The recruits were still reeling from the mention of the Codex of War when a hand shot up nervously from the back of the formation.
"Uh... sir?" the recruit stammered. "When you said other UNE military forces... like the CGS? How many do they have? Since they, uh... gather our elites? And... what's the other faction?"
The barracks went dead silent. Even Raul muttered, "Bold, man..." under his breath.
The drill sergeant turned slowly, his visor's crimson glow sweeping across the room like a predator's gaze.
⸻
The Confederacy of the Golden Sentinel
He stopped, folding his arms behind his back, voice dripping with disdain.
"The Confederacy of the Golden Sentinel. The 'Golden Boys,' as we call 'em. Strutting around in gilded armor, parading themselves like they're gods among men. They think they're the chosen defenders of humanity. Pah."
He spat the last word like venom.
"They are not UNE Marines. They are a separate military force that broke off during the expansion wars. Their specialty? Taking our best. Every prodigy, every natural-born killer, every once-in-a-century genius soldier — the CGS comes sniffing around and claims them."
The recruits muttered, uneasy. Raul whispered, "So that's why we're stuck sweating next to each other instead of standing next to guys like Asura..."
The sergeant's voice grew harder.
"How many do they have? Enough. 6.2 Quintillion of active elites. Not the grunt numbers we field. The CGS doesn't want armies. They want monsters in human skin. Soldiers who can fight alone and still win wars. And sometimes... they do. They've been around since our type 2 era, is when they first formed."
He paused, visor gleaming.
"But if you meet a Golden Sentinel on the field, you'll know. Because if you blink, you'll already be dead."
The recruits stiffened. Min-seo's face went pale. Even Woo Jin felt a shiver.
⸻
The Other Faction
The recruit in the back swallowed and asked again, quieter this time: "And... the other faction, sir?"
The sergeant froze. The air in the barracks grew heavy, oppressive. For several long seconds, he said nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, dangerous.
"That... is highly classified information."
The recruits blinked, confused, leaning forward. Raul whispered, "Oh come on, that's a cop-out."
The sergeant snapped his head toward them, his voice like a blade.
"You think you're ready to know everything, maggot? Wrong. You haven't even survived your first battlefield! That knowledge is reserved for Command and for those who've bled enough to earn clearance. If you live long enough, maybe you'll learn who they are. Until then — keep your mouth shut and your rifle loaded!"
⸻
The silence that followed was heavier than before. The recruits exchanged glances. John's expression darkened, thoughtful. Min-seo adjusted his glasses, muttering equations about "unknown human factions." Raul just mouthed, "Golden Boys..." with a sour face.
Woo Jin clenched his fists, the thought searing into his chest. UNE. CGS. And something else, hidden in the dark.
The galaxy wasn't just at war with monsters beyond comprehension. Humanity itself was fractured — and he was only beginning to see the edges of it.
"The golden boys are cleaning freaks! Stylish and their fancy shiny golden white armor! Blah blah blah."
Some recruits laughed at this and some chuckled, while some didn't staying disciplined.
-
The three-hour lecture ended with one last bark: "Now you put it on." Racks unfolded. Armor cradles hummed. Instructors fanned out like surgeons. This wasn't dress-up; this was a life-support weapon system. One mistake could break a spine.
Below is exactly what the recruits were taught—the full, correct, UNE procedure for donning a baseline Marine exo-armor and AI helmet (training configuration).
⸻
Phase 0 — Safety & Prep (Do not skip)
1. Green Bay only: Verify the floor strip is GREEN (training bay EM dampers active). Red = combat mode; do not proceed.
2. Buddy check: Pair up. Each Marine watches the other for posture, seals, and error codes.
3. Biometrics: Place palm on the med-pad. Suit pulls your current vitals (BP, O₂ sat, core temp, musculoskeletal flags). If any indicator flashes AMBER/RED, report.
4. Micro-abrasion & oils: Wipe neck, clavicles, lower back, inner thighs with the anti-oil biowipes. (Skin oils reduce neural coupler fidelity.)
5. Undersuit: Step into the capillary underlayer (moisture-wicking, heat-exchange mesh). Zip to the sternum. No wrinkles over the spine or hips.
6. Data key: Insert your I-bonder (personal auth slug) into the sternum clip. This binds you to this frame for the session.
No-Ego reminder: This suit ships with hard limiters. You are capped at TRAINING MAX until cleared. Trying to "muscle past" software gets people killed.
