CHAPTER 58: THE FIRST SPAR

The training area was Jax’s masterpiece.

It was a vast, open space in the back of the warehouse that had been reinforced with scavenged steel plates and soundproofed with what looked suspiciously like a thousand stolen mattresses.

In the center, a series of robotic training dummies stood at attention, their blank, plastic faces seeming to stare into the middle distance with a profound, existential dread.

"Behold!" Jax declared, his voice echoing in the cavernous room. "The ’Pain Palace’! The ’Hurt Locker’! The ’Room of Doom’!"

"I haven’t decided on a name yet," he admitted.

Jinx, leaning against the far wall, just grunted. "How about ’The Place Where We All Get a Concussion’?"

"I like it!" Jax said. "It has a nice ring to it."

Chloe stood in the observation booth, a newly constructed, reinforced box of bulletproof glass that overlooked the training floor.

Her face was a mask of cold, professional composure, a datapad held firmly in her hand.

"This is not for entertainment, Mr. Davies," she said, her voice crackling over the intercom system. "This is a tactical diagnostic. We need to assess our team’s combat synergy and identify any operational deficiencies."

It was her idea.

A full-team sparring session.

Jinx, Jax, and Chloe versus Michael.

"Three against one?" Michael had asked earlier. "Seems a little unfair."

"You can summon a literal ghost puppy from another dimension, Spooky," Jax had pointed out. "I think we can handle a little unfair."

Now, Michael stood in the center of the room, the Reaper’s Fang a familiar, cold weight in his hand.

He felt the low, buzzing hum of the training dummies.

He felt the chaotic, explosive energy radiating from Jax.

He felt the sharp, focused, and deeply cynical intent of Jinx.

And from the booth above, he felt Chloe’s gaze, a cool, analytical pressure that was more intimidating than any weapon.

"Begin," her voice commanded, cold and final.

The world erupted in chaos.

Jax went left, his movements a lanky, unpredictable dance. He tossed two small, silver spheres that clattered to the floor, immediately releasing a thick, disorienting smoke.

Jinx went right, a phantom in the smoke, her silenced pistol spitting a series of soft, precise shots that were designed not to hit him, but to herd him, to force him into a pre-planned kill box.

Michael didn’t try to fight them.

He adapted.

He used his [Void Sense], the world of sight and sound dissolving into a map of pure energy and intent.

He saw Jinx’s path through the smoke, a sharp, angry red line.

He saw Jax, a chaotic, sparkling yellow, circling around to his flank.

He moved, a ghost in their machine.

He used a micro-[Shadow Step], not to attack, but to reposition, appearing in the one spot they weren’t expecting.

Directly behind Jax.

He tapped him on the shoulder.

"Boo," he said.

Jax let out a yelp that was surprisingly high-pitched and spun around, tripping over his own feet and landing on the floor in a tangle of limbs.

Jinx used the opening.

She burst through the smoke, her movements a blur.

She didn’t fire her gun.

She was on him, a whirlwind of close-quarters combat.

Her attack was a relentless, brutal symphony of strikes. A kick to the knee to break his stance. An elbow to the ribs that sent a starburst of pain through his entire body.

He blocked, he dodged, he parried, but she was a master.

She was faster, more experienced.

She swept his legs out from under him, and he hit the mat hard, the air driven from his lungs in a single, painful whoosh.

She was on him in an instant, the cold muzzle of her pistol pressed against his temple.

"Yield," she said, her voice a low, triumphant growl.

She had gotten a little too into it.

The spar was supposed to be a diagnostic.

But for her, it had become a contest. A way to reassert her own dominance, to prove that she wasn’t afraid of the soul-eating monster on her team.

She had won.

"JINX!"

The voice from the intercom was not Chloe’s.

It was not the cold, clinical command of an analyst.

It was a raw, furious, and utterly undisguised roar of pure, protective rage.

"STAND DOWN!"

The entire training area went silent.

Jax, who had been pushing himself up, froze.

Jinx looked up at the observation booth, her eyes wide with shock.

Chloe was standing there, her knuckles white where she gripped the console. Her professional mask was completely gone, shattered into a million pieces.

Her face was a thundercloud of fury.

"Tactical parameters!" she yelled, her voice shaking with an emotion that was far too raw, too personal to be professional. "He is the primary asset! Do not damage the lynchpin of this entire operation!"

Her outburst was so violent, so out of proportion, that it was a confession.

She wasn’t a commander, worried about an asset.

She was a... something... worried about Michael.

Chloe seemed to realize how she had sounded, a rare, beautiful flush of color rising on her cheeks.

"Maintain... operational readiness," she said stiffly, her voice a weak attempt to regain control.

The moment was broken.

The spar was over.

But Jinx, a slow, wicked, and deeply satisfied grin spreading across her face, decided she wasn’t quite done yet.

She pressed the muzzle of her pistol just a little harder against Michael’s temple.

"I still win," she whispered, her voice a teasing, triumphant purr.

Michael, who was still trying to get his lungs to work, just looked at her.

He was pinned. He was out of options.

The whispers in his head, which had been quiet, suddenly offered a solution.

Let me out. I can help you.

No.

He didn’t need the whispers.

He didn’t need to devour.

He had another ghost in his pocket.

He focused, reaching for the new, terrifying, and wonderful tool in his arsenal.

[REVENANT CALLING (LV. 1) ACTIVATED.]

The air around them dropped twenty degrees.

A glitchy, purple tear in reality opened in the space beside Jinx.

From it, the spectral, shimmering form of the alpha Phase Hound emerged, its empty sockets glowing with a cold, subservient light, the purple chains of Void energy wrapped around its ethereal form.

It let out a silent, psychic howl.

Jinx screamed.

It wasn’t a tactical yell. It was a genuine, high-pitched, "oh-my-god-a-ghost-puppy-just-appeared-out-of-nowhere" scream.

She scrambled back, her bravado completely forgotten.

The revenant just stood there, a silent, spectral guard dog, its head bowed to its master.

Jax just stared, his jaw on the floor.

"DUDE!" he finally managed to yell, his voice full of pure, unadulterated awe. "YOU CAN SUMMON GHOST PUPPIES?! THAT IS THE COOLEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN! CAN YOU MAKE IT FETCH A GRENADE?!"

From the observation booth, there was a soft, sharp clatter.

Chloe had dropped her datapad.

She was staring at the revenant, her face a complex, unreadable mask of scientific fascination, tactical awe, and something else.

A fierce, undeniable pride.

He was her asset.

And he had just done something impossible.

The moment of stunned silence was shattered by a blaring, facility-wide alarm.

It wasn’t a drill.

A massive alert flashed on every screen in the safe house, its text a stark, blood-red.

[WARNING: RED-CLASS GATE MANIFESTATION DETECTED.]

[LOCATION: CENTRAL PARK // THE GREAT LAWN.]

A live news feed popped up on the main screen.

It showed chaos.

Panic.

A massive, swirling vortex of crimson energy had torn open the sky over the heart of Manhattan.

And from it, an army of monstrous, winged creatures was pouring out, their screeches echoing across the city.

The slice-of-life was over.

Chloe’s face was a mask of cold, hard steel, her earlier fluster completely gone, replaced by the sharp, focused intensity of a general going to war.

Her voice, when it came over the intercom, was a low, final, and utterly terrifying command.

"The Guild War has begun."