THE F-RANK THAT BUILDS ABILITIES

Donnie barely had time to catch his breath.

The lights in Room 2C flickered once—then held steady. The air returned to its usual weight. But that feeling in the floor… it never stopped. A soft vibration beneath the tiles. A tremble too low to hear, too faint to register—unless you were trained to notice.

Trace Zero stood still as a statue.

"They sent a fifth."

Kaito adjusted his gloves. "We just dropped four."

Lora checked the doorway. "That was protocol. This one isn't."

Donnie's Trace Band blinked again.

> External Trace Detected

Identifier: Black-Listed Operative

Status: Suppression Tier Class-2

Danger Level: Severe

Containment Protocols: Abandoned

Donnie swallowed hard.

There were no commands. No calls for cooperation. Not even a timer.

Just one word blinking red across his screen:

> RUN

The door to Room 2C didn't open.

It vanished.

No crash. No bang. Just disintegration. The metal faded away in dust, atom by atom, until a figure walked through the empty frame.

Not in a coat.

Not in armor.

In a student uniform.

Black and red. Unranked ID patch.

But that Trace Band on his wrist?

It glowed with a black sigil.

Donnie had never seen a trace band that color. Not even in the archives.

The stranger stopped in the doorway.

He looked young. Ordinary. Average build. His hair was messy, like he'd just rolled out of bed.

Then he smiled.

"Hi," he said casually. "Donnie, right?"

Nobody answered.

"I'm really sorry about this. I don't like hurting people who build their own paths. Honestly, I respect it. But orders are orders."

Trace Zero took a step forward.

"Who sent you?"

The stranger tilted his head. "Nobody. That's the scary part."

Then he activated his trace.

And the floor shattered.

---

Donnie grabbed Lora and rolled back as the ground caved beneath them. Trace energy erupted like it was laced into the concrete itself. The walls warped. The ceiling stretched. Reality inside Room 2C began to bend.

"Spatial trace!" Zero shouted.

Kaito vanished—Phase Step—but didn't reappear.

"Where is he?!" Donnie yelled.

The stranger raised one hand. "Don't worry. He's not dead. Just… somewhere slightly off-grid."

Donnie's band was glitching.

> Trace Interference

Tracking: Failed

Visual Sync: Corrupted

Surrounding Data: Folding

He couldn't see through the distortion. Could barely breathe.

But he stepped forward anyway.

Trace Zero lunged first.

The stranger met him mid-air with a single wave of energy.

The impact was silent.

But Zero was thrown back like a ragdoll, skidding across the floor until they hit the rear wall. Hard.

Donnie launched Spiral Surge immediately—no buildup, no rhythm. Just instinct.

The flame surged.

The stranger stepped through it.

Literally walked through it like mist.

Donnie barely dodged the counter.

The stranger's hand grazed his shoulder, and every trace channel in Donnie's arm went cold.

He staggered.

"Fun thing about trace disruptions," the stranger said calmly. "They're even more effective when you don't name them."

Donnie fought to reengage. He tried Shatterstep, but the footing was gone. The ground beneath his feet kept shifting angles.

He closed his eyes and focused on rhythm.

If he couldn't trust sight, he had to trust memory.

One-two-turn-lift—Collapse Edge.

He didn't aim for the enemy.

He aimed for the center of distortion.

The slash landed.

Reality snapped.

The walls corrected. The air realigned. Trace visibility returned.

The stranger stepped back, rubbing his neck.

"Ow. That was sharp."

Lora dashed in, distortion blade slicing upward.

He blocked it with a trace barrier shaped like a mirror—and Lora flew back, screaming as her trace rebounded into her own core.

Donnie caught her.

"Stay back."

She nodded, breath ragged.

Then the stranger smiled again.

"You're not bad."

Donnie glared. "You're not normal."

"No," he said. "I'm not."

He raised his hand.

This time, he didn't summon distortion.

He summoned silence.

Every trace in the room shut off.

Donnie couldn't even feel his own fingers. His Band went dark. The fire inside his hybrid arc fizzled like it had never existed.

"Final warning," the stranger said. "The next move I make ends someone."

Trace Zero stood again, blood at the edge of his mouth.

"No it won't."

He threw something—a small cube, glowing faint green.

It exploded on impact with the floor.

A surge of light shot through the room, and all four of them—Donnie, Lora, Kaito (who suddenly reappeared mid-air), and Trace Zero—vanished from Room 2C.

---

Donnie landed hard on stone.

It wasn't Ridgewood anymore.

They were inside a hollowed-out maintenance shaft beneath the East Arena. He recognized it from old blueprints—but no student had accessed it in years.

They were safe.

For now.

Kaito coughed, holding his ribs.

"What the hell was that?!"

"An operative," Zero said. "A real one."

Donnie sat back against the wall.

"He wasn't wearing armor. He wasn't even ranked."

"Exactly," Zero said. "He's beyond ranks."

Lora clutched her shoulder. "We can't beat him like this."

Zero looked at Donnie.

"You landed the only hit that mattered. You disrupted a spatial loop. That's not easy."

"It nearly tore me apart."

"But it worked."

Donnie closed his eyes.

He could still feel the stranger's trace signature in his body. It wasn't like fire or wind or energy. It was emptiness. Like everything inside you forgetting how to be itself.

"How do we beat that?"

Zero didn't answer immediately.

Then:

"We don't. Not yet."

Donnie opened his eyes.

"But we will?"

Zero nodded once.

"If you survive long enough to finish your Break Arc."

---

End of Chapter 11

© Anthony Osifo 2025 – All rights reserved.