⸻
Phase 1 — Frame Entry (Lower Body first)
1. Open chassis: On the rack's left rail, press and hold DEPLOY for 2 seconds. Thigh, calf, and boot plates iris open.
2. Foot placement: Step onto the illuminated prints. Heels lock first. You should feel a magnetic settle. If toes lock before heels, step out and retry.
3. Shin alignment: Slide shins into the tibia channels until the blue alignment pips on the knee ring meet the white markers on your undersuit.
4. Thigh seat: Sit back into the thigh cradles. The ischial pads should meet your hamstrings evenly—no pinch, no float.
5. Boot seal: Flex ankles forward/back. The boot's tarsal bellows should articulate without grind. Instructor will tug each boot: if it pops, reseat.
Quick test: Rise onto the balls of your feet and drop. If you hear anything besides a soft damped thud, re-align. Sound = friction = injury later.
⸻
Phase 2 — Pelvic Yoke & Spinal Coupler
1. Pelvic lock: Pull the hip yoke forward until it kisses the undersuit's white pelvic ring. Tap LOCK; you'll hear a triple chirp.
2. Spine gel: Snap open the vertebral coupler (mid-back). Inspect the silver myo-gel—no bubbles, no tears. If dry, swap canister.
3. Docking: Press your back into the coupler. Exhale fully. On instructor's count, tap SEAT. You'll feel a cool "spread" up the spine as gel wets the interface.
4. Latch confirmation: The suit intones: SPINAL DOCK — GREEN. If AMBER, back out and re-seat. Never "fight" an amber.
⸻
Phase 3 — Torso & Armature
1. Torso wrap: The chest plate swings forward. Keep shoulders down and back. Tap CLOSE; plates meet and micro-latches fire (you'll feel 8–12 "tics").
2. Breath test: Inhale hard against the plate—no restriction. If restricted, you're hunched; have your buddy pull the scapular tabs to re-set posture.
3. Arm insertion: Slide forearms into the ulna channels; thumbs naturally find the grip tunnels. Elbow rings must center over your olecranon (the pointy elbow bone).
4. Gauntlet sync: Curl/un-curl fists. The digit tendons (smart filaments) should follow without lag. If fingers drift or "double," recalibrate (Phase 5).
⸻
Phase 4 — Power-On & Life Support
1. Power cell: Confirm training cell seated in the lumbar bay (blue stripe). Combat cells (black/red) are forbidden in Green Bay.
2. Soft boot: Press sternum POWER for 3 seconds. You'll feel a gentle lift as servos wake.
3. Life support idle: Suit whispers: VITALS GREEN • THERMAL GREEN • ATMOS FILTER STANDBY. If filter reads AMBER, swap the can.
4. Tourniquet check: Tap each limb TQ tab; expect a soft squeeze then release. This confirms emergency constrictors function.
5. Eject drill: With your buddy, pinch the dual-confirm quick-release under the right clavicle. Hear the chirp pair? Good. Don't pull—just confirm it's live.
⸻
Phase 5 — Neural Handshake & Motion Cal
1. Headband pre-sync: Before the helmet, the cranial halo (in the collar) samples your EEG. Close eyes, breathe in fours (4-4-4-4). Wait for: BASELINE ACQUIRED.
2. Handshake: The suit asks: BIND USER? Say Bind out loud. You'll feel fine vibration in calves, forearms, spine.
3. Latency pass: Follow the HUD dot with only your eyes; then with head; then with wrist—watch the ms number drop sub-10ms. >15ms = redo baseline.
4. Gait cal: Walk the dotted lane: normal pace → brisk → stop on the tone. Suit maps your stride and sets servo pre-load.
5. Strength ceiling: In training you're capped ~3× body strength. Attempting more will hard-stop the joint and log a strike. (Three strikes = bench.)
⸻
Phase 6 — Helmet (AI/Perception Module)
1. Inspect: Check visor for hairline crazing; check the IFF puck (left temple) is present and your I-bonder matches.
2. Seat: Lift the helmet straight down onto the collar until you hear the mag-seal catch. Don't twist yet.
3. Lock: Rotate ¼ turn clockwise to engage hard seal. Suit calls: HARD SEAL — GREEN.
4. AI wake: Visor blooms with HUD layer 0 (reticle, vitals, compass). A soft tone: AUGMENT READY.
5. Cognitive sync: You'll see a 5-point star. Think "trace clockwise." The star fills if the link is solid. If edges jitter, redo breathing.
