As Gilbert struck a deliberately theatrical pose, exaggerating a flourish with his hand and a dramatic tilt of his head, the others around him exchanged tired eye rolls and exasperated sighs. Even William, usually reserved and composed, couldn't suppress a low chuckle that danced in his eyes with amusement. "Well, lead on," William said, a smirk tugging playfully at the corners of his mouth. "What shall be our first order of business?"
"Oh, it seems someone is handling their loss better than I anticipated," Kean remarked dryly, a hint of sarcasm curling his voice as he glanced sideways at William. Just as Wolfgang began to step forward, presumably to retort, William raised a hand to stop him before any confrontation could escalate.
"I don't see the point in taking this negatively," William said evenly, not bothering to meet Kean's eyes. "These teams are temporary. Why make a fuss over something that won't last?"
Kean opened his mouth again, but Gilbert cut him off with a raised hand and a calm, almost diplomatic tone. "He's right. It's just temporary. Let's all get along and see what they have in store for us. So, what do you want to know?"
William gave a short nod before responding, "As I said, I'm William, ID: 735. Skilled in close-quarters combat."
Anastasia's eyes lit up with genuine curiosity as she had been preoccupied talking quietly with Chen Mei moments before. "Wait, wait — you have close combat training?" she asked eagerly.
"Of course," Wolfgang answered sarcastically, folding his arms. "Kids from Tier II cities start training as early as five years old. By age nine, they usually specialize in whatever they're good at — at least for a year before taking the serum."
"It's the same for me," Chen Mei added quietly, her voice calm but with a hint of pride. "I'm trained to become a medic. My ID is 311."
Wolfgang scoffed and leaned back, a smirk playing across his lips. "See? We all have our roles. That's why so few from Tier III cities even make it into the army—and the lucky ones rarely make it far. So, you all should just give up now and hold back. I don't want to end up stuck in a squire squad."
"Okay, that's enough," Kean snapped, stepping forward without hesitation. His fist shot out in a swift punch aimed at Wolfgang's face. Wolfgang caught it mid-air, gripping Kean's wrist tightly. With a fluid motion, he hoisted Kean onto his shoulders and slammed him hard onto the ground. Wolfgang raised his foot, preparing to stomp toward Kean's chest—only to be stopped by a solid foot underneath his own.
Glancing down, Wolfgang saw it was Gilbert's foot pressing against his, steady and immovable. No matter how much force Wolfgang applied, Gilbert's foot wouldn't budge. Meanwhile, quick, precise punches rained on Wolfgang's temple and chin—Adam and Gilbert working together. William caught both their fists mid-air with surprising strength.
The sudden skirmish shocked the girls, who hurried over to separate the men before things got out of hand.
"Even if it's temporary, this is still our squad for the foreseeable future," Anastasia said worriedly, her voice tinged with concern. "Why don't we all just calm down?"
"Mhm," Chen Mei nodded shyly in agreement.
The tension hung thick in the air as the group stared silently at one another. Finally, Gilbert removed his foot from Wolfgang and helped Kean to his feet, offering a small, sincere smile.
"Gilbert, no training, ID: 141," he said simply to William.
"Adam, ID: 149," Adam added, pulling his fist free from William's grasp.
"Kean, ID: 147, no formal training," Kean muttered, allowing Anastasia to brush off the dirt from his back while still shooting daggers at Wolfgang.
"Wolfgang, ID: 732, trained in close combat and ballistic weapons," Wolfgang declared, smirking slightly.
"Anastasia, ID: 143. No formal training, but I've studied mechanics for three years," she explained softly.
"What do you think they have planned for us?" Chen Mei asked, looking uncertain yet curious.
"It's quite obvious," Gilbert said with a grin. "Orientation. All schools have orientation—why wouldn't this one?"
Nods of agreement rippled through the group.
Meanwhile, across the operations zone, similar scenes unfolded. Large screens lined the command deck of the 400-foot-long vehicle—a heavily armored transport—where General Beckett and his team monitored every movement. The command deck was shielded beneath an expansive reinforced canopy, its multiple high-definition displays streaming real-time feeds of the recruits' positions, interactions, and readiness levels.
At the center of the room, a sleek holographic table projected a detailed 3D map, displaying the terrain around the drop zone, squad deployments, and the broader combat zone. Operators sat at various command stations, analyzing data streams, coordinating communications, and tracking all field activity with laser focus. The atmosphere was thick with tension and anticipation, the hum of technology underscoring the critical importance of the moment.
"Navigator, how far out are we now?" General Beckett asked, his voice steady but urgent.
"Sir, approximately twenty miles out," replied a young man at the navigation console, fingers dancing over the holographic controls.
"Good. Slow down. Let's let them off here and let their introduction to military life begin," Beckett commanded.
