_*]:min-w-0 !gap-3.5">The Northern Administrative District's Grand Pavilion glittered beneath the night sky, its transparent dome revealing the stars above Terminus while sheltering the elite from the pnet's increasingly unstable atmosphere. Crystal chandeliers imported from Earth centuries ago caught and amplified the light, casting prismatic patterns across the assembled crowd.

  Alexander Voss adjusted his formal attire—a tailored suit in VitaCore blue with silver accents—and surveyed the gathering with practiced detachment. Around him, the wealthiest and most powerful families on Terminus celebrated their children's impending Game entry as if sending them to an exclusive academic institution rather than into the Tower of Ascension.

  "Try to look less like you're assessing tactical positions," Elijah murmured beside him, offering a flute of champagne. "Father's watching."

  Alexander accepted the drink with a brief nod. "Force of habit."

  "Quite a contrast to what's happening in the other sectors tonight," Elijah observed, his voice pitched low enough that only his twin could hear.

  Alexander's gaze drifted to the distant lights of the Worker zones visible through the dome, precisely arranged grids compared to the Architect district's spacious elegance. "They're probably receiving their standard-issue gear and st-minute instructions."

  "While we get champagne and string quartets."

  "The celebration reinforces public confidence in the Game," Alexander replied, automatically repeating what their father had expined during the transport to the Pavilion. "It demonstrates our commitment to the advancement opportunity we're creating for all of Terminus."

  He hesitated, remembering their mother's warning from the previous night. The weekly quota. The escating elimination metrics. Her carefully chosen words suggesting that the Game's official purpose was "incomplete."

  "Does that commitment extend to everyone equally?" Elijah asked quietly, his expression momentarily unguarded. "Alexander, do you think what Mother told us—"

  "Not here," Alexander cautioned, nodding toward an approaching couple.

  Valeria Krane and her father, Director of Security Operations for ProtectoCorp, moved through the crowd with predatory grace. Like most security personnel, they carried themselves with alert precision, but unlike the standard enforcers visible at the Pavilion's perimeter, the Kranes wore their authority like a second skin—comfortable, natural, and absolutely deadly.

  "Alexander, Elijah," Valeria greeted them with practiced warmth that never quite reached her eyes. "I'm pleased we'll be entering together tomorrow."

  Alexander inclined his head slightly. "The team assignment was fortunate."

  "Hardly fortune," Director Krane interjected with a thin smile. "Your father and I arranged it months ago. Valeria's tactical experience will complement your leadership aptitude perfectly."

  Elijah gnced between Valeria and her father, noting the subtle tension in her posture. "Have you reviewed the Library access protocols for our first week?" he asked, deliberately shifting the conversation. "I've been studying the botanical texts for Green Realm medicinals."

  Valeria's expression flickered with something like surprise. "I expected you'd focus on the standard healing curriculum."

  "Standard approaches yield standard results," Elijah replied mildly. "The Game rewards innovation."

  "Indeed it does," Director Krane said, studying Elijah with renewed interest. "Though innovation carries its own risks. Best to stay within established parameters whenever possible." The warning in his tone was unmistakable.

  "We should greet the other guests," Alexander interjected smoothly. "Excuse us."

  As they moved away, Elijah whispered, "Did you hear that? 'Arranged months ago.' Father's been pnning our Game entry in ways he never mentioned to us."

  "Of course he has," Alexander replied. "He's probably negotiated advantageous starting positions, specialized equipment access..." He hesitated, then added more quietly, "And likely some form of monitoring through Valeria."

  Elijah's eyebrows rose. "You think she's reporting to him?"

  "I think that's precisely why she was assigned to our team," Alexander confirmed. "Watch her interactions with the other security personnel. They defer to her in ways that go beyond her father's position."

  Across the Pavilion, their parents held court among the corporate leadership. Marcus Voss stood tall and imposing in his immacute VitaCore formal wear, one hand resting possessively on Helena's waist as he ughed at something Imani TerraMin had said. To casual observers, they presented the perfect image of corporate power and unity.

