The steel gates of the new arena screeched open as the remaining players were funneled back into the prison compound. Cheers still echoed behind them, fading into the cold, buzzing silence of fluorescent lights and watchful drones overhead.
Nova's skates clicked heavily against the concrete as she walked beside X, both of them quiet, bruised, bloodied. Her ribs throbbed, but she kept glancing at him, something wasn't right.
"X," she said under her breath, "you ok?"
He didn't answer. His steps were slowing. He was limping hard now, blood dripping steadily from somewhere under his gear, leaving a dark red trail behind them.
"Hey." She grabbed his arm just as his knees gave way. "X….!"
Nova dropped to her knees beside him, breath hitching. Blood spilled from beneath X's armor, warm and slick against the cold concrete. His body was still, too still.
"Hey! Hey!" she yelled, looking up. "He's bleeding out! Somebody help!"
But the guards lining the hallway didn't move.
She stood, frantic, eyes wild. "What's wrong with y'all?! Do something!"
One of the guards stepped forward. Not in urgency, just a slow, disinterested walk. His face was unreadable behind the dark visor, but his voice came low and clipped.
"We're not allowed to touch him."
Nova blinked. "What?"
"Orders. No one is."
"I don't care about orders! He's dying!"
"You don't understand kid," the guard said. "He's Elite."
The words hit her harder than any blow she'd taken in Vault-0.
"…What?"
The guard's voice was flat. "You heard me. He's one of the Thirteen's own. No one lays a finger on him unless it's one of their doctors. I touch him, you touch him, you die."
Nova's stomach twisted. She turned back to X, his face still hidden behind that black helmet with the blue "X's." Blood soaking through his ribs.
Elite.
It explained everything. The way no one messed with him. The way he moved like he had nothing to lose. The access. The silence.
He hadn't been thrown into Vault-0 like the rest of them.
He had walked in.
And now they'd bled together, trained together, shared breath and bruises and near-death fights. And she didn't even know who he was.
Elite.
The word made her want to scream. The Elites, those families who carved the world into castles and corpses. Who ruled Neonfall from their glass towers while people like her mother died coughing into ration-stained pillows. Who let the city rot for profit.
Nova's fists clenched.
And yet… X had trained with her.
Fought for her.
She looked down at him again. His fingers twitched faintly. He was still alive. Still fighting.
"Why are you even here?" she whispered, more to herself than him.
The answer didn't come.
Instead, a high-clearance med drone floated down the hallway, escorted by two black-armored security bots. A sterile woman with silver eyes stepped off and knelt beside X. She pressed a light to his chest and nodded.
"Hands off please."
Nova backed away as the bots lifted him onto the stretcher, their glowing limbs never faltering. They treated him like precious cargo, not a person.
She stared after him as they carried him down the hall and disappeared around the corner.
Her ribs ached. Her head spun.
He was an Elite.
And yet….
The door hissed shut behind her with a finality that felt too loud. Nova leaned against it, her head resting against the cool steel as the air left her lungs in a slow, shaking breath.
Elite.
The word kept echoing in her mind like a puck ricocheting against the rink walls, slamming every corner of her thoughts. Over and over.
She pushed off the door and stumbled toward the bed, hands still stained with X's blood. She hadn't even realized it, her knuckles were crusted with it, dark and dried now. Her fingers trembled as she peeled off her gloves and stared at her palms.
She hadn't cried in years. Not since the night her mother first collapsed in front of her. Not since Neonfall devoured every dream she'd ever had.
But now? Her chest hurt like something inside her had cracked clean down the middle.
She dropped onto the edge of the bed. The room was cold. Too quiet. No whirring med bots, no sound of skates slicing ice. Just her own breath.
He was an Elite.
She remembered the history lessons they force-fed in state schools. How the Thirteen rose after the collapse. How they bought out the city block by block, promising peace and protection, then cut the world off from hope.
Government assistance? A joke. A ration card stretched so thin it tore in your hands. One slip, one mistake, and you ended up in Vault-0, chewed up by a game designed to entertain the rich.
And he… was one of them.
She clenched her jaw, blinking fast. Her mother was still sick. Still choking on rusted air and half-broken pills. And the people like him, the people above, watched from towers while the rest of them drowned.
