"I think we should forget about saving the mannequins and save ourselves!" Henrik yelled as he dove sideways, a glass figure whistling past his head and exploding against the concrete where he'd been standing. Shards scattered like deadly confetti, one slicing across his cheek before he could raise his arm.
The training ground had become a war zone. Glass bodies rained from the sky in endless waves, each one a potential death sentence if it found its mark. The sound was deafening—crash after crash of shattering glass mixed with students' panicked shouts and the whistle of falling projectiles.
Team B1 was barely holding together. Inferno had given up any pretense of rescue, shooting concentrated firebeams at clusters of falling mannequins, vaporizing them before they could crush him. His flames left molten glass droplets that hissed against the ground, but at least he was still breathing. Maya, sweat beading on her forehead from concentration, managed to slow two figures with her telekinesis—but the strain was obvious. Her hands shook as she guided them down, the heavy glass pushing against her mental grip. Ken and Anon huddled behind a concrete barrier, Anon's eyes darting frantically as if calculating something that wouldn't come together fast enough.
Team B3 moved like they'd trained for this. Seraphine's water pillars shot skyward in perfect arcs, slowing the momentum of falling targets while Marina flash-froze them into protective ice shells. Ben stood beneath the controlled descent, his invulnerable skin allowing him to catch the frozen packages without flinching as ice and glass shards bounced harmlessly off his arms. They'd already saved nine—maybe ten.
Mateo pressed himself against a concrete pillar, his heart hammering as another mannequin exploded three feet away. Glass dust filled the air, making his eyes water. He pulled his shirt over his nose, remembering something about glass particles shredding lung tissue, but the fabric was already spotted with blood from minor cuts.
Do something, his mind screamed. You're supposed to be a hero.
But what could he do? His slime lassos were useless against this volume—by the time he could wrap one figure, five more would have fallen. He watched Alex struggle nearby, her gravitational pull yanking mannequins toward her with brute force, only to watch them shatter against the ground when she couldn't control the landing. Her face was twisted with frustration, blood running from a cut above her eyebrow into her left eye.
Henrik had found cover behind an overturned training dummy, occasionally firing his conjured weapon at figures that threatened their position, but it was pure defense. No saves.
And Akira... Mateo glanced at her crouched form twenty feet away. She hadn't moved much since the exercise began, one hand pressed to her throat where her snake companion had been coiled. The creature was writhing restlessly now, its head raised as if scenting something in the chaos. What was she waiting for?
Another figure crashed beside Mateo's pillar, sending a spray of glass across his already stinging arms. The impact reminded him of something—a smaller body, a different kind of breaking. That could've been a child, the thought hit him like ice water. In a real disaster, that would've been someone's kid.
The realization cut through his paralysis, but not into confidence—into desperate, clawing fear. Someone had to take charge. Not because he was ready, not because he was qualified, but because they were failing and people were going to die and someone had to try.
"Alex!" The name tore from his throat before he could second-guess himself.
She whipped around, and the look she gave him could have melted steel. Blood streaked down her face, making her expression even more feral. "The hell you want?!"
Mateo's resolve almost crumbled under that glare. She thinks you're weak. She's not wrong. But he forced himself to continue, his voice cracking slightly. "Pulling only won't work—there needs to be... you need balance of forces. Push and pull, kill the momentum at the last—"
"Are you kidding me right now?" Alex snarled, dodging another falling projectile. "You think I don't know what I'm—"
"Just try it!" Mateo shouted, surprising himself with the volume. "Please!"
Alex looked like she wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove his advice, but another mannequin exploded near her feet, close enough that she instinctively stepped back. Her jaw worked for a moment, then she bit down hard enough on her lip that fresh blood welled up.
She focused on a falling figure, her expression shifting to dangerous concentration. Her pull was gentler this time—drawing it toward her in a controlled arc instead of yanking. The glass body flew through the air, small cracks forming along its surface from the gravitational stress. Just as it was about to slam into her chest, Alex spread her fingers wide.
The mannequin stopped. Hung suspended for a heartbeat as competing forces fought within the glass structure. More cracks spider-webbed across its surface, but it held. Finally, it settled into her waiting arms with almost delicate precision.
Alex stared at the intact figure for a moment, then immediately turned away from Mateo without acknowledgment, already focusing on the next target. Her technique was improving with each attempt, but her expression had grown even more closed-off, as if accepting his help had somehow made her angrier.
At least it's working, Mateo thought, then immediately felt guilty for the relief. They still had three other team members to coordinate, and his heart was beating so fast he could barely think straight.
"Henrik!" He had to shout over the continuing cascade of glass. "I need you to—to protect the ones we've saved!"
Henrik looked skeptical for a moment—why was Mateo giving orders?—but the alternative was standing around being useless. He nodded grimly, conjuring his sword to cut down projectiles that threatened their small collection of rescued mannequins, then scooping up the saved figures and carrying them toward better cover.
