NOVEL NEXT Chapter 8: Failure is not an option
Miss Brooks stepped back, her eyes scanning the class as the students began fumbling with their participation consoles. Each bracelet gleamed with a faint, pulsating light, a reminder of its cutting-edge tech. The room was alive with the soft sound of activation sounds as students began strapping the devices onto their wrists.
Noah tightened the strap on his bracelet, the cool metal sending a shiver through his arm. A soft chime sounded as it snapped into place, followed by a holographic screen flickering to life above his forearm.
[Participant Confirmed: Noah Wilder. Class: 1B. Rank: Unrated.]
A mechanical voice rang out, smooth and clinical, filling his ears. "Diagnostics complete. Vital signs stable. Prepare for gear synchronization."
Kelvin glanced over, his bracelet glowing faintly. "You hear that? Vital signs stable. Guess the doc was wrong about my blackened soul."
Noah smirked, shaking his head. "Maybe it's still loading."
Across the room, the other students were experiencing similar first-time jitters. There were a lot of nervous whispers and muttering as each student activated their bracelet.
The holographic interface above each device displayed a swirling set of options, a selection of gear choices based on the academy's meticulously curated armory. But this wasn't just any armory—this was beast gear.
Post-apocalyptic ingenuity had birthed a revolution in weaponry. Beast gear wasn't just metal and wires; it was alive, well to some extent.
They were fashioned from the bones, claws, and scales of the mutated creatures that now roamed the earth, these weapons carried the primal ferocity of their original owners. Each weapon was unique, infused with an essence that gave its wielder an edge—if they could handle it.
A girl was the first to make a move. She stood at the front, her every motion deliberate as she raised her bracelet toward the armory interface. The holographic screen shimmered, presenting an array of weapons. Her finger hovered over the selection briefly before she pressed down.
The sound that followed was unlike anything else—a deep, resonating growl that made the hair on the back of Noah's neck stand on end.
The armory hissed open, releasing a burst of cold vapor. From the mist emerged a weapon that could only be described as terrifying: a sleek, obsidian glaive with serrated edges that gleamed under the artificial lights. The shaft seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive, and the blade itself carried faint etchings resembling veins.
Sienna grasped the glaive, and the instant her fingers wrapped around it, a surge of energy coursed through her body. Her eyes flickered with a strange light for a moment before settling. She gave the weapon an experimental twirl, its blade cutting the air with a sound akin to a beast's snarl.
Kelvin's jaw dropped. "Holy shit. That thing looks like it's about to eat her."
"Probably will if she's not careful," Noah said, but his voice carried more awe than sarcasm.
One by one, the students began selecting their weapons. Each activation of the armory brought forth another monstrous creation—spiked gauntlets that crackled with bio-electricity, a bow crafted from the ribcage of some long-dead predator, and even a shield made from an armored carapace, its surface bristling with spines.
When Kelvin stepped forward, he paused dramatically, letting the tension build. "Alright, let's see what this bad boy's got for me."
The armory responded with a low rumble, as if annoyed by his theatrics. His selection materialized with a heavy thud—a pair of massive hammers, their heads made from gleaming silver tusks.
"Dual wielding," Kelvin said, grinning as he lifted the hammers. "Told you I was born for this."
When it was Noah's turn, the room seemed to quiet. He approached the armory, his heart pounding. The holographic interface glowed softly, displaying an array of choices. He hesitated, his eyes scanning the options.
'Something fast,' he thought. 'Something that'll keep me alive.'
His finger moved to select a sleek pair of blades. The armory hissed, and the weapons emerged with a predatory elegance. The twin blades were forged from some kind of gleaming black bone, their edges so sharp they seemed to cut the very air around them. He picked them up, feeling a strange warmth spread through his palms.
"Guess it's you and me," he murmured, giving them a few test swings. They moved like extensions of his body, responding to his slightest thought.
Kelvin whistled. "Those look nasty. Planning to fight or perform surgery?"
"Depends who I'm fighting," Noah shot back.
Next everyone began to put on their protective gear.
Sounds of buckles clicked into place and straps tightening filled the room as the students donned their protective gear. Each suit was identical: a form-fitting black bodysuit made of lightweight yet durable material, reinforced with segmented plates over vital areas like the chest, shoulders, and thighs. The sleek design hinted at hidden technology, but the visible details—like the faint blue glow outlining the seams—spoke of practicality over flash.
The gloves had alloy-tipped fingers for hand-to-hand combat, while the boots featured retractable spikes for added traction. Every piece of gear had a purpose, designed for survival in environments far less forgiving than the classroom.
Kelvin tugged at the chest plate, flexing his arms. "This is either cutting-edge tech or a fancy way to suffocate us."
"Better than the alternative," Noah muttered as he adjusted the straps on his gloves. "You'd prefer going out there with a hoodie and jeans?"
Kelvin smirked. "You say that like I wouldn't look good doing it."
Miss Brooks clapped her hands, silencing the chatter. "Gear checks done? Good. Now for the part where you show me you can think as well as fight."
The students turned their attention to the screen behind her, which lit up with a roster of names.
"Groups of four," she announced. "These will be your permanent teams for the semester. This isn't a casual pick-your-buddies situation. Choose wisely, because the wrong choice could cost you more than just a grade. Balance is everything—strength, strategy, and adaptability. Without all three, you'll fail. And failure, as you know, isn't an option."