CYCLE 10.00

  Varkas felt cornered. The golden opportunity to crush Nugia’s spirit—Subject 009—had evaporated right before his eyes. Scarlett’s presence was an immovable wall, a shield that forced his foulest intentions to remain unspoken.

  But luck is a fickle mistress. The atmosphere shifted instantly as a new arrival brought a scent of authority that signaled Scarlett’s departure from Unit 009.

  The rhythmic thud of military boots echoed through the stifling corridors of the Sector 7 barracks. A woman marched in, her camouflage cap tilted at a perfect angle over her tied-back blonde hair. Her presence commanded immediate silence; senior soldiers snapped to attention, offering stiff, mechanical salutes.

  "My Lady... it is time for your return. If Lord Vier finds out you’ve lingered here any longer, we will all be in grave trouble," she said firmly, removing her aviators to reveal eyes as sharp as a scalpel.

  Varkas, previously arrogant, snapped into the most perfect salute he had ever performed. The barracks froze; the hum of Varkas's mechanical arm seemed muffled by the woman's sheer aura.

  "Valky, you are a General. Why do you obey the rules of these rats so blindly?" Scarlett protested, her voice laced with disappointment.

  "It is because I am a General that I know my limits. This is Sector 7, their execution grounds. I have no jurisdiction here, Lady," replied General Valky. At twenty-five, her beauty rivaled Scarlett’s, but it was a beauty edged with the coldness of sharpened steel.

  "Fine," Scarlett muttered, though her eyes still sparked with rebellion.

  The two women walked away, cutting through a crowd of male soldiers who couldn't help but stare. The sight was an anomaly in the filth of the barracks: a thirty-two-year-old noble with hair like burning embers walking beside a young blonde General radiating military discipline. Amidst the rusted weapons and brutal training, they were a deadly, beautiful contrast.

  "You give them so much attention, yet you ignore him, Lady... I truly do not understand your mind," Valky asked as they distanced themselves from Unit 009.

  "I have my reasons, Valky. You wouldn't understand," Scarlett replied coldly.

  "He always asks about you, hoping for your presence. Yet you don't even spare him a glance. You’d rather spend your time with these Sector 7 brats?" Valky pressed.

  "Enough, General!" Scarlett snapped, her voice trembling with restrained fury. "You have become far too bold in meddling with my private affairs!"

  Valky fell silent, but a faint, unreadable smile played on her lips. Behind them, the heavy steel doors of the barracks slammed shut with a resounding boom, severing Scarlett’s protection from Unit 009.

  Once the echo died down, Varkas turned around. The red glow of his ocular sensor swirled wildly, scanning the trembling members of Unit 009. "What a touching farewell," he hissed, clenching his fist. The sound of grinding metal felt like scraping scrap-yard junk to Meyra’s ears.

  Varkas herded them toward a massive steel elevator. As the doors shut with a deafening clang, Unit 009 was trapped in the cramped space with Varkas and the other units.

  Every flash of the indicator marked their descent. One floor... two... The air grew thin and cold. The deeper they went, the more the atmospheric pressure of Peterumman seemed to crush their lungs. Finally, at the fifth floor, the lift jerked to a violent halt.

  The doors slid open, revealing a dim, damp concrete corridor.

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  "The moment of truth," Varkas hissed, stepping out first. His voice bounced off the walls like cold stone. "Today, we see who among you becomes a long-range Sniper, a frontline brawler, or an elite Assassin."

  He stopped before a heavy blast door, glancing back with the eyes of a predator. "And for those who prove talentless... steel your nerves. The central laboratory is always in need of new vessels for Mana Stone experiments. You’re far more useful as fuel if you cannot be a weapon. Ha-ha-ha!"

  Varkas grinned, savoring the suffocating silence before leading them into the heart of the subterranean armory.

  Beep! Access card accepted.

  Hydraulics hissed, and the steel door groaned open. A cold white light struck the pale faces of the cadets.

  Before them lay a gargantuan hall that seemed to stretch into infinity. Thousands of lights flickered on in sequence, revealing rows of death instruments lined up against the walls. They were awestruck and horrified; this wasn't just a warehouse, it was a harvest factory for souls.

  From long-range rifles to plasma blades vibrating with raw energy, every tool of destruction was present. Unit 001, the top-ranked unit, moved first. It was a test of predatory instinct; they were free to choose any weapon that synced with their internal energy flow.

  Once Unit 001 moved, chaos ensued. Other units surged forward like a black tide. One by one, they found their "partners"—some clutching heavy rifles with trembling hands, others swinging plasma swords with hollow gazes. Eventually, nearly every unit had a weapon, leaving Unit 009 standing amidst thinning racks.

  Varkas stood on the observation balcony, his mechanical eyes recording every detail.

  "Ten targets! Fifty meters! Fire!"

  Meyra and Zilla gripped the Stingray-27, the standard-issue assault rifle. A volley of shots shattered the silence. The result was perfect: both scored 10/10.

