Chapter Four: Teams Problem And Other Natural Disaster

Roy realized this the moment he walked into the briefing hall and felt at least thirty pairs of eyes snap toward him at once.

He smiled automatically.

Bad habit.

“Why are they staring?” Blake whispered loudly, leaning in as if whispering somehow made him quieter.

Roy shrugged. “Maybe I’m handsome.”

Connor didn’t look up from the tablet in his hands. “Statistically unlikely.”

Blake gasped. “That was uncalled for.”

“It was extremely called for,” Connor replied.

Roy laughed, easy and warm, even as he felt the familiar ache in his shoulder protest the movement. He ignored it. Pain had rules. He didn’t.

The briefing hall itself was massive — semicircular seating descending toward a central platform, with floating screens hovering overhead. Tutors stood at the front, expressions carefully neutral in the way only professionals mastered when dealing with teenagers capable of leveling buildings.

Roy spotted Blake’s mother immediately. She was pretending not to look at her son. Failing.

Connor’s mother stood beside her, already scrolling through data. The male tutor — the scarred one — watched the room like a hawk deciding which mouse looked tastiest.

And then there was Tanya.

She sat three rows ahead, perfectly still, hands folded in her lap, eyes forward. No movement. No distraction. She might as well have been carved into the seat.

Roy leaned slightly to get a better look.

She noticed anyway.

Her eyes flicked back briefly.

Roy gave a small wave.

She did not wave back.

“Progress,” he murmured.

“Today,” the male tutor began, voice carrying easily through the hall, “you will be assigned to operational teams.”

Groans rippled through the crowd.

“Teams are permanent,” he continued calmly. “You will train, fight, and compete together. Compatibility is irrelevant. Results are not.”

Roy felt Blake straighten beside him.

Connor sighed quietly.

“This is where things go wrong,” Blake whispered.

Roy grinned. “Nah. This is where things get interesting.”

The screens above them lit up.

Names shuffled.

Rearranged.

Stopped.

Roy squinted. “If I get stuck with someone who screams every time they punch—”

Team Seven:

Roy — Rank: UNKNOWN

Blake Hector — Rank: A

Connor Ryan — Rank: B+

Tanya — Rank: S

Lira Ben — Rank: A

Silence.

Then noise.

“What?”

“Is that even fair?”

“Why is Unknown with an S-rank?”

Blake stared at the screen, then at Roy. “Oh come on. They’re definitely punishing us.”

Connor adjusted his glasses. “Statistically, this team has the highest combined combat potential.”

Blake blinked. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

Roy leaned back in his seat. “I like it. Feels… cozy.”

Tanya didn’t react.

Lira, seated near the aisle, tilted her head slightly, eyes thoughtful. Frost traced faintly along the edge of her seat before fading.

The temperature dropped just a hair.

Blake shivered. “Is it cold in here or is that just me?”

Connor glanced at Lira. “Environmental shift detected.”

Lira blinked. “Sorry.”

Roy smiled at her. “No worries. Adds atmosphere.”

She studied him for a second longer than necessary.

Then looked away.

Team Seven’s first meeting happened in a training room that was far too small for the amount of power inside it.

Blake paced.

Connor leaned against the wall.

Tanya stood perfectly still near the window.

Lira sat quietly on a bench, hands folded, eyes distant.

Roy clapped his hands once.

“Alright,” he said cheerfully. “Team bonding time.”

No one moved.

“…Okay,” Roy continued. “Team awkward silence time?”

Blake groaned. “Can we just fight something?”

Connor shook his head. “Team cohesion improves combat efficiency.”

“Does silence count as cohesion?” Blake asked.

“Yes,” Connor said. “If intentional.”

Roy glanced at Tanya. “Thoughts?”

She turned her head slightly. “We train.”

Concise.

Roy nodded seriously. “Wise words.”

They stared at him.

“What?” he said. “She’s not wrong.”

The door slid open before anyone could respond.

“Team Seven,” the scarred tutor said, stepping inside. “You’ll begin with a controlled evaluation match.”

Roy perked up. “Ooh. Evaluation.”

Blake cracked his knuckles. “Finally.”

Connor frowned. “Against whom?”

The tutor’s lips twitched.

“An A-rank.”

The room shifted.

Roy felt it instantly — that subtle tightening in his chest, the pressure that had been growing more familiar by the hour.

Blake’s grin widened. “Which one?”

The tutor’s eyes locked onto Roy.

“You.”

Roy blinked.

Me?

The word echoed strangely.

He opened his mouth to joke—

And froze.

Because for the first time, he felt something else stir.

Closer than before.

Curious.

The arena lights flared to life as Roy stepped onto the platform alone.

The crowd was smaller this time — tutors, students, evaluators — but the attention felt sharper. Focused.

The screen above flickered.

Roy — Rank: UNKNOWN

Opponent: Kessler — Rank: A

Kessler rolled his shoulders, aura flaring blue-white around his arms. He looked calm. Experienced. Annoyed.

“So,” Kessler said, eyeing Roy. “You’re the mystery.”

Roy smiled. “I get that a lot.”

The signal sounded.

Kessler moved first — fast, precise, aura-enhanced strikes snapping through the air with practiced confidence.

Roy dodged.

Once.

Twice.

Barely.

The third strike grazed his ribs.

Pain bloomed.

He hissed, breath catching — just for a fraction of a second.

The crowd leaned forward.

Kessler smirked. “There it is.”

Roy straightened, rolling his neck. “Yeah, yeah. You hit hard. Very impressive.”

He wasn’t joking now.

The pressure inside him shifted.

And this time—

You’re leaning too far back.

Roy stumbled mid-step.

He froze.

“…Okay,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s new.”

Kessler lunged again.

Left.

Roy moved without thinking.

The strike missed him by inches.

His heart pounded.

“What the—” Roy whispered.

Don’t panic. You’re terrible at it.

Roy’s eyes widened.

That was not his thought.

He ducked another attack, body moving smoother now, instincts sharpening unnaturally.

Relax. I’ve seen worse footwork.

“Who are you?” Roy hissed.

Someone very bored.

Kessler swung hard.

Roy sidestepped and countered — clean, perfect, controlled.

The crowd gasped.

Roy didn’t smile this time.

He was too busy listening.

There you go. Told you.

The match ended moments later.

Kessler hit the ground hard, unconscious.

Silence followed.

Roy stood there, chest heaving, eyes unfocused.

The pressure inside him settled.

Quiet.

Gone.

“…I am officially hallucinating,” Roy said aloud.

Back in the observation room, chaos.

“That wasn’t normal,” Blake said.

Connor stared at the screen. “That was optimized movement beyond recorded data.”

Tanya watched Roy carefully.

Lira’s breath fogged faintly.

Roy walked in, rubbing the back of his neck. “So. Uh. Anyone else hear voices or is that just a me thing?”

Blake choked. “I’m sorry—what?”

Connor stiffened. “Define ‘voices.’”

Roy shrugged. “Helpful. Rude. Kinda sarcastic.”

Tanya spoke quietly. “You’re not joking.”

Roy met her eyes.

“Nope.”

The room fell silent.

Somewhere deep inside him, something smiled.

This is going to be fun.

Roy groaned. “Oh no.”

******

Thank you for staying with Battle Born. Chapter Five marks a turning point—power answers power, and growth rarely comes without a cost. Pay close attention to what awakens during the fight… some changes can’t be undone.

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