Captain Nox's class ended with a final reminder: light practice only. No injuries. Perfect shape for deployment. The cadets filed out of the training hall, muscles warm and minds clear.
"Rex's class is next," Brenden said, rolling his shoulders.
"Not today," Oliver replied.
"What do you mean not today?"
"Notice on the board. Combat class is cancelled until after deployment."
Brenden stopped walking. "Cancelled? Why?"
"Think about it," Damian said. "Rex's class put you and Arthur in the med bay. Oliver and Noah nearly killed each other. Vor got five broken ribs last month. General Nathan probably doesn't want half the elite class in bandages when the transport ship arrives."
Brenden considered this. "That's... actually smart."
"Generals occasionally are," Arthur said.
"So what do we do for four hours until dinner?" Warden asked.
Arthur glanced at Damian. Something passed between them — a silent understanding. Damian gave a small nod.
"I'm going to take a shower," Damian said. "Then I have some things to look into."
No one questioned him. Damian always had things to look into.
---
The dormitory showers were empty at this hour. Damian let the hot water run over his face, his mind already racing ahead. Four hours. Plenty of time.
"First deployment. Fifteen days. No one's told us anything specific — which planet, what tasks, what threats. The other cadets are panicking and forming councils. We need actual information."
He dried off and changed into fresh clothes. As he left the dorm, Arthur was leaning against the wall near the entrance. Their eyes met. Arthur nodded once — a question and a permission wrapped into one gesture.
Damian nodded back. "I'll find out."
Arthur returned inside. No words were needed.
The academy's records room was in the administrative wing — a place most cadets never visited. Damian walked with purpose, like he belonged there. Confidence was half the disguise.
"First stop. Deployment archives. If I can find patterns from previous years, I can narrow down the planet."
The clerk at the desk was a tired-looking man with thinning hair. He looked up as Damian approached.
"Can I help you, cadet?"
"Requesting access to public deployment records," Damian said. "Historical data. Previous first-year assignments."
The clerk raised an eyebrow. "That's unusual."
"I'm writing a report," Damian said smoothly. "For Sergeant Luther. History class. Comparing past deployments to current training protocols."
The lie was perfect — academic, boring, exactly the kind of thing Luther would assign.
The clerk sighed. "Room 3B. Records are organized by year. Don't remove anything."
"Thank you, sir."
---
The records room was musty and quiet. Shelves lined every wall, packed with binders and folders. Damian found the deployment section and started pulling files.
"Twenty years of data. Planet names. Mission types. Casualty rates. Let's see what patterns emerge."
He spread the files across a table and began reading. His eyes moved fast, scanning for keywords.
"Thalassa. Ocean world. Deployed six times in twenty years. Low casualty rate. Beginner-grade aquatic creatures. Mostly specimen retrieval."
"Veridian. Jungle world. Deployed four times. Moderate casualties. Thornbeasts, venom-spitters in the wild. Patrol and perimeter tasks."
"Karnos. Canyon world. Deployed ten times in twenty years. Most frequent by far."
He paused. "Ten out of twenty. That's not random. That's a pattern."
He dug deeper into the Karnos files.
"Razorbacks. Sandskimmers. Standard combat tasks. Burrower Wurms — rare but reported in deployment summaries. Stormfeather Raptors — mountainous regions. Avoidance protocols in place."
He turned a page. Stopped.
"Obsidian Goliath. Advanced grade. One confirmed sighting. Terminated by 3rd Battalion. No cadet casualties."
"An Advanced grade beast on a Yellow planet. Rare, but not impossible."
He memorized the details and kept reading.
"Tasks vary by class. Standard cadets: patrol, perimeter defense, specimen retrieval, resource relocation, mineral extraction escort. Elite or high-performing classes: beast extermination, nest purges, ruins investigation, alpha hunts."
"So we're getting harder tasks. Expected. What else?"
Damian left the records room and headed toward the common areas. He needed to confirm what he'd found, and the best confirmation came from experience.
He spotted a second-year cadet near the training grounds — a girl with a scar across her forearm, practicing alone with a spear. She moved like someone who had seen real combat.