6. Privacy & kill: Note the AI MUTE paddle under right ear (hold 2s to drop to HUD-only). Hard kill (AI + suit) lives under the left mandibular guard (flip cover; 3-second hold).
Capabilities enabled (training profile): target tagging, basic threat vectors, tactics suggestions from the Codex (non-binding), conceptual "pings" (low-power), reaction assistance matched to training cap.
Capabilities gated: full conceptual defense layers, FTL fire prediction, Blink-assist, Silent-Shadow assist (unlocked only after instructor certification).
⸻
Phase 7 — Seal, Atmos & Thermal
1. Positive-pressure test: Tap SEAL TEST (sternum). Suit inflates micro-pressure slightly. Hold breath 5s. If you feel a draft at wrists/neck, reseat.
2. Filter cycle: Toggle ATMOS to TRAINING LOOP. You'll taste "cold metal" for 1–2 breaths—normal.
3. Thermal tune: Walk 30 meters at brisk pace. Core temp should hold within 0.3°C. If you heat-spike, your exchange pads are wrinkled—redo undersuit.
⸻
Phase 8 — Haptics & Reflex Map
1. Haptic grid test: Instructor triggers a shoulder tap (you'll feel a vibration). Point to the direction without looking. Suit confirms alignment.
2. Reflex assist: On triple beep, catch the tossed foam block. Your hands will "arrive" a beat faster than you intend—that's the assist. If it yo-yos, latency is off.
3. Balance: Single-leg stance, eyes closed, 10s each side. If you wobble, the IMU (inertial unit) hasn't settled—wait and retry.
⸻
Phase 9 — Mobility Warm-ups (Power ON, Limits ON)
1. March 20m (heel-toe articulation).
2. Jog 40m (listen for servo chatter—should be none).
3. Short lateral shuffles (don't cross feet).
4. Three-step wall touch: Trot, plant, "kiss" the wall at chest height, drop. Not a wall-run yet.
5. Kneel → Stand cycles x10 without hands. If knees "stick," the joint dampers are over-tight—reduce 5%.
⸻
Phase 10 — Systems Link (Training Weapons / Tools)
1. Smart-rail attach: Clip the AR-trainer to the right magwell. You should see WEAPON LINK: GREEN and a reticle snap.
2. IFF test: Buddy walks into your lane—HUD paints them BLUE (friend). Instructor drone paints RED. If colors invert, drop your mag and call MIS-ID.
3. Tactics overlay (read-only): Instructor spawns a pop-up target and a line of cover. Your visor will suggest 2–3 TAW options (e.g., "Low cross 2, Snap 1, Withdraw 1"). Suggestions, not commands.
⸻
Phase 11 — Emergency Drills (You'll practice every time)
1. Power fail posture: On POWER CUT tone, drop to three-point kneel to save your spine. The suit will go "dead weight" in <0.5s.
2. Manual egress: Buddy pops your right-clavicle dual-release while you keep your chin tucked. Practice sliding out without twisting the spine coupler.
3. Tourniquet live: Instructor will call a limb; you hit the TQ. Expect strong squeeze for 5s then release. (This feels awful; it's meant to.)
⸻
Common Errors & Fixes
• "Tin-man gait" (stiff steps): You're fighting the servos. Loosen hips, let the suit carry the first 10% of motion.
• Forearm drift: Ulna channel too loose. Re-seat and run finger along the inner seal—no gaps.
• HUD "sea-sick": You're over-focusing. Blink, breathe, widen peripheral awareness; the AI reduces parallax when you relax.
• Hot spots/skin burn: Undersuit folded under load point. Power down, unseal, smooth fabric, re-gel the coupler.
⸻
Final Green Checks (Instructor calls them)
• SEALS • GREEN
• POWER • GREEN
• VITALS • GREEN
• THERMAL • GREEN
• AI LINK • GREEN
• IFF • GREEN
• LIMITERS • ON (training)
Only after seven greens do you step off the rack.
⸻
The bay filled with soft servo hums as rows of rookies became taller, heavier silhouettes. Raul flexed and almost toppled; Min-seo recalibrated his fingers three times; John walked once and looked like he'd been born in the frame. Asura slid off the cradle like water—no noise, no drama.
Woo Jin took his first armored step. The floor didn't feel like floor anymore; it felt like a promise. Not invincibility—a contract: Respect me, and I'll make you more than you are. Disrespect me, and I'll break you.