Nova gritted her teeth and leaned forward, cradling her head in her hands.
But he trained with her. He saved her. Over and over again.
And when he could've taken her out….
Why would an Elite ever do that?
She didn't know anymore. Maybe she didn't know him at all.
Or maybe…
Maybe he was trying to make up for something.
The thought hung in her chest like a weight. She remembered his silence, his precision, the way he only spoke when it mattered. And how his voice sounded when he told her, "I never said we were enemies."
She ran a hand down her face. The sting of betrayal warred with the ghost of gratitude. With… something else. Something she didn't want to name.
Not yet.
Nova went into her private bathroom to take a shower. Maybe if she washed his blood off she could think.
Steam curled around her like ghosts in the shower stall, the water lukewarm but welcome. Nova stood beneath it, hands braced against the wall, letting the droplets trace every bruise, every ache that reminded her she was still alive. Her thoughts spun endlessly, X, the Elite secret, the fight… all of it slamming into her like a flood she couldn't hold back.
She closed her eyes, trying to shut it all out. For just a moment.
Then she felt it.
A sharp pull. Then a sting.
Her eyes shot open.
She looked down.
Blood.
Dark and fresh, thin streaks of it mixing with the water as it spiraled down the drain.
Her stitches, ripped wide open.
She staggered back, her hand flying to her side. The injury from the match… it hadn't healed right. She had known. She felt the pain, the tightness, the heat. But she didn't want to sit out. Not when he needed her.
Now?
Now she was bleeding again. Worse.
Her heart began to pound, not with fear exactly, but with urgency.
She twisted toward the mirror on the opposite wall and saw herself, drenched, wild-eyed, her hand clutching her side where crimson was starting to seep through her towel.
"No, no, no…" she whispered, pressing her palm tighter.
She needed to stop it. Before anyone found out. Before she got locked out of the matches. Before she lost her place.
Because in Vault-0, weakness wasn't just dangerous, it was a death sentence.
She dried off with shaking hands, grabbed the first bandage roll from her locker stash, and pressed herself against the wall, trying to patch it.
It wasn't working. The wound pulsed, stubborn, hot under her touch.
You're not going down now, Rose, she told herself. Not now. Not after everything.
Nova's breath came shallow now. Each step felt like her ribs were cracking inward, pressure building where the stitches had torn. The makeshift bandage she'd wrapped herself in was already soaked through.
She got dressed fast. then pulled on her hoodie over damp skin, the fabric sticking to her like second skin. Blood was already starting to spot through, but she didn't care.
The halls were half-lit and mostly quiet. Midnight hours in Vault-0 were sacred, when the rink went dark and the monsters slept. But Nova wasn't trying to rest.
She limped through the corridor, one arm wrapped tight around her side, the other trailing along the wall for balance. Her face was pale, jaw clenched.
She reached the medbay door and pressed the buzzer once, twice.
No answer.
She groaned softly, biting back the pain, and slammed her hand against it.
A pause.
Then a hiss of hydraulics as the door cracked open. A bored, tired voice on the other side: "We're closed unless it's life or death."
"It's both," Nova rasped, stumbling inside.
The light hit her and the med-tech's face changed instantly. "Whoa, whoa, sit down, now!" He rushed to her side, guiding her onto a padded bench. "You tore the stitches? Damn, how bad is it?"
"Just do it," she whispered, sweat sticking to her brow.
He didn't argue. He saw enough in her eyes to know she meant it.
The tech cut away the hoodie carefully, eyes narrowing at the wound beneath. "You shouldn't even be walking with this. What the hell were you thinking?"
Lucky for her, it was fixable.
The tear hadn't gone deep enough to do lasting damage, but it was close. A few more hours, a wrong move, and she might've been out for weeks, maybe worse. The medic told her so flatly, not as a warning, but as fact. He then added she needed time to heal before saying;
"You're lucky ,stubborn as hell, but lucky."
Nova didn't say anything. Just breathed through the dull throb of the numbing agent wearing off, her fingers curling slightly against the edge of the hospital bed. The chill of the room had sunk into her skin now, but the weight in her chest wasn't from the cold.
The room was dim, a faint hum of fluorescent lights above and the sterile chill of the medical wing settling over her like a thin sheet. Nova lay on the cot, back propped slightly by stiff pillows, her body aching but mending. The clean scent of disinfectant stung her nose, but it was the dull throb under her stitched skin that kept her grounded.
