The school bell screamed the end of the day, followed by the chaotic shuffle of feet and buzzing voices. Students flooded out the front entrance of Halcroft High, hungry for freedom, food, and a few minutes away from structured learning.
Cal Everene walked alongside Nate, shoulders slumped under the weight of his backpack and thoughts. He was still half-distracted by a History quiz that went sideways and Becky Hangston's unintentional sway in front of him during lunch—blessing and curse all at once.
"Yo," Nate said, squinting toward the lot. "Is that… a black-on-black Sorvex SUV? That's gotta be the 610L. Limited edition."
Cal's eyes followed. And choked on air.
Selene Virelle was leaning against the hood of the sleek, angular SUV, arms crossed, lips slightly parted in what could only be described as criminal elegance. Her silver-blonde hair caught the sun like threads of molten platinum, and she was dressed in a dark, body-hugging outfit that made half the student population freeze mid-step.
Boys stared. Girls whispered. Some teachers pretended not to notice.
"Oh. My. God," Nate breathed. "Who is that?"
Cal felt heat rush to his face. "That's… Selene."
"Selene?" Nate nearly tripped. "You mean Selene Selene? That's the woman you said waltz into your room that night? Bro! You didn't tell me she looked like that!"
"I—how the hell was I supposed to describe her?!"
Cal dragged his feet across the pavement toward her, resisting every urge to disappear into the ground.
Selene raised a brow, her eyes playful. "You made me wait. I was starting think I'd make come find you myself"
"Classes literally just ended," Cal muttered. "What're you doing here?"
She straightened and flashed a dazzling smile. "Field trip. Get in."
"Field trip?"
She opened the passenger door with a casual flick. "You'll like this one."
Before Cal could protest, she turned her gaze toward Nate. "Cal, wouldn't you introduce me?"
Nate cleared his throat trying to stand taller. "Nate. I'm his best friend"
Her lips curled into a sly smile. "Cute. I like the loyal ones."
Cal nearly choked. "Selene..."
She ignored him, still watching Nate with a glint in her eyes. "Keep him out of trouble, would you? Or at least warn me before he does something stupid."
Nate smirked. "Ma'am, you're the trouble."
Selene gave a soft laugh, then turned toward the car with a flick of her hair. "Then I guess you're both doomed."
Cal shot Nate a glare, but Nate just grinned as Selene opened the car door. Cal followed awkwardly, glancing back to see Becky standing further off near a tree—her lips tight, arms folded. Her eyes locked onto the SUV like it had insulted her personally.
"Is that jealousy I see?" Selene asked as she started the engine.
"Wait, what?"
"You'll figure it out." She smirked and pulled away from the curb.
⸻
The Ledger's Branch — Halcroft
The ride wasn't long—ten, maybe fifteen minutes, but it felt longer thanks to the tension between Cal's questions and Selene's habit of withholding information. When they arrived, Cal leaned forward, stunned.
The facility didn't look like a secret base. It looked like a corporate utopia. A sleek, obsidian-and-glass building rose above them with tiered gardens carved into each floor and subtle shimmering lines running up the sides like circuit veins, giving the structure a quiet hum of modern elegance and purpose.
"This… is The Ledger?" Cal asked.
"One of the branches. Mine, specifically," Selene said as she stepped out.
"Come on."
The moment they walked in, the air changed. Inside, the facility buzzed with quiet efficiency. Workers in gray suits or uniforms moved swiftly between stations. Screens displayed holographic data on Arbiters, training graphs, regional updates, and mission overviews.
And Selene? Selene became someone else.
The moment she entered, several staff members straightened.
"Director Virelle."
"Good afternoon, ma'am."
One man rushed over with a clipboard of virtual documents. "Status report from the West Wing. K-class conflict deescalated, Arbiter Rank 342 intervened—"
"Minimal civilian fallout?" Selene asked, eyes already scanning the info.
"Three injured, no casualties."
"Good. Have containment sweep Sector B and verify sigil traces." Her tone was business-like now—razor-sharp, clipped, controlled.