"Form up!" the sergeant barked. "You've put it on. Next—you learn to live in it."
The recruits was all confused as hell! As they thought this is far complex than they thought.
"What?! You think this will be easy?! NO! IT WILL NOT! THAT IS WHY YOU'RE HERE TO LEARN, AND TRAINED TO BECOME A UNE MARINE! SO PAY ATTENTION AND LEARN! AND ADAPT MARINES!"
-
The training bay echoed with clanging, servo whines, and frustrated voices.
"Damn it—my gauntlet's locking up again!"
"HUD won't calibrate, it's lagging!"
"Why does it feel like I'm walking on stilts?!"
Recruits stumbled forward, some wobbling like newborn deer, others locking joints in stiff jerks. A few fell flat on their faces as the armor doubled its weight in penalty mode for sloppy sync.
Raul cursed inside his helmet: "Feels like I'm fighting the suit instead of wearing it!"
Min-seo muttered equations rapid-fire, panicking: "No no no, latency over 15ms, recalibrate, recalibrate—"
John moved better than most, steady but still heavy-footed, his breathing calm.
Woo Jin? He grit his teeth, each step like dragging through mud, helmet HUD flickering with constant warnings:
ALIGNMENT ERROR • LEFT HIP
GAIT DESYNC • RED
NEURAL LAG • 18ms
⸻
And Then—Asura
Amid the chaos, one recruit stood apart.
Asura Khan.
He had stepped into the armor with the same quiet calm he'd carried since day one. No swearing. No panic. No visible struggle. His visor glowed steady as his body moved with fluid precision.
Every step was smooth, no resistance, no servo chatter. He lifted his arm, the gauntlet moved like bare skin. He rolled his shoulders, spine coupler purring in perfect sync. Even the helmet's AI, which had been bombarding rookies with corrective prompts, went silent around him—its systems satisfied.
It looked less like he was learning the armor, and more like the armor had simply been waiting for him.
⸻
The Instructors' Reactions
The drill sergeant froze mid-bark.
His visor flared, staring at Asura. He whispered under his breath: "...impossible."
Another instructor leaned close and muttered: "It's like he's... analyzing it. Calculating. Adapting in real-time."
The sergeant snapped back, bellowing loud enough to shake the walls:
"LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT ASURA KHAN! FIRST TRY, YOU BUMBLING FOOLS! HE GETS IT BECAUSE HE RESPECTS THE SUIT, NOT BECAUSE HE'S LUCKY!"
Recruits groaned, frustration boiling. Raul muttered, "Oh for hell's sake..."
Min-seo adjusted his helmet nervously: "No... it's not luck. He's... he's syncing perfectly. Like his brainwaves match the neural coupler's frequency."
Woo Jin, panting, tried again, stepping forward. He stumbled, but forced himself steady. His eyes locked on Asura, a mix of awe and determination burning in his chest.
⸻
For the second time in camp, the recruits saw it:
Asura wasn't just good. He was something else.
The armor wasn't fighting him. The armor was listening to him.
And in that moment, every other recruit realized—
they were learning to wear steel.
But Asura Khan?
He was learning to become it.
-
At first, the UNE armor was hell.
Every morning began the same: racks hissing open, recruits stumbling into their frames, servos shrieking as joints locked, HUDs flashing with red error codes. Instructors barked corrections until their throats bled.
"ALIGN YOUR DAMN SPINE!"
"RESET THE HIP YOKE!"
"STOP FIGHTING THE SUIT, LET IT MOVE WITH YOU!"
Day after day, it was chaos. Raul tripped so often he became a running joke. Min-seo collapsed once when his spine coupler failed, forcing medics to drag him off the floor. Woo Jin lost count of how many times his visor screamed GAIT ERROR or NEURAL LAG before he managed to walk five meters straight.
And Asura? Asura never faltered. Each day, he moved cleaner, smoother, sharper — the suit whispering with him like it had been his skin since birth. The other recruits hated it.
⸻
The Grind
The training routine was merciless:
• Dawn drills: Strip armor, suit up from scratch, full safety procedure, no errors allowed.
• Repetition drills: Take it off, put it on. Again. Again. Until they could do it half-asleep.
• Motion drills: Marching in sync, short runs, kneeling with precision, weapon-raising drills.
• Error drills: Instructors intentionally broke seals or couplers mid-exercise so recruits had to correct under pressure.
