Reyna’s phone buzzed again. Veronica’s name lit up the screen like a warning beacon.

She answered with a growl. "I swear to god, Vero, if you’re calling to gloat—"

"¿Qué onda, hermanita? Did you actually break a sweat against that stray dog today?" Her sister’s laugh carried through the speaker, rich and musical and infuriating. "Porque I watched the whole thing. You looked like you were fighting for your life instead of putting on a show."

Reyna’s grip tightened on the phone. "He was the Number One prospect at the entrance exams. Remember that little detail? Maybe you were too busy signing endorsement deals to notice."

"But you’re La Sirena. The Crimson Comet. You don’t draw with C-Rank nobodies."

"He wasn’t—" Reyna caught herself. Her jaw worked. "Mierda, Vero. You didn’t see what I saw. That bastard absorbed my lightning. Absorbed it. Like he had some kind of electromagnetic black hole built into his chest."

Silence. Then Veronica hummed thoughtfully. "Interesting."

"Don’t start."

"What? I’m just saying, a C-Rank with that kind of counter-ability? That’s either the luckiest manifested power in history, or there’s something way more interesting going on with your Stray Dog."

"He’s not my anything."

"Sure, sure. That’s why you’re calling at midnight to bitch about him instead of sleeping off the damage."

Reyna looked down at her bandaged ribs. Emi’s healing had fixed the worst of it, but dull aches radiated through her torso whenever she moved wrong. "I wasn’t bitching. I was stating facts."

"Right. Facts. Like how he moved faster than your combat recorders could track? Or how he tanked a direct lightning strike without even flinching?" Veronica’s tone shifted, losing the teasing edge. "Rey. Be real with me. Is this guy dangerous?"

"To who?"

"To you, idiota."

Reyna turned away from the window overlooking the Crucible Arena, where maintenance crews were still repairing the damage. "I can handle him."

"That’s not what I asked."

"Then what are you asking?"

"I’m asking if you need backup. If this kid is more than you bargained for."

Something hot and possessive coiled in Reyna’s gut. The idea of calling in reinforcements because she couldn’t handle one smug asshole with a baseball bat made her want to punch something.

"I don’t need backup."

"Uh-huh." Veronica’s smile practically dripped through the phone. "So you won’t mind if I swing by the Academy next week? Maybe introduce myself to this Satori Nakano kid? Give him some private lessons on advanced combat techniques. You know, as a gesture of goodwill between guilds."

"No."

"No?"

"Ni se te ocurra, Vero. I swear on every saint in heaven, if you come within ten miles of this island—"

"Ohhh. Interesting. Very interesting."

"I will personally throw you into the ocean. I will freeze your endorsement contracts. I will tell Mamá about that time in Acapulco with the—"

"Okay, okay! Jesus. You’re so tense." Veronica laughed again, clearly enjoying herself. "But seriously, hermana, if this boy can make you lose your composure like this? Maybe I should meet him. Just to see what all the fuss is about. Maybe get his number, hmm? Give him some... individualized instruction?"

Reyna’s blood pressure spiked. "Vete a la mierda!"

"What was that? You’re breaking up. I think you said you love me and want me to have a wonderful night."

"Veronica—"

"Gotta go! ¡Buenas noches, hermanita!"

The call disconnected.

Reyna stared at the blank screen, breathing hard. Her hands shook slightly, though whether from exhaustion or pure, white-hot fury, she couldn’t tell.

Pinche idiota. Her sister had no right to tease her like that. No right to suggest—

The door to her private quarters burst open. Takamura stood in the doorway, his scarred face split into a grin. "Get your ass downstairs, Reyna. Team wants to see you."

"I’m fine here."

"Wasn’t a request."

She followed him down the spiral staircase to the Scarlet Phantoms’ common room. The space looked like a gym had violently mated with a sports bar. Workout equipment dominated one half while a massive screen dominated the other, currently frozen on a still frame from the Crucible.

Her teammates had beaten her there.

"La Sirena!" Diego Ramos jumped up from the couch, his ash-blond hair catching the overhead lights. His earth manipulation Aspect made him a tank in every sense, and he moved toward her with the unstoppable momentum of a landslide. "You were incredible out there!"

"I drew."

"You made that bastard work for it." Kira Tanaka materialized from the kitchen, her shadow-walking Aspect allowing her to appear from nowhere. She carried two beers and offered one to Reyna. "Seriously. I’ve never seen anyone push you that hard."

Reyna accepted the beer but didn’t drink. "He shouldn’t have been able to push me at all."

"But he did." Leo Vargas leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets. His gravity manipulation made him one of the most dangerous students on campus, but he spoke with the lazy confidence of someone who never needed to prove anything. "Which makes him either very lucky or very interesting."

