Ace Thorn hated waiting.
He leaned against the cracked wall of the old subway tunnel, arms crossed, foot tapping a restless rhythm on the concrete. The man in black—his so-called "recruiter"—stood a few paces ahead, calmly examining the rusted gate that blocked the way forward.
"How long's this gonna take?" Ace muttered, half to himself.
"Patience," the man said without looking back. "Besides, you have nowhere better to be."
Ace snorted. "Don't be so sure."
With a faint click, the gate unlocked and swung inward. A faint glow spilled out, casting long shadows on the walls—flickering torchlight, not electric bulbs. Ace frowned. This place felt older than the Fall. Older than the meteors. Older than the mess the world had become.
As they walked, the air shifted. Gone was the city's sour, burned smell; down here, it was cold stone, damp earth, and something else—something metallic.
Blood.
Ace's senses sharpened. His own blood hummed under his skin, instinctively responding to the trace of iron in the air.
They entered a cavernous chamber hidden beneath the city. Makeshift torches lined the walls, their flames licking upward. People were everywhere—sparring in circles drawn on the floor, poring over maps at long tables, laughing, arguing, training. And at the center, a steel cage, tall as a house.
"Welcome," the man said with a smirk, "to the Shadow School."
Ace's lip curled. "Cheesy name."
"You'll change your mind."
They crossed the floor, drawing stares as they went. Ace felt the weight of every eye—some curious, some wary, some outright hostile. He was used to it. His reputation had spread, even without him trying. Bloodbender. Monster. Anti-hero. He never cared what they called him—as long as they stayed out of his way.
At a raised platform sat three figures: a girl with a shaved head and lightning dancing on her fingertips, a pale boy whose breath steamed despite the warmth, and a woman with silver hair and eyes sharp enough to cut glass.
The woman rose. "Ace Thorn. We've been watching you."
Ace raised an eyebrow. "Creepy."
"We need people who aren't afraid to bleed," she continued, ignoring him. "We have a job. But first, you'll prove yourself."
Ace cracked his knuckles. "Let me guess. A fight?"
She smiled. "A test."
---
Later that night
The crowd roared as Ace stepped into the cage.
His opponent was already waiting—a tall girl with white braids and frost dancing around her fists. She looked him up and down, unimpressed.
"Name's Rina," she said, her voice cold as her power. "Try not to die too fast."
Ace smirked. "Sweetheart, you're not ready for me."
The bell rang.
Rina struck first—ice shards flying from her palms like bullets. Ace dodged left, threw up a blood shield, felt the sting as the shards cracked against it. He lashed back, a whip of crimson cutting through the air. Rina ducked, sliding across the floor on a sheet of ice, then swung a fist toward his ribs. Frost bloomed on his coat; he gritted his teeth, sending a pulse through his veins that shattered the ice.
They circled.
She was fast. He was faster.
Rina hurled a spear of ice. Ace caught it midair—his blood wrapping around it, twisting, shattering it before it reached him. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a tendril of blood snapping toward her ankle. She leapt, but not quite fast enough—Ace yanked, and she stumbled.
The crowd screamed.
Rina's fists slammed into the ground, sending a wave of frost outward. The air froze in Ace's lungs. For a heartbeat, he hesitated.
She was on him.
Their bodies crashed together—ice meeting blood, heat against cold. Rina's fist grazed his jaw; Ace slammed a shoulder into her chest, sending her sprawling. His blood coiled in the air like snakes, ready to strike.
He hesitated.
For the first time that night, Ace realized something: he didn't want to kill her. Not here. Not for a test.
With a wave of his hand, the blood withdrew.
Rina stared up at him, chest heaving, eyes wide.
Ace offered her a hand.
She took it.
The arena fell into stunned silence—then erupted in cheers.
---
After the fight
Ace sat in a corner, legs stretched out, a water bottle pressed to the back of his neck. Rina plopped down beside him, tossing him a crooked smile.
"You're better than you look," she said.
"You too," Ace admitted. "Didn't expect the ice queen routine to hit that hard."
Rina laughed softly. "I'll take that as a compliment."
The woman with silver hair approached, hands folded behind her back.
"You passed," she said simply. "The mission's yours."
Ace looked up, his smirk sharpening. "Finally."
"There's a supply depot," the woman continued. "Academy-controlled. They've secured a new type of stone—something even we've never seen. You'll break in, retrieve it, and bring it here. Simple."
Ace snorted. "Nothing's ever simple."
Rina nudged him. "You'll have backup this time. Me."
Ace blinked. "You sure about that?"
Rina's grin was sharp. "Try to keep up, bloodboy."
---
Alone that night
Ace wandered the underground tunnels, restless. The air was heavy, thick with expectation. He leaned against a crumbling pillar, closed his eyes.
The whisper came again.
Two worlds… one heart… break them or bind them…
Ace's fists clenched.
He hadn't told anyone. Not the recruiters. Not Rina. Not even himself, not really.
The stones whispered to him.
They had since he was thirteen.
He wondered, not for the first time, if it was the power that spoke—or something inside himself, something the stone had woken up.
As dawn crept into the tunnels, Ace stood on a balcony overlooking the sleeping base. His black coat fluttered in the draft. Below, fighters trained, maps shifted across tables, voices planned revolutions.
A new world was rising in the shadows.
And Ace Thorn, reluctant, reckless, hungry for something he couldn't yet name, was at its heart.
He smiled faintly.
Then, without a sound, he turned and vanished into the dark.