Hours bled into days. Days into weeks. By the end of the first week, most recruits could walk and jog without tripping. By the second, they could form ranks, weapons raised, armor synced. Still slow. Still clunky. But no longer helpless.
⸻
The Shift
Two weeks later, the difference was visible.
Raul wasn't tripping anymore. He still cracked jokes, but he'd figured out how to let the suit carry his weight instead of fighting it.
Min-seo was shaky but precise, following procedure to the letter, his error rates lower than most.
John was steady, controlled, his movements deliberate like he was meditating with every step.
Woo Jin still struggled, but now when the HUD screamed at him, he corrected with instinct instead of panic.
And when the recruits finally managed a full march across the training bay without a single fall, the sergeant gave the smallest nod.
"Took you idiots long enough. Two weeks just to walk like Marines. But now... now you're ready to learn how to fight in it."
The bay went silent. The recruits exchanged glances, their sweat-soaked faces hidden behind visors. They all knew what came next.
-
The recruits marched out of the barracks into a new chamber — the combat arena.
It wasn't glamorous. The floor stretched hundreds of meters, polished gray panels glinting under the harsh white lights. But towering above it were obstacle structures: long platforms suspended at impossible heights, angled walls rising like jagged cliffs, narrow beams spanning across pits, and sloped barricades designed to test every ounce of agility.
The drill sergeant stood at the center, arms crossed, voice thundering.
"You've learned how to put the damn armor on. You've learned how not to fall on your ass just walking in it. Congratulations. But the UNE doesn't need walkers — it needs killers who can move."
He pointed toward the sprawling structures.
"This arena will break you. You'll run. You'll jump. You'll cling to walls and sprint across them like shadows. You'll learn how to control your speed before it kills you. And you'll do it all without your helmets. No AI to babysit you. Only your body, your mind, and the steel you wear."
⸻
The First Trials
The recruits lined up at the starting mark.
"GO!" the sergeant barked.
They launched forward, servos whining as armor-boosted legs hurled them faster than their instincts could handle. Some surged ahead, sprinting so fast they overshot the first obstacle and slammed into padded barricades. Others tripped, momentum dragging them face-first into the floor.
Raul screamed as he tried to leap onto a tall platform — and instead slammed shoulder-first into its side, groaning.
Min-seo barely kept his balance, shuffling across a narrow beam before collapsing into the safety net.
Woo Jin's lungs burned as he sprinted forward. The armor pushed him faster, faster — too fast. He tried to stop at the edge of a wall-run, but momentum carried him forward, sending him tumbling.
"YOU DON'T CONTROL THE ARMOR BY FIGHTING IT!" the instructor roared. "YOU CONTROL IT BY FLOWING WITH IT!"
⸻
The Wall-Runs
Next came the wall-run course: a hundred-meter stretch of smooth vertical plating, glowing with handholds that appeared at random.
The recruits hurled themselves at it, trying to cling and sprint along its surface. Most fell within seconds, crashing down into the padded floor. Woo Jin managed two steps before gravity betrayed him, pulling him flat on his back.
Then came Asura Khan.
He sprinted forward, slammed onto the wall — and flowed. Each step was perfect, armor and body in harmony. He didn't stumble. He didn't hesitate. He ran the entire hundred meters, leaping off the far edge in a flawless arc that made even the instructors fall silent.
The recruits gawked. Raul groaned: "Of course he does it first try."
⸻
The Speed Lesson
Hours passed. Over and over, the recruits tried. They slammed, tripped, fell, cursed. Their bodies screamed inside the armor, lungs and muscles begging for mercy.
The sergeant's voice cut through the exhaustion:
"You think speed is strength?! WRONG. Speed is control. The armor will make you faster than your instincts, but speed without discipline is suicide! Learn to slow down! Learn to redirect momentum! Learn to use the arena, not fight it!"
Woo Jin staggered to his feet, chest heaving. He closed his eyes, remembering the words. Don't fight the suit... flow with it.
The next sprint, he didn't push — he let the armor carry him. Step by step, he found balance. His wall-run didn't last long, but this time, he made it farther. He landed rough, but on his feet.
For the first time, his visor didn't flash red with errors.
-
The recruits were collapsing one by one, armor heavy, bodies screaming. Woo Jin lay on his back after another failed wall-run, gasping, visor fogged with sweat. Raul was limping, muttering curses with every step. Min-seo groaned as the suit's servos stiffened from overcorrection.
