The morning alarm blared—low and mechanical, with a flat tone that echoed off the newly renovated halls of Camp 70.
Not sharp. Not panicked.
Just firm.
Like it wasn't waking them up, but ordering them to exist.
Kev groaned from his bunk, one foot still dangling off the side. "Why's it always got that 'you better be moving or else' energy?"
"Because otherwise," Dane said, tying his boots with one hand, "Raith would have to drag you out again."
Kev rolled over dramatically, burying his face into the pillow. "One time, man. That happened one time."
Raith smirked faintly but didn't say anything. He was already halfway into his uniform, adjusting the collar as he followed the stream of Cadets filing out through the corridor.
The early chill still lingered in the air, but the halls had changed. No more flickering lights or peeling panels. The renovations had held. It felt like walking through a place that actually wanted them alive.
They passed through a gate near the administrative wing until they reached a building with bold, steel-stamped letters above the double doors:
WAR DECK 01
It looked brand new, though Raith could tell from the seams in the walls that it had just been gutted and rebuilt. Reinforced pillars flanked the doors, and high glass panes reflected the first rays of light.
Inside, the War Deck was shaped like an old war amphitheater—tiered seating facing a raised platform in the center. Wide screens lined the front wall. The scent of sealant and metal still hung in the air, fresh and sterile.
The Cadets filtered in, filling rows slowly, chatting in clusters until a sharp whistle cut through the hum of noise.
Silence snapped into place.
From a side entrance, Officer Tamsin emerged, dressed plainly in black and gray. No medals. No cape. Just a tablet in hand and the kind of expression that said he hadn't slept—and didn't plan to.
He stepped onto the platform and waited until the silence deepened.
"For those who don't know me," he said without raising his voice, "I'm Officer Tamsin. Head Instructor of Camp 70."
No smile. No bow.
Just the facts.
"My job is to make sure you don't die."
A couple of Cadets blinked. Someone in the back coughed.
Tamsin kept going. "I'll be teaching you combat theory, deployment strategy, squad coordination, and battlefield survival. You will learn how to function as Tuners—not as kids who happened to get lucky with a Force."
He tapped his tablet. The largest screen behind him flickered to life.
The display showed a massive, branching grid: symbols, Force types, glowing icons arranged in clusters.
"This is the Force Index. You will memorize it. Every known Force category, from Elemental to Adaptive. You'll learn how each one interacts, cancels, or amplifies the others. If you think your Force is strong, good. Now learn how it breaks when the wrong one hits you."
Another tap. The map changed—this time to jagged outlines of cities, zones, and Bastions.
"This is your world. You'll study it. Haven Bastion isn't the only stronghold out there. You'll learn where the other Bastions lie, who they answer to, where the major Factions have their reach, and where Force Fields are most likely to spawn."
He paused before adding, "Because if you walk blind into someone else's territory, don't expect us to bring your corpse back."
Another tap—monsters now. Shifting, snarling, grotesque.
"This is the Monster Codex. If you survive long enough, you'll memorize it like your heartbeat. Most of you won't. But I like to pretend."
Kev swallowed hard. "Nice guy," he whispered. "Really warm vibes."
"Shut up, Kev," Mira muttered without looking at him.
Raith didn't move. He was watching every frame, absorbing every word.
Tamsin continued. "You'll also learn mission protocols, how to operate inside a squad, how to respond to chain-of-command orders, and how to survive if your squad gets wiped. Which happens. Often."
Then the screen went black.
"That's the foundation," he said, stepping forward slightly. "Now for the structure."
The screen flickered again. Rows of names appeared—Cadet squads, color-coded. Five names per group. A title next to each squad and the assigned Warden.
"Squads have been selected based on combat balance, psychological compatibility, and field viability," Tamsin explained. "This isn't a game. You don't pick your friends. You serve with whom you're told to."
The room quieted as names were scanned quickly.
Raith spotted his own, Squad C-707.
He blinked.
No Kev. No Mira. No Dane. Not even Elisa.
They'd split them up.
Kev groaned from two rows over. "Seriously? They put me with—who is Caedric?"
"Spread the power," Dane muttered.
Mira just sighed, looking away from the screen. She was a bit down being split like this.
Elisa gave no reaction at all.
Tamsin looked up again.
"You've heard the Chief's requirements. Reach Level 20. Earn 1,000 Mission Points. But let me tell you what the data doesn't say."
He walked slowly across the platform, voice low but clear.
"Some of you are in a squad because you're good. Others because someone else is. Some of you are here to carry. Some of you are here to be carried. Either way, you're all expected to move."
A couple of Cadets stiffened. Someone clenched their jaw.
