Belle whistled low. "Sounds like you’ve given this some thought."

"I’ve given this extensive thought." Misato set the tablet on the nearest surface and pulled up a holographic display of what looked like a forest terrain map. "Tomorrow we’ll run simulations against their likely combat patterns. Tonight, we establish our own formation protocols and practice until everyone can execute them without thinking."

"And the part where we have to actually coordinate with Blair’s team?" I asked. "When does that happen?"

"I’ll handle Blair." Something complicated moved across Misato’s face, there and gone so fast I almost missed it. "We have... history. She’ll cooperate because losing is the one thing she can’t tolerate, and if we go into that gate fighting each other instead of the monsters, we will lose."

I remembered what she’d said earlier, about being able to convince Blair to work together. The confidence in her voice hadn’t wavered then and it didn’t waver now. Whatever history existed between Misato and Blair, it was clearly more complex than simple rivalry.

Belle clapped her hands together, drawing attention back to herself. "Alright, enough standing around. If we only have two days to not die horribly, we should probably start training. Jordan, get your ass off that wall. Naomi, you’re coordinating. Jace..."

She looked at me with an expression that mixed genuine affection with the promise of intense physical suffering.

"You’re going to show us exactly what you’ve been learning in those private sessions with Vale. And I mean exactly. No holding back, no mysterious bullshit, no convenient excuses about ability limitations. We need to know what our heavy hitter can actually do before we walk into that forest."

Heavy hitter.

The words landed differently than they would have a month ago. Back then, I’d been the dead-last lottery winner who could barely throw a punch. Now I was apparently the team’s primary offensive option, the guy everyone was counting on to pull out something impressive when things went sideways.

The pressure of that responsibility should have been terrifying.

Instead, it felt kind of good.

"You want to see what I can do?" I rolled my shoulders and walked toward the center of the training space, feeling the familiar thrum of energy that preceded combat. "Set up some targets. Let’s find out together."

The next four hours blurred together in a haze of sweat and exhaustion and incremental progress.

We ran formations until everyone could move as a unit without verbal cues. Jordan’s shadow manipulation provided cover and distraction. Naomi’s precognitive sense let her call out threats before they materialized. Belle’s combination of Treasure Sense and surprisingly vicious combat instincts made her effective at identifying weak points and exploiting them. And I...

I hit things.

Spiral Shot after Spiral Shot. Golden bolts of Wave Motion slammed into training dummies while my D-rank Endurance barely kept pace with what I was asking my body to do. Vale’s morning session had already wrung me out pretty thoroughly, and four more hours of intensive squad practice pushed me past the point where movement stopped feeling like effort and started feeling like active punishment.

The numbers in my peripheral vision kept climbing though.

Control improved with each discharge. Wave Riding held together longer before the energy destabilized. The way ability and footwork meshed together became smoother, more intuitive, less like I was forcing two separate actions to cooperate and more like they were meant to work this way all along.

When Misato finally called it, the sky outside had turned full black and my legs were reconsidering their commitment to holding me upright. Naomi appeared next to me with a water bottle before I even thought to look for one. Her face was pink from maintaining constant awareness through all our drills, the kind of flush that came from hours of mental strain rather than pure physical exertion.

"Here." She passed it over with the quiet efficiency of someone who had been taking care of people her entire life. "You look like you’re about to fall over."

"Falling is too much effort right now." I took the bottle and drank half of it in one go, the cool water doing absolutely nothing to stop my muscles from trembling. "Pretty sure I just have to stay vertical until my legs remember how bones work."

Jordan had given up on standing and was sprawled across the floor like a starfish made of exhaustion and shadow magic residue. Belle leaned against the wall, breathing hard but grinning with the satisfaction of someone who had pushed her team to their limits and watched them survive.

"Same time tomorrow," Misato announced. "We’ll add the simulation runs against Blair’s projected patterns. Get sleep, eat protein, hydrate. Anyone who shows up less than fully functional will run laps until they remember what commitment means."

"You’re a ray of sunshine," Jordan groaned from the floor.

"I’m the reason you might survive Friday. Sunshine is optional." Misato collected her tablet and headed for the exit without looking back. "Good work tonight. Don’t waste it by doing something stupid before tomorrow."

The door closed behind her, leaving the four of us in the aftermath of our collective suffering.

Belle pushed off from the wall and stretched, her modified uniform riding up to reveal a strip of tanned stomach. "I don’t know about you losers, but I need food and approximately twelve hours of unconsciousness. Anyone want to hit the cafeteria before it closes?"

"Pass." Jordan remained horizontal. "Moving requires energy I no longer possess. Just leave me here. Tell my family I died doing what I loved."

"Being dramatic on the floor?"

"Exactly."

Naomi touched my arm lightly, her pink eyes searching my face with that particular concern she reserved for moments when she suspected I was hiding how tired I really was. "You should eat something substantial. The training schedule tomorrow is going to be brutal."

"I know." I covered her hand with mine, letting the contact ground me. "I’ll grab something from the vending machines on the way back. Protein bars and whatever else looks edible."

"That’s not a real meal."

"It’s a meal-adjacent substance. Close enough."

She frowned at me in that way that somehow combined disapproval with affection. "I’m making you breakfast tomorrow. Real food. You’ll eat it before training or I’ll tell Vale you’ve been skipping meals."

"You wouldn’t."

"I absolutely would." Her smile had an edge of steel that reminded me why I’d fallen for her in the first place. "Seven AM. My kitchen. Be there or suffer the consequences."