The aircraft began its descent without warning.
There was no announcement.
No change in the soldiers' expressions.
Only a subtle shift in gravity and a deeper vibration through the hull.
Leena opened her eyes.
Outside the window, the clouds thinned—and the world below revealed itself.
Not an island.
Not a city.
Not even land that felt alive.
It was white.
Endless.
Merciless.
Frozen.
Jagged mountains rose like broken teeth from a vast expanse of ice and snow. Black rock cut through the white in violent scars. Storm clouds circled low, heavy and slow, like predators waiting for weakness.
There were no lights.
No roads.
No signs of civilization.
Only cold.
Deep, ancient cold.
The aircraft angled sharply, diving toward a strip of black carved into the ice—an improvised runway barely visible against the storm.
Leena's pulse remained steady.
So this is it.
The place James had warned her about.
The place where mistakes cost lives.
The landing was brutal.
The wheels slammed into the ice with bone-rattling force. Metal screamed. The aircraft skidded, slowing only after what felt like an eternity.
When it finally stopped, silence followed.
Then—
Clank.
The rear hatch dropped open.
A wall of freezing air exploded inside.
Leena inhaled sharply as the cold hit her skin like knives. Even with insulated clothing, it cut straight through her, stealing warmth, breath, comfort.
The soldiers stood at once.
One of them turned to her.
"Out."
No name.
No respect.
No hesitation.
Leena rose and stepped forward.
The moment her boots touched the ground, the cold seeped upward—through soles, bones, marrow. The wind howled across the ice, carrying fine needles of snow that stung exposed skin.
She forced herself not to react.
Weakness was currency here.
Ahead, partially buried into the mountainside, stood a structure that didn't belong to nature.
Black steel.
Angular.
Brutalist.
An underground facility, its entrance reinforced like a bunker meant to survive nuclear impact.
A single word was etched into the metal above the doors.
HELVETIA
Leena walked forward.
The hatch slammed shut behind her.
The aircraft lifted off almost immediately, engines roaring, leaving nothing behind but wind and silence.
No return.
The steel doors slid open.
Inside, the temperature dropped even further—but the cold was controlled now, deliberate.
Leena stepped into a vast underground chamber.
Harsh white lights illuminated a concrete hall that looked more like a prison than a training facility. Rows of metal lockers lined one wall. Weapon racks lined another.
And people.
Thirty of them.
Men and women of different races and builds, all wearing the same dark combat gear she had been given. Some looked young. Some looked hardened beyond their years.
All of them looked alert.
Afraid.
A low murmur filled the room—until it stopped instantly.
Because someone had entered.
Heavy footsteps echoed across the concrete.
Leena turned.
The man who walked in was tall—over six feet, broad-shouldered, his presence compressing the air around him. His hair was cropped short, silver threaded through black. His face was lined, scarred, and utterly devoid of warmth.
His left eye was artificial.
Cold steel and red light.
Behind him followed two others.
A woman with sharp features and eyes like glass—calculating, predatory.
And a younger man, lean and calm, his expression disturbingly bored.
The tall man stopped at the center of the room.
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
"Welcome to Helvetia," he said.
His gaze swept across the room slowly, deliberately.
"You are not recruits."
"You are not soldiers."
"You are not special."
He paused.
"You are expendable."
A ripple of tension passed through the group.
Leena remained still.
"My name is Viktor Kane," the man continued. "I am the warden of this facility. Your survival—or lack of it—is my responsibility."
The woman stepped forward.
"I'm Iris Vale," she said coolly. "Tactical training. Combat assessment. I decide who fights and who breaks."
The younger man gave a lazy half-smile.
"Call me Ash. I teach you how to kill things that want to kill you first."
Viktor's artificial eye glowed faintly.
"Rules are simple," he said.
Rule One: No mercy will be shown.
Rule Two: No rescue will come.
Rule Three: Failure equals death.
A man near the back swallowed hard.
"What… what kind of failure?" he asked.
Viktor turned his head slowly.
"You'll know."
Without warning, Viktor raised his hand.
A sharp crack echoed through the hall.
One of the trainees—a young man, barely twenty—collapsed to the floor, a red hole appearing in his forehead.
Blood spread across the concrete.
A gunshot.
From Iris.
She lowered the pistol calmly.
"Failure to remain silent," she said.
The body twitched once.
Then stopped.
Silence swallowed the room.
Leena felt it then—not fear, but something colder.
This wasn't training.
This was selection.
Ash crouched beside the corpse, checked his pulse, then stood.
"Dead," he said casually. "Clean shot."
Viktor looked at the remaining trainees.
"First lesson," he said. "Death is immediate here. Get used to it."
The body was dragged away without ceremony.
The floor was hosed down within seconds.
No one spoke.
No one cried.
Leena watched it all, her expression unreadable.
Inside, the system stirred.
Ding.
New Environment Detected: Extreme Survival ZoneThreat Level: LethalSystem Assistance: Limited
Limited.
So even the system wouldn't save her here.
Good.
Viktor's gaze suddenly locked onto her.
"You," he said.
Leena met his eyes without flinching.
"Name."
"Leena Johnson."
A lie so complete it felt real.
Viktor studied her for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
It wasn't friendly.
"Interesting," he said. "You don't smell like fear."
Some of the others glanced at her.
Iris followed Viktor's gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Watch her," Iris said quietly.
Ash tilted his head, intrigued.
"Oh," he murmured. "I already am."
Viktor turned back to the group.
"You will be divided into squads of five," he said. "You will be deployed into the white zone outside."
A holographic map flickered to life, showing the frozen wasteland beyond the facility.
"No food."
"No shelter."
"No instructions."
He pointed to the map.
"Survive forty-eight hours."
A murmur rippled through the room.
"Creatures?" someone asked shakily.
Viktor's smile widened.
"Environment."
"Each other."
"And things that live here longer than you have."
He lowered his hand.
"Move."
Chaos erupted as trainees were shoved into groups, equipment thrown at them—basic weapons, limited ammo, no guarantees.
Leena was placed in Squad Seven.
Four strangers.
A tall man with shaking hands.
A woman trying too hard to look confident.
Two others already arguing.
They were weak.
She knew it instantly.
The steel doors at the far end opened again.
This time, the cold was worse.
A blizzard waited outside.
Viktor's voice echoed behind them.
"Remember," he called out, amused."You're not here to pass."
"You're here to survive."
The squads were pushed forward.
One by one, they disappeared into the white.
When it was Leena's turn, she stepped out without hesitation.
The door slammed shut behind her.
The wind howled.
Visibility dropped to almost nothing.
Her squad clustered instinctively, fear driving them together.
Leena scanned the terrain calmly, survival instincts already calculating.
Shelter.
Wind direction.
Elevation.
Resources.
She heard screaming in the distance.
Then gunfire.
Then silence.
Somewhere nearby, someone else had failed.
Leena tightened her gloves.
Two years.
That was all she needed.
She didn't look back at the facility.
She looked forward—into the storm.
And walked.