Colonel Z'yna spoke up, her tone matter-of-fact but tinged with concern. "Sir, while this isn't a problem for recruits from Tier I and II cities, those from Tier III generally have little to no formal training. Squads with members from those cities are at a significant disadvantage."
Doctor Wolmer scoffed, his expression cold and dismissive. "Let them return to their backwater cities and take up farming or factory work. The resources required to transform even one of them into a knight are simply too costly."
A few operators around the room chuckled quietly, amusement flickering across their faces. But the laughter died almost instantly as the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The room plunged into darkness. A deep, thunderous rumble seemed to emanate from General Beckett's very chest, reverberating through the air and sending a ripple of tension through the assembled team.
"Mind your words, Wolmer. You are here as an unwanted guest, at the command of the president. But don't think I won't throw you off this ship if I have to," Beckett warned, voice low but deadly serious.
The holographic visions cleared and the instructors exchanged small, satisfied smiles. Wolmer shot Beckett a venomous glare but took a deep breath to calm his temper.
"I'm sorry, General, but as you said, I am here on the president's orders. Besides, it seems your lapse in emotion has frightened your 'little rabbits,'" Wolmer said with a snide smirk.
All eyes turned to the main screen, showing the recruits in the common area. Many were bent over, panting heavily, except for seven who still managed to stand, albeit shakily.
"Start the march," the General ordered.
Back in the common room, recruits lay sprawled across the floor—some kneeling, others flat on their stomachs. Among them, Gilbert, Adam, William, and four others from various squads struggled to remain upright.
"What just happened? I felt like I was drowning underwater," Kean gasped, pushing himself up unsteadily. Gilbert and William exchanged confused looks, both panting heavily as they helped others to their feet.
"That's what happens when a marine lets their energy slip in a regular environment," Chen Mei explained, brushing her bangs out of her eyes with a faint smile.
"What? How is that even possible for a human to do?" Anastasia asked, eyes wide.
"It's said every marine is a natural disaster," Chen Mei replied quietly. "That's why they built the tier cities—to contain us."
Beep, beep, beep.
Suddenly, their watches chimed, drawing their attention. A notification appeared: Recruits shall be released in their squads on the ground and must march the rest of the distance to the academy. Squads have a time limit of three hours to arrive complete or face disciplinary action. The countdown began, and an arrow appeared, pointing toward the academy.
Multiple exit doors slid open across the room, revealing a drop toward the ground far below.
"Looks like they expect us to jump," Adam said, eyeing the height warily.
"Yeah, but they didn't give us parachutes. What do they expect? That we can fly?" Wolfgang asked skeptically.
Suddenly, a squad of kids, one of whom was still standing after the energy release, jumped out of the carrier. Instead of falling, they floated gently down.
"What's that?" Kean asked, squinting upward.
"Antigrav clothing," Chen Mei explained. "Used by people from Tier I cities to avoid fatal falls. They only work up to thirty feet, and they don't let you fly—they just slow your fall."
As she spoke, three other squads with standing members also jumped and floated gently down. Meanwhile, William's friend, a kid with a buzz cut, plummeted rapidly toward the ground, landing in a squat—but safely.
The guard standing near the exit spoke calmly. "You've all been given the serum. As long as you have three doses, you can land safely—well, except for minor injuries."
"Alright, Squad Nine, take a leap of faith. William, help Chen Mei land properly. Adam, assist Anastasia. Everyone try to stick together once you land. We move out immediately after," Gilbert ordered as he leapt from the carrier.
The others quickly followed. Adam helped Ana keep her balance, while William reached out to Chen Mei—but she declined his assistance, floating down gracefully on her own.
Gilbert landed hard, feeling a sharp ache in his legs. Adam and Ana touched down safely. Wolfgang and Kean crashed into each other during their descent, groaning from the impact. William landed in a low squat, scanning the area for Chen Mei. Just as he was about to speak, he noticed her descending gently beside them.
"I'm sorry, ma'am—I didn't realize we had a noble among us," William said with a respectful bow. Wolfgang quickly followed suit.
"It's fine. My family is from a Tier I city, but we have no political power," Chen Mei replied, a small smile softening her features.
"Still, I apologize for any misconduct from my peers," William added earnestly.
"Okay, okay. Save the groveling for later. For now, form up. We need to move before more squads start landing on us," Gilbert said sharply.
The group quickly complied.
"Here's our marching formation: Kean, I want you five meters ahead of us. We don't know what to expect. Then William, followed by Ana and Mei in the middle. After them comes Wolfgang, then me and Adam side by side," Gilbert instructed.
"Any questions?" he asked.
"Were any of you given military training before this?" William asked.
"No. But my cousin's in the military, so I picked up a few things from him," Gilbert replied.
They fell into formation, boots crunching on the hard ground as they moved out toward the academy, the countdown ticking steadily on their watches