand closed around it. The second and third catches came faster. By the fifth, his forearms were buzzing from the shocks, but his grip did not fail. Darian watched, arms folded.
"Most Gryphon elites use three weeks to clear that module," he said. Ryu did not comment. Sweat gathered along his jaw and slid down, but his breathing remained under control. Darian lowered his arms. "Now we move to the part that matters."
He tapped a large red switch on the wall. A segment of the far side opened and five humanoid training units stepped out. Their bodies were just under one meter eighty, frames built from light alloy, faces reduced to blank plates with narrow glowing strips for sensors. They lined up, then spread out, surrounding the space.
"The instruction is simple," Darian said. "Survive." The first robot launched forward at once, without any countdown. Its fist tore through the air in a straight shot toward Ryu's head. Ryu dropped under it. The blow slammed into the wall behind him and shattered a section of reinforced panel.
The second robot advanced from his blind side. Ryu pivoted, caught its arm at the elbow, and used its own weight to drag it off balance, driving a kick into the joint of its knee. The servos shook and the machine faltered. The third unit crashed into him from the right, fist connecting with his ribs and sending him hard to the floor.
Pain ran through his side, but his face did not twist. He got up before the robots could coordinate a follow up. On the ground near him, a shard of broken panel glinted. He snatched it, waited a fraction of a second, then jammed the jagged edge into the exposed sensor gap of the third unit. Its lights went out instantly.
Darian let out a short, appreciative exhale. "Now I understand why NV is interested." Robots four and five came at him together. Ryu moved faster this time. He vaulted off the shoulder of one unit, used that height to slam both heels into the center of the other's faceplate, then rolled as it toppled. As the fourth unit turned to recover, Ryu stepped in close, drove a fist up into the underside of its jaw, and hit the compact power node built there.
The robot shut down like someone had pulled its spine. Ryu dropped to one knee again, his breath now rough in his chest. Darian pressed a control and the last unit powered down. "Session one is over," he said.
Ryu rose in small increments, testing his balance. "What is my score?" he asked. Darian did not hesitate. "Higher than the brightest Gryphon talent we have seen in the last five years." The compliment did not soften his tone.
Ryu flexed his bruised knuckles and felt the dull heat in his muscles. "But still not enough," Darian added. Ryu accepted that without argument. "What comes next?" he asked.
Darian stepped closer so that his shadow crossed Ryu's feet. "Next, you will be trained by someone who normally works only with black-grade mercenary units." He pointed toward a side door that had been invisible in the wall a moment ago. "Someone who does not enjoy wasting time."
The door slid open. A man stood in the frame, pulling on reinforced combat gloves that looked more like weapons than protection. His eyes were hard and direct, and his body carried the compact density of years spent in real fights.
Magnus Vale, the close-quarters god of Vasena, stepped into the light. "This is an interesting way to start the day," he said, fastening the last strap. Ryu straightened his back and turned fully toward him.
Part B - Blood Learning How to Fight
Magnus did not speak at first. He circled Ryu once, slow and deliberate, like a predator checking the structure of bone and muscle before deciding where to bite. His gaze tracked from shoulders to stance to the way Ryu's weight rested over his feet.
"Darian says you lasted against five robots," Magnus said at last. Ryu answered with a simple "Yes." Magnus flexed his fingers inside the gloves. "Robots do not improvise. Humans do." He lifted his hands into a loose guard. "Let us see if your brain can follow attacks that do not fit a pattern map."
He moved in without warning.
The first punch arrived almost before Ryu saw the shoulder shift. He tried to block but his arm rose a fraction late. The impact landed clean on his upper arm and drove him back two full steps. Pain shot through the limb, a solid, heavy ache, nothing flashy.
Magnus did not pause. The second strike came fast and fluid. Ryu slipped his head aside and felt the wind of the fist pass his cheek. "Not bad," Magnus said, almost to himself. The third strike started low, with a subtle drop in his center of gravity. Ryu focused on Magnus's hips, predicted the angle, and moved left before the punch finished its path.
Magnus's expression shifted into something close to interest. "You read bodies quickly," he said. He shot a low kick at Ryu's leg. Ryu jumped, but Magnus was already turning again, whipping his elbow upward. Ryu brought his forearm up to block.
The contact was like taking a hammer to bone. His arm went numb to the fingertips. Magnus saw the reaction but did not chase it. He halted his assault, studying the way Ryu stayed on his feet. "You do not back off," he observed.
He tapped his own chin once, as if confirming an internal file. "Solid base," he decided. "Now we raise the level." He touched a sensor on his wrist.
The training room's lights shifted from white to red, bathing everything in a faint, clinical shade of danger. A small label appeared on a side screen.
CLOSE COMBAT MODE: INTENSIVE
"This mode is used for special units, not students," Magnus said. "But the Director asked for a full test." He lowered his stance, weight loaded forward. "Ready?"
Ryu drew a long, steady breath. "Yes." Magnus nodded once. "Good. Survive three minutes."
He was simply gone.
The punch hit from the left while Ryu was still tracking his last position. A kick swung in from behind a heartbeat later. Ryu twisted, avoided half of the impact and took the rest head on. Each strike carried intention: break his sense of direction, disrupt his rhythm, and shake apart any idea of a safe pace.
