Under soft afternoon light, the courtyard buzzed with assignment sheets and chatter. Ariel stopped Mark before he headed out.

“FYI—this Saturday we're doing field exercises. Robot combat in another dimension. Everyone makes their own hero suit.”

Mark paused. “Your schedule’s packed with board duties... won’t have time?”

Ariel hesitated, brows drawn. “I don’t know if I can make one.”

With care, Mark tilted her chin. “Then I’ll build it for you.” He scanned measurements posthaste, using his calculation core to replicate her form in his mind. She smiled shyly. “You’re amazing.” Then pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’ll make it up to you.”

A flashback: days earlier in the gardens, Mark had asked Grace to walk with him. They passed by Tyrone playing football. His taunts stung: “Always hiding, Velocida.”

Mark set his jaw. “Let’s bet—penalties. If you win, I give the head boy title. If I win, you leave me alone.”

Tyrone stepped up, swung his shot; Mark caught the ball one-handed. Then with unexpected force Mark kicked back—so fast Tyrone didn’t see it. Mark said coldly: “Know your place.”

Grace stared. “I guess… Mira,” he corrected. “After I.R.I.S, you changed. Your powers, your eyes... you’re the second spy.” Grace/Mira froze as Mark walked away.

Two days later Mark returned to the dorm past dusk. Ariel greeted him with tears and laughter: “Happy 17th birthday.” A small cake sat on the table. She hugged him fiercely. “Thank you for everything.” Mark smiled quietly. “You’re welcome.”

Saturday’s the day. Ariel appeared in a suit of white skirt, blue boots, and a black-and-blue top. Mark wore red boots, a white jacket with red lining, black pants—a color-coded duo.

They faced the field exercises: mechanized robot foes. Bots swarmed. Ariel dodged and dispatched machines with swift strikes. Mark fought alongside: calculating weak points, deploying Avos constructs, and blasting circuits with precise energy bursts.

In the distance, Heather appeared—poised to strike at Mark—but Risa and Light flanked him in formation. They charged into battle. At first, their teamwork held well. Risa weaved around bots, Light using telekinesis to throw scrap metal as weapons. But Heather overpoweringly attacked—they were pushed back. Mark reached just in time, redirecting the field debris into traps and neutralizing Heather’s entry.

After the exercise, Light and Risa rested in the infirmary. Risa sighed, leaning toward Light. “I’m just glad Mark’s okay.”

Light nodded. Their concern mirrored deep loyalty and care.

Mark lingered outside the infirmary door, hearing but not entering. He watched them in silence.

Later that night, he stood outside the dorm hallway doors. He turned back into the dark corridor. “Come out,” he whispered into the empty night. Silence. Moments passed before three figures emerged from the shadows.

Daniel, Richard, Zack—his older brothers. Their faces grave, expressions unreadable.

“We came to get our baby brother.” Their voices carried a cool confidence.

Mark’s chest tightened. He squared his shoulders. “You’ll try... and fail.”