That left Akira. Mateo had no idea what her quirk actually did, and his confidence was already fraying at the edges. "Akira! Do... do anything you can!"
She looked up at him, and for a moment he thought she might ignore him entirely. Then her snake companion uncoiled from her neck, its movements suddenly purposeful. The creature leaped from her skin into the air, and as it fell its form began to shift and expand—scales becoming feathers, serpentine length reorganizing into powerful wings and razor-sharp talons.
The transformation was breathtaking and terrible. Within seconds, a massive harpy eagle was rising through the falling glass, weaving between projectiles with predatory grace. It snatched a mannequin from the air mid-fall, powerful talons securing it carefully before circling back toward the ground.
Her quirk is... what? Shapeshifting animals? Mateo filed the questions away for later. Right now, they were finally making progress.
He turned his attention to his own contribution, abandoning the useless lassos to spread slime cushions across strategic points in their section of the training ground. The gelatinous barriers absorbed impact, catching figures that would otherwise shatter. He coated his exposed skin in a thin protective layer, wincing as glass dust tried to work its way into existing cuts.
The rain of mannequins finally began to slow, then stopped altogether. The sudden silence was almost more unsettling than the chaos had been—just heavy breathing and the occasional groan of pain from the students scattered across the training ground.
Mateo slumped against his concrete pillar, exhaustion hitting him like a physical weight. His hands were shaking, and he could taste blood in his mouth from where he'd bitten his tongue. A shard of glass was embedded in his palm, surrounded by a protective slime barrier he'd created without conscious thought.
Around the training ground, other students were in similar states. Inferno sat with his head in his hands, small flames still flickering around his shoulders from residual stress. Maya had collapsed entirely, the mental strain of her telekinesis having left her pale and trembling. Even invulnerable Ben was covered in glass dust and looked stunned by the intensity of the exercise.
Mateo forced himself to count their team's results. Three mannequins caught during the active phase, two more secured by his slime cushions, one retrieved by Akira's eagle, and two additional saves Alex had managed after adjusting her technique. Eight total.
Team B1 had managed only four. Team B3 had an impressive fifteen arranged in neat rows behind their position.
The floating platform descended from above, carrying Reeves back to ground level. Her expression was unreadable as she surveyed the aftermath—blood-spattered students, shattered glass everywhere, the relatively small number of intact mannequins compared to the dozens that had fallen.
"Team B3 takes first place with fifteen saves," she announced, her voice cutting through the lingering silence. "Team B2 with eight, Team B1 with four."
The students arranged themselves into their assigned teams despite their injuries, some limping, others trying to stem bleeding cuts with torn fabric. The message was clear: training continued regardless of pain.
"Most of you failed to save the majority of civilians," Reeves continued, stepping down from her platform to walk among them. "Some of you even destroyed potential victims to ensure your own safety. Is that what heroes do?"
Inferno's jaw clenched, heat shimmer rising around him despite his obvious exhaustion. "You said heroes save people," he managed through gritted teeth. "But those things nearly killed us."
The observation hung in the air, and Mateo could feel the frustrated agreement from other students. The exercise had felt designed to be impossible—too many targets, too much danger, too little time.
Reeves' smile was sharp as winter steel. "Zeke raises an excellent point. The civilians you were meant to save were indeed dangerous—to you." Her gaze swept across the injured students, lingering on cuts and bruises. "But tell me, in a real disaster zone, do you think the people trapped under rubble, hanging from windows, or caught in collapsing buildings will be any less dangerous to rescue?"
She moved among them like a predator, her voice growing harder with each word. "A burning child will still burn you. A panicking civilian will still fight you as you try to help them. A person trapped under debris will cause that debris to shift and potentially crush you." She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. "Will you abandon them because saving them might hurt you?"
The silence stretched uncomfortably. Mateo felt the question like a physical blow, dredging up memories he'd tried to bury. I couldn't save him. I had the power, but I wasn't strong enough, wasn't fast enough...
"This is why you train," Reeves continued, her voice dropping to something almost intimate in its intensity. "Not just to become stronger, but to learn that being a hero means accepting that saving others will cost you something. Sometimes it's blood. Sometimes it's pain. Sometimes..." Her expression flickered for just a moment, something raw and distant crossing her features. "Sometimes it's everything."
Alex shifted uncomfortably beside Mateo, her hand moving unconsciously to the deeper cuts on her arms. Henrik's expression had gone carefully blank, while Akira's eagle had returned to her shoulder as a small spider, picking its way across fabric stained with glass dust and blood.
"Medical team will tend to your injuries," Reeves announced briskly, the moment of vulnerability gone. "Training resumes in two hours. When you return, we'll review the tactics used in your rescue operations and determine how they can be optimized for your individual quirks."
As the students began to disperse toward the medical station, Mateo caught Alex staring at him with an unreadable expression. She approached as they walked, something dangerous glinting in her eyes despite the fatigue written across her features.
"We need to talk."