By the time the last recruit dragged themselves across the finish line, the sun was already high—noon.
Tarrin looked like he'd lost a brawl with a Scarbane and then been dragged behind a truck for good measure.
Ten minutes of rest barely got his legs working again before the Sergeant barked out orders for post-course exercises, just in case anyone thought survival was enough.
At that point, Tarrin honestly started hoping a Scarbane would show up and put him out of his misery.
Still, he managed to squeeze in more banter with Lena—fishing for details about the camp, sharing embellished stories from the bar, the usual.
The training finally ended, and the recruits scattered like rats fleeing a burning building.
Now, walking back toward the barracks with Riko, Tarrin flicked through his schedule on his Telcom, squinting at the glare.
"We've got, what, an hour and a half to grab lunch? Then we split for the theoreticals, right?" he asked, voice hoarse but steady.
Riko, who somehow looked only half as destroyed, nodded. "Yeah. I'm already ahead of you, though. Advanced class and all that."
Tarrin laughed, shaking his head. "Stop capping. Lena said they almost held you back a week 'cause you were so hopeless. Called you a lost cause with legs."
Riko scowled like a kicked dog. "This Lena... I think she's a bad influence on you. You should stop talking to her."
Tarrin grinned. "You're just mad that you can't just spout nonsense anymore. Know the feeling, trust me."
In a few minutes, they reached the barracks—home sweet hellhole.
They waved to the receptionist on duty, a hollow-eyed woman who looked like she was fighting off her third existential crisis before noon.
Tarrin pressed his Telcom to the reader, and the door slid open with a beep. Stepping inside, he kicked off his shoes—then froze.
A pair of unfamiliar boots sat neatly by the wall.
'The hell? Do people just waltz in here like it's a public bathhouse now?'
He tilted his head toward the boots, silently questioning Riko, who only smirked in response.
They moved down the hallway to their room, and Tarrin spotted him immediately—some guy perched on the top bunk like a nesting bird. Blonde, clean-faced, all smiles.
'Great. Who's this golden-haired sissy? Bet he sparkles in rain.'
Tarrin spoke first. "Hey, man. You new?"
The guy flinched slightly, like a kid caught stealing snacks, then hopped down from the bed, landing with an exaggerated grin.
"Jayden Brooks, pleased to meet you!"
Tarrin masked his instinctive frown with a courteous half-smile. "Tarrin Vex. That's Riko Darnell. Pleasure's ours, man."
He waited for Riko to say something, but the guy just stood there, silently sizing up Jayden like he was an unfamiliar weapon.
Tarrin broke the silence. "Didn't see you at the ceremony yesterday. Got reassigned, huh?" His tone was confident—less a question, more a read.
Jayden nodded, grin somehow widening. "Yeah, had a bit of a… disagreement with some guys in my old unit.
So, they shuffled me over to the Thirty-First." He clapped his hands together. "Guess that makes us teammates now!"
'If the gods drop one more beam of sunshine into my life, I'm jumping into the Void myself.'
Tarrin kept the smile on. "That's great, man. We're heading to the cafeteria—grabbing lunch before theory class. You in?"
He said it like he meant it. And maybe, for now, he did.
Jayden nodded, clearly pleased with himself. "Yeah, sure. Don't see why not. Plus, we've got theory together after, right? Might as well stick together."
Tarrin gave him a tired nod. "Cool. I'm hitting the showers—see you in a bit."
The hot water felt like a blessing from the gods, washing away the grime, sweat, and whatever was left of his dignity after that grinder.
By the time he stepped out, towel slung over his shoulder, he almost felt human again.
Then he heard it—
"What's your deal, man? Why you acting like that?"
Tarrin sighed. 'Void, just open up and swallow me already.'
He walked down the narrow hallway, still damp and half-naked. Rounding the corner into the room, he found Riko on his feet, finger pointed aggressively at Jayden.
"Who you smiling at like that, huh? You gay or something?" Riko's tone was sharp, tinged with suspicion.
Jayden recoiled, hands raised. "What? No! What the hell are you even talking about?"
Tarrin groaned. "What the hell are you idiots doing? Can't I have ten minutes of peace without a soap opera playing out in my room?"
Both turned to look at him—shirtless, hair dripping, towel still clinging to his hips.
Riko let out a sharp laugh. "Look at skinny-boy talking tough. Where's your muscle, lil bro?"
Tarrin frowned, unimpressed. "It's in my brain, where it belongs. You should try growing some."
Jayden let out a laugh, light and awkward, but it earned him a death glare from Riko and a silent thumbs-up from Tarrin.
"Damn," Riko said, eyes narrowing, "you really crushing on the flower boy? That your type now?"
Tarrin blinked. 'Wait. Did he just say I'm into the flower boy? Is this thug-themed fever dream for real right now?'
