Chapter 6

Kael’s boots rang against the grated floor of the salvage yard’s restricted sub-level. Seventy-two hours remained on the proving ground clock. Seventy-two hours until Ignis—his only ladder out of the lowest rank—was stripped for parts and reassigned to someone higher on the board.

He moved fast, eyes flicking across faded inventory tags. The prototype module’s ruined conduits and phased-array processor needed exact replacements: high-tension flux lines rated for 800 kilovolts, a crystalline sub-processor with intact lattice, and—most critically—a stabilized power regulator that could handle the module’s unstable output without melting the core. Standard salvage wouldn’t cut it. He needed the experimental-failure section.

A rusted access hatch waited behind a collapsed stack of sensor arrays. Kael wedged a scavenged pry-bar under the lip and levered. Metal shrieked. The hatch popped. Stale air rushed out, carrying the bite of old ozone.

Inside, the corridor narrowed. Defunct cells and warped beams cluttered the floor. Kael swept his handheld lamp across the pile. There—three high-tension conduits still sealed, and the sub-processor, its lattice glinting undamaged. He detached them with surgical clips, stowing each piece in padded compartments. The relays he found would patch secondary lines. Progress, measurable. But the power regulator remained missing. Nothing here matched Ignis’s prototype tolerances.

He sealed the bag and retraced his steps. The yard’s upper levels buzzed with lower-ranks bartering scrap. Kael kept his head down and his pace deliberate. Next stop: the undercroft.

The black-market hub crouched beneath the engineering bays. Synth-spice smoke hung thick; neon strips flickered over makeshift stalls. Kael approached the Broker’s corner without hesitation. The man sat like a boulder behind a counter of salvaged alloy plates. His brass-colored eyes tracked Kael’s approach.

“Fresh-rank,” the Broker drawled. “You look like you’re carrying something worth more than your life.”

Kael set the salvaged conduits and sub-processor on the counter. “I need one more piece. Custom power regulator. High-frequency, stabilized flux, prototype-grade. For an unstable core.”

The Broker lifted a conduit, inspected it, set it down. “Expensive. Rare. And you’re offering… what, exactly?”

“Credits I don’t have. Or a favor.” Kael met the man’s gaze. “I’m short on time. Seventy-one hours left before they reassign my frame.”

A slow grin split the Broker’s face. “Seventy-one hours. Tight window.” He leaned forward. “I have your regulator. Pulled from a scrapped Tier-3 research rig. It’ll mate with your prototype. But the price is a blank favor. I call, you answer. No delay, no excuses.”

Kael’s pulse kicked. A blank favor to the Broker could mean smuggling restricted tech, throwing a duel, or worse. But without the regulator, Ignis stayed dead. No climb. No proof. Just another low-rank fading into the background.

“Deal,” he said.

The Broker slid a reinforced case across the counter. Inside, the regulator gleamed—compact, viciously complex, its aetherium core pulsing a faint blue. Kael closed the lid and shouldered the bag. The debt sat heavier than the components.

He was three corridors from his workshop when the shadow stepped out.

Enforcer Valerius.

Uniform crisp, posture relaxed in the way predators relax before the strike. “Kael.” The voice carried no warmth. “Convenient timing. Routine inspection for lower-tier students carrying unregistered components.” His gaze settled on the bag. “You’ve been busy.”

Kael kept his grip loose, face calm. “Standard maintenance parts, Enforcer. Nothing restricted.”

Valerius advanced one measured step. “The hum coming from that bag suggests otherwise.” He extended a hand. “Open it.”

Direct refusal meant immediate seizure and disciplinary review—time Kael couldn’t afford. He lifted the flap just enough to show the outer layer of salvaged conduits. “These are academy salvage. Logged from the upper yard. The rest is compatible scrap.”

Valerius’s fingers hovered near the canvas. “I’ve received reports of black-market traffic in prototype-grade hardware. Parts that could give certain students… an edge they haven’t earned.”

Kael forced even breathing. “If you suspect contraband, Regulation 4.3.c requires inspection in a sealed bay—Gamma-7—for prototype-adjacent materials. I’m happy to comply there.”

The enforcer’s hand stilled. A muscle twitched at his jaw. Kael had invoked the rulebook against him; Valerius couldn’t override it publicly without risking his own position. The silence stretched.

“Clever,” Valerius finally said. “Gamma-7. One hour. Full manifest. Every serial number. If I find anything inconsistent…” He let the threat hang. “The academy watches its lowest ranks especially closely, Kael. Don’t forget that.”

He turned and vanished into the corridor’s gloom.

Kael exhaled once, then moved. The workshop door sealed behind him with a pneumatic hiss. He dumped the bag on the workbench and opened the case. The regulator stared back, perfect, deadly, bought with a debt he might never repay.

He had the parts. Conduits, sub-processor, regulator—all the physical pieces to resurrect Ignis’s prototype module.

But assembly was another beast.

The module’s integration required micro-second flux synchronization across thirty-seven junction points. A single misalignment would cascade into thermal runaway. Academy veterans—mechanics with twenty years—routinely failed the procedure. Kael had watched three attempts in his first year; two ended in fire-suppression foam, one in permanent core damage.

He didn’t have twenty years. He had seventy-one hours.

The proving ground’s central clock loomed on his terminal: 71:00:00 until Frame Reassignment.

Time was moving. Ignis was still scrap. And now the Enforcer had his scent.

Kael cracked his knuckles, pulled the diagnostic rig closer, and began laying out the components in sequence.

The next move wasn’t just mechanical.

It was impossible.

And he had to make it look easy.