The peace of the previous night lingered only a few hours into dawn.
By the time the sun had risen past the mist, the clearing had already changed. Blankets were folded, fire pits cold. The warmth of yesterday had been replaced by the crisp edge of anticipation.
Inigo stood before the recruits with a canvas tarp spread out behind him.
Most of them were still rubbing the sleep from their eyes, adjusting belts and armor, whispering guesses about what the day might bring.
"I see you've recovered," Inigo said flatly, folding his arms. "Good. Because today's no picnic."
He stepped aside and yanked the tarp away.
Beneath it lay a weapon none of them had seen before.
It was larger than the rifles they trained with, bristling with a long barrel, bipod legs folded underneath, and a boxy feed port. Matte black and built like it could bite.
The air grew still.
"What… is that?" Brenna asked, her voice quiet but steady.