Cal followed her, silent and wide-eyed.
They passed through what seemed like a central hub. A circular room surrounded by observation decks. Uniformed agents consulted tablets, moved between map stations, or coordinated messages with operatives across Velmire. The symbol of The Ledger—a sleek hexagon engraved with three interlocking rings at its center, threaded by faint circuit-like lines—hovered above the center.
"How is all this here?" Cal finally asked.
"Halcroft's more important than people realize," Selene said. "The Ledger likes having eyes in places no one expects."
She stopped before a side hallway and turned.
"You're going to start physical training today. Effective immediately."
"Wait, what?"
Selene didn't answer. Instead, she gestured toward a tall man waiting at the end of the hall. Mid-thirties, sharp black hair, olive skin, square jaw and thick frame beneath a dark vest.
"This is Garron Vesk. Arbiter. Physical trainer. Former Ledger Black Tier operative."
"Pleasure," the man said with a deep voice and a curt nod. "We're starting immediately."
Cal blinked. "Wait—what—hello? I'm still processing!"
Garron turned and began walking. "Then process on your feet."
Selene smiled, ever the sadist. "He's all yours, Garron."
She turned and disappeared down a different corridor.
⸻
Training Facility - South Wing
Cal followed Garron into a vast, high-ceilinged gym that looked like a cross between a military base and a sports science lab. Floors were lined with sleek shock-absorbent material. Training robots stood in standby mode. Several machines, racks, and simulations lined the perimeter.
"You're changing into that," Garron said, pointing toward a changing room and handing Cal a slim black bodysuit.
Cal stared. "Is this… tight?"
"Tight is the point. Sensors on the suit feed data to the Analytics division upstairs. They'll monitor your vitals, output, and muscle strain."
"You're kidding."
"Go!." Garron said directing his right arm accordingly.
⸻
When Cal returned in the suit, Garron nodded. A holographic readout of Cal's vitals began scrolling across a nearby screen. Upstairs, in the control room behind glass, one of the analysts was already tapping keys.
Selene stood in the back, watching through the observation panel, arms folded.
Beside her in the shadows, a familiar voice purred.
"You brought the new weakling here?"
Kira stepped into view, arms folded, her black leather jacket tossed over one shoulder, fiery hair wild and unbothered.
"Give him time," Selene said without looking. "You weren't a beast when I found you, either."
Kira rolled her eyes. "He better not slow things down."
She disappeared again, leaving only the echo of boots.
⸻
Training Begins
"Alright," Garron said, stepping in front of Cal. "We start simple. Core, cardio, endurance."
He clapped. "Burpees. Fifty. Let's go."
"Fifty—"
"Fifty."
Cal started.
The first ten were easy. Then came twenty, and the pain hit. By thirty, his arms shook. Forty—his vision swam. By the time he collapsed after the last one, the floor felt like a warm bed.
"On your feet."
"Dude—"
"Jog to the wall and back. Five times."
Cal groaned, staggered up, and started again.
From the control room, the tech murmured, "Cardio levels spiked at set two. Core strain hitting eighty-five percent."
Selene nodded. "Send the report to my terminal."
The session continued. Jump squats. Push-ups. Weighted runs. Garron never raised his voice, never cracked. He simply expected compliance. And Cal, against all logic and sweat and agony, kept pushing.
⸻
Break
After an hour that felt like war, Cal collapsed again, this time allowed. He panted on the mat, limbs jelly, heart trying to break through his ribs.
Selene walked into the room, arms crossed.
"Not bad," she said. "You lasted longer than I expected."
Cal glared at her through the blur of sweat. "I think I died somewhere in the middle."
She crouched beside him, smirking. "This is only day one. You'll thank me later."
"Doubt it."
"Also, no more taxis. Garron says from now on, you jog to school and back. Every day."
"I—what?!"
"Congratulations, Cal. You're an Arbiter in training now. Time to start living like it."
Her laughter echoed as she left the room.