"Excuse me," Damian said.
The girl stopped. Looked him over. "Elite class, right? Grey?"
Damian ". You're a second-year."
Clara. " What do you want?"
"You've been through first deployment. Which planet did you get?"
Clara's expression flickered — something between surprise and suspicion. "Why?"
"Just trying to prepare."
She studied him for a moment. Then shrugged. "Karnos. Most of us got Karnos. Canyon world. Hot days, cold nights, things in the sand that want to eat you."
"Razorbacks?"
"And worse. My squad got assigned a nest purge. Razorback den. Twenty of them. We lost one cadet."
"I'm sorry."
Clara's jaw tightened. "Don't be sorry. Be ready. The military doesn't care if you're talented. They'll throw you into the deep end and see if you swim."
"Any advice?"
She thought for a moment. "Watch the sand. The Sandskimmers hunt by vibration. If you're standing still, they can't find you. If you run, you're dead." She picked up her spear. "Anything else?"
"No. Thank you."
She nodded and returned to her practice.
"Karnos again. The pattern holds."
---
The administrative wing had a corridor that ran behind the instructors' offices. Damian knew this because he had mapped the building in his head weeks ago — not for any specific reason, just because that was how his mind worked.
Now it was useful.
He moved quietly, staying close to the walls. His perception ability was passive — he didn't need to activate anything. He just needed to listen.
A door was slightly ajar. Voices came from inside. Damian recognized them — General Nathan and Captain Nox.
"...the cadets will be fine," Nox was saying. "They've trained harder than any first-year class I've seen."
"It's not the training I'm worried about," Nathan replied. "It's the planet. Karnos has been stable for years, but the mineral deposits in the canyons are attracting attention."
"What kind of attention?"
"Beast migration patterns are shifting. More Burrower Wurms than usual. And the mining outpost in Sector 7 reported something two weeks ago. Something they couldn't identify."
"Draxian?"
"Unconfirmed. High Command is sending a reconnaissance team after the cadet deployment. They want eyes on the ground first."
"So the cadets are... what? Bait?"
"Cadets are a presence. A show of force. The beasts stay away from large groups. And if something else is out there..." Nathan paused. "The elite class can handle themselves."
Damian's heart rate didn't change. His breathing stayed even. But his mind was racing.
"Karnos. Confirmed. And something's there. Something the military isn't telling us."
He slipped away before the conversation ended.
---
Damian returned to the records room. He pulled the Karnos files again, cross-referencing everything he'd heard.
"Mineral deposits in the canyons. Mining outposts. That means mineral extraction tasks and guard duty are likely. Burrower Wurms are becoming more frequent — possible nest purge or alpha hunt."
He found a map of Karnos in one of the older files. Canyons to the east. Savannah to the west. Mountains to the north. Mining outposts scattered throughout.
"Terrain dictates tasks. Canyons mean patrol and guard duty. Savannah means beast extermination — Razorbacks, Sandskimmers. Mountains mean avoidance — Stormfeather territory. And if something unidentified is out there..."
He closed the file.
"I have enough."
---
Damian spent the remaining hour in the academy's media archive, downloading images and data files onto a small tablet. Photos of Razorbacks — wolf-like bodies, bony ridges, hunting in packs. Sandskimmers — serpentine forms disappearing into the sand. Burrower Wurms — massive, segmented, jaws wide enough to swallow a man. Stormfeather Raptors — sleek, razor-taloned, diving from heights. The Obsidian Goliath — a footnote with a single grainy photo of a stone giant being brought down by military fire.
He organized everything into folders. Clear. Concise. Actionable.
By the time he finished, the sun was setting and dinner was approaching.
---
The elite class gathered in their common room. Food was spread across the table — sandwiches, grilled meat, vegetables, water. The atmosphere was relaxed. Brenden was telling a story about a training mishap. Warden was laughing. Vor was pretending not to be amused.
Damian waited until everyone had eaten. Then he stood.
"I have something to share."
The room quieted.
