Ryan stormed back to the base, a whirlwind of emotions churning inside him. His fists clenched at his sides, his body trembling with unspent anger that refused to settle. His focus wavered as he staggered into the wall, a growl of frustration escaping his throat. Useless. That’s how he felt, and the thought only fanned the flames of his fury.

  Without thinking, he found himself in the training room, his breathing heavy as he tried to steady himself. Everything had been fine, until Azara decided to push his buttons. She always knew how to get under his skin. Hell, it wasn’t just her. Lately, it felt like the whole team was against him, blaming him for things he couldn’t control. Aaron getting hurt wasn’t his fault. It didn’t matter how many accusing looks they threw his way, it wasn’t his fault.

  His chest tightened as Aaron’s name lingered in his thoughts. He hadn’t seen him yet. Maybe he should. Aaron was his best friend, after all, the one person who had always stood by him. They’d been through too much together for him to ignore this and he could use some advice but it would have to wait. His anger was threatening to consume him and boxing was the only thing that helped.

  He shouldn’t have to take orders from someone younger than him either and in the end no one won even if it was just a drill. So what was the point if they couldn’t lead right? Ryan would have led them to victory and shown Kashi he was better. He jabbed the code much harder than necessary and watched the room change, panels flipping out. He pulled his shirt off feeling the fabric was too itchy and uncomfortable.

  The punching bot rolled forward from the corner of the training room, its whirring components coming to life with a low hum. It had multiple moving parts: retractable arms with padded fists, swiveling joints for dodging, and sensors that tracked every hit. The bot’s sleek, metallic body gleamed under the overhead lights, its movements smooth and calculated as it prepared for action. It was something that wouldn’t get physically hurt and it was exactly what Ryan needed without being reprimanded.

  Ryan stood silently, methodically wrapping his hands in gauze. His fingers moved with practiced ease, the routine as familiar as breathing. The rhythmic sound of the tape tearing echoed faintly in the room, a quiet prelude to what was coming. He tightened the wrap around his knuckles, pulling it taut before tearing off another strip to seal the gauze. His eyes stayed fixed on the bot, his jaw clenched, a storm of emotions simmering beneath the surface.

  It wasn’t his fault the team couldn't keep a decent plan, it's called improvising and that was what he did for a successful mission. He had left the vials in Vixen's care early this morning when she dragged him out of his room. They could’ve gone months again without knowing about the vials and maybe it would be too late for whatever is happening. The team doesn’t understand him and Ryan knows that's probably for the best. He faced the fighting bot and made sure it was set to advanced mode. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears and hit start wanting to feel alive.

  As Ryan stepped into the training ring, the bot’s sensors locked onto him, emitting a soft hum of anticipation. Its arms extended outward, one twisting slightly as if taunting him. A row of LEDs across its chest flashed red, signaling that it had already calibrated its difficulty level based on his past sessions. It wasn’t going to be easy. And that’s exactly what Ryan wanted.

  He threw the first punch, his knuckles connecting with the bot’s padded surface. Pain rippled up his arm, a burn igniting in his muscles as his body screamed for release; screamed to kill. A memory started up as he continued his strikes, the day his village burned and was destroyed by a demon. He remembered hearing a song that had been so beautiful like a siren before somehow tentacle-like shadows murder the people who came forward lured in by the song. The helpless screams. Somehow, he had survived the massacre, but survival had come at a price.

  He ducked as the bot’s arm swung toward him, narrowly dodging the blow, and came back with a jab to its core. The markings on his skin burned as the memories surged. He hadn’t asked to become a hybrid, hadn’t wanted the remnant markings that branded him the moment the chaos ended. They had claimed him, reshaped him, twisted his existence. He hated it.

  Another punch. Harder this time. The bot staggered slightly, recalibrating. Ryan didn’t stop. Maybe these markings were a curse, but they had to mean something, didn’t they? He dodged another swing, his movements fluid, automatic. Revenge. That was the reason. It had to be. The markings, the strength they gave him and he would use it to destroy any living demon. It was a promise he made to the ash of his village.

  A sharp buzz filled the air as the bot switched tactics, throwing out a quick one-two combo. Ryan blocked the first hit, deflecting the second with his forearm before slamming his fist into the bot’s side. It reeled back, but he pressed forward, relentless.

  He hated the way people looked at him, the way their eyes would flinch when he made eye contact.. They didn’t see a survivor, they saw something different. A beast. A thing to be feared. Something to be tamed.

  Another punch. The bot’s frame shuddered.

