He exhales through his nose. “I said I was sorry.”
“And yet I remain unhealed.”
We reach the arena concourse before he can answer.
Training Arena One is even worse up close.
At the reception distance it looked intimidating. At ground level it looks vindictive. The structure stretches up in steel ribs and suspended platforms under a vaulted shell of glass and composite mesh, all lit in white strips that reflect off metal edges like blades. The air tastes faintly of dust, coolant, and ozone. Trainers move across the floor with tablets and harness packs. Drones hover in assigned lanes, waiting.
The obstacle course for pair orientation is already assembled inside.
I stop at the rail and feel my brain click over into a different gear.
Good.
Useful.
The course begins with a dual climb wall—two angled surfaces separated by a narrow gap, studded with holds at uneven intervals. Beyond that, suspended balance beams, then a rotating cylinder section over a safety pit, then a low crawl tunnel with pressure-trigger panels embedded in the floor. Farther on, a weight-transfer station: one partner lifts, one navigates. Then a puzzle lock set mounted on a vertical gate. Finally, a sprint finish across unstable platforms.
It’s not random.
That’s the first thing I clock.
It’s curated to force dependency.
One person can’t simply dominate through strength without costing time elsewhere. Each stage requires complementary timing or communication or both. It’s a test of cooperation disguised as spectacle. Brutal, but legible.
That, at least, I can work with.
Bron leans on the rail beside me and lets out a low appreciative sound. “Oh, that’s nasty.”
“It’s engineered.”
“Yes,” he says. “Nastily.”
I ignore him and keep scanning.
The dual wall is a trap if the stronger climber tries to pull too fast. The balance beam section will punish rushing. The rotating cylinder isn’t about strength, it’s rhythm and timing. The crawl tunnel pressure panels likely penalize uneven load distribution. The puzzle lock station is where faster but less observant pairs will hemorrhage time.
I can already see three ways to break this course.
I pull up the map on my comm and start sketching notes with my thumb.
“Left-side wall has better reach spacing at the top third,” I murmur mostly to myself. “So taller climber should take right, shorter climber left. Rotating cylinder—wait for synchronized low point, not first opening. Tunnel likely weight-calibrated. Need even pacing. Puzzle gate—one reads, one manipulates?—”
Bron tilts his head. “Are you talking to yourself or briefing me?”
“Yes.”
He laughs softly. “Good to know.”
I cut him a glance. “You find this entertaining?”
He looks back at the course, sunlight from the arena roof striking one side of his face in warm gold. “I find absurdly high-stakes nonsense weirdly clarifying.”
I stare at him. “That is one of the most alarming sentences I’ve ever heard.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t say healthy.”