The sergeant barked orders:
"UP! AGAIN! YOU THINK THE ENEMY WAITS FOR YOU TO CATCH YOUR BREATH? MOVE, DAMN IT!"
The recruits obeyed, stumbling back to the line. All except one.
Asura Khan.
⸻
Mach 10
While the others dragged themselves forward, Asura stood calm, visor glowing faintly. Then, without warning, he moved.
One step. Two. And then— he was gone.
A thunderclap boomed through the arena as he blurred across the floor, a streak of motion tearing past the other recruits like a lightning bolt. In a blink, he had already scaled the vertical wall, sprinting across its full hundred-meter length with perfect control, then launched off into a landing so smooth it looked effortless.
The instructor's visor flared as readings flooded in:
VELOCITY: MACH 10
SYNCHRONIZATION: 99.99%
For a moment, the entire arena froze. Recruits stared, jaws slack. Woo Jin blinked, not believing his eyes. Raul muttered, "...the hell did we just see?" Min-seo whispered, "Mach 10...? That's not... that's not even supposed to be possible for us yet."
⸻
The Instructors' Shock
The drill sergeant ripped his helmet off, eyes wide with disbelief before quickly masking it in fury.
"MACH TEN?! That's the speed cap of a standard UNE Soldier in live combat — not a fresh meat recruit!"
Another instructor whispered, low but audible:
"That's... beyond natural. He's matching trained veterans on his first run. He shouldn't even have access to those limiters yet."
The sergeant's visor flared crimson as he turned back to the recruits.
"LOOK AT HIM! THAT is what discipline looks like! That is the difference between you pathetic excuses for Marines and a man born for this! You want to survive? You learn like him, you adapt like him, or you DIE!"
⸻
The Recruits' Reactions
The bay buzzed with disbelief.
• Raul slammed his fist into his thigh guard: "Damn it! How the hell is he doing that?!"
• Min-seo shook his head, eyes wide: "He's not just adapting. He's calculating. It's like his brainwaves and the suit are... identical."
• John said nothing, but his fists clenched — not out of anger, but focus.
• Woo Jin, still gasping, stared at Asura with awe and a flicker of fear. He whispered to himself: "...he's not just wearing it. He's becoming it."
And Asura? He simply stood there, calm and silent, as though none of it surprised him. Like this was the natural order of things.
-
The arena still buzzed with chatter about Asura Khan's impossible Mach 10 sprint. The instructors barked for silence, but even their fury couldn't stop the whispers.
Woo Jin wiped sweat from his brow as his HUD reset after another stumble. His body felt like it had been pulverized by the armor's training caps, but his mind was still reeling from what he'd seen.
That's when he noticed another recruit nearby, collapsed against a padded barricade. The guy was breathing hard, visor lifted just enough to let air hit his sweat-soaked face. He had dark skin, close-cropped hair, and a sturdy build — but right now, he looked completely spent.
Woo Jin walked over, still panting himself, and crouched down.
"Yo," Woo Jin said, offering a tired smile. "What's up? You hanging in there?"
The recruit let out a shaky laugh. "Barely, man. Feels like this suit wants to kill me every step." He shook his head, eyes flicking toward Asura across the arena. "And then you got that guy out there running Mach 10 like it's a morning jog? Damn... I don't know whether to clap or cry."
Woo Jin chuckled, slapping the guy's armored shoulder. "Tell me about it. I almost broke my neck on that wall-run. Twice. I swear my suit hates me."
That earned a small laugh from the recruit. He straightened a little, extending a gloved hand.
"Name's Jerome. Jerome Johnson. From the main capital, You?"
Woo Jin clasped his hand firmly, despite the weight of the gauntlets. "Woo Jin. From the City as well."
Jerome smirked. "Well, Jin... looks like we're the slow kids in class. But hey, slow's still alive, right?"
Woo Jin grinned, the fatigue lifting for a moment. "Yeah. Alive's good enough. For now."
⸻
The two of them sat there for a second, catching their breath, as Asura Khan walked silently across the far end of the arena. His visor glowed faintly, unreadable.
Jerome shook his head. "Man... if he's what UNE considers 'a recruit,' I don't even wanna know what the elites look like."
Woo Jin followed his gaze, his determination hardening. "Yeah... but that's fine. We'll get there. Step by step."
For the first time that day, Jerome smiled. A real one.
