On the Path of Eternal Strength.

Chapter 113 - 111 Where Four Must Be One

The school morning moved forward without stopping for anyone.After arriving at the institute, Sebastián and Virka entered their classes with the same contained stillness as always. The building, the hallways, the schedules, and the voices of the students tried to wrap them in a common routine, as if the previous day had not left invisible threats around the place. The teachers spoke, the screens changed topics, the notes appeared on luminous surfaces, and the other students remained busy with their own concerns. For almost everyone, it was a normal day. For Sebastián, every reflection in the windows could be hiding a presence. For Virka, every door was a possible entrance. Neither of them showed it too much.

Valentina also had her morning.

In her primary school area, the world seemed smaller, more colorful, and less heavy. The tables were made for small hands, the children’s voices rose and fell easily, and the drawings on the walls tried to convince the day that it could still be simple. Valentina followed instructions, held her supplies carefully, and listened more than she spoke. Sometimes, from the edge of her gaze, she saw a little light moving beside a window or a small figure hidden under a chair. She did not chase it. She did not look at it too much. She remembered, even if it was like a warm dream, that some things should only be observed for an instant.

Narka remained inside her backpack, reduced, silent, like an ancient stone hidden among books and notebooks.

And so the morning passed: classes, corridors, brief breaks, mixed voices, footsteps on clean floors, and the entire institute functioning with that precision that made even what was not safe seem safe. The normal world continued its course because it always did. That was one of its cruelest forms of resistance: continuing to seem normal even when the invisible breathed between its cracks.

When the academic day ended and the afternoon began to take the place of the morning, Sebastián and Virka went for Valentina.

They found her at the exit of her student area, with the backpack on her back and her eyes attentive to the movement of the other children. When she saw them, her expression changed. She did not run immediately, but she did take quicker steps, holding the straps of the backpack as if she did not want Narka to shake too much inside. Virka leaned down a little to check her face, her breathing, and the way she held her gaze. Sebastián watched her from one side.

—Everything okay? —he asked.

Valentina nodded.

—Yes. I saw some little things, but I only looked a little.

Sebastián held her gaze for a second. His expression remained dry, though his voice lowered just slightly.

—Well done.

Virka adjusted a part of the hair that fell over her face. She said nothing, but the gesture was enough. Valentina smiled with that small calm of someone who understands care more through the hand than through the word.

Óscar was waiting for them farther ahead, leaning beside a column in the main corridor. He had his dark brown hair tied in his high bun and a posture so relaxed that he almost seemed to have arrived there by chance. Only his eyes proved otherwise.

—Punctual —he said—. That ruins my theory a little that you were going to leave me alone with the responsibility of looking organized.

Sebastián looked at him without answering.

Óscar smiled, used to that kind of silence.

—Good. Then let’s go. The extracurricular activity waits for no one. Or so the motivational posters say when they want to sound threatening.

Valentina looked up at him.

—Isn’t it the club?

—Not yet —Óscar answered—. The club needs papers, approval, and a dangerous amount of patience. This is something else. An institute activity. More official, louder, and probably more useful for pretending we are normal students.

Virka glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

—You talk too much.

—I know. It’s part of my tragic charm.

The group moved forward.

They left the classroom area behind and crossed increasingly open corridors. The institute changed shape as they moved away from the academic center. The walls with information panels gave way to wider structures, side accesses, protected walkways, and windows through which the sea began to suggest itself in blue and gray fragments. The salty smell arrived before the sound of the waves. Valentina noticed it and tightened the backpack straps a little. Narka did not speak, but his silence inside it remained firm.

The route was not long, though it was long enough for the feeling of the place to change. They were no longer in a class area. The air was freer, more humid, less domesticated. Some students walked in the same direction, dressed in training uniforms or clothing prepared for physical activities. There were teachers supervising accesses and security devices integrated into the walls, discreet but visible to anyone who knew how to look.

Sebastián observed everything without stopping. Virka measured exits, heights, distances. Óscar continued ahead as if he had already been there more times than necessary. Valentina looked at the open sky between the structures, fascinated by how the institute could go from closed classrooms to a space where the sea seemed to form part of the building.

In the end, they reached the external training field.

It was a wide area, open to the sky, built near the institute’s coastal edge. The sea wind entered without asking permission, moving clothes, hair, and signaling flags placed at the ends. Beyond the reinforced railing, the ocean stretched out with a deceptive calm, striking the lower structures with ancient patience. In front of them rose an enormous circular platform, with a dark gray surface, marked by technical lines and reinforcement rings. Beneath it, several hydraulic structures descended toward the sea, connected to metallic supports that seemed to sink into the surf zone to absorb pressure, movement, and impact.