"Both," Takamura rumbled from his seat by the window. "Kid’s got something. I could feel it even from the observation deck."

"What do you mean?" Reyna finally took a long drink. The beer went down smooth, easing some of the tightness in her chest.

"I mean he didn’t fight like a C-Rank. Hell, he barely fought like an A-Rank." Takamura’s eyes gleamed. "He fought like someone who’s died before and remembers it."

The room fell quiet.

Kira broke the silence. "That’s poetic as hell, Professor, but what does it mean?"

"It means Nakano’s been through shit none of us have seen. It means those stats on his registration are probably garbage. And it means—" Takamura looked directly at Reyna. "—you just fought someone playing with cheat codes enabled."

Reyna’s mind flashed back to the arena. The way Satori moved after absorbing her strikes. The way he’d grown faster the more she hit him. The way Lightning Rod had turned her greatest strength into his weapon.

"He had some kind of kinetic absorption trait," she admitted. "Every hit I landed made him stronger."

Diego whistled low. "That’s broken."

"And the lightning absorption?"

"Part of his Aspect. Or—" She hesitated. "Or something else entirely."

"Illegal augmentation?" Leo pushed off the wall. "Wouldn’t put it past the Hounds. They’re desperate enough."

"No." The word came out harder than Reyna intended. "He’s not the type."

"You don’t know that."

"I do."

The team exchanged glances. Diego’s grin widened. "Oh shit. You like him."

"I don’t like anyone."

"You defended him."

"I stated a fact."

"Sure you did." Kira settled onto the couch arm. "La Sirena, the girl who’s never been knocked down, just defended the guy who made her bleed on international broadcast."

Reyna’s jaw clenched. "I’m going to bed."

"Wait, wait." Diego blocked her path. "You can’t leave yet. We need to talk strategy."

"For what?"

"The tournament, obviously. Nakano and his little pack of misfits are in first place. Which means every guild is going to be gunning for them." Diego’s expression turned serious. "Which also means they’re going to be gunning through us to take their spot."

Leo nodded. "Diego’s right. The Hounds survived a Black Gate and two A-Rank encounters. They’ve got momentum. If we want the sponsors to notice us, we need to do better than second place."

"Then we train harder."

"We’re already training fifteen hours a day," Kira pointed out.

"Then we train sixteen."

Takamura laughed, a deep rumble. "That’s the spirit. Though maybe focus on not getting your ass handed to you by street rats with baseball bats first, yeah?"

Reyna shot him a murderous look.

He raised his hands. "Just saying. If you can’t put down Nakano, how you gonna handle Petrova’s perfect little soldiers?"

"The Sentinels are weak."

"Individually, maybe. But they move like a machine. And Julian’s been stewing about his public humiliation for weeks now." Takamura stood, his massive frame casting shadows across the room. "Tournament’s gonna be a bloodbath. Multiple guilds, multiple objectives, live broadcast. Everyone’s going to be desperate."

"Good."

"Good?"

Reyna smiled, sharp and cold. "I fight better when people are desperate. When they’re trying to survive instead of showing off." She met each of her teammates’ eyes in turn. "The Sentinels will crack under pressure. The Vipers will overthink and second-guess. The Strikers will try to play it safe."

"And the Hounds?"

Her smile widened. "They’ll come at us like we’re standing between them and freedom. Which means it’ll be fun."

Diego laughed. "You’re insane."

"I’m competitive."

"Same thing."

Takamura clapped once. "Alright. Meeting’s over. Get some sleep. We start weapons training at 0600."

The team dispersed. Kira vanished into shadow. Leo ambled toward his room. Diego followed, still grinning.

Reyna stayed behind, staring at the frozen screen. Satori’s face filled half the display, his expression caught in the moment before impact. Blood streaked his jaw. His eyes blazed with something that might’ve been rage or joy or both.

"You’re thinking about him."

She turned. Takamura hadn’t left. He stood by the door, studying her with those sharp eyes that saw too much.

"I’m thinking about the tournament."

"Bullshit. You’re thinking about how he didn’t fold when you hit him with everything you had. How he absorbed it and kept coming." Takamura’s expression became unreadable. "Be careful with that one, Reyna. Boys like Nakano don’t break. They burn."

"I’m not afraid of fire."

"Didn’t say you were. Said be careful. There’s a difference." He opened the door, pausing halfway through. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we figure out how to beat the impossible."

The door closed with a soft click.

Reyna stood alone in the silent common room, the beer forgotten in her hand. Her phone buzzed again. Veronica, probably calling to get in one last joke.

She ignored it.

Instead, she pulled up the Crucible footage on her own device, watching the fight from the beginning. Watching Satori move. Watching him adapt. Watching him turn her own power against her with that infuriating grin never faltering.

Cabrón.