-
The cafeteria buzzed with noise — trays clattering, recruits laughing too loudly just to drown out exhaustion, the constant hum of machinery overhead. The smell of nutrient rations and reheated synth-meat filled the air. For the first time all day, the recruits weren't sprinting, climbing, or smashing into walls. They were just... people again.
Woo Jin carried his tray with trembling arms, sweat still dripping down his neck from the hours of obstacle runs. His armor undersuit clung to him like a second skin, soaked and uncomfortable. All he wanted was food and a place to sit.
He spotted Raul, Min-seo, and John already at their usual table, trays piled high. Raul was halfway through complaining about today's training.
"Bro, I swear these suits are possessed. Every time I run, mine pulls me left. I ain't kidding. Left. Like it's trying to throw me into a wall on purpose."
Min-seo adjusted his glasses, chewing slowly. "That's because you're overcompensating your stride length. The servos magnify tiny errors—"
"Don't give me math, man!" Raul cut him off, nearly spilling his tray.
John just ate in silence, eyes scanning the room as if still on drill.
Woo Jin slid into the bench beside them, with Jerome trailing close behind, balancing his tray.
"Hey guys," Woo Jin said, a grin tugging at his tired face. "Got someone I want you to meet." He gestured toward Jerome. "This is Jerome Johnson. We've been struggling side by side in the arena, so... figured he should sit with us."
Jerome gave a nod, setting his tray down. "What's up. Guess I'm the new addition to your suffering circle."
Raul leaned back, smirking. "Damn right. Welcome to the club, brother. Membership fee's simple: you gotta suck at training at least half as bad as us."
That got a laugh from Jerome, easing the tension. "Oh, trust me. I qualify. You saw me eat dirt three times today."
Min-seo adjusted his glasses again. "Technically it was four. But your gait is improving."
Jerome gave him a flat look before laughing again. "Man... you really count?"
Woo Jin chuckled, stabbing into his ration pack. "Yeah, he counts everything. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."
John, still quiet, gave Jerome a firm nod. "Good to have you with us."
⸻
The Bond Forming
For a while, they ate and swapped stories. Raul bragged about surviving today without face-planting (though Woo Jin and Jerome both remembered him falling into a net). Min-seo explained some tactical theories he'd been reading from UNE manuals, half of which went over their heads. Jerome fit in smoothly, his easy humor balancing out John's silence and Min-seo's intensity.
-
The next day began as every day did — with the blaring alarm at 0400 hours.
"UP! UP! MOVE, YOU DOGS!"
Recruits rolled out of bunks in half-conscious panic, muscles already aching from the day before. No one was spared. Not Raul's constant whining, not Min-seo's precise stretching, not even Woo Jin's quiet determination.
And so the cycle began.
⸻
The Grind
• Morning PT (0400–0600): Running drills across endless barracks yards, push-ups until arms shook, obstacle climbs that shredded palms. Sweat dripped into eyes, lungs burned raw. By day three, most recruits stopped counting reps — they just moved until their bodies gave out.
• Gunnery (0700–1000): Endless range practice. Target silhouettes rose and fell as instructors barked: "Weapon up! Switch pistols! Reload faster! Accuracy over speed—move, move, MOVE!" Brass casings littered the floor like rain. Woo Jin's aim steadied over time, though his reloads were still clumsy compared to John's sharp efficiency.
• Tactics Class (1100–1400): Hours bent over in the barracks lecture hall, instructors drilling them on TAW doctrines. Silent Shadow maneuvers, suppression theory, crossfire containment. Helmets displayed tactical overlays, though most recruits' eyes glazed under the sheer weight of information. Min-seo, of course, scribbled notes like a fanatic. Raul? Slept with one eye open, until the sergeant's boot slammed his desk.
• Armor Training (1500–1900): The true crucible. Donning the UNE armor, syncing again and again. Marches turned into sprints, sprints into wall-runs, wall-runs into coordinated squad movements. The arena became their second home — a place of bruises, curses, and incremental progress. The recruits who once stumbled every step were now standing straighter, moving cleaner, controlling speed instead of being thrown by it.
• Night Drills (2000–2200): Exhaustion training. Push-ups in armor. Obstacle courses under low-light conditions. Reaction tests without helmets, forcing raw instinct. More than once, recruits collapsed into the nets and had to be dragged off.