It was not a simple courtyard.

The platform seemed made to withstand blows, techniques, falls, tests, and the mistakes of students who were still learning not to destroy each other. The circular edge had dimmed luminous divisions, and at several points there were elevation mechanisms, safety anchors, and retractable panels. Everything there suggested one single thing: the institute did not completely separate education from combat. It only organized it.

Valentina stared at the structure with wide eyes.

Óscar stopped beside her.

Sebastián did not take his eyes off the platform. Neither did Virka.

The sea struck below, slow, deep, as if the ocean were waiting to see what kind of students were going to step onto that circle.

The sea kept striking beneath the circular structure while they advanced from the edge of the external field toward the central area.

They did not have to ask where to present themselves. The place seemed designed to direct bodies even before a voice gave instructions. The lines on the floor marked discreet routes toward the Ring, the dimmed panels recognized steps and credentials, and the hydraulic columns that descended toward the ocean vibrated with a contained force, as if they breathed beneath the platform. The salty wind crossed their faces with more intensity when they left the main access behind and stepped onto the meeting area.

Zaira was there.

She stood a few meters before the limit of the Ring, upright, with the institute uniform fitted to her body and the firm posture of someone who had not arrived out of curiosity. Her intense red hair stood out even under the gray afternoon light, and her golden eyes passed first over Sebastián, then over Virka, then over Óscar, and finally over Valentina. She said nothing. Nor did she make a greeting gesture. Her presence was declaration enough: she had also returned.

Óscar raised a hand with a naturalness that did not ask for an answer.

—I see that attendance is still select.

Zaira glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

—You still talk the same.

—It is good to keep something stable after so many formative experiences.

Sebastián did not intervene. Neither did Virka. Valentina looked at Zaira with curiosity from the center of the group, holding the straps of her backpack. Inside it, Narka remained reduced, silent, attentive. He had not come out, but his presence was there, kept under school fabric like an ancient rock inside an object too small.

The Rakzar instructor was waiting for them up front.

He did not appear suddenly nor did he need to draw attention. He had been there since before they finished approaching, motionless beside an elevated console that controlled part of the Ring. His body maintained that dry stillness of men who do not waste movement or words. The wind barely moved his clothing, but it did not alter his posture. Behind him, the circular platform remained off, though the reinforcement lines beneath the surface seemed to sleep with one eye open.

When Sebastián, Virka, Óscar, Zaira, and Valentina stood before him, the instructor observed them one by one.

He did not smile.

—You came back —he said.

The phrase was neither welcome nor reproach. It was record.

Zaira kept her chin firm. Óscar let his hands fall to his sides. Sebastián held the instructor’s gaze without adding anything. Virka remained slightly close to Valentina, as if her body automatically chose the point from where she could cover her best.

The instructor continued.

—That means you accept continuing with the Rakzar.

No one answered immediately. There was no need. They were there. They had crossed the external field. They had returned to the Ring after having been measured by it. The answer was in their bodies, not in their mouths.

—The first phase discarded those who could not hold themselves inside the circuit —said the instructor—. The others chose to withdraw or were removed from the program. For this week, you four are the ones left.

His eyes passed over Sebastián, Virka, Zaira, and Óscar. He did not include Valentina in that measure. The girl belonged to another scale, another age, another way of being there. And precisely because of that, after that pause, the instructor lowered his gaze toward her.

—What will you do with the primary school student?

Valentina tightened the straps of her backpack a little more.

Sebastián answered before anyone else could.

—She will stay to watch. She is my daughter. We want her to know the sport.

The word daughter remained in the air of the external field without asking permission. Zaira moved her eyes toward him just slightly. Óscar did not comment on anything, although his expression changed just enough to notice the weight of the phrase. Virka did not correct or add anything. Her silence confirmed what Sebastián had said.

The instructor observed Valentina for a few seconds. There was no tenderness in his gaze, but no contempt either. Only professional evaluation.

—She can stay —he said at last—. But she must understand something. The Rakzar is not a safe exhibition. Even if she is outside the Ring, she will see falls, blows, team failures, and bodies taken to the limit. This sport is demanding, brutal, and dangerous. If she remains here, she will not be treated as an entertainment spectator.

Valentina listened to him with an enormous seriousness for her age. Then she looked at Sebastián, at Virka, and looked back at the instructor.

—Don’t worry, teacher —she said—. My parents are strong. Very strong. They won’t hurt themselves.

For a second, the wind seemed to take the place of any answer.