Kev mumbled, "Guess that means I'm the carry guy and gonna get stuck with the dead weight."
Without turning, Tamsin said, "Cadet Kev. If you were assigned to carry someone, then do it. Or we'll find someone who can."
Kev stood at attention. "Sorry, sir!"
Quiet laughter rippled through the hall.
Tamsin raised his hand, signalling for everyone to stop.
"You'll meet your Warden tomorrow," Tamsin said, returning to center stage. "They'll train you. Evaluate you. Break you down until you understand what it means to survive."
He let the words hang.
"And don't waste your time measuring yourself against the other camps."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop half a degree.
"The other camps, Camp 10 to Camp 60. They've had years. Better tech. Softer beds. Maybe even shampoo. But none of them started here. None of them clawed their way from the bottom."
Raith felt the weight of that.
"You've survived what others haven't even tasted. You've lived through neglect. Rejection. Hell, most of you were never even supposed to awaken. And yet… here you are."
The War Deck was quiet now. No murmurs. No shifting.
"This afternoon, you report to the Training Grounds 01. Physical evaluations—no Force. Just your body."
Groans from the back. A couple of sarcastic coughs.
"Don't worry," Tamsin added dryly. "We'll make it painful enough to be memorable."
Raith smirked for the first time.
Then, as Tamsin stepped off the platform, he paused one last time at the exit.
"Some of you set the bar higher than Camp 70's ever seen."
He didn't need to name names. Everyone knew who he meant.
Raith. Mira. Kev. Dane. Elisa.
"You're not special yet. But you're visible. Don't let that kill you."
Then he left. No salute. No closing words.
Just silence.
Raith stared at the monitor a second longer. At his new squad. At the unfamiliar names.
Raith whispered under his breath, "This is where it starts."
"Did you say something, Raith?" Dane leaned over slightly.
Raith turned, offering a small, tired smile. "Nothing."
Dane raised a brow but didn't press. He respected quiet thoughts. Especially today.
Behind them, Mira still stared at the screen, her arms folded and her brows drawn tight. Her name blinked back at her, sitting under Squad C-712.
No Raith. No Dane. No Kev. No Elisa.
Kev caught the look and nudged her elbow. "Hey. What's up?"
Mira didn't answer right away. When she finally spoke, her voice was flatter than usual.
"This isn't cool," she muttered. "Not even a little."
Kev blinked. "The squads?"
She nodded. "We survived the Shatterveil together. Fought a monster none of us were ready for. We awakened together. And now—what? They just split us up?"
She glanced at the monitor again. "We're all S-grade. All five of us. You'd think they'd want the strongest squad possible."
Elisa, standing just beside her, tilted her head slightly. She didn't say a word. Just watched Mira with that same unreadable calm.
Kev scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, I mean… I was kind of hoping we'd be together too. Could've called ourselves something epic. Like Team Apocalypse."
"No," Mira deadpanned.
Dane chuckled faintly, folding his arms. "It's not a bad thing, you know."
Mira frowned. "What do you mean?"
Kev looked between them, confused. "Wait, yeah. What do you mean? We're getting split up. That's usually bad, right?"
Dane took a breath, then gestured toward the glowing roster on the wall. "It's necessary. Think about it. If we stayed together—just us five—what would happen?"
"We'd wipe the floor with the missions?" Kev guessed, shrugging. "Breeze through training?"
"Exactly," Dane said. "Too easily."
He looked at each of them. "Now that we've awakened, it is just a matter of time before we master our Forces even a little… and we'd probably be untouchable."
Mira narrowed her eyes. "And that's a bad thing?"
"No," Dane said calmly. "But it's limiting. If we stick together, we don't get tested. Not properly."
Raith listened quietly. He was thinking the same thing, but hearing Dane say it gave it weight.
Dane continued, "This way? We're each surrounded by people we don't know. People who aren't S-grade. People who might freeze up, make mistakes, or need saving. And that means we'll have to step up more. Think more. Push harder."
Mira looked away. Her jaw clenched.
"We carry more," Dane said, his voice low but steady. "We grow more."
Kev's mouth opened like he wanted to argue, but nothing came out. After a second, he just rubbed his temples. "Man… I hate it when you sound wise."
Dane grinned. "It's a curse."
Mira didn't smile. Not yet. But the edge in her glare dulled just slightly. She looked at Raith, who was still staring at the list.
"You believe that, too?" she asked.
Raith didn't turn this time. His eyes stayed on the screen. His name. His new squad.
"Yeah," he said softly. "I think this is how we get stronger."
He wasn't entirely sure yet.
But it felt right.