⸻
The Passage of Time
Two weeks bled together. Each day was the same and yet different. The pain didn't go away — it simply became background noise. The mistakes lessened, the movements sharpened. The rifles felt like extensions of arms. The armor, once a burden, began to respond like a partner.
By the end of the second week, even Raul could sprint across the arena without falling. Min-seo could keep up on wall-runs, though his jumps were still shaky. John was precise and steady, every movement deliberate. Jerome's endurance surprised them all; he wasn't flashy, but he never quit. And Woo Jin — though far from perfect — was no longer the stumbling kid from day one. He could feel it: a new edge, a rhythm between man and machine.
And above them all... Asura Khan.
Effortless. Relentless. Still running circles around them like the laws of physics didn't apply.
⸻
Exhaustion as Bond
At night, the squad often collapsed into their bunks without speaking, too tired to joke. But sometimes, between bites of synth-meat at the caf or in whispered conversations under dim barracks lights, they laughed at their failures, bragged about small victories, and reminded each other why they hadn't quit.
Two weeks of exhaustion hadn't broken them. It had forged them.
They weren't Marines yet. Not even close.
But for the first time... they were starting to look the part.
-
It was enormous — a dome-shaped hall with walls of seamless steel, the size of a stadium. No obstacles, no walls, no targets. Just space. At the far end, racks of helmets glowed faintly, like a row of silent watchers.
The drill sergeant's voice boomed, heavy with finality.
"You've learned to walk in armor. To run, to climb, to bleed, to endure. But now you face the truth of what it means to be UNE Marines. The armor is your body... but the helmet? The helmet is your mind."
He gestured, and the racks unlocked with a hiss.
"Today, you will undergo your first AI helmet synchronization. You will be tested — physically, psychologically, spiritually. The helmet will not lie. It will see everything inside you. It will know your fears. And it will judge if you are ready to carry it."
⸻
The Helmet Ritual
Each recruit stepped forward, one by one, lifting the helmets off the racks. Woo Jin's heart hammered as he raised his own — its visor shimmered faintly, alive with hidden intelligence.
He locked it onto his collar with a sharp click. A rush of cold static spread through his skull as the AI's voice entered his mind:
"Neural handshake initiated. Syncing cognitive layers. Do not resist."
Woo Jin gasped as lights filled his vision — not just HUD markers, but memories, flashes of thought, fragments of himself pulled forward. His first fight at school. The face of his mother crying the day he left. The shame of stumbling in armor while others excelled.
He heard the AI whisper:
"Fear detected. Pride detected. Resolve... uncertain."
Woo Jin staggered, almost tearing the helmet off. But then the sergeant's voice cut through:
"STAND YOUR GROUND! The helmet is not your enemy — it is your reflection! If you can't face yourself, how the hell will you face the battlefield?!"
⸻
The Simulation Test
The room transformed. The dome lit up with holo-projections, suddenly filled with fire and ruin — a shattered colony world. Alien silhouettes screamed from the shadows, charging with claws like razors.
Woo Jin's breath caught. The AI barked inside his skull:
"Engage. Choose TAW option: FLEE, SUPPRESS, COUNTER."
He raised his rifle instinctively. His hands shook. His body screamed to run. But he forced his finger steady, firing bursts into the projections until they fell.
The AI whispered again:
"Response recorded. Instinctive fear acknowledged. Control improving. Candidate viable."
⸻
The Psychological Gauntlet
Around the room, other recruits faced their own visions. Raul shouted as his helmet flooded him with hallucinations of endless reload failures. Min-seo broke into a cold sweat, trapped in simulations of logic puzzles with no solution. Jerome saw himself surrounded by shadows of soldiers dying because he was too slow to help. John, silent as ever, stood still — visor glowing — as if his mind had become stone.
And Asura Khan... stood motionless, visor dark. When the simulations came, his helmet's readings barely flickered. No panic. No hesitation. Just a quiet presence, as though he'd already seen everything the helmet could show.
The instructors whispered among themselves.
⸻
After hours of simulations, psych-tests, and forced confrontations with their deepest flaws, the helmets powered down. The recruits tore them off, drenched in sweat, some trembling, some pale.
The sergeant stood before them, voice quieter but heavier than ever:
"The AI helmet does not care about how fast you run or how strong you are. It cares about who you are. It sees what you hide. It breaks you, so you can be remade. Remember this, Marines — if you lie to your helmet, you're already dead."
And so this training went on for the next two weeks. The psychological strained was heavy, but didn't break them at all.
——————
To be continued...