  But Alexander had been trained since childhood to detect weaknesses in opponents, and even his parents weren't exempt from his assessment. He noted the microscopic tension in his mother's smile, the calcuted distance she maintained even within his father's embrace, the way her eyes continually swept the room as if searching for something—or someone.

  "Mother looks like she'd rather be anywhere else," Elijah observed, following his brother's gaze.

  "Father too, though he hides it better," Alexander replied. "Look at his left hand—the tension in his fingers, the way he keeps checking the time. This is performance, not celebration."

  A chime sounded, signaling dinner. The crowd began migrating toward the tiered seating arrangement at the Pavilion's center, where each family would be positioned according to corporate rank and influence. The Voss twins, as sons of VitaCore's leader, would be seated at the highest tier alongside the other entering pyers from the Seven Corporations' ruling families.

  As they walked, Alexander noticed a subtle exchange between two InfoSys executives near the refreshment tables. Their conversation was just within earshot:

  "...special preparations for their children, I hear. Voss isn't taking any chances with his heirs."

  "After the Chen boy's unexpected dey in advancement? I'd do the same. Some are saying the higher floors present unanticipated challenges."

  "Still better than what awaits the Worker css entrants. Public sentiment in those sectors is becoming... restless."

  "They'll settle once we release the next success statistics. People just need reassurance that advancement is possible for all sectors."

  They moved out of hearing range, but Alexander had heard enough. He gnced at Elijah, whose slightly widened eyes confirmed he'd been listening too.

  "'Unexpected dey in advancement,'" Elijah murmured. "That's corporate speak for something going wrong."

  "And 'special preparations,'" Alexander added. "Do you think that's what Mother gave us st night? Unauthorized enhancements?"

  Elijah considered this as they approached their assigned table. "Possible. But if Father arranged simir advantages, why would Mother warn us as she did? The two approaches seem contradictory."

  Before Alexander could respond, they reached the central dais where Marcus Voss was now standing beside VitaCore's chief Game liaison, preparing to address the gathering. The twins took their pces at the highest tier, alongside Valeria Krane and five other Architect-css entrants they recognized from corporate functions—all children of the ruling council members.

  "Honored guests," Marcus began, his voice carrying effortlessly through the Pavilion. "We gather tonight to celebrate the newest pioneers of the Tower of Ascension—our children, who tomorrow will continue Terminus's proud tradition of advancement through merit and courage."

  Alexander studied his father's performance with clinical precision. The appropriate modution of tone, the calcuted pauses for emotional impact, the slight gesture toward the assembled entrants at the precise moment to draw all eyes to them. It was masterful manipution of crowd psychology.

  "The Game represents our highest achievement as a society," Marcus continued. "A system where talent rises regardless of origin, where individual potential is recognized and rewarded, where Terminus's future leaders prove themselves through genuine challenges rather than privilege of birth."

  Elijah shifted slightly beside Alexander, a subtle sign of discomfort at the disconnect between these lofty words and their mother's warnings. Alexander remained perfectly still, his expression a practiced mask of appropriate pride.

  "In recent months, we've heard concerns about the Game's difficulty," Marcus acknowledged, his tone shifting to address the tension directly. "Let me be clear: the Tower of Ascension is indeed challenging. It demands excellence. It pushes entrants to their limits. This is by design." He paused, allowing his words to settle. "But every challenge is surmountable with proper preparation, strategy, and determination."

  A murmur of approval rippled through the audience. Alexander noted how skillfully his father had acknowledged public concerns while dismissing them in the same breath.

  "Tonight," Marcus concluded, raising his gss, "we toast not merely to the success of our children, but to the future they will build through their achievements within the Tower. To the Ascension css!"

  The pavilion erupted in appuse as the assembled elite raised their gsses. Alexander and Elijah participated in the toast, their movements synchronized as always, while exchanging a quick gnce that conveyed their shared skepticism.