She'd finally started to drift. Her eyes half-closed, lips parted slightly as sleep tugged her down like undertow
Nova jolted upright in the stiff cot, sweat beading along her brow. Her breathing was sharp, fast, like she'd just sprinted the whole rink barefoot. Her eyes flicked around, wild at first, until she remembered where she was. Cold metal walls. The distant buzz of machines. The faint antiseptic tang in the air.
Medical wing.
Not the rink. Not the nightmare.
She ran a hand down her face, trying to calm her nerves. In her dream, X had looked at her with fire in his eyes, not the quiet fire he fought with, but something monstrous. He'd come at her fast, blade drawn, teeth clenched. Her voice had failed her. She'd tried to call his name but no sound came out.
Then, darkness.
She rubbed at her arms. "Damn," she muttered under her breath. "Get it together, Nova."
That's when she felt it.
A shift in the air. A presence.
Her head snapped to the side, and there he was. Silent as ever. Standing in the far corner of the room like a shadow that had peeled itself from the wall.
X.
Nova stiffened. For a moment, all she could hear was the echo of her dream whispering you can't trust him in her ears.
She narrowed her eyes, chest rising slow as she stared at him. "What… you tryna finish what the dream started?"
X didn't move. Didn't answer.
He just stepped forward quietly, his head tilted slightly, curious, almost concerned.
Nova sighed, leaning back against the pillow again, but her eyes stayed locked on him.
"I'm fine," she said, voice still low and guarded. "If you came here to check, you checked. I'm breathing. Go ahead and mark that on your mysterious clipboard or whatever."
Still nothing.
She swallowed. Part of her was still shaken, but she wasn't about to show it.
"You got somethin' to say?" she asked, softer this time. "Say it."
His head turned slightly, toward her stitches. Then to her eyes.
Then, finally, he spoke, low, rough, and real.
"You ok?"
Nova's eyes flicked to her side, then back to him. "Yeah. I fine."
He stepped closer, still slow like she was a scared animal he didn't wanna spook.
"You shouldn't've come out there," he said. "You weren't ready."
Nova laughed, but it wasn't really amused. "And what? Watch you die? Nah. That ain't me. You know, when I stick by someone, I'm real, and honest."
They stood in silence, tension coiled between them like a live wire.
"Not like you care about stuff like that."
He turned away slightly, like that affected him. Nova sat up slowly, wincing as her stitches pulled, but her eyes didn't leave him. The weight of everything hit her again, heavy in her chest. The dream. The fight. The blood. The truth she wasn't supposed to know.
"You should've told me," she said, voice low but sharp. "About who you are."
X's head tilted just slightly, like he didn't understand.
She scoffed. "Really?."
He didn't respond.
"The guards told me," she continued, "Don't play dumb with me boy I ain't the one aight."
Still silence.
Nova's jaw clenched. "You're one of them."
The word tasted bitter in her mouth. She wanted to spit it out.
X didn't deny it. He didn't have to. That silence was confirmation enough.
Nova shook her head, laughing a little, but it was hollow and painful. "All this time… I thought we were in the same fight. Thought maybe, you were like me. Scraping. Fighting. Bleeding for every inch."
He took a step forward.
"Don't," she snapped, hand up to stop him. "You stood there, night after night, training with me. Pushing me. Watching my back. And you never thought once to say, 'Hey Nova, by the way, I'm from the same class of bastards that left your mom to rot in Sector 12.'"
His breath caught at that. She saw it, barely, but it was there. A flinch. Like she'd hit something buried.
"I trusted you," she said, quieter now. "More than I should've. Told my feelings. My thoughts. You saw the real me. And I ain't let anyone see that me in a long time."
He stepped forward again, slow, careful.
"How can you feel betrayed," he said finally, voice quiet and rough. "About something you don't even understand yet."
Nova blinked, that catching her off guard, but only for a second.
"But you didn't choose to tell me. And that means somethin' out here."
There was a beat. Heavy and thick between them.
Then she turned away in the bed, facing the wall. Her voice, when she spoke again, was like smoke, soft, but still burning.
"Go, X. I don't want to talk about this aight."