Óscar lowered his gaze to hide a smile. Zaira observed Valentina with a difficult-to-read mixture, as if that innocent confidence were more disconcerting than a provocation. Sebastián did not change his expression, but his eyes remained on the girl for an instant longer than normal. Virka adjusted one strap of her backpack with a silent calm.

The instructor did not smile. But he did not reject the answer either.

—Confidence does not stop a trap —he said—. But she can stay.

Valentina nodded, satisfied with that.

The instructor returned his attention to the four participants.

—Today you will not repeat the individual resistance test. That already ended. Running was not enough then, and it will not be enough now.

The circular platform emitted a low pulse. The dimmed lines of the Ring lit up for a fraction, just enough to draw sectors, routes, and divisions over the dark gray surface. Then they went out again.

—The Rakzar can also be executed by teams —he continued—. That changes the logic of the circuit. It no longer measures only who advances. It measures who can advance without breaking the formation, who covers, who opens a route, who protects a line, and who understands when to stop moving as an individual.

Óscar tilted his head slightly, interested. Zaira kept her face firm, but her fingers closed once, as if the word team were more uncomfortable to her than a physical trap. Virka did not take her eyes off the instructor. Sebastián listened without moving.

—Today’s training will be in test mode for tactical coordination inside the Ring —said the instructor—. It will not be a complete match. It will be a circuit prepared to force you to act as a unit. If one fails, the system will punish the group. If one moves ahead without reading, they will drag the others. If one falls behind, they will open a rupture.

The sea struck the hydraulic bases beneath them.

The instructor pointed toward the side accesses.

—Go to the locker rooms. Put on the practice ARMEX. When you return, you will enter the Ring.

There was no ceremony.

Only order.

Sebastián turned first. Virka moved beside him. Óscar followed them with his relaxed step, although his eyes were already calculating possibilities. Zaira walked in the same direction without fully mixing with them, but without pulling away either. Valentina remained for a moment looking at the circular platform, until Sebastián lowered his gaze toward her.

—Come. We’ll leave you in the safe zone before going in.

Valentina nodded.

—Yes, Dad.

The girl walked between Sebastián and Virka, with the backpack on her back and Narka hidden inside it. The Ring remained behind them, silent again, suspended over the sea like a patient machine that had already discarded many and now waited to see if four survivors could learn to move like something more difficult than strong bodies.

A unit.

The locker rooms were to one side of the external field, separated by short corridors of dark steel and windowless doors.

There was no delay or ceremony. Zaira and Virka took the female access; Sebastián and Óscar, the male one. The gates closed behind them with a dry sound, leaving outside the sea wind and the distant voice of the ocean striking the hydraulic bases of the Ring. Inside, everything was functional: metal benches, sealed compartments, credential readers, and racks where the practice ARMEX waited like empty bodies.

The change did not need detail.

It was preparation.

The pieces activated by recognition, opened in segments, and then adjusted over each body with almost surgical precision. The flexible metal, the biomechanical fibers, and the limited cores settled until they formed a second combat skin. Internal sensors awakened. Lines of energy ran through arms, legs, back, and chest. The side screens registered temperature, pulse, muscular pressure, and initial synchronization. No suit was the same as another, because the Rakzar did not intend to standardize its participants. It intended to measure them.

Zaira came out of the female locker room first.

Her shiny black practice ARMEX, marked by silver and orange details, accentuated the contained energy of her posture. The biomechanical plates followed the line of her abdomen, thighs, and spine, as if the suit had been built to withstand an explosion that still had not received permission to occur. Her intense red hair was tied back firmly, and her golden eyes did not seek approval. Only the Ring.

Virka appeared afterward.

Hers was narrower, matte black, with violet veins lit along the spine and the sides. It did not shine as decoration. It breathed with her. Each segment seemed to adhere to her body without resistance, as if the machine had understood that it should not dominate her, but accompany her movement. Virka did not look at herself. She did not need to check anything. She simply advanced.

From the other access came Sebastián and Óscar.

Sebastián’s ARMEX was dark, sober, crossed by dull red lines concentrated on the chest and thighs. The practice core emitted a low, controlled pulse, although not entirely comfortable beside the body that carried it. Sebastián walked as if the suit were weight, not help; as if the machine had to learn not to get in his way before deserving to be used.

Óscar wore a navy-blue ARMEX with golden details. The lines of energy bordered his arms and legs with a finer rhythm, less aggressive, almost measured. His posture remained relaxed, but the suit revealed another reading of him: not that of someone fragile, but that of someone who preferred to spend a single unit of strength when ten were unnecessary.

Valentina saw them come out from the safe zone.

