Outside, the evening had turned cold, a light drizzle falling from a sky that had been clear just hours before. Mateo pulled his worn jacket tighter as he made his way through the empty streets of Ashdrift, a town that had earned its name from both the nearby mining operations and its current state—slowly turning to dust as residents fled the encroaching war.
By 5:15 PM, the streetlights were already flickering on, casting weak pools of yellow light that barely penetrated the gloom. Mateo's body ached from the morning's fight with Brett, but his mind was too restless to go home. Tomorrow would change everything. The Atlas Academy evaluations—his one shot at becoming someone who could actually fight back against the villains who had taken his brother.
He hadn't planned to visit the gym tonight—he needed rest before tomorrow, especially because of his bruised and broken body—but something pulled him toward the familiar space. One last training session. One final preparation before everything changed.
The Underground, as Arx had named his gym, occupied the basement of what used to be a department store. The neon sign above the entrance flickered inconsistently, half the letters burned out years ago. Mateo noticed Arx wasn't at the front desk, but the door was unlocked. Strange for this time of evening.
Inside, the gym was eerily quiet. Usually, even at off-hours, there would be at least one or two regulars, but tonight the equipment stood like silent sentinels in the dim light. The smell of sweat and disinfectant hung in the air, oddly comforting in its familiarity. Mateo moved to his usual station in the back corner, where a heavily patched punching bag hung from a reinforced chain.
He hadn't processed the reality of what tomorrow might bring. For two years, he had fixated on Atlas Academy as an almost mythical destination—the path to becoming someone who could prevent tragedies like the one that had shattered his life. Now that the path had unexpectedly opened, certainty and doubt battled within him.
Unwrapping the tape from his hands, Mateo took a deep breath and faced the bag. Then he unleashed everything.
Each punch sent shock waves of pain through his already damaged hands, wounds from this morning reopening with every impact. But pain was clarifying. It drove out the questions, the uncertainties, the memories.
Brett's smug face appeared on the bag, metal gauntlets gleaming. Mateo's fists moved faster, harder, replaying the morning's fight with different outcomes.
If I had angled my fist differently...
If I had committed to the rush earlier...
If I had kicked with more force...
If I had just been a fraction faster...
He cycled through the scenarios, cataloging his failures, identifying improvements. His breathing grew ragged, sweat soaking through his shirt. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed and flickered, casting strange shadows as he danced around the bag.
Why am I so weak without a quirk?
At 5:47 PM, his legs finally gave out. Mateo collapsed to his knees, blood from his reopened knuckles leaving faint crimson smears on the punching bag. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. Two years of training, and he still couldn't win a real fight against someone with a quirk. Tomorrow's evaluation suddenly seemed insurmountable.
"Woah, you're going really hard on that bag! You must be seriously strong!"
The unexpected voice jolted Mateo from his thoughts. The gym was supposed to be empty this late, maybe except for Arx. But this voice was definitely feminine, with a confident edge that immediately put him on alert.
Forcing his stiff neck to turn, Mateo looked toward the source.
She stood about fifteen feet away, leaning against one of the weight racks. Tall for a woman—maybe 5'10"—with deep black hair cut just below her jawline, wild and untamed like a mane. Unlike most Ashdrift residents who wore faded, second-hand clothes, she was dressed in pristine beige cargo shorts and a dark blue jacket over a red tank top. Her arms were folded across her chest, revealing toned muscles that spoke of serious training.
What caught Mateo's attention most was her smile—confident and fearless, with slightly pronounced canines that gave her a predatory look. Her eyes were sharp, missing nothing as they assessed him.
"Aren't you gonna answer, bro? You're staring kinda weird." She pushed off from the rack and walked toward him, seemingly unbothered by his disheveled state—blood-streaked fists, sweat-soaked clothes, kneeling on the floor like he'd been defeated.
