The path to Floor 11 stretched across a broken transit station, half-swallowed by ruin. Its ceilings had caved in long ago. The rails were twisted, benches scattered like discarded bones, warning lights still blinking faintly from consoles that hadn’t functioned in years.

No monsters. No traps.

Just the slow grind of dust under their boots.

Too quiet.

Ace yawned. “If this place gets any more nostalgic, I’ll start crying. Someone left a half-eaten ration bar in that seat.”

“Takes you back, doesn’t it?” Gerbert muttered, reading the floor’s heat signatures through his lens. “No recent activity. Clear through to the Safe Zone marker.”

Rann walked a pace behind them, arms loose at her sides, gaze scanning the shadows. “Could be worse. Could be clean.”

“That’s when you should be worried,” Gerbert replied.

At the rear of the group, Taan was silent.

Olive skin glinting with sweat, her sleeveless top clinging to her spine, her breath steady. Her black ponytail swung slightly as she walked. Her boots made no unnecessary sound.

She had been walking with them for a couple of weeks now.

And she enjoyed it.

She liked Ace’s dramatics—how he never let the dread settle too deep. She liked Rann’s bluntness—how she spoke only when necessary, and always with precision. And she liked Gerbert’s quiet competence—how he always seemed to have a plan, and rarely needed to explain it.

She didn’t say much.

But she’d stayed.

Until now.

Without a sound, Taan broke into a run.

Gerbert spotted it first. “Here we go,” he said under his breath.

Ace sidestepped, eyes gleaming. “Finally.”

Rann didn’t flinch.

They all knew exactly what this was.

Not an ambush.

A test.

Taan’s foot hit the stone, and she launched forward, a crack of wind snapping behind her. Her first punch struck the ground beside Ace hard enough to crater the tile—a warning shot.

Ace stumbled back, vines bursting reflexively from the ground to cushion his fall.

“What the hell?!” he shouted, half-laughing, half-panicked.

Gerbert rolled sideways, conjuring a hexagonal kinetic shield with a flick of his wrist. The barrier shimmered as debris pinged off its edge.

Rann phased through a nearby pillar, her body slipping into the material like mist.

Taan was already on the move again—lunging toward Gerbert.

“Shield up!” he barked.

The kinetic wall absorbed a blow that would’ve broken ribs. The shield dented, but held. She pivoted, spinning into a wide sweep kick that shattered a support beam.

“She’s testing us!” Rann shouted, emerging from the wall behind Taan and aiming a low kick toward her knee.

Taan dodged, just barely.

She was fast. Not just quick—explosively fast. But every strike came with a cost. As she boosted forward again, you could see it:

Veins bulging. Sweat beading across her brow. Blood flecking her lips.

She was hurting herself with every motion.

But she didn’t stop.

They weren’t fighting to win.

She was testing them.

Their reactions. Their limits. Their trust in one another.

And the others rose to meet it.

Gerbert’s drones deployed in a tight triangle, cycling through stun charges. Rann darted like a knife between the gaps, waiting for her opening. Ace, recovering, summoned thorn-wrapped vines that launched forward like whips—not to restrain her, but to redirect her motion, slow her.

“Left flank!” Gerbert called.

“I see it,” Rann answered, phasing through Taan’s blind spot.

This time, she made contact.

Rann’s leg swept under Taan’s—perfect timing—and Taan hit the ground with a heavy thud.

She tried to rise—

—and a drone fired its concussive burst.

The force slammed her back down.

For a breathless moment, no one moved.

Taan groaned, laughed through bloodied teeth, and raised her hands in the air.

“Okay. Okay! You passed.”

Ace exhaled. “Darling, was that a job interview?”

Rann approached slowly, her expression unreadable. “You testing us again?”

Taan coughed, rolled onto her side, and wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist.

“You’re strong,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Not just strong—together. That’s rare. Most teams I met… broke.

She sat up, eyes scanning the three of them.

“I don’t want to walk alone anymore.”

There was no pause.

Gerbert stepped forward and offered his hand.

“Then walk with us.”

Taan looked at it. Looked at them.

And took it.

They didn’t call it a team.

Not then.

But something shifted.

Taan brought something wild, physical, and raw. The kind of power that could collapse a wall—or hold a door against the end of the world.

Gerbert brought calculation. Shields. Systems. The rhythm.

Rann brought silent adaptability. The unseen edge. Cold focus.

Ace brought color. Chaos. And surprise.

Taan respected that.

And they respected her honesty.

Together, they left the transit station behind.

Not just survivors.

Now a force.

And rising.