Cassia and Mara form a public timer-caller partnership. The first save-credit score appears under Cassia's name.
Glass cracked under Mara's shoe as the Admission Ward unfolded into a long transparent hall. Cassia Rowe landed on her knees in a spill of cold light, reset tremor snapping through her right hand, while red tags bloomed across three strangers at once. One tag pinned itself to a man's chest and dragged him toward a pressure door with a slot shaped exactly like a knife.
The Host Bell chimed from inside the walls. "Glass Triage Hall. Red priority requires extraction. Violent extraction grants immediate passage."
The crowd understood the obvious invitation. Ronan Pike understood it first. He took the knife from the wall slot, tested its balance, and looked at the tagged man as if choosing where to cut.
Mara caught Cassia's sleeve. "Timer?"
Cassia looked past the red glare. The door's pressure gauge rose when people shouted, not when the tagged man moved. Every scream fed the lock. Every step Ronan took made the needle climb.
"Not his body," Cassia said. "The door is the injury."
Mara's fear changed shape. It became work. "Give me numbers."
"When the gauge hits red, call it."
"Already red."
"Then call the dips."
Ronan pressed the knife tip against the tagged man's shirt. "Red tag means urgent. Urgent means cut."
"It wants you to cut," Cassia said.
"Most honest thing in this place."
The tagged man shook so hard his knees knocked. "Please. I don't know the rule. I don't know any rule."
"Quiet helps," Cassia told him.
Ronan laughed. "That your grand save plan? Hush?"
"No." Cassia pointed to the pressure gauge. "Your knife is a handle. His tag is bait."
Mara stepped into the center of the hall and raised both hands like she was taking command of a disaster line. "Timer call! Gauge dip at thirty-two. Next dip in three, two, one."
The needle fell a hair. Cassia moved on the dip. She caught Ronan's wrist, not to overpower him, but to change the blade's angle. The knife slid into the door slot instead of the man's chest.
The pressure door inhaled.
For one second the red tag on the man flickered yellow, then white. A panel opened at Cassia's shoulder with a green stamp inside: WITNESS REQUIRED FOR SAVE-CREDIT.
The Host Bell sharpened. "Interference with violent extraction reduces reward."
"Good," Mara said, voice carrying. "Reward was a trap."
That was the exchange that shifted the hall. People had been watching Ronan for permission to be cruel. Now they watched Mara call the room and Cassia turn a weapon into a key. The tagged man sank against the glass, sobbing without sound.
Ronan jerked his wrist free. "You think opening one door makes you leader?"
"No," Cassia said. "I think you almost stabbed the lock's battery."
The door slot spat the knife back out. Its handle had changed color, red to green, and the wall printed Cassia's name beneath it with a new line: ONE SAVE-CREDIT, PENDING BELL.
Ronan saw the score. So did everyone.
"Save-credit," a woman whispered. "That is real?"
The Bell answered before Cassia could. "Team-save scores carry penalties. Kill scores carry privileges."
"Name one privilege in this hall," Cassia said.
The Bell went silent.
Mara's mouth twitched, but she did not celebrate. "Gauge rising again."
Because the hall had more than one door. The first pressure lock opened onto another glass segment where two contestants were already fighting over a red tag stuck to the floor between them. The tag pulsed brighter whenever a fist landed. The system was not asking for care. It was training reflexes: red meant panic, panic meant violence, violence opened the wrong route.
Cassia took the green-handled knife and set it flat on the floor where everyone could see she was not hiding it.
"Mara," she said, "you call dips. Tavi, stay behind her and repeat what she says if the Bell drowns her out."
Tavi, pale but upright, nodded. "I can repeat."
Ronan's eyes narrowed. "You are building a team."
"I am keeping useful people alive."
"Same thing, if you are dangerous."
"Then be accurate when you hate me."
Mara cut in. "Next dip in two."
Cassia moved with the call. The red floor tag tried to crawl toward the nearest blood. Cassia pinned it under the green knife handle instead. The door at the end of the hall unlocked with a wet metallic click, and the pending score under her name turned solid.
ONE SAVE-CREDIT. The first save-credit score was no rumor now; it hung in the glass with her name beside it.
The Host Bell rang a short, displeased note. A side door slid open beyond the pressure lock. Its label was not subtle.
TEAM SAVE PENALTY.
Behind Cassia, Ronan picked up the ordinary knife the wall had printed to replace the green one.
"Next room," he said, "I stop letting you teach."