Chapter 60: The Trials

“This isn’t just a test. They want to see what you become when you’re alone.”

Evelyn nodded, trying to keep the cold fear from crawling up her spine. She wasn’t alone—she knew that—but she would have to walk this part alone.

Blue stepped forward, rubbing his head against her leg, as if giving her strength. Then he remained still, gaze locked on the corridor that awaited her.

She looked up at Vykhor and whispered, “I’m not you, Vykhor. I’m not a fighter.”

He stepped closer, slowly, until their foreheads almost touched.

“No. You’re more dangerous than me, Evelyn. Because you win without hurting. You understand. You see through walls. You can decode anything.”

He gently touched her left wrist, where the faint glow of her biomedical bracelet pulsed.

“And you’re not alone.”

She drew in a long breath. And stepped forward.

The corridor swallowed her, bathed in soft blue light. As she ventured deeper, the synthetic voice returned, echoing through hidden speakers:

“Trial A-011. Objective: deactivate the containment matrix by solving an unstable encryption protocol. Time limit: 3 minutes. Risk of electrocution upon failure.”

Evelyn’s lips parted slightly, letting out a nearly silent sigh.

A logic test under stress. Griffin… you never change.

A familiar shiver ran through her.

Slowly, she entered the room. An old, flickering console blinked at its center, waiting for a mind fast enough to tame it.

The door sealed behind her with a respectful hiss.

The room was circular, vast, and lit with a clinically aggressive white. In the center, the console pulsed at regular intervals, like an electronic heartbeat. Around the perimeter, embedded into the walls, six metallic modules vibrated faintly—barely perceptible unless you listened closely.

Evelyn understood immediately: containment units. If she failed, they would discharge. Not lethal—Griffin didn’t want her dead—but enough to knock her out. Or worse.

“Security protocol engaged.
Unstable encryption detected.
Please reconfigure defensive algorithms within 3 minutes.”

Three minutes.

Evelyn knelt before the console. The data was already scrolling—lines of shifting code, changing order, rewriting their own logic. The algorithm was alive. No… clawed. A signature she recognized instantly.

You set this trap yourself, didn’t you, Griffin?

A faint smile touched her lips. He had always been like this—brilliant, infuriating, and painfully meticulous. This wasn’t designed for an average mind.

She placed her fingers on the sensory pads. The encryption couldn’t be broken head-on. She had to anticipate its internal rules, its shifting structure. She closed her eyes and let her mind dive.

Numbers. Symbols. Binary motifs. She followed them like a melody. The rhythm of the code. Its cadence. She spotted a recurring pattern—a fragment of digital identity—then another. A reversed string of digits, a hidden reference to the golden ratio tucked in among the entropy.

Two minutes left.

She moved faster. Hijacked a control sub-protocol. Reversed the execution order of a parasitic cycle. The system fought back, trying to eject her. Red lines blinked across her interface like warnings.

Then…

A word appeared in the code.

**A-011.**

And right after it, nestled between tags:

**Proud.**

Evelyn’s throat tightened.

Griffin.

This wasn’t just a test anymore.

It was… a hand extended.

She gripped the pads tighter and finished the sequence with surgical precision. The console glowed a soft green. The containment units powered down, one by one. Silence fell—reverent.

**“Trial A-011: Success.”**

The door slid open slowly.

She stayed still a moment longer. Her hyperactive mind had just navigated a minefield, and yet it was that single word—Proud—echoing through her chest.

When she emerged, Blue was waiting, sitting tall and dignified, gently leaning his head forward so she could rest her hand on it.

And just behind him—Vykhor.

He didn’t speak.

But his eyes burned with a pride no words could ever express.

When Evelyn joined Vykhor and Blue in the adjoining corridor, she saw only the Kael’tarien’s eyes at first. He was scanning her face, looking for any trace of distress. She gave a small, silent nod.

He understood. She had succeeded.

But before they could exchange a word, the ground trembled. A small projector descended from the ceiling and cast a golden beam over Blue. A gentle voice followed—softer this time, almost… curious.

**“Subject B-000: Skill Evaluation. Activating Hunting Simulator.”**

“What?” Evelyn gasped, stepping forward. “No. He’s still young, he—”

Too late.

The floor beneath Blue vanished with a soft click. Evelyn shouted his name, but Vykhor placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Watch.”

The chamber was vast, simulating a half-ruined, half-forest environment in shifting holographic detail. Shapes slithered in the shadows—four-legged drones, scentless, silent. Designed to flee. And sometimes, to fight back.

Blue, at first frozen, let out a deep growl. A blink later—he was gone.

The gentle, curious creature Evelyn had adopted was gone.

He became what he was meant to be: a hunter.

He crept between rocks, circling a drone. Trapped it. His tail twitched, his muscles rippled under iridescent blue fur. And his eyes… his eyes belonged to a predator choosing his prey.

Somewhere, Griffin was watching. And what he saw surpassed expectations.

“B-000: Camouflage. Instinctive learning. Sensory coordination.
Adaptability: Above standard.
Loyalty index: High.”

One drone tried to counter. It emitted a high-frequency sonic burst. Blue rolled aside, leapt onto a wall, rebounded mid-air, and slammed his claws into its mechanical heart. A flash of blue raced down its spine. The drone dropped, inert.

Another tried to escape.

It didn’t get the chance.

Back in the corridor, Evelyn and Vykhor watched the projected feed on the wall. Evelyn’s heart was pounding.

Vykhor barely smiled, but his golden eyes gleamed. “He’s learning.”

“Too fast,” Evelyn whispered.

But despite her worry, her chest swelled with emotion. He’ll come back. She was sure. Because Blue had chosen.

Minutes later, a hatch opened. Blue reappeared. Uninjured. But straighter. Sharper. His gaze lifted to Vykhor.

And something passed between them.

Respect.

Not peace. Not yet.

But a silent accord.

Vykhor knelt, laid a hand on the feline’s head, and simply said:

“Not bad.”

Blue purred softly… then rubbed himself against Evelyn.

The light went out.

A beat. Two.

Then the room lit again, revealing a circular chamber. Three platforms, each bathed in a pillar of light. Evelyn. Vykhor. Blue. Separated.

Evelyn turned, spinning. “Vykhor?! Blue?!”

They were there—but each encased in their own column. Motionless. A stasis field. Subtle. Painless. Absolute.

A holographic halo lit up above them. Griffin’s voice returned—this time lower. Heavier.

**“Final test: Cohesion. Scenario: Variable crisis. Objective: evaluate bond strength.”**

Three hatches opened on the floor. Inside each—perfect replicas.

Evelyn turned pale. Vykhor clenched his jaw. Blue growled, ears flat.

“These are simulated versions of yourselves. They will think as you do. Act as you do. But only one of you will be allowed to leave this room. Two must remain.
The AI will determine the exit based on your responses… your emotions… and your sacrifices.”

“This is madness,” Evelyn whispered, her voice shaking.

“You have ten minutes.”

“Vykhor!” she shouted. “We have to find a way out—together!”

But the Kael’tarien remained still, staring at his double. Even the scar above its brow was perfect. This wasn’t just a copy.

It was a mirror.

A brutal one.

“This isn’t a test of intelligence,” he muttered. “It’s a test of will.”

His eyes met Evelyn’s.

His Evelyn.

And in that moment, he understood.