"SARGENT, SIR! YES, SIR!"
Shouts erupted across the open field as a massive figure emerged from a dark tunnel. The glint from his glasses caught the sunlight as he strode into the open.
"YOUR GREETINGS TO MAJOR CARMAN!"
A commanding voice barked. The man wore the uniform of the Pangaea Protection Army, decorated heavily—clearly a high-ranking officer.
"SARGENT, SIR! YES, SIR! WE GREET MAJOR CARMAN, SIR!"
The recruits echoed as one, their voices filling the field. Major Carman mounted the podium, his towering frame now even more imposing.
Ahem...
The Major cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over the rows of fresh recruits before glancing down at a paper.
"You were once common citizens of the homeland—babes with no knowledge of what it took to keep the peace you so blissfully enjoyed, ignorant of the monsters beyond our borders."
He paused, a flicker of discomfort on his face as he scanned the rest of the page. Then, with a sigh, he crumpled the paper and tossed it aside.
"Now that you wear this uniform, there is no return until your service is complete. The only return is death. Your training officer will provide further instruction. Hail Lucifer."
"HAIL LUCIFER!" the recruits chanted in unison, voices booming.
With that, Major Carman stepped off the podium. Silence returned as the Sergeant took his place.
"This is your living quarters. Get your things in place and call it a day. Tomorrow, training begins."
The gates to a large complex swung open.
"You can find your rooms via the prompt on your AulWris. A map of recruit-accessible areas has been uploaded. Locate the Mess Hall by evening. Dismissed!"
With those final words, the Sergeant turned and walked off.
"295... Ugh, finally." A tired voice mumbled.
A boy stood before a door, raising his arm to swipe his AulWris against the scanner. A small beep, and the door slid open. Without hesitation, he walked in and flopped face-first onto the bed.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The alarm blared. The boy shot upright.
"Mess Hall... Right."
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, straightened his collar, and stepped out. As he walked down the hall toward the stairwell, he took note of the room numbers—an attempt to gauge the size of the complex.
Boots clacked against concrete as he descended. The muffled sound of conversation grew louder.
"Oh hey, another one's coming," someone sneered.
A group of older recruits leaned against the wall. Their uniforms bore signs of experience—faded patches, extra pins.
"Hey, boot! Come here a sec!"
The one who spoke had a long scar across his cheek. The others chuckled.
"Yes, sir," the boy said quickly, standing at attention.
"What's your name, rookie?"
"Dustin Mall, sir!"
"A Mall?" The older recruit raised a brow. His friends murmured among themselves.
"What are you doing in the military at fifteen? Members of the great families are exempt until seventeen."
"Yes, sir. But I volunteered early to serve the motherland, sir."
The group fell silent. Then the scarred officer gave a rare nod of respect.
"At ease, soldier. You may carry on. It's a noble thing to serve the people of Pangaea."
Dustin saluted and moved on, their quiet conversation fading behind him.
After following the map on his AulWris, he finally arrived at the Mess Hall—with twenty minutes to spare.
He spotted some fellow recruits and joined them in silence. Laughter broke out nearby.
"Oh! These boots look feisty, don't they?" a blond senior laughed.
"How many do you think will even make it to the main barracks?" another cackled.
"That's if they last a week, haha!"
Their taunting was cut short.
"THAT'S ENOUGH!"
The Sergeant entered the Mess Hall, his voice like thunder.
"Line up. Uniform check."
The recruits scrambled into order.
"There are fifty of you instead of the two hundred enrolled. Tardy recruits, it seems—one hundred and fifty of them."
He tapped at his AulWris. A glowing interface shimmered before him as he fiddled with unseen data.
"Carry on with your meal."
He exited without another word, leaving a trail of confusion.
"How did he check our uniforms? He just stood there."
"Is it a Gift? Some sort of scanning ability?"
"I don't know, man. He was staring at his AulWris the whole time. Maybe he was bluffing?"
Theories flew between the recruits as the line shuffled forward.
The military arc had begun—and the weight of it was already pressing on their shoulders.