THE F-RANK THAT BUILDS ABILITIES

The hallway leading to Room B-4 was too quiet.

Donnie walked with measured steps, the building's early morning silence settling in his ears like cotton. Most of Ridgewood Academy was still asleep. Even the janitorial drones hadn't begun their cleaning cycle yet.

He reached the door.

There was no guard. No assistant. Just a steel handle and a screen that blinked once when he approached. It scanned his Trace Band and slid open with a soft click.

Instructor Crane stood inside.

The room was smaller than Donnie expected. A square chamber with reinforced walls, minimal lighting, and a built-in trace scanner. One combat dummy stood at the center, its surface charred from dozens of past simulations.

Crane didn't say anything at first. He simply pointed to the center of the room.

Donnie obeyed.

"Activate your trace," Crane said.

Donnie raised his hand and initiated the movement. He kept it simple—his original mimic of Lucen's arc. A clean crescent of fire appeared, holding shape for about four seconds before dissipating.

Crane watched silently.

"Again. But the one you used in class yesterday."

Donnie hesitated. "I thought this was a general assessment."

"It is. And I'm assessing what you aren't showing the others."

There was no point lying. Donnie nodded, took position, and performed the Hybrid Arc. This time, he did it slowly, letting the energy shape itself mid-motion. The trace bent like a wave, shifting off its axis, and vanished into the far side of the dummy's arm.

The band on his wrist flashed.

Crane nodded. "You altered the rhythm."

"I improvised."

"Not just improvised," Crane said. "That movement doesn't match any trace in our library. Not even in the experimental archives."

Donnie stood straight. "Then what happens now?"

Crane stepped closer. "Tell me, do you know what a Trace Gambit is?"

Donnie shook his head.

"It's when someone pushes their ability beyond safe limits to force a system response. You're doing something close. But not through power. Through pattern disruption."

He walked around the dummy. "The Trace Band system wasn't designed for anomalies. It's supposed to support known flows, copied patterns, and enhanced skills. Not unclassified hybrids."

Donnie remained quiet.

"Which means I have two choices," Crane said. "Flag you for external review…"

Donnie's stomach tightened.

"…or test how far your evolution can go without interference."

That caught him off guard.

"You're not reporting me?"

Crane folded his arms. "I've seen what happens when this place clips potential too early. I'm not interested in creating another hollow-rank graduate. But I need to know something first."

He pointed at the dummy.

"I want you to hit it with everything you've got. No copying. No mimicry. Just you."

Donnie stared at the dummy. His fingers trembled slightly, but he stepped forward and took a deep breath.

He started the motion.

Right hand forward. Step in with the left foot. But instead of forming Lucen's arc, or Veera's stance, he twisted mid-step, letting his memory mix them both.

This time, it didn't break.

A flame formed.

But it didn't arc.

It curled.

A spiral. Controlled and narrow. It struck the dummy directly in the chest and vanished without smoke or sound.

Crane stared.

"That was new," he said.

Donnie didn't answer. He was still processing what he'd just done.

The band on his wrist blinked.

> Trace Pattern Recognized: Flame Spiral – 4%

Hybrid Trace Construct Confirmed

Alert Level: Medium

Crane nodded. "You'll be assigned to Room B-4 for private practice from now on."

"Why?"

"Because if I keep you in public drills, someone will notice. And they'll report it. Or worse—try to shut you down before you grow."

Donnie blinked. "So… you're protecting me?"

"I'm giving you a window. Don't waste it."

---

That afternoon, Donnie skipped lunch.

Instead, he went to the courtyard to clear his head. He sat under the tree near the rear walkway, where few students ever passed. His sketchpad was open, but he wasn't drawing. He was staring at the page from last night.

The figure he'd labeled "Trace Zero."

The movement they'd used was still impossible to replicate. Too fast, too fluid. But now, after today's spiral formation, Donnie started to understand the principle behind it.

"Hey."

He looked up.

Veera stood with two bottles of water and an energy bar.

"You look like someone just told you the world's ending."

"I think it might be," Donnie muttered, half-joking.

She sat beside him and handed over one bottle.

"What happened in the assessment?"

"I showed Crane my trace."

She paused. "And?"

"He didn't report it. He told me to keep growing."

Veera took a slow sip. "That's not normal."

"I know."

They sat in silence for a while.

Then Veera asked, "Are you scared?"

Donnie looked down at his band.

"No. I'm just trying to stay ahead of whatever this is."

Veera leaned back against the tree. "I think you've already passed the point of 'normal student.'"

Donnie smirked. "That's what worries me."

---

That night, back in Room B-4, Donnie ran another test.

No instructors. No scans. Just him and the reinforced walls.

He tried building the Flame Spiral again—faster this time. He succeeded once. Failed twice. On the fourth attempt, the trace expanded mid-flight and curved into a crescent.

Unexpected.

> New Pattern: Spiral Wave (In Development)

Status: Unstable

Error: Unreadable class signature

The room's lights dimmed slightly.

His Trace Band went quiet.

Then a new message appeared.

> "You're not alone."

– T.Z.

He exhaled slowly.

Trace Zero had seen it again.

---

Meanwhile, far across the region, a different figure watched from a control room filled with monitors and trace logs.

They leaned forward.

"Flag subject Reeve, Donnie. Anomaly detected."

> FLAGGED – CATEGORY GRAY

External Response Recommended

They smiled to themselves.

"Let's see how far you go before you break.

© Anthony Osifo 2025 – All rights reserved.