Silence.
She waited for the sound of his steps, the hiss of the door.
Instead….
click.
Her entire body tensed at the unmistakable sound of the lock turning. Slowly, she turned towards him, eyes narrowing.
X didn't speak. He moved toward the door and slid something heavy, metal, across it. A tray rack. A bench. Something to block it. Then pulled the shade down to cover the window.
Her heart thudded once, hard.
"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, her voice cutting like a blade.
He didn't answer right away. Just turned to face her, calm behind the mask. Too calm.
"X" she growled, sitting up straighter despite the sharp pull of pain in her side, "Answer me now."
"I'm not leaving," he said quietly.
Nova stared at him like she was seeing a stranger. "You think that's your call?"
"You're hurt," he replied. "And angry. But not thinking straight."
"Don't you tell me what I'm thinking," she snapped. "You lied to me. You played me. Now you're trapping me in a room with your untrustworthy ass?"
He didn't flinch. Just took one careful step forward.
"I didn't lie," he said. "I just… didn't tell you everything. And I know that matters. But I'm not here to hurt you."
"Then open the damn door."
"No," he said. "Not until I know you're hearing me, not into your own emotions."
She slid her legs over the bed, muscles trembling, but the fire in her was stronger. "X I'm telling you right now don't let this injury fool you, I will do what I gotta do."
"I would love to see you try," he said, softer. "But unfortunately we both know how that ends."
She gritted her teeth. His hands lifted slightly, like he was surrendering, not to her, but to whatever tension was charging the air between them. " You have to look at the facts. I chose to be here, Nova. I chose the rink. The pain. The blood. Why? Because for the first time in my life, I was accepted, I felt like I belonged. I'm not privileged because I belong to a bastard who doesn't want me. Here, I sharpen my skills through survival.I earn what I get. Here it's all about skill.Here It's real and I finally get to escape him. Here… I met you."
Her lip curled, hurt and fury dancing behind her eyes. "Don't try to turn this into some twisted love letter."
"Oh Nova," he laughed. "Always so resistant. Always so sharp tongued and real. It's hard to find people like that at home.It's beautiful to hear your voice sometimes."
She stared at him, breathing heavy.
And for a long moment… Neither of them moved.
Finally, she said, voice low: "You got two seconds to move that bench, or Imma start using more than words."
And even though her side throbbed and she was barefoot in a hospital gown, X believed every single word.
He didn't move the bench.
Instead he stepped forward and sat beside her on the bed. She turned to him with fury in her eyes.
The sterile white of the medical room cast sharp shadows on his armor as he reached behind and clicked something on his helmet.
She tensed. "What are you doing?"
He said nothing.
With a quiet hiss of pressure, the helmet loosened and he slowly lifted it off his head. The moment was thick with weight, like time had paused just for this. This wasn't just a reveal; this was trust being spilled between the cracks of two warriors who never let anyone see their true feelings.
He set the helmet down, revealing another layer beneath:Dark curls, damp from sweat, and a smooth black blindfold wrapped tight over his eyes.
Nova's breath caught.
He turned his face toward her, completely, and held still.
"Go ahead…Take it off," he said.
Her throat closed up. "What?"
"I want you to be the one to see me first."
Her hand hovered at her side, uncertain.
"Why?"
"It's only fair right?" he whispered.
She paused half fighting herself not to fall for this and half curious as to what was underneath. She raised her hands slowly. Her fingers trembled as they moved. She reached out, slowly, watching him for any sign to stop. There was none.
Her fingertips brushed the edge of the fabric, smooth and warm from his skin.
She hesitated. A thousand questions buzzed in her head, but her heart… her heart felt still for once.
She untied the knot.
The blindfold loosened.
It fell away.
His eyes opened.
And there he was.
Grey eyes, stormy, pale, almost silvery, unfocused but piercing. A deep scar clawed its way from just above his right brow down across the eye and to his cheekbone. It didn't mar his looks; if anything, it gave him a tragic kind of beauty. A face carved in shadows and resilience.
"You're…" she started, blinking.
"Blind," he finished for her, finally looking, though not seeing, directly in her direction. "Since I was nine."
Her voice was quiet. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want your pity," he said, then added, "And because in here, people use every weakness."
Nova searched his face. "You fight like you can see."