The instructor had placed her behind a reinforced barrier, on a side platform with direct vision toward the Ring. The girl had her backpack on her legs, and inside it Narka remained reduced, silent, attentive. The wind did not reach there with the same force; the barrier cut the sea pressure and let only a low murmur of the ocean pass. Even so, Valentina felt that the place was enormous.

When she saw Sebastián and Virka wearing the ARMEX, she opened her eyes.

It was not fear. It was astonishment.

—You look strong —she said.

Sebastián looked at her from the distance. The helmet was still not closed, so his red eyes could meet hers without glass between them.

—Stay where you are —he said—. Look, but don’t come close.

It was a dry order, though the tone had that contained form of care that Valentina already recognized.

—Yes, Dad.

Virka did not speak. She only raised one hand and touched two fingers against her own chest, a brief, small signal, made for her. Valentina smiled. Zaira observed the gesture without commenting on anything. Óscar, instead, lowered his voice a little as he passed beside Sebastián.

—I didn’t know the Rakzar had a family section.

Sebastián did not answer.

—That also answers —Óscar murmured.

The instructor activated a communicator attached to his wrist. His voice did not come only from him. It spread through the field’s speakers, clean, flat, without added emotion.

—Participants, enter the Ring.

The four obeyed.

The circular platform was flat. There were no descending columns, robotic arms, or open plates beneath their feet. The dark gray surface extended like a clean track, marked only by technical rings and dimmed lines. Precisely because of that, it seemed more dangerous. The Rakzar did not need to show teeth to have them. It could wait motionless, let the bodies settle, and then change the rule at the exact instant.

Sebastián, Virka, Zaira, and Óscar reached the starting point.

The instructor spoke again through the speakers.

—First lap: free formation. The objective is not maximum speed. It is coordination. Decide your structure before starting. If you break as a group, the Ring will register it as a tactical failure.

A brief silence fell among them.

Óscar was the first to move. He did not give orders immediately. He looked at the track, then at each one of them, as if he were arranging pieces not by hierarchy, but by usefulness.

—Arrowhead —he said at last—. It is the simplest to start and the least stupid so we don’t destroy ourselves in the first hundred meters.

Zaira did not mock him. Neither did Virka. Sebastián waited.

Óscar pointed toward him with his chin.

—Sebastián at the front. In the previous test, it became clear that he is the most resistant and the one who can open a path without depending on the ARMEX. If something demands frontal impact, he takes it.

Sebastián did not object.

—Virka and Zaira on the flanks —Óscar continued—. Virka reads movement better than any of us and can adjust quickly. Zaira has experience with the Rakzar, knows how the suit responds, and can exploit accelerations without losing so much stability. When Sebastián opens the line, you two gain ground and mark lateral advance.

Zaira listened with her arms relaxed, but her fingers tense inside the gloves. It was not annoyance. It was concentration.

—It makes sense —she said—. In a team, formation matters more than individual strength. If that position shows what I lack, then better.

It did not sound humble. It sounded honest. Her pride did not break by accepting a structure; on the contrary, it forced her to take it seriously.

Óscar nodded once.

—I close from behind. From there I see the complete formation, mark changes, and warn if anyone is breaking rhythm. I am not the strongest or the fastest. I am the one who can look the most without falling in love with his own impulse.

Virka glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

—You said that last part for yourself.

—Mainly —Óscar admitted—. But it can serve all of us.

Sebastián observed the Ring. The surface remained still.

—It works.

That single word closed the discussion.

They took position.

Sebastián occupied the point, with his body slightly inclined forward and the red lines of the ARMEX pulsing over his chest. Virka remained to his left, low, stable, with the violet veins lit on her back. Zaira took the right flank, firm, ready to accelerate without disordering the structure. Óscar positioned himself behind, centered, close enough to correct and far enough to see.

From the safe zone, Valentina held the backpack against her chest.

—They’re going like an arrow —she whispered.

Inside the backpack, Narka answered in a low voice, only for her.

—Yes, Valentina. Now they must learn not to break as they advance together.

The instructor observed them from outside the Ring. The communicator lit up again.

—Formation accepted.

The lines of the platform shone beneath the feet of the four. No obstacles appeared. Not yet. Only a circular signal extending forward like a sleeping route.

—Start in three seconds.

The sea wind crossed the field. The surface of the Ring vibrated under the boots of the ARMEX. Sebastián closed his fists. Virka lowered her center of gravity. Zaira breathed once, deep, exact. Óscar lifted his gaze and stopped smiling.

The instructor’s voice fell over them.

—Three.

_________________________________________

END OF Chapter 111

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