"I spent the last four hours gathering information about our deployment. Which planet. What tasks. What threats." He placed the tablet on the table. "I have answers."
Brenden's sandwich stopped halfway to his mouth. "Wait, what? How?"
"Records. Conversations. Some creative eavesdropping." Damian's expression didn't change. "The planet is Karnos. Canyon world. Ten deployments in twenty years. It's the most common first-year assignment."
"How do you know for sure?" Oliver asked.
"I overheard General Nathan confirm it. Karnos.."
The room was silent.
Damian opened the first folder. Images appeared on the tablet screen — monsters, terrain maps, mission briefings from previous years.
"These are the threats. Razorbacks — pack hunters. Common in the savannah. They'll likely be our primary combat task. Sandskimmers — ambush predators. Hunt by vibration. If you stand still, they can't find you. If you run, you're dead."
He swiped to the next image.
"Burrower Wurms. Intermediate grade. Rare, but becoming more frequent. Thirty feet long. Burst from the ground. Weak point is inside the mouth."
Another swipe.
"Stormfeather Raptors. Also intermediate. Mountainous regions. We probably won't be sent there, but we need to know they exist."
Another swipe. A grainy photo of a stone giant.
"Obsidian Goliath. Advanced grade. One sighting in Karnos history. Terminated by the 3rd Battalion. Not a current threat, but it means the planet has surprises."
He closed the images and pulled up a document.
"Mission types. Standard cadets get patrol, perimeter defense, specimen retrieval, resource relocation, mineral extraction escort. We're the elite class. We'll get harder tasks — beast extermination, nest purges, possibly ruins investigation or alpha hunts. Mining post guard duty in the canyons is likely."
He set the tablet down.
"There's also something else. Nathan mentioned unidentified activity near the mining outpost in Sector 7. High Command is sending a reconnaissance team after us. We're not just doing training missions — we're being used as a presence. Eyes on the ground."
The room was completely still.
Then Brenden spoke. "You figured all of this out... in four hours?"
"Three hours and forty minutes," Damian said. "The rest was organizing files."
Vor stared at him. "You're insane."
"I'm thorough."
Arthur picked up the tablet, scrolling through the folders. His crimson eyes moved across the images, the data, the mission profiles. When he looked up, there was something rare in his expression — respect.
"This is everything we need," Arthur said. "We can prepare properly now. Train for specific terrain. Study the monsters. Know what's coming."
"That was the idea," Damian said.
Warden was still staring at the tablet. "You got photos. Maps. Mission types. From eavesdropping and old records?"
"And a second-year named Clara. She confirmed the Razorback patterns."
Magnum shook his head slowly. "I always knew you were smart. I didn't know you were this smart."
"He's not smart," Brenden said. "He's terrifying. There's a difference."
"It's a useful difference," Oliver said.
Noah, still studying the Burrower Wurm image, looked up. "The weak point is inside the mouth. How do you even exploit that?"
"You wait for it to open its jaws," Damian said. "Then you attack from the side. Spears work best. Vor and I can handle it."
Vor nodded. "I'll start practicing thrust angles."
"Already ahead of you," Damian said. "I included training recommendations in the appendices."
"You included appendices?"
"Of course."
Brenden threw his hands up. "He included appendices. Unbelievable."
Arthur set the tablet down and looked at Damian. "Thank you."
Damian met his eyes. "We're a team. I did my part."
"You did more than your part," Warden said. "You just gave us a fifteen-day head start."
"And probably saved our lives," Magnum added.
Damian allowed himself a small smile. "Then let's make sure it wasn't wasted. We have fifteen days. We know the planet. We know the threats. We know the tasks." He looked around the room. "Let's prepare."
Arthur stood. "Damian's right. From tomorrow, we adjust training. Focus on canyon terrain. Sandskimmer protocols. Razorback formations. Burrower Wurm tactics." He looked at each of them in turn. "We're not just surviving this deployment. We're going to set the standard."
"To the Lions," Brenden said.
"To the Lions," everyone echoed.
And in the common room of their dormitory, surrounded by monster photos and mission files and half-eaten sandwiches, the elite class began to plan.