He held up the mask between them. "When I put this on, it syncs with the neural implants in my brain. Sends pulses. Echoes. I see... shapes of people. Light. Movement. Like sonar."
Nova's eyes widened. "You've been skating blind this whole time?"
"Not blind," he said. "Not exactly. Just… not the way everyone else does."
She reached forward, her fingers brushing the front of the helmet. It hummed faintly beneath her touch, like it was alive.
"It's not perfect," he added. "It fries sometimes. Lags. But out there, on the ice... it's enough."
Nova sat back, stunned. "And all this time... I thought you were just untouchable."
He gave a short, almost bitter laugh. "Yeah well, as you can see…."
She looked at him now, really looked. The way his jaw set. The way his blind, pale grey eyes still lifted toward sound. How all his grace and precision came from pain, and from something deeper. Will.
And for a second, she didn't see Skater X.
She saw the boy underneath.
"You're still the best fighter I've ever seen," she said quietly. "Mask or no mask."
He gave her a crooked smile. "That means something. Coming from you."
She didn't smile, but she didn't look away either. Not from those broken, beautiful eyes.
Nova couldn't stop looking at his face. The scar. The eyes. The weight behind them. But it was the silence between them that spoke louder than any noise. Until finally, he broke it.
"My eyes used to be green."
She blinked. "What?"
He didn't look at her. Just stared forward with those blind, storm-grey eyes.
"When I was born… black hair, green eyes. All Elites come out the same, blond hair, blue eyes. It's part of the bloodline. It's what makes them… pure." His lip curled with bitterness.
Nova's stomach twisted.
"My father… he knew the moment he saw me. I wasn't his. I was her shame."
He ran his fingers along the scar, slow and distant, as if retracing the pain.
"My mother was made a slave when he found out. She used t tell me I was beautiful. Said my eyes were like jade in the sunlight." His voice trembled, just a little. "But to him, I was proof. Proof she'd loved someone else before she was sold into their world."
Nova listened, barely breathing.
"She was executed when I was nine. In front of me." His voice dropped to a hush. "They made it a show… so everyone would remember what betrayal looked like. Especially me."
Nova's heart was pounding now.
"After that, they gave me a new 'mother.' Cold. Polished. She used to flinch when I walked into the room. I was a ghost. A stain. They all hated me… but wouldn't let me go. My father said if I wasn't worth anything as a legacy, I'd be worth something as a weapon."
He turned toward her, barely tilting his head. "So he tried to make me into one. Broke me down. Blinded me right after my mother execution, said if I wanted to see the world, I should learn how to do it without weakness."
Nova's eyes burned. "He blinded you…?"
X nodded slowly.
"I ran after that. Got out. Did something stupid just to make noise, made sure they'd catch me. And when the judge asked where I wanted to serve time… I told him Vault-0."
Nova stared.
"I came here on purpose," he said. "Because I wanted two things. One, to sharpen every blade, every instinct, every move. So when I go back, I can take the whole Elite system down. Burn it from the inside out, because I believe it's time for change."
She swallowed hard, still speechless.
"And two…" He looked toward her now, directly, like he could still feel where she sat. "I wanted to know what it felt like to live real. To earn something. To fight for something, not because it was expected, but because it mattered."
He paused.
"I wanted to be free."
The room was quiet except for her breathing.
Nova sat frozen, his words echoing through her like a slow earthquake. All Elites had blond hair. Blue eyes. Every single one she'd seen on-screen, on propaganda posters, on the rare visits when officials came to Neonfall, they all looked the same. Chosen. Engineered. Perfect.
But X... X had black hair. His skin kissed with warmth. And behind the silver haze of his ruined eyes, she could almost picture what green they used to be, bright, maybe even radiant like his mother said.
And then she knew. He wasn't lying. He couldn't be.
That scar. That weight in his voice. The quiet rebellion in every move he made… it was all real.
He wasn't just an Elite. He was an exile. A wound the system tried to erase.
And still, he chose to fight.
Nova's heart felt like it cracked a little. Just a thin fracture, but deep.
She watched him now, sitting at the edge of her bed, shoulders heavy with a past no one should carry alone. He wasn't asking her to fix it. He wasn't even asking her to understand. He just… told her. Like he needed someone to hold the truth.