  But he wasn’t a beast. He wasn’t something to be caged. He was a hunter, and his prey was clear. Demons still existed. He knew because he had seen them, felt their destruction firsthand. And he would kill them all, no matter what.

  With a final roar, Ryan drove his fist into the bot’s chest, sending it skidding back across the training floor. He panted, his muscles trembling, but the fire inside him refused to dim. The marking on his back was itching.

  Another punch but the bot absorbed the blow. He was starting to hate everything about being a vigilante. It was better than The Elementals but he still hated not having a place in the world. He hated that hollow ache, the one that reminded him he didn’t truly belong anywhere.

  And then there was Kashi. The pity in his eyes when he first found Ryan still burned in his memory. He hated it, hated being looked at like he was broken. But that moment had led him to Aaron, and Aaron was the only good thing to come of it all. The rest of the team? Tolerable at best.

  The bot struck his side, jarring him back to the present, but he didn’t stop. Gritting his teeth, he threw another barrage of punches. Azara’s voice echoed in his mind, her endless criticisms about him being “reckless.” She didn’t get it, he wasn’t reckless. She just didn’t understand his way of fighting, always finding a way to needle him with her snide remarks. And then there was Sam, with that piercing, judgmental stare, silently disapproving of every decision Ryan made. It wasn’t fair.

  Another hit, harder this time. The bot’s metallic body shuddered, but Ryan wasn’t satisfied.

  He deserved better. He should’ve been second-in-command by now. He worked harder than anyone, fought harder, and yet Kashi still didn’t seem to trust him. Why? What else did he have to prove? His fists moved on instinct, each punch fueled by anger and frustration, sweat dripping down his brow and gathering by his hairline. His breath came in quick, shallow pants, but he didn’t care. The fire inside him burned hotter with every strike.

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  Ryan tightened his grip on his anger, determined not to let it overwhelm him. But deep down, the question lingered: what would it take for them to finally see him?

  Ryan was panting by now feeling the sweat build by his hair. Felix was another story, Ryan woke up to Felix staring at him in the middle of the night more than once and it scared him every time. It was frustrating because he saw pity in those eyes and he hated it. He didn’t want pity. Everytime, Felix acted like it never happened so Ryan kept his distance from him. The bot hit him in the face, throwing off his balance and Ryan adjusted his stance blocking the next few attacks.

  He swung, giving it an uppercut hearing the clang of metal reverberate through the room but his thoughts were still so loud. He could be so much better if Kashi gave him a chance, another one to prove that he can handle leading. Kyrant the war god didn’t choose him to be just a mere follower, it would be a disgrace. But even with the fire of ambition burning in his chest, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away for his own path. Not because of them. Because of Aaron.

  Aaron was the anchor that kept him tethered to the team, the one person who had been there when everything else had fallen apart. Leaving would be betrayal, no, worse, it would be weakness. Another punch, harder this time. He poured his emotions into each strike, the weight of his frustration, his guilt, all of it surging through his fists. He couldn’t leave Aaron. It had been terrifying without him, and the thought of disappointing him now cut deeper than any wound.

  His mind drifted to Aaron’s injury, where the scarpes of metal embedded into his side the moment replayed over and over like a curse. If he’d been faster, stronger and if he’d managed to stop Sora; Aaron wouldn’t be hurt. They wouldn’t be in this mess. Another swing, but his focus wavered, and the bot’s counterattack caught him off guard. A heavy blow struck his face, sending him crashing to the floor. He stayed there, chest heaving, sweat dripping onto the mats. The realization hit him harder than the bot ever could.

  Was it really his fault? Had he failed Aaron?

  He stared at the ceiling, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. If nothing else, one thing was clear: he had to be better. Stronger. Faster. For Aaron.

  “So what's got you all riled up?”

  Ryan looked to the side seeing Aaron watching from the sideline. How long had he been watching? He forces himself up and refused to look at Aaron, a bit embarrassed he’d been caught. “Nothing.” He muttered.

  Aaron scoffed coming closer to him. “Yeah I've heard that a lot, which is bullshit.” Ryan wanted to disappear which was odd. Aaron crouched in front of him. “What's wrong? You only come here when you're pissed” Ryan finally met his blue eyes, managing to get his breathing under control. Aaron knew him well but he wasn’t ready to talk yet. He got up and waved him off and restarted the bot again. This time he wouldn’t let it get the better of him and he glanced at the score. He could beat it. He did a quick stretch of his arms, loosening them before hitting start once more this time without the his loud thoughts and emotions

  Ryan steadied his breathing, shaking out his hands before stepping back into position. The bot shifted, its joints humming softly as it reset, ready to strike again. Ryan moved in, his strikes more controlled now, precise jabs to its chest, a sharp hook to its side, each punch landing with a satisfying thud.

