Tee, alongside her four fellow recruits, stood in formation before the Commander, the air thick with anticipation. What seemed like another typical day of grueling training was about to take an unexpected turn.

  The Commander’s voice cut through the silence, deep and steady, carrying a weight that made every word matter. “Cadets, you have endured one month of training, and while I wish we could continue…” His words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the challenges they had already faced. Their brows furrowed in disbelief—everyone but Kie, who remained perfectly stoic. “You will now undertake practical exercises, designed to prepare you for eliminating the Harbingers.”

  “I know this is short notice,” he continued, his gaze sweeping over them with measured authority, “but, like your missions against the Harbingers, these exercises will be spontaneous. You will have no time to prepare—even if it means being woken in the dead of night.”

  Tee’s stomach tightened. The implication was clear: failure—or at least multiple attempts—was expected.

  With a precise gesture, he beckoned them to follow, striding toward a nearby door. The recruits moved in step, the weight of his words settling over them like a low, humming tension.

  “Based on reports from Vergants during prior fragment quests,” the Commander continued as they walked, “each fragment is protected by a uniquely fabricated Sealed Bond. Each one is different, meaning you cannot predict the challenges you will face.”

  A low whisper escaped Zod’s lips as he leaned toward the Commander, curiosity tinged with mischief. “Sealed Bond? Isn’t that some kind of static magic rule?”

  The Commander’s gaze flicked toward him, sharp and unwavering. “The most important thing to remember, cadets, is that any disturbance near a fragment—natural or unnatural—will trigger the Sealed Bond’s defenses. You are tasked with eliminating the Harbingers, yes, but you must also survive the defense.”

  Tee’s hand shot up instinctively, silencing him before he could speak further, her eyes locked on the Commander. Breaking from formation, Kie strode purposefully toward their mentor, and a spark of competition ignited in Tee. She matched his pace on the other side, determined to prove herself. She had to be the best.

  “Now,” the Commander said, his voice steady but carrying a hint of anticipation, “this exercise is the first part of your test. It is designed to evaluate your skills, your abilities, and—most importantly—your teamwork.”

  The recruits filed into a vast chamber that resembled a military outfitter more than a training hall. Long rows of racks and shelves stretched beneath harsh overhead lights, each stacked with neatly folded shirts, boots, belts, and pants in every conceivable size. Mirrors lined the walls, reflecting the recruits as they moved, while the air hummed with the soft shuffle of fabric and the low murmur of voices as everyone examined their new gear.

  Tee wandered between the rows, her fingers brushing over the smooth fabric and cool leather as she selected her pieces one by one. Finally, she settled into her chosen attire, adjusting the fit with meticulous care.

  Her eyes were drawn to the boots—sturdy yet light, hugging her legs perfectly. The menacing metal spikes embedded in the soles caught the light, glinting like tiny daggers. Wearing them made her feel lethal, empowered, ready to meet any challenge head-on.

  Her enthusiasm faltered slightly as she tugged at the sleeves of her turtleneck. Each one ended at the elbows, leaving her irritated at the extra fabric. With precise fingers, she rolled the sleeves neatly upward, revealing just enough skin above her black elbow pads. It was a compromise—a subtle rebellion that stopped short of outright defiance, avoiding the Commander’s disapproval while still asserting her small sense of control.

  Turning toward the mirror, Tee noticed the large metal zipper running down her turtleneck gleaming like an improvised necklace. It added a subtle flourish to the otherwise standard uniform. She had chosen a dark blue shade over black, knowing that the latter would trap heat. The polyester was surprisingly breathable, and though she sighed at the Commander’s insistence on tucking the shirt into her pants, the effect was undeniably striking. In the reflection, she looked less like a nervous recruit and more like a disciplined soldier, polished and ready.

  Nearby, Kie adjusted the straps of his black MG off-security pants, identical in cut to Tee’s but crammed with more compartments than anyone could realistically need. Tee suspected that portion of the wardrobe came in little variety. Zod, by contrast, drew attention by selecting pants that cut off above the knee—though with his towering boots and padded guards, not an inch of skin was exposed.

  The uniforms followed the same general template, but each carried a distinct splash of color woven into the shirts. Kie’s purple trim matched the thick line tattoo Tee had glimpsed on his upper arm. Miko’s leaned toward crimson—not quite pink, but a deep, blood-like red that somehow suited her perfectly. Saeda, following the common Primus color scheme, had chosen a dark green, though to Tee it appeared more like an unflattering, muted shade. Zod’s gloomy yellow trim seemed to mirror his divided personality—part genial, part reckless jerk. Beyond those accents, the rest of their clothes—from boots to elbow pads—remained black or near-black, giving the group a sense of cohesion despite their individual flair.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  One unexpected rule caught their attention: hair was left untouched. In the Mid-Guard, girls were required to bind their hair in tight buns or keep it shoulder-length, while boys were shaved down to low trims. There, they had freedom. Tee seized the opportunity, pulling her white hair into a bun while letting locks of hair frame her face. It was a small, intentional statement—if they ever had to run, she wanted to look like herself: unbroken, unbowed, and ready for whatever lay ahead.

