Both offensive cadets closed the last of the distance with their attention fully forward, the spheres right there, almost in reach, caution thinning with every step the way it does when something looks too good to question.
One of them reached out first.
Fingers touched the surface.
The other followed a half second later, securing the second sphere with both hands.
A beat of nothing.
Then Lucas's voice slipped out from the undergrowth, quiet and certain.
"It's about manipulation."
The moment the spheres settled fully into their grasp, both cadets felt it.
Wrong weight. Wrong texture. Wrong everything.
"...Wait," one of them muttered, looking down, brows pulling together. "This feels—"
His expression snapped.
"These are FAKE—"
He didn't finish.