Mateo forced himself to stand, ignoring the trembling in his legs. He didn't recognize her, which was unusual in a town as small as Ashdrift. Her clean, high-quality clothes marked her as an outsider—maybe from the capital, where resources weren't as scarce and the shadow of war wasn't as immediate.
"Thought I'd find you here, lil bro."
Arx's deep voice echoed from the doorway, providing a momentary distraction. The gym owner leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his massive chest. His expression was a mixture of concern and resignation as he took in Mateo's condition.
"You look rough. All that from the gym?"
Mateo didn't answer. Instead, he glanced back at the mysterious girl, then to Arx. "Who's she?" The question came out more abruptly than he'd intended.
Arx slapped his forehead dramatically. "Don't you listen to me when I talk? Told you yesterday my niece was coming around." He gestured toward the girl. "This is her. Say hello to Alex."
Alex. The name suited her somehow—short, strong, memorable.
Instead of saying hello, Mateo grabbed his backpack from where he'd dropped it earlier. His purpose here was complete. He'd pushed himself to the limit one last time before tomorrow's evaluation. Besides, he no longer needed to save up for the entrance fee—the announcement had changed everything. Not like Arx paid him anyways.
"Just wanted to get in one more session," he explained, slinging the bag over his shoulder and wincing slightly at the pressure on his sore muscles.
"You saw the broadcast." Arx's tone made it clear it wasn't a question.
"Yeah."
Arx crossed the gym floor, his heavy footsteps echoing in the empty space. Each step was deliberate, like a man approaching a difficult conversation. "And you're still going through with this hero nonsense."
Before Mateo could respond with his usual defense—that it wasn't nonsense to him, that it was the only path forward—Alex stepped closer, her eyes brightening with interest.
"Ha! I knew you had to be training to be a hero." She circled around to face him directly, studying him with newfound appreciation. "The way you punched that bag—so much passion and drive. I could almost feel it from across the room." She cocked her head slightly. "What's your quirk?"
The question landed like a blow, but Mateo kept his expression neutral. "I'm leaving," he said, directing his words to Arx. "It's the last day I'll be seeing you, so thanks for everything."
"Not so fast, kiddo." Arx stepped between Mateo and the exit, his massive frame effectively blocking the path. Then he sighed, the sound weary and resigned. "You're coming with us."
Mateo blinked in confusion. "What?"
"Listen." Arx ran a hand over his close-cropped hair, looking uncharacteristically awkward. "Alex came from the capital to help my family move out of Ashdrift. This place is turning into a war zone—you've seen the signs. The explosions are getting closer every day."
As if to emphasize his point, a distant boom echoed through the building, causing dust to drift down from the ceiling. Neither of them acknowledged it directly—such occurrences had become too common to remark upon.
"From there," Arx continued, "she's heading to Atlas for the application. She's going for the hero track too."
Mateo glanced at Alex with new understanding. Her confident stance, her toned physique—she carried herself like someone who already knew her path. Unlike him, she probably had a powerful quirk to match her demeanor. The realization stung more than he wanted to admit.
"So?" Mateo asked, trying to sound indifferent.
"You'll be joining us," Arx stated firmly. "First, it'll cut your travel costs. The trains are running less frequently now, and fares have tripled with everyone trying to leave the border regions. Second..." He paused, looking almost embarrassed. "I want to keep an eye on you. I don't want you getting into any more trouble before you even reach the Academy."
Mateo wanted to protest that he didn't need help, that he wasn't Arx's responsibility. He'd been taking care of himself since his brother died. Besides, if Arx had family in the capital, why had he been living in this dead-end town all this time?
Before he could voice any of these thoughts, Alex jumped in, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"I also want to know your quirk!" She moved closer, studying him like he was a puzzle to solve. "What if we end up fighting each other during qualifications? It'd be good to know what I'm up against."
There was something about her directness that caught Mateo off guard. Alex spoke about it openly, assuming he had something to share.
Mateo sighed heavily. They obviously weren't going to let this go easily. And truthfully, the idea of having a guaranteed ride to the capital had its appeal. His plan had been to leave at dawn, walking to the nearest functioning train station—a journey of several hours through increasingly dangerous territory.