He raised an eyebrow, smirk creeping in. "What was that, buttboy?" His tone was sharp, teasing, but held a challenge.
Riko stepped in close, chest nearly brushing Tarrin's. "What'd you just say to me?"
"Guys—" Jayden's voice came from the side, small and unsure, but neither paid him any mind.
Tarrin didn't budge. "I said what I said, bitch."
Riko stared him down, jaw tight. He had at least two inches on Tarrin and broader shoulders, but Tarrin didn't flinch.
Then—
Laughter.
Sudden and loud. Both of them broke, doubling over in fits of laughter like someone had hit a release valve.
Jayden stood frozen, confused as hell, eyes darting between the two like they'd lost their minds.
Riko wiped a tear from his eye, cackling. "Void take me—you should've seen your face, flower boy. Thought you were gonna piss yourself!"
Tarrin chuckled, shaking his head. "You're such a drama queen, man."
Jayden blinked between them, still visibly thrown off. "Wait… so you're not about to throw hands?"
Tarrin grinned, tossing a towel over his shoulder. "Nah, we're just messing with you. Riko would never say I lack muscle. I mean—look at this physique." He struck a half-hearted flex, biceps barely twitching.
Riko wheezed. "Tarrin, I swear to the fucking Void, I'm putting you on a bulk plan. You really out here looking like a malnourished poet."
"Poets get all the bitches," Tarrin shot back, grabbing a fresh uniform from his locker. "And we've got to go. Move your asses."
A few minutes later, all three were dressed and heading for the door. Jayden still looked mildly traumatized, like he'd accidentally enlisted in the wrong sitcom.
"Guys," he said hesitantly, "be real with me. Do I actually look like a flower boy? I thought I was getting better…"
Riko immediately broke into another fit of laughter, leaning against the wall for support. Tarrin, on the other hand, turned with a deadpan expression, eyes solemn.
"Jayden," he said, voice grave. "There's a higher chance of an entire Isle falling into the Void than you ever growing a beard."
Jayden squinted. Then the words hit. "You bastard."
Riko, now red-faced and breathless, wiped a tear from his cheek. "Oh, so he cusses! That's it. Promotion time. You're no longer Flower Boy. You're Flower Man now."
In just under half an hour, they made it to the cafeteria—a squat, oversized building that smelled like heat, oil, and crushed dreams.
Each of them got a tray loaded with food that looked either barely dead or never alive to begin with. Tarrin stared at his plate like it had just offended him personally.
"Bro, aren't you rich or something?" he muttered, poking a grayish lump with the edge of his fork. "Why we eating like peasants?"
Riko sighed, chewing something with the texture of rubber. "Trust me, I tried. But apparently, it's mandatory for the more 'privileged' recruits to suffer with the rest. Their logic? 'You won't be eating five-star meals on Isle Zero.' Which is fair, I guess... but still."
He jabbed at what might've once been a sausage. It squelched ominously. He spat out his last bite and gave the plate a look of pure betrayal.
Then someone dropped into the seat next to Tarrin like she belonged there—brunette, cheerful, like a smile had been stitched into her cheeks by force. Lena.
Tarrin turned his head slowly. "Hey, Lena. You good?" His voice was casual, but the corners of his lips tugged up, just a little.
She beamed. "Mind if I sit here? I don't really have any friends, you know?"
Tarrin exhaled through his nose and glanced at the seat she'd already claimed. "That's usually the sort of thing you ask before you sit. But sure. Long as these two are cool with it."
Riko just gave her a grunt and a faint nod, expression softening slightly. Tarrin raised an eyebrow.
'Even Riko's got a weak spot for beamers, huh.'
Then his gaze drifted to Jayden, who was staring at Lena like she was the first girl he'd seen outside of a dream—or the barracks receptionist, who barely counted as human.
'Void help him.'
Tarrin turned back to Lena. "Why don't you have any friends, anyway? You don't seem like the hard-to-talk-to type."
Lena's smile faded as her eyes dropped to her plate. Her voice came quieter now, edged with something real.
"They called me a whore and ditched me. Guess I was too...friendly. Too loud. They thought I'd stab 'em in the back or steal their boyfriends or something."
The table went quiet for a beat, the hum of the cafeteria filling in the space she left behind.
After they'd choked down their meals and scraped the last regret off their trays, the group moved toward the drop-off station, sliding their trays toward the waiting dishwasher with mechanical indifference.
Then it happened.
A shoulder slammed into Jayden hard enough to jolt him sideways. Tarrin barely had time to react before a cold flicker of déjà vu hit him, crawling down his spine like a bad omen.
That voice followed a beat later, dripping smugness.
"Watch where you're going, sissy."
Tarrin didn't need to turn around. He already knew who it was.
Of course it was that voice. That walking migraine of a man.
"What'd you say?"