For a second, she hesitated.
But only for a second.
Slowly, quietly, Nova shifted forward and wrapped her arms around him. He tensed at first, like he wasn't used to being touched, like the concept of comfort was foreign, or maybe forbidden. But then his head lowered, gently leaning against her shoulder, and something in his breath softened.
She held him there.
He stayed quiet in her arms, the rise and fall of his chest finally starting to steady against hers. Nova's fingers lingered lightly on the back of his neck, thumb brushing the edge of the scar that climbed behind his ear.
Then, just above a whisper, he spoke.
"There's one more reason I'm here."
Nova didn't move. She just listened.
"You remember that girl... the one you gave your kidney to?"
Her eyes widened. She didn't speak, she couldn't.
He nodded slowly, like he could feel her surprise. "She's my sister."
Nova's breath caught.
"My real father... not the one who raised me with whips and fire. The one my mother loved before she was chained. He was executed not that long ago. They found him. The woman he was with then had a daughter. My sister."
X's voice cracked, just slightly, enough for Nova to feel it ripple through her own chest.
"She's... the only one who ever loved me without wanting anything in return. I used to sneak out of the palace just to see her. She didn't care who I was or what I'd done. She just saw me."
He paused. Nova could hear the war in his voice as he swallowed back the weight of the memory.
"When she got sick, as you saw, the hospital has kidneys. Hundreds. They could've saved her without blinking. But the elite wouldn't allow it. They saved them all for rituals and for themselves. They eat organs as a delicacy when thousands of people are dying. They let her die slow. They see helping a commoner as a waste of resources. She was a commoner. Nothing to them."
Nova closed her eyes. Her grip on him tightened slightly, jaw clenching at the cruel reminder of what power could rot into.
"She was days from dying," he continued, "when your face came on the news. A black-market heist. Stolen organs. No one knew who it went to."
His blind eyes lifted toward her now, even if he couldn't see her, like he felt her watching.
"But I did."
Nova's heart thundered against her ribs.
"I tracked the rumors. Listened to old feeds. Saw you... scared. Running. Still giving your life for someone else. I knew then. You were the one."
She pulled back, just slightly, enough to see the way his scar twisted with emotion, the way his mouth barely moved, but the weight in his voice did all the talking.
"She's alive. Because of you."
Nova's lips parted, the memory of that night rushing back. The girl's eyes. Her playful spirit and young mind. The way Nova's hand trembled when she handed over the bag.
"I came here," he said, "because if the system that cast out my sister and killed my mother was going to eat you alive… then I was gonna be there to make sure it didn't."
Nova couldn't speak. Her throat tightened, and the tears she never let anyone see blurred her vision.
"You didn't just save her life," he whispered, "You gave me something to believe in."
Nova didn't speak for a long time. Her fingers brushed the lines of his scar, memorizing them like braille, like a poem written in pain and silence.
"You were forged in fire, X. And I was shaped by the hunger of the streets, by watching my mother fade, by stealing and scraping just to stay human. We are not mistakes. We are answers the world was too afraid to ask for, blessings as my mother would say."
He didn't move, but his body stilled, like he was listening with more than just his ears.
She leaned in, her cheek on his head, her breath steady. "You've been walking through hell alone… but not anymore. You want to tear down the system that made you a ghost? I want to bury the one that let my mother rot while the Elites bathed in gold. So let's do it. Let's burn their kingdoms down."
His lips parted slightly, and she could feel the tremble in his breath.
"They built this world on our broken backs," she whispered, voice cracking just slightly, "but they never expected us to rise. You said you wanted to fight for something real... well, this is as real as it gets. So we start here, in this rink, with blood on our blades and fire in our lungs."
A slow breath escaped him, like she'd cracked open something he'd buried years ago.
"And when it's over," she continued, "we won't just be surviving anymore. We'll be the architects of a new world. One where no kid gets left to rot because of the blood in their veins. One where people don't have to steal organs to save someone they love.You know what I mean?"
X lowered his head slightly, his voice hoarse. "You believe we could do all that?"
Nova gave him a small, defiant smile mocking his previous words to her. "No. I know we can."
He let out a soft laugh, quiet, reverent, disbelieving.
"Poetry in motion," he whispered.
Nova laughed softly.