  The bot countered with a quick swing, but Ryan sidestepped effortlessly, weaving under its arm and delivering a clean uppercut that sent it spinning. His body moved on instinct, muscles loosening as the tension bled from him. This wasn’t about anger anymore. It was about rhythm, control, and regaining his balance. The bot lunged again, but Ryan danced back, his breaths steady and measured. He landed one final blow to its core, the clang of metal signaling the end as the bot powered down. Ryan stood there, out of breath but felt a strange calm wash over him. He swiped some stay ginger hairs back into place.

  Aaron came over, handing him a towel and some water. “You gonna talk now? Because you seem worse than before.” He said lightly but there was the underlying tone that made Ryan feel guilt. He pulled Aaron into a hug.

  “Oh uh, ok.” Aaron said, hugging him back. “Rough time?”

  “I’m sorry for getting you hurt.” Ryan said not letting go and again couldn’t meet his blue eyes “I’ve been a shit friend lately and everything feels worse. I can’t control my anger. I fucked up today too.” He was rambling. Whenever he was around Aaron he tended to do that a lot and it could be because he doesn’t open up to the team. Aaron patted his hair.

  “Ok that was a lot, you want to break it down or advice on your problems?”

  “Advice.” Ryan said and finally broke out of the hug. He looked over Aaron who didn’t seem injured but regardless he had been. He took the towel from his shoulder and wiped down his body and drank half the water. Aaron walked around him as Ryan did his best to ignore him as he began to unravel the gauze and tape. Cold fingers touched his back causing him to whip around to Aaron who looked mildly amused.

  “Really?” He asked.

  Aaron rolled his eyes. “I don’t get to see your remnant marking often, I just wanted to see it.” He glanced at Ryan’s body and Ryan has never gotten his shirt on faster. “Something wrong?” Aaron teased. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  “I’m cold.” Ryan lied. “Uh what about you giving me advice?”

  “You should take your shirt off more often.” Aaron said nonchalantly. Ryan stared at Aaron for longer than he should. “What? Nothing to say?”

  “Sometimes I really hate you.” Ryan said with no bite. Aaron let out a laugh.

  “Anyways explain to me what's got you upset so I can just point out who was right.” Aaron said, leading Ryan out of the training room and to his room. The door slid open revealing the soft glow illuminated hitting the pale blue walls and Aaron immediately flobbed onto his bed.

  “You don’t understand how much I miss my bed, I hate being in the medbay.” He muttered before sitting up and motioned for Ryan to join him.

  “Was it my fault you got hurt? Do you blame me for it?” Ryan finally said. Aaron could handle pretty much anything thrown at him and Ryan should have stayed or at least visited him. He at least needed to hear the truth from the person he could trust. Aaron lifted his shirt seeing the pink scars. “No, Sora’s unpredictable and I just got caught in the crossfire.” Ryan's shoulder slumped, feeling relief.

  “However, I will say when it came to Kashi, that was your fault because you should’ve gone for Sora that time.”

  Ryan felt a sinking pit in his stomach. He was screwed. He’d been deliberately trying to get under Kashi’s skin, unable to fully accept him as a leader. In Ryan’s mind, Kashi had to earn that title. Aaron clapped a firm hand on his shoulder, his tone lighter but laced with a hint of reprimand. “Apologize. It’ll be fine. Honestly, your pride could use the humbling.”

  That didn’t make Ryan feel any better.

  “I also got into a fight with Azara today and I lost control.” Ryan confessed. Aaron took a deep breath before sighing. He ran hand down his face and Ryan couldn’t help but feel terrible. Aaron eyed his wrapped arm and Ryan covered it.

  “Ryan, you’ve got to stop getting into fights. You can’t let them get under your skin, no matter how much they try,” Aaron said, his voice tinged with weariness. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but they don’t. They have no idea. And this anger you’re carrying, it’s not healthy.”

  Ryan didn’t respond. How could he? Making an effort with the team had always felt pointless. He’d skipped every team-building exercise, ignored game nights, and kept himself at arm’s length. Maybe he’d pulled too far away, but deep down, he was certain they’d never understand.

  They didn’t know what it was like to watch everyone you loved die. Revenge was the only thing that made sense. He clenched his fists as the faint heat of his remnant marking flared on his back, as if it agreed with his resolve. Aaron sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. Comfort could only go so far, and they both knew it.

  “Just please make an effort.” Aaron said softly, taking Ryan’s hand and squeezing it and Ryan reluctantly squeezed back. He would do it for Aaron.