  The remainder of the evening passed in a blur of formal conversations, strategic introductions, and careful observation. The twins were approached by numerous corporate representatives offering congratutions and subtle reminders of alliance opportunities within the Game. They responded with practiced courtesy while revealing nothing of their private concerns.

  As the celebration began winding down near midnight, Alexander found himself momentarily alone, his brother drawn into conversation with a Helix Pharmaceuticals executive interested in his medical aptitude. From this vantage point near the Pavilion's western arch, he had a clear view of his mother engaged in what appeared to be casual conversation with Eliza Chen of InfoSys.

  Something about their interaction caught his attention—a strange intensity beneath the social veneer, the slight angle of their bodies creating a private space amid the crowd, the way their hands brushed in what seemed like an accidental gesture but resulted in something small being passed between them.

  Before he could process this further, his father appeared beside him, one heavy hand nding on Alexander's shoulder.

  "You've conducted yourself well tonight," Marcus said, his voice pitched for privacy. "As expected."

  "Thank you, Father."

  Marcus surveyed the room, his expression revealing nothing of his thoughts. "Tomorrow everything changes. You and your brother enter the Game with every advantage I could secure for you. Do not waste these preparations."

  "We won't," Alexander assured him automatically.

  "The first ten floors establish dominance patterns that persist throughout advancement," Marcus continued, repeating advice he'd given numerous times during Alexander's training. "Move quickly, demonstrate capability, secure resources before others can cim them."

  "Yes, Father."

  Marcus turned to face his son directly, his eyes cold and evaluating. "There will be... unexpected challenges. Events that seem unfair or confusing. Remember that everything in the Game serves a purpose in identifying worthy advancement candidates. Do not question the system, Alexander. Master it."

  The wording sent a chill through Alexander, echoing too closely his mother's warnings about the Game's true purpose. "I understand."

  "Good." Marcus checked his timepiece. "The official transport leaves at 0800 hours. Your mother has insisted on a private family breakfast before departure, so be ready at 0600."

  "We will be."

  With a brief nod, Marcus moved away to join a group of VitaCore executives near the exit, leaving Alexander to wonder about the tension underlying his father's instructions.

  As the ga drew to a close, the twins found themselves standing near the Pavilion's eastern observation ptform, momentarily isoted from the departing guests. Below them stretched the glittering expanse of the Northern Administrative District, its perfect geometric yout a stark contrast to the chaotic arrangement of the distant Worker sectors, and beyond them, the nearly invisible darkness of the Unaligned territories.

  "What are you thinking?" Elijah asked softly.

  Alexander considered the question, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "That after eighteen years of preparation, we still don't understand what we're truly entering tomorrow."

  "Mother tried to warn us," Elijah replied. "In her way."

  "Yes. And Father just issued his own warning, though I doubt he realized it." Alexander turned to face his brother. "Something is wrong with the Game, Elijah. Not just challenging, as they're telling the public. Wrong in a fundamental way."

  Elijah nodded, his expression solemn. "And we're walking into it tomorrow with the entire corporate world watching."

  "Not just walking in." Alexander's voice hardened with determination. "We're going to understand it. Whatever the Game truly is, whatever it was designed to be versus what it's become—we're going to discover the truth."

  "That sounds dangerously close to 'questioning the system,'" Elijah observed with a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes.

  "Perhaps it's time someone did."

  Around them, the Pavilion's lights began dimming in sequence, signaling the evening's conclusion. The twins took one st look at the privileged world they'd known all their lives—the opulence, the carefully maintained appearances, the political maneuvering beneath social niceties—knowing that tomorrow would transport them into a reality that even their extensive preparation might not have adequately addressed.

  As they walked toward the private transport where their parents waited, Alexander made a silent vow: whatever advantages their father had arranged, whatever warnings their mother had provided, whatever the Game truly represented—he would protect his brother above all else, just as Helena had instructed.

  The rest, like the distant stars visible through the Pavilion's transparent dome, would have to reveal itself in time.