A few weeks had passed since Jace moved in with Riley. His body was starting to show the results of constant training, but his motivation hadn’t changed. Every drop of sweat, every ache—was a promise to his mom. She wanted him to live well.

  And this was his way of doing it.

  But this morning?

  This morning was hell.

  Jace groaned as sunlight stabbed through the curtains like a smug little bastard. He was on his back, drool soaking into the pillow, one leg off the bed, the other tangled in a blanket like it had tried to strangle him in his sleep. His mouth was open, hair sticking out in every direction.

  He blinked once. Twice.

  There was… a weight on his chest.

  His vision focused—and suddenly, there she was.

  Riley.

  On top of him.

  His voice cracked with horror. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

  Riley didn’t even flinch. She casually smacked him on the forehead like she was swatting a fly.

  “Relax, dipshit. You agreed to be a guinea pig. This is part of the deal.”

  Jace sat up halfway, horrified. “You were on me while I was asleep?! That’s creepy, what the hell?!”

  She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was installing a sleep monitor. Also a location tracker. In case my dumbass guinea pig decides to wander off and die in a ditch.”

  He bolted upright, wiping drool from his chin in panic. “What?! You put trackers in me?!”

  “You literally agreed to be experimented on, remember? That was the price of rent, dumbass.” She gave him an unbothered shrug. “Besides, they’re non-invasive. Mostly. You’ll probably be fine.”

  He stared at her, stunned. Then sighed. “I really should’ve just died in that alley.”

  Riley grinned with zero remorse. “Too late for regrets, guinea pig.”

  Jace grumbled as he stood, stretching out his stiff limbs. “Whatever. I’m gonna go train.”

  Before he could make it to the door, Riley yanked him back by the ear.

  “Ow! What now?!”

  “You can’t keep training like you’ve been,” she snapped. “Your form’s shit, your schedule is chaos, and you just do random crap because it feels cool. That’s not training—that’s just flailing with extra steps.”

  Jace looked at her, realization slowly settling in. “So… I wasted the last few weeks.”

  “Yup,” Riley said cheerfully. “But lucky for you, I’ve already been tracking your stats. I’ve measured every inch of your dumbass body.”

  “…That’s creepy.”

  “I’m a genius inventor. I need to know your stats for testing. You want to get stronger or not?”

  Jace sighed. “Yeah… alright.”

  She smirked. “Good boy.”

  Elsewhere, Celeste trained in a pristine room of polished steel and white light. Dozens of cameras tracked her every move as she danced and darted like an elegant weapon, beams of laser-light shooting from her palms with precision.

  Her mid-tier buff enhanced every step, her timing perfect, her movements fluid. It was like watching a ballerina choreographed by war itself.

  She smiled softly. Not because she loved the training—but because she knew where it would take her. And who she’d get to step on along the way.

  Behind her, a news report played from a mounted screen.

  “Another tragedy today. Dozens of powerless dead. This marks the second major incident in recent weeks, following the confirmed gas explosion at the eastern factory…”

  Celeste didn’t blink. She just stood there, calm.

  And smiled.