Ryu caught a rising knee on both forearms and pushed it off line, then snapped an elbow at Magnus's lower ribs. Magnus redirected it with one arm and shoved him down. Ryu slammed into the floor, feeling the impact through his spine.
A timer on the wall read: 2:11 remaining.
He pushed himself upright again. His left shoulder was dead weight. A sharp pull gripped his lower back. Even so, his eyes did not blur.
Magnus advanced with a three-hit combination. Ryu watched his hips and shoulders like data points, reading the sequence before the fists arrived. He stepped right, letting the first strike cut past his chest. The second blow where he expected it. The third he met with a raised forearm and a small step in, forcing Magnus to adjust.
Ryu countered with a shot toward a nerve point under the left rib cage, a point that could disrupt breath and control. Magnus caught most of it on his guard but still felt the quality of the attempt. He eased back half a pace, eyes a little sharper.
"You studied anatomical combat," Magnus said. Ryu's chest rose and fell quickly. "A little," he answered. Magnus smiled in a thin, approving line. "Good. Then we can stay in the same language."
The next exchange was sharper.
Magnus began varying his rhythm deliberately, holding strikes, cutting them short, adding false beats between moves. Ryu was forced to adapt every second, sometimes barely evading, sometimes absorbing hits and redirecting the angle with what strength he had left. It stopped feeling like a demonstration and more like a compressed war lesson.
Near the last instant, Magnus drove a full-force kick toward Ryu's chest. Ryu knew he could not dodge cleanly. He rolled his shoulder into the line of attack, letting it crash into bone instead of the center of his body. The impact sent him skidding across the floor.
The timer beeped.
Three minutes had passed.
Magnus lowered his guard and walked toward him. Ryu was still upright, even if his stance had a tremor running through it. "A normal child would be unconscious," Magnus said calmly. "A gifted one would be on the ground, refusing to stand. A Gryphon-level trainee would crawl and surrender."
He stepped close enough for his shadow to fall over Ryu's chest. "You are still on your feet." He put a heavy hand on Ryu's shoulder, the weight firm but not cruel. "Congratulations. I accept you as my student, even though you never asked."
Ryu steadied his breathing enough to form words. "Thank you." Magnus studied his eyes for a long second, as if checking that they had not gone empty. "Understand this," he said. "Your body can be molded. But how you choose to carry pain, how you stay standing when it is simpler to fall, that part cannot be manufactured."
He squeezed Ryu's shoulder once and let go. "Next session, we will not use any limits." Ryu's gaze locked on him. "Limits?" Magnus pointed down at the training floor. "Today I held back. Next time, I will not."
With that, he ended the training and left the room.
The silence that followed felt almost physical. Ryu remained standing for a few heartbeats, then walked to the corner where a small refrigeration unit sat embedded in the wall. He took out a cold pack, pressed it against the deepening bruise on his shoulder, and exhaled once through his nose.
His wristband vibrated.
NV> YOUR TRAINING HAS INCREASED NEURAL OUTPUT BY 14.2%
Ryu closed his eyes and let the message sit in the dark. "You are monitoring," he thought, not moving his lips. The reply formed in his mind not as a sound but as a clear concept.
NV> MY TASK IS TO OPEN DOORS.
YOU ARE THE ONE WHO DECIDES WHETHER TO ENTER.
"If I refuse to become their tool?" he asked inwardly. There was no delay.
NV> THEN YOU MUST BECOME FAR STRONGER.
STRONG ENOUGH THAT NO ONE DARES TO CLAIM YOU.
Ryu opened his eyes again. The training equipment stood where it had been left, ready to be used on someone else or never used again. Things were starting to align in his mind in a way he could no longer ignore.
This regime, the robots, Darian's tests, Magnus's strikes that did not hold back, all of it had a throughline. It was not designed to see if he would survive. It was designed to see what he could become if nothing about him was kept within normal limits.
He drew one slow breath and let it sink deep in his chest. Tomorrow, a third instructor would appear. After that, a fourth and a fifth, until all seven of Vasena's so called gods had had their turn. Behind them, beyond them, there would still be someone else pulling lines he was not meant to see.
And Ryu, for reasons no one had fully explained, stood in the center of that diagram.
He walked toward the exit. When he approached, the door opened on its own.
Someone stood just outside, holding a tray with medical supplies organized in perfect rows. Lyra Veridine stepped into the light, her eyes going straight to the bruises on his arm and shoulder. "You are hurt," she said quietly.
"Training," Ryu answered in the same tone.
Lyra came closer and gently moved the cold pack aside to examine the damage. Her face did not wince, but her eyes narrowed with the accuracy of someone trained to read injuries. Ryu stayed still, watching her work.
After a moment, Lyra leaned in slightly and lowered her voice so that only he could hear. "Ryu," she whispered, "whatever they do to you inside this place, I will stay on your side." The door slid shut behind her, sealing the two of them in the quiet training chamber.
Far above, in an observation room hidden behind dark glass, a screen showed the moment Lyra stepped in and reached for Ryu's arm. Someone watched the feed, a faint curve cutting across his face. It was not the kind of smile that meant comfort or safety.