I Evolve 10,000 Times Faster

The kitchen smelled of grilled vegetables and simmering broth.

Holden stood at the stove, stirring a pot with practiced ease. Maeve sat at the table with her new Bestiary volumes spread out around her, a rare specimen preservation kit open beside her notes. She’d barely touched the gold coins he’d brought home, too excited about the research materials to think about spending them yet.

"Lyra’s leaving the academy," Holden said casually. "An arranged marriage. Some third-year royal prodigy."

Thump.

The heavy Bestiary book hit the table hard enough to rattle the preservation kit.

Maeve pushed her glasses up and looked at him like she was furious. Her eyes narrowed behind the lenses.

"What did you say to her?"

Holden kept stirring. "I told her it was her noble family business and she should do what she thinks is best."

"Holden Voss." Maeve’s voice was dangerously calm. "Are you serious right now?"

"It’s the practical answer."

"It’s the coward’s answer."

He finally turned from the stove. "Excuse me?"

Maeve stood up from her chair. Despite being thirteen and barely reaching his shoulder, she somehow managed to look down at him. Her hands were clenched at her sides.

"She told you she didn’t want to do it. She looked right at you and said those words. And your response was to quote noble family politics at her?"

"I’m a slum rat, Maeve." His voice went flat. "My only job is keeping us alive. If I fight a royal prince over a noble girl, I put you in danger. It’s not our world."

"Is that what you tell yourself?"

"It’s the truth."

Maeve stared at him for a long moment. Then she shook her head slowly, her expression shifting from anger to something closer to disappointment.

"You can calculate a monster’s weak point in three seconds flat. You can read an opponent’s movements before they make them. But you’re completely blind when a girl is standing right in front of you, asking you to care."

"She wasn’t asking me to..."

"She was asking you to fight for her, Holden." Maeve’s voice softened. "Not with swords. Just with words. Just by showing her that she mattered more than your stupid survival logic."

He didn’t have a response to that.

Maeve sighed heavily and sat back down. She picked up her Bestiary book but didn’t open it.

"You’re a genius at tactics, but honestly? You’re a complete moron when it comes to emotions."

The pot bubbled quietly on the stove.

Holden turned back to it without saying anything.

The next morning, the cafeteria felt wrong.

Team Soup’s table had an empty chair. Lyra’s chair.

Renna poked at her breakfast without eating it. Her usual torrent of words had dried up completely. She kept glancing at the empty seat, then at Holden, then back at her plate.

Emric sat rigid and straight, carefully lining up his cutlery so nothing was out of place. He hadn’t made a single statistical observation all morning.

Neither of them would look directly at Holden.

He sat at his usual spot and ate his food in silence. The awkwardness pressed against them like a physical weight.

"So," Renna finally said, her voice unusually quiet. "I heard Lyra’s carriage is coming Friday evening."

Nobody responded.

"I wonder if she’ll... I mean, do you think she’ll be happy? With the marriage thing?" Renna’s words came out hesitant, nothing like her normal rush of speech. "It’s probably fine. Royal families know how to arrange good matches. I’m sure it’ll work out great. She’ll probably forget all about us and be really happy and..."

"Renna," Emric said gently. "Stop talking."

She closed her mouth.

The silence returned, worse than before.

Holden tried to say something, anything to end the silence. He considered saying he was sorry, explaining his side, or even cracking a joke just to stop the situation from feeling so uncomfortable.

Before he could figure out what, a sharp chime sounded from his academy watch.

"Urgent summons," Emric said, noticing. "From an instructor."

"Vespera," Holden confirmed, reading the message. "Her office. Immediately."

Renna and Emric exchanged a glance.

"Go," Emric said. "We’ll... we’ll be here."

Holden stood and walked away from the table.

Instructor Vespera’s office was exactly as cold and intimidating as the last time Holden had visited.

She sat behind her massive desk, reviewing documents with that penetrating gaze that made most students want to evaporate.

But Holden’s attention immediately locked onto the two figures standing beside her desk.

They were identical twins.

They had the same face, the same height, and the same cold eyes. Their black hair was tied back in the same way. They wore matching black and silver combat gear that looked designed for speed and lethality, not decoration. Curved short swords hung at their hips, the blades already gleaming with faint energy.

"Voss." Vespera didn’t look up from her paperwork. "Close the door."

He did.

"These are Cora and Sera." She finally raised her eyes. "My only other personal disciples. Second-years. Both Rank 2, three-star. Assassination specialists."

The twins turned to look at him at the exact same time.

"He looks slow," the one on the left said.

"And weak," the one on the right finished.

Their voices were identical too. Same pitch. Same tone.

Holden leaned against the wall near the door and crossed his arms. He was in a bad mood already. The Lyra situation still sat heavy in his chest. He didn’t have patience for synchronized arrogance.

Vespera continued. "Since you’ve proven yourself capable, I’m removing you from standard freshman curriculum. Effective immediately, you’ll be joining the Twins for high-level, secret academy missions."

The left twin’s eyes flicked to him. "A freshman."

"With us," the right twin added.

"In the field," they said together.

Holden studied their matching outfits. The identical combat gear. The same weapons. The same hair. The same everything.

"Nice coordination," he said. "Do you two share a brain, or just a wardrobe?"

The twins blinked at the same time. For once, their matching faces didn’t look perfect anymore. They both looked confused for a second.

"Excuse me?" the left one said.

"It’s a simple question." Holden shrugged, not moving from his relaxed position against the wall. "I’m just trying to understand if the matching outfits are a tactical choice or if you just really enjoy looking like backup dancers."

Vespera’s pen stopped moving. She looked up, one eyebrow raised slightly.

The twins exchanged a glance. Their cold composure was starting to break.

"We are elite assassins," the right twin said, her voice sharpening.

"Trained by Instructor Vespera herself," the left one added.

"We don’t need fashion commentary from a freshman who hasn’t even earned his first star."

Holden smiled slightly.

"Fair enough. I’ll just watch you work and take notes on synchronization techniques. Very educational, I’m sure."

The twins stared at him. Their hands moved slowly toward their sword hilts.

Vespera cleared her throat.

The twins immediately snapped to attention, their hands falling away from their weapons.

"Enough," Vespera said flatly. "You’ll have plenty of time to establish your working dynamic during the mission. Which starts in one hour."

She slid a folder across the desk toward all three of them.

"Read it. Memorize it. Be ready."

The twins picked up the folder together, still shooting cold glares at Holden.

He pushed off the wall and reached for the folder at the same moment.

Their eyes met.

The rivalry had officially begun.