Helvetia did not sleep.
It only paused—just long enough for the weak to mistake survival for safety.
Leena stood at the edge of Sector C, boots planted on ice fractured by countless drills, executions, and failures. The frozen wind cut across her face like a blade, but her breathing remained steady. Controlled. Measured.
Beside her stood Mara.
No longer trembling.
No longer hiding behind borrowed courage.
She checked her rifle with hands that still bore faint scars from the first week—frostbite healed wrong, skin split and hardened. Her movements weren't perfect, but they were deliberate.
She was learning fast.
A drone descended between them, humming softly, its red lens adjusting.
Then Viktor Kane's voice emerged—calm, almost bored.
"Leena Johnson. Mara Ellison."
They stepped forward.
A holographic map unfolded in the air, rotating slowly. Vast stretches of ice, broken structures, dark forest zones marked with danger symbols.
"Assignment," Viktor said. "A hunt."
The map zoomed in on a deep red zone far beyond standard boundaries.
"Target: Rogue Unit Nine. Former trainees. Escaped containment during Phase One."
Mara's jaw tightened. "How many?"
Viktor smiled faintly.
"If you return, you'll know."
Leena didn't react.
"This is not a rescue," Viktor continued. "Not an interrogation. Eliminate them."
He paused.
"Work as a unit. Separation equals failure."
Another pause.
"Failure equals death."
The hologram vanished. A supply crate rose from the ice and split open.
Two rifles.Limited ammunition.One thermal blade.No medical supplies.
Mara stared. "That's… all?"
"That's mercy," Viktor replied.
The drone lifted and vanished into the sky.
The hunt began.
They moved quickly, sound swallowed by the snow.
Leena led, reading the land instinctively—how the wind curved around rocks, where ice was thin, where sound would travel. Mara followed half a step behind, adjusting her pace without being told.
"You're not dragging your feet," Leena said quietly after an hour.
Mara exhaled. "I don't want to be dead weight."
"You won't be," Leena replied. "If you trust what you see."
"I do."
They reached the forest edge. Twisted frozen trees formed a maze of shadows. Footprints appeared—old, panicked, poorly concealed.
"Five," Leena murmured. "Maybe six."
Mara frowned. "How can you tell?"
"They're scared," Leena said. "But organized. Someone's leading."
The first shot came without warning.
Ice shattered inches from Mara's shoulder.
Leena reacted instantly—dragging her down, firing back in one smooth motion. The recoil barely moved her now.
A scream echoed.
One target down.
Mara didn't freeze.
She rolled, took cover, fired—missed, but forced the enemy back.
Leena noted it.
Good.
They advanced methodically, pressure constant. Rogue Unit Nine fought like wounded animals—dangerous, desperate, sloppy.
One rushed them with a blade.
Leena intercepted.
Steel clashed.
She felt the strength in her arms—dense, controlled, lethal. She ended it cleanly.
Mara watched. Memorized.
By the time the final body fell, the snow was soaked red.
Five confirmed kills.
Silence returned.
Mara leaned against a tree, chest heaving, eyes wide—not with horror, but disbelief.
"I didn't freeze," she whispered. "I didn't panic."
Leena nodded. "That's how you survive here."
The cold settled in again.
Then—
Ding.
The sound resonated directly inside Leena's mind.
A system interface unfolded—clean, sharp, unmistakable.
HIDDEN MISSION COMPLETE
Objective:• Survive hunt mission• Eliminate all targets• Protect assigned partner
Status: Completed
Leena's heartbeat slowed.
A new line appeared.
REWARD UNLOCKED: SYSTEM SPACE
Description:• Personal dimensional storage• Non-living items only• Secure, untraceable• Accessible by host thought
Capacity: Initial (Upgradeable)
Leena's breath caught—just slightly.
A space.
No more carrying.
No more exposure.
No more leaving things behind.
Weapons. Pills. Technology.
Hidden.
Safe.
She focused instinctively.
The fallen thermal blade vanished from the snow—pulled into nothingness.
Mara's eyes widened. "Where did it go?"
Leena looked at her. "Somewhere safe."
Above them, Viktor Kane reviewed the feed.
"No casualties," Iris reported. "Targets eliminated."
"And Mara?" Viktor asked.
"Still alive," Iris replied. "And adapting."
Back in the forest, Leena helped Mara stand.
"We move," she said. "Before someone else comes."
Mara nodded, gripping her rifle tighter.
Two survivors.
One hidden advantage.
And somewhere deep inside Helvetia—
The hunt had only just begun.
Days bled into nights.Nights into blood.And blood into memory.
One year passed.
Those who survived learned quickly—Helvetia was not a training ground.
It was a graveyard that occasionally let people walk out.
Leena Johnson stood on the upper ridge overlooking Sector C, the frozen wind tearing at her jacket. Her posture was relaxed, almost careless—but every muscle beneath was coiled, ready.
Below her, trainees sparred on the ice.
None of them noticed her watching.
They never did.
Because after a year, Leena was no longer someone people looked at—
She was someone people avoided.
Behind her, footsteps approached.
Mara.
She moved without sound now. No hesitation. No wasted motion. Her once-fragile frame had hardened, lean and lethal. The fear that used to live in her eyes had been replaced with something colder.
Focus.
"Three new arrivals today," Mara said quietly. "They won't last a month."
Leena didn't respond.
She already knew.
The Year of Blood
They killed.
Not recklessly.
Not emotionally.
They killed because hesitation meant death.
Leena learned when to strike first.
Mara learned when not to.
Together, they were efficient.
Unstoppable.
A mentor once tried to break them—forcing a night-long endurance drill in minus forty degrees, no shelter allowed.
Six trainees collapsed.
Two froze to death.
Leena and Mara stood until dawn.
Silent.
Unmoving.
Viktor Kane watched from afar, expression unreadable.
He didn't know why they survived.
He only knew they did.
And that unsettled him.
The first hunt had been a turning point.
Assigned together.
Given nothing.
Sent into a red zone where escapees and feral trainees roamed.
They had returned alone.
No celebration followed.
No acknowledgment.
In Helvetia, survival was expected—not rewarded.
But something shifted after that.
Mentors began pairing others against them during drills.
Trainees whispered.
Stepped aside.
Avoided eye contact.
Not out of respect.
Out of instinct.
Predators recognize predators.