  Mission Base

  The Commander waited for them at the far end of the gleaming elevator platform. The recruits soon stepped onto the pristine white floors of the mission base, the reflective surface almost blinding under the harsh overhead lights.

  Tee secured her telecom around her arm, mimicking Zod’s practiced movements. The device felt foreign, bulky against her skin, so she folded the cuff of her glove, shortening it to align with her sleeves. With that adjustment, the bulge of the telecom was nearly invisible. She repeated the process on her other hand, each motion precise and careful.

  Tee spun slowly, taking in the vast chamber. The ceiling disappeared into shadows above, and holographic screens hovered in midair, displaying unreadable symbols that pulsed with faint light. The air smelled faintly of ozone, a clean, metallic tang that made her nose tingle.

  From across the room, a woman’s gaze landed on them instantly. Her brown hair was coiled into a strict bun, and glasses perched with exacting precision on her nose. She wore a long green jacket reminiscent of the Commander’s blond coat, and with a flick of her gloved hand, the holograms dissolved into nothing, leaving the air eerily empty. She adjusted her glasses and stepped forward, each movement measured, calm, and radiating authority.

  The Commander remained at her side, their eyes meeting in a silent accord before turning to the recruits.

  “Welcome,” the woman said, her voice steady and formal, yet tinged with warmth. “I am Lieutenant Scott, second in command here at Primus. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  The Lieutenant offered a bow, subtle but precise, a gesture that reminded them of the importance of the moment.

  “Hey, she’s kinda cute,” muttered Zod.

  “Isn’t she twice your age?” Saeda said, her voice dry as sand.

  The Commander’s reaction was muted, almost numb, his eyes betraying nothing.

  He stepped forward to explain the parameters of their test. Each recruit had to press the teleportation button simultaneously while remaining in close proximity. The exercise was timed, and failure meant they had to start over. The stakes were clear: complete the test and teleport back to the mission base before the countdown ended.

  The Lieutenant approached a large hologram screen and touched it lightly. Instantly, the floor beneath them transformed from pure white to a vivid, glowing red. “Good luck,” she said, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of them behind the screen.

  They blinked rapidly, their eyes adjusting to the sudden dimness. When they looked up, massive trees towered above them, their thick branches interlocking to block the sun. Tee felt as tiny as an ant gazing up at colossal human legs, the bark rough and textured even from her distance.

  It became clear they were no longer on Geovalon but on a newly discovered island, hidden from the public. From high above the canopy came a cacophony of shuffling sounds, echoing like thousands of wings flapping in unison.

  A subtle vibration emanated from their arms. Tee rolled back the cuffs of her gloves to check the devices, eyes widening at the countdown displayed: six hours.

  “Six hours?” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. “What are we going to be doing for that long?” Her brows furrowed as unease crept in.

  The tension was thick, but Zod seized the moment to inject humor. Standing at rigid attention, he adopted a soldier-like stance and bellowed, “Alright, cadets! As a precautionary measure, perform a thorough body check to ensure no body parts were left behind during teleportation!”

  Miko’s eyes darted downward in panic, inspecting her legs frantically. Zod doubled over, laughing so hard he staggered, while Saeda pressed a hand to her forehead, groaning at his antics. Miko stomped her feet in frustration, muttering under her breath.

  “We have no clue how to begin, and here you are laughing like a madman,” Kie remarked, his voice laced with impatience. He placed one hand on his hip while resting the other on a slightly raised leg planted atop a rock. His dark red eyes swept over the group. “Unlike our previous training, this test will require teamwork.”

  Tee bristled. “I hate teamwork,” she shot back.

  Kie’s expression softened slightly, a shadow of amusement in his eyes. “I could tell,” he said, the memory of her leaving him to wash all those bloody dishes alone evident in his tone. Tee felt a twinge of guilt. She had wanted to help but simply couldn’t force herself to do it.

  “Stop overreacting. There weren’t that many dishes anyway,” she muttered defensively.

  Meanwhile, Zod strained his eyes toward the dense canopy and cupped his hands into a makeshift megaphone. “Hello!” he shouted.

  Saeda’s curly hair twitched as she whipped around to face him. “Are you insane? Do you want to give away our location? What if we get attacked right now?”

  “Well, that would certainly speed things up,” Miko said cheerfully, her voice contrasting sharply with the tension.

  “We’re wasting precious time just standing here,” Kie said, impatience clear in the tight line of his jaw.

  Tee’s lips curled into a sly smile. That was the perfect opportunity to use her enhanced vision.

  “I can use my eyes to search for any signs of activity,” she suggested.

  All of them nodded, silent agreement passing between the five recruits. Tee closed her eyes to block out Zod’s taunting, took a deep breath, and whispered, “This place is vast, and I’m unfamiliar with it, so it may take a while.”

  “Take all the time you need,” Kie’s voice echoed through the forested darkness, carrying a steady reassurance that grounded her. “We’re not going anywhere.”