"So do you think I can be a hero now?" he asked Arx directly, referencing yesterday's argument on the subject.
"Ah hell nah." Arx placed a heavy hand on Mateo's shoulder, his expression serious. "Look, you're one of the smartest kids I know. Good fighter for your size. But this isn't some story where the underdog wins through sheer willpower. These battles..." He paused, his eyes taking on a distant quality. "They're slaughterhouses."
Another explosion sounded, closer this time. The fluorescent lights flickered momentarily, casting strange shadows across the gym floor.
"I have to try," Mateo said simply. "I made a promise."
Arx studied him for a long moment, then nodded reluctantly. "I once made a promise too. And look where that ended me up." He gestured vaguely to the gym, to Ashdrift, to the life he'd built in this failing town. "So are you coming?"
Mateo glanced between Arx and Alex, weighing his options. Traveling with them would be safer, certainly. And arriving at the evaluation well-rested rather than exhausted from the journey would improve his chances, however slim they might be. But accepting help felt like admitting weakness—something he'd fought against for two years.
Alex was watching him intently, those sharp eyes seeming to see right through his hesitation. Something about her gaze made his stomach tighten in a way that had nothing to do with tomorrow's anxiety.
"You're bleeding," she noted, nodding toward his hands. "Got a first aid kit around here, Uncle Arx?"
"Don't worry about it. I'll stitch it up at home." He said. They had already offered him so much help. He couldn't burden them anymore.
"Alright," Arx consented against his better judgement. "Car's packed and ready to go," he said, handing the kit to Alex. "We leave at dawn. You better be by the gym then. That gives you time to patch him up, rest and grab anything else you need."
He stared to Mateo. "I'm assuming you've got a go-bag ready? Kid like you always has an escape plan."
Mateo nodded.
"Then it's settled," Arx declared as they walked outside. "You'll swing by here tomorrow, then hit the road."
"This town's got maybe a week before it's a full combat zone," Arx muttered, locking the door behind them. "Good timing on that Academy announcement."
There was something about her teasing that felt different from the usual mockery Mateo encountered. It lacked malice, carrying instead a strange warmth that he didn't quite know how to respond to.
As they prepared to leave, Mateo took one last look around the gym that had been his sanctuary for the past two years. Every weight, every machine, every corner of the space held memories of his training—his preparation for a moment that had always seemed impossibly distant until today's announcement.
"Can't wait to beat you up tomorrow!" Akex said, waving her arm with enthusiasm.
"We'll see," was all he said, as he walked away to the Cemetery. God she was weird.
Back in his tiny room, Mateo emptied the envelope Shinji had given him. His regular pay, plus an extra hundred dollars. Combined with his savings, he now had far more than the original entrance fee he'd been saving for.
He packed methodically: clothes for two days, toiletries, identification documents. A protein bar he'd been saving for an emergency.
The last item he placed in his bag was Alec's horn, still wrapped in the same cloth he'd used that night two years ago. He unwrapped it carefully, studying the curved surface that caught the dim light of his room.
"I'm going to do it," he told the silent keepsake. "I'm going to become what you wanted to be."
He rewrapped the horn and placed it in the bottom of his bag, where it had rested for two years. Then he set his alarm and lay down on his narrow bed.
Tomorrow, he would face whatever evaluation Atlas had designed. Tomorrow, he would take the first step toward fulfilling his vow.
Tomorrow, he would discover if his dream was possible or merely the delusion of a traumatized boy who had lost everything.
Beyond his window, the night sky occasionally lit up with distant flashes, like heat lightning in summer. But it wasn't summer, and it wasn't lightning. The war was creeping closer, day by day.
Mateo closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to slow. Whatever happened at Atlas Academy tomorrow, he knew one thing with absolute certainty: he couldn't remain on the sidelines any longer.
The world was burning, and he had chosen his path through the flames.