The campus gym smelled like a lethal cocktail of industrial rubber mats and the kind of bad life choices that lead to a 6:00 a.m. workout.

"You’re early," Lucien muttered. He sounded like he’d been hit by a truck as he let his duffel bag drop onto the bench with a heavy, muffled thud.

Mira was propped up against the doorframe, looking like she was personally offended by the very concept of the sun. "It’s six in the morning, Nox. Some of us actually value our REM cycles. Like, as a lifestyle choice."

"You said you wanted to work on your stamina," Nox replied. He didn't even look up from his laces. His voice was steady; way too steady for this hour. It was starting to grate on them.

"I meant emotionally," Mira groaned, sliding down the wall a few inches. "I wanted to be able to handle a breakup without crying in a Starbucks, not run a literal marathon."

Garrick was already mid-stretch, his joints popping like small firecrackers in the quiet gym. "You texted at 5:12 a.m., man. My phone buzzed so hard it nearly walked off the nightstand."

"Yes," Nox said simply.

Lucien paused, staring at him with one arm halfway through a hoodie sleeve. He looked genuinely baffled. "You texted. At five- twelve. In the morning. On a Tuesday."

"You were awake."

"I most certainly was not."

"You responded with a thumbs-up emoji, Lucien."

Lucien blinked, the gears slowly grinding into motion. "...That’s actually disturbing. Did I? I don't remember being conscious for that. My brain was definitely still offline."

From the corner, Seris was already pulling her hair into a tight, practical knot, her eyes narrowed at Nox. "He’s been like this all week. He's like a ghost in the machine. Just... hovering."

"The man has officially entered his 'shredded protagonist' arc," Kaida added with a sharp snap of her compression sleeves. "Next thing you know, he’ll be staring intensely at a rainy window while a synth-track plays."

Orion, who usually existed as a permanent, silent fixture in the background, was even more still than usual today, propped against the far wall like a statue. "He’s restless," Orion observed, his eyes tracking Nox’s efficient, almost clinical movements. "Like he's waiting for a starter pistol that only he can hear."

Nox didn’t offer a denial. He couldn't. He couldn't tell them that time had suddenly become the most expensive thing he owned, and he was running out of it. Instead, he just handed Lucien a folded, printed workout sheet.

Lucien unfolded it and squinted at the neat columns. "What is this? A grocery list for a Spartan?"

"A structured program. For you."

"Why does this look like something they’d use to train special forces?" Lucien flipped the page, his brow furrowing as he scanned the reps. "Nox, this is insane."

"Because your stamina is inconsistent," Nox corrected, finally looking him in the eye.

Mira let out a dramatic, dying-swan gasp. "Oh, he attacked your honor! You going to take that, Luce? He basically called you a cardio-flop."

Lucien ignored her. His gaze locked onto Nox’s, and the playfulness in his expression started to drain away, replaced by something sharper. "Why, though?" It was a simple question, but it made the air in the gym feel suddenly cramped.

Nox met the stare without blinking. "Because we waste too much time."

Lucien’s expression shifted—a flicker of suspicion, maybe even a hint of genuine worry. "You really think we’re just wasting time? We're students, Nox. We're supposed to waste a little time."

Nox hesitated. The truth was screaming in the back of his throat: Yes. Every single second you spend breathing easy is a second we lose. But he couldn't say that. Not yet. "No," he said instead, his voice softening. "I just think we can do better."

A beat of silence passed. Then, Lucien sparked a smile. It was a challenge. "Fine. I’m in. But if I drop dead of a heart attack, I’m haunting your locker for the rest of the semester."

"This is how cults start," Mira whispered to Seris.

__

An hour later, the gym was a humid blur of heavy breathing and the rhythmic, metallic clack of iron. Lucien was sprawled on a mat, his chest heaving, sweat matting his hair to his forehead.

"You're... a sadist," he wheezed.

"You're slow," Nox countered. He was barely out of breath, which was even more annoying.

Lucien let out a breathless, jagged laugh. "Look at you. You’re actually enjoying this, aren't you? You’ve got that weird, intense sparkle in your eye."

"No."

"Liar. You totally are."

Nox turned away before the look on his face could give him away. In the life before this one, Lucien had eventually become a powerhouse; but it had taken years of trauma and loss to get him there. This time, Nox wasn't going to wait for the world to break his friend before he made him strong.

"We’ve never pushed like this," Garrick said, wiping sweat from his eyes with his shirt.

Seris was watching Nox again, her head tilted. "What changed, Nox? Really? You've gone from zero to 'prepping for the apocalypse' in about four days."

Before he could craft a convincing lie, the gym lights flickered. Just once. A sharp, rhythmic dip in the power that made everyone go still.

"Budget cuts," Mira deadpanned.

"At seven in the morning?" Orion asked, looking up at the buzzing fluorescent tubes.

The lights steadied, but the silence that followed felt wrong. It was too thick, like the air had suddenly gained mass. Across the gym, a basketball player stopped mid-dribble. "Did you guys feel that?" he called out, looking around at the floor.

"Feel what?" someone else shouted back.

Nox felt it. It wasn't a vibration; it was a pressure. Like the atmosphere had just taken a long, deep breath and was holding it.

Lucien sat up, his humor completely gone. "...Okay. That was weird. My skin feels like it's buzzing."

"It’s nothing," Nox said automatically. But in his head, he was already marking the calendar. February 17, twenty-nine days. It was starting earlier than the last time.

Lucien stood up and walked over to him, dropping his voice so the others couldn't hear. "You’re doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"That look. Like you’re reading the end of a book we haven't even opened yet."

Nox’s jaw tightened. "I don't know what you're talking about, Lucien."

Lucien stepped into his space. "Then tell me why it feels like you're preparing for a war."

Nox didn't blink. Because I am. 

"Midterms," he said flatly.

Lucien stared at him for a long moment, then huffed a dry, frustrated laugh. "You are a terrible liar, Nox. Truly. Your face doesn't move, but your eyes are screaming."

A sudden, shrill metallic screech cut through the air. Mira shrieked from the hallway. "Why are the vending machines screaming?!"

They scrambled to the door. Down the hall, three heavy vending machines were rattling so violently they were practically dancing across the linoleum. It wasn't an earthquake; it was a high-frequency vibration that made the glass panels hum until they looked like they might liquefy.

Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped. Dead silence.

"Electrical surge," Garrick suggested, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Nox didn't say anything. He knew what this was. In his first life, these "anomalies" were the prologue. The glitchy electronics, the birds falling from the sky, the shadows that stayed dark even when the sun hit them. Most people called it a coincidence.

He wouldn't make that mistake twice.

Outside the gym windows, the clouds were drifting lazily, looking perfectly mundane. But for the first time, their shadows on the pavement looked too sharp—too jagged.

Lucien bumped Nox's shoulder, a grounding physical contact. "If you’re planning something," he said quietly, "don't do it by yourself. We're here."

Nox looked at him, the urge to spill the truth almost overwhelming. Instead, he just nodded toward the weights. "Focus on your stamina, Lucien. We aren't done yet."

Lucien laughed, a genuine, soft sound. "Unbelievable."

Twenty-nine days. The world hadn't cracked yet, but the engine was humming. And this time, Nox was the only one who knew how to drive.