  The distance increased. One hundred meters—they remained solid at 9/10. But at 200 meters—the limit for short-barrel accuracy—the gap widened. Meyra scored 7/10, while the more stable Zilla hit 8/10. Varkas merely snorted in disappointment; to him, "almost perfect" was a failure.

  Then, the hall fell silent as Reyna stepped forward. In her hands was the Silent Banshee-X, a sleek sniper rifle with a manual loading system that forced the user to chamber each round.

  Click. Boom.

  100 meters, destroyed. 200 meters, a hole dead center. Even at 500 meters, Reyna didn't miss an inch. Finally, at the far end of the 2-kilometer hall, at a distance of 1 km—impossible for the naked eye—Reyna fired her final shot. 9/10.

  The training ended in a heavy silence. Varkas gave a signal, and a massive holographic screen flickered on, displaying the performance metrics.

  SECTOR 7 - ACCURACY TEST LOG

  Subject 018 (Reyna): Score 98% (Rank 1)

  Subject 015 (Zilla): Score 90% (Rank 2)

  Subject 012 (Meyra): Score 86% (Rank 3)

  ...

  Subject 009 (Nugia): Score 45%

  ...

  Subject 021 (Amae): Score 12% (Last Place)

  "That girl... she has the eyes of a Reaper," whispered a senior soldier.

  The contrast on the screen was agonizing. While three of them sat at the top, Nugia was buried in the middle, and Amae was the bottom-most name on the list.

  Varkas sneered. "A unit of three eagles, one mole, and one piece of useless trash," he bellowed.

  "Enough with your toys! Now, face death as it approaches!" Varkas roared.

  The floor vibrated. Laser projectors activated, creating ten sensory holographic shadows that moved with lethal agility. The rule was simple: strike the shadow before it touches you.

  When it was Amae's turn, he stepped forward with the Nano Mono-Wire coiled around his fingers.

  "Level E. 30 m/s," the robotic voice announced.

  Amae dodged in panic. As the shadows multiplied to eight, Amae hit a breaking point. Varkas lashed his whip against the floor, sparks flying. "Do it! Strike them before this whip tastes your flesh!"

  Amae, dazed and desperate, spotted the massive blowers in the ceiling. A mad idea took hold. He began to spin his body—not as a boy, but as the axis of a storm. His nano-wires extended, creating a web of death.

  Level E (30 m/s): 10/10.

  Level D (50 m/s): 10/10.

  Level C (90 m/s): The peak of human nerve capacity. Amae struck them all, but the centrifugal force took its toll. His vision blurred; his brain felt scrambled.

  As the projector roared into Level B (200 m/s)—a speed invisible to the naked eye—Amae collapsed. A holographic sensor touched his shoulder.

  Buzzz! Score stopped. Amae fell, vomiting from the intense vertigo.

  Varkas spat to the side. "Trash at the bottom remains trash. Subject 009. You’re next."

  Nugia stepped forward. In his grip, the Twin Fangs—a pair of pitch-black daggers—felt like extensions of his own veins. He didn't spin. He didn't take a complex stance. He just breathed, syncing his heartbeat with the hum of the projector.

  The holograms launched.

  Levels E, D, and C were passed in silence. Nugia made no wasted movements; just slight heel pivots and lethal, short stabs.

  At Level B (200 m/s), the shadows moved like black lightning. Yet Nugia danced between the lines of death with terrifying precision. Each chime of the Twin Fangs was rhythmic, a melody in the heart of a storm.

  "Incredible... his movement efficiency is at 99%," an overseer whispered.

  On the balcony, Varkas’s face darkened. This brilliance was an insult.

  "Filthy sorcerer..." Varkas hissed. "He must be using magic from outside the walls! No human moves that cleanly without mechanical modification!"

  Varkas slammed the intercom. "Activate Level A. 450 m/s. Let’s see how long this wizard can cheat death!"

  At 450 m/s, something happened.

  Nugia’s pupils contracted. A blue glow, hidden until now, began to bleed into his irises. To Nugia, the world slowed down. The shadows, moving as fast as bullets, now looked like lazy drifts in water.

  Slash! Slash!

  Every strike hit home before the sensors could react. Varkas stood frozen.

  "Level A... he’s touching Level A," Zilla whispered in disbelief.

  Nugia’s blades stopped. The blue glow faded as reality accelerated back to normal. A second later, the silence was ripped apart.

  "DEET—!"

  A burst of static followed by a flat, synthetic voice:

  DATA LOG: SUBJECT 009.

  RATE: 2/10. STATUS: ELIMINATED.

  The number 2/10 glowed red in the air, mocking the impossible speed they had just witnessed.

  Varkas smirked, an expression far more terrifying than his rage. "Enough with these lights. I’m bored of watching you dance with shadows."

  Varkas leapt from the balcony, landing with a heavy thud in front of Nugia. "The drill has changed. If you’re so fast, let’s see how you handle real pain. Unit 009... Prepare for combat!"

  Message from Behind the Walls

  The journey of Unit 009 is still long. Please continue to follow their story; your presence is what brings this work to life. Thank you for reading, and if you have a moment, please leave a comment.

  One step closer to freedom.