We filed into the locker rooms. My body ached in that satisfying way that meant Iād actually pushed myself, but I wasnāt destroyed. Three weeks ago, a sim run like that would have put me in the medical wing.
Now? I felt great.
Jordan appeared beside me at the lockers, his expression serious for once.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself."
"I wasnāt actually mad. About the training thing." He pulled off his tactical suit, revealing the lean frame underneath that never seemed to bulk up despite all of Misatoās circuits. "Just surprised."
"I know."
"Youāre getting scary good, man. Like, actually good. Not just surviving anymore."
I shrugged. "Had to happen eventually. Canāt be dead weight forever."
"Yeah, but..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Just donāt forget you started as one of us, okay? The lottery rejects. Donāt become another Blair."
The comparison stung more than it should have.
"I wonāt."
"Promise?"
I met his eyes. "Yeah, man. I promise."
He nodded, apparently satisfied. "Good. Because if you do, Iāll tell Naomi to dump you and Belle to shoot you. And you know theyād both do it."
"Terrifying threat."
"Isnāt it?" He grinned and headed for the showers.
I followed, letting the hot water work out the kinks in my muscles. The upgrade to C-rank strength had come with unexpected benefitsāfaster recovery times, better muscle endurance, increased stamina across the board.
But Jordan was right. Iād changed. Not just physically.
I moved through the academy now with confidence I didnāt have before. Iād killed an alpha. Cleared multiple gates. Built relationships with three women who actually mattered to me despite the extraction mechanics.
I was becoming dangerous.
The question was whether dangerous meant successful or whether it meant I was setting myself up for a harder fall.
The debrief room was cramped and smelled like stale coffee. Misato stood at the front with her tablet, reviewing footage from our run.
"Overall, solid performance. Belleās detection kept us from walking into ambushes. Jordanās shadow work has improved significantly." She paused the video on a frame showing Jordan holding five wolves simultaneously. "Thatās your record. Donāt let it make you lazy."
"Wouldnāt dream of it," Jordan said flatly.
"Naomi, your blast timing was perfect. You didnāt waste shots and you conserved stamina." Another pause, this time on Naomiās sustained beam cutting through the forest. "But that beam at the end cost you forty percent of your reserves. In a longer engagement, youād be useless after."
Naomi nodded. "Iāll work on efficiency."
"Good." Misatoās eyes found me. "Monroe."
"Yeah?"
"You made three separate calls today without waiting for orders. The rear guard. The dual blast. Staying behind while we extracted with the chest." She played the footage, showing each moment. "All three were correct tactical decisions. All three could have gotten you killed if Jordan hadnāt been covering you."
"So... good job but also reckless?"
"Exactly." She smiled slightly. "Youāre learning to read combat situations. Keep that. But trust your squad more. Weāve got your back."
Something warm spread through my chest. Not the system notifications or the essence boosts. Just genuine appreciation for Misato treating me like an actual asset instead of charity.
Belle leaned back in her chair. "Whatās our rating?"
"A-rank. Again." Misato closed her tablet. "Weāre consistent. That matters. Guilds notice consistency more than flashy one-off performances."
"Speaking of guilds," Belle said carefully. "I found something during my enhanced detection period. Thereās a Platinum-tier mana crystal in the restricted section. Buried behind three layers of wards and probably illegal to harvest. But itās worth maybe a hundred thousand credits on the black market."
Jordan sat up straight. "Thatās... a lot of money."
"Itās also expulsion if we get caught," Naomi pointed out.
"Only if we get caught," Belle countered.
Misato studied Belle with new interest. "How confident are you in the location?"
"Ninety-seven percent. My Silver buff hasnāt worn off yet. I can feel the exact signature, depth, and ward configuration."
"And youāre suggesting we..."
"Iām suggesting itās information worth having." Belleās smile was sharp. "What we do with that information is a separate discussion."
The room went quiet. We all knew what Belle was really proposing. A heist. An actual criminal operation that could fund our entire semester or get us expelled.
"We table it," Misato decided. "For now. But Monroe, keep giving Belle those buffs. Having Silver-tier detection on demand is strategically valuable."
Belleās eyes flicked to me briefly. "Oh, I plan to."
The subtext was so thick Jordan actually choked on his water.
Naomiās expression went carefully neutral. "Whenās our next gate?"
"Wednesday. Same time. Another Tier II, but this oneās scanned as swampland with amphibious hostiles." Misato pulled up the briefing documents. "Frogs. Big ones. With paralytic venom."
"I hate frogs," Jordan announced.
"You hate everything."
"True. But I especially hate frogs."
Belle stood and stretched, the movement drawing every male eye in the room despite the tactical suit covering everything. "I need food. Whoās coming?"
"Me," Naomi said immediately.
"Obviously you," Belle replied. "I meant the boys."
Jordan was already halfway to the door. "Food sounds incredible right now."
I grabbed my bag. "Yeah, Iām in."
Misato checked her phone, her expression shifting into something complicated. "I need to handle something. Iāll catch up."
Blair, obviously. The tension between those two had been building since our rankings posted. Misato spent half her time defending her decision to stay with our squad, and the other half avoiding Blairās increasingly angry texts.
We left Misato in the debrief room and headed across campus toward the dining hall. The afternoon sun painted everything gold, and the ocean breeze carried salt and possibility.
Belle walked between Naomi and me, her blue hair catching the light. "So. Aurora."
Iād been waiting for this.
"What about her?"
"You spent the entire weekend with her. Bought expensive chocolate cake. Let her dress you in designer clothes." Belleās tone was conversational, but her eyes were sharp. "Thatās very boyfriend behavior."
"Weāre... something."
"Something." Belle repeated.
"How romantic."