The parade grounds of Camp Genesis gleamed under the pale light of a rebuilding sky. Rows of recruits — no, Marines — stood in formation, dress uniforms pressed and polished, medals gleaming faintly against their chests.
It wasn't the graduation they had imagined.
It wasn't earned by flawless drills or perfect simulations.
It was earned in blood, in fire, in screams and sacrifice.
Because they had survived.
⸻
The Families
Stands lined the grounds, filled with families of those who made it home. Woo Jin's mother clutched his father's arm, tears streaking down her face as she spotted her son alive, standing tall in the ranks. Jerome's brothers waved frantically, their pride uncontainable. Others... sat in silence, empty seats beside them where loved ones should have been.
Every cheer was matched by grief. Every smile shadowed by loss.
⸻
The Medals
Sergeant Drill strode down the line, medals in hand. For the first time in their memory, his voice wasn't thunder. His steps weren't iron. They were reverent, heavy with meaning.
He stopped before each Marine, one by one.
To Woo Jin: he placed the medal over his neck and whispered just loud enough for him to hear, "You held the line, son. Your family would be proud."
To Jerome: "You carried your brothers when they could not walk. That is UNE."
To Raul: "Even through fear, you stood. That's courage."
To Min-seo: "Your mind steadied others when their hearts failed. Never lose that."
To John: "Silent. Steady. A rock in the storm. Marines will need you."
And to Asura Khan... Drill paused longer, eyes narrowing with awe. He said nothing. Just placed the medal and gave a soldier's nod, the deepest respect he could show.
⸻
The Stage
At last, Sergeant Drill mounted the podium. The crowd fell silent. The recruits — now Marines — stood rigid, eyes forward, chests heavy with both pride and pain.
Sergeant Drill looked out over them. For once, his voice shook with emotion.
"you all did well. You faced chaos, fire, and death. You fought not for glory, but to save lives. You earned these medals not through drills, but through war."
He bowed his head briefly.
"But today, we must honor not only your victory. We honor those who did not stand back up. The brothers and sisters who gave everything. The citizens who lost their lives. They are the reason we fight. Their memory is the fire that will keep you standing when the storms come again."
He straightened, his voice breaking but strong.
"Great job, Marines. I am proud of you all. Like a father, I am proud. I — Sergeant Drill O'leath Mason — am honored to have you as UNE Marines."
First time the Sergeant told them their name.
⸻
The Tears
Tears fell freely, from recruits, from families, even from Mason himself. Woo Jin felt his chest tighten, pride and grief mixing into something indescribable. For the first time, he wasn't just a scared recruit.
He was a UNE Marine.
And as the flares of victory still burned faintly over the distant skyline, the Wolves — the Rust Wolves — stood together, brothers in arms, bound forever by the fire that had forged them.
-
Scene cut.
The screen fades to black. Then — a deep, steady narrator's voice begins, calm and resolute, layered over the hum of distant drums.
⸻
Visuals Begin
The black fades into a vast map of the galaxy. Star systems light up one by one in white and gold, streaks of lines connecting them, spreading like veins of light across the cosmos.
The narrator speaks:
"For over two hundred and fifty millennia, the United Nations of Earth — the UNE — has stood as humanity's shield. From the ashes of World at War IV in the 22nd century, we rose, united not by nations... but by survival."
⸻
Zoom Across the Cosmos
The map expands, showing trillions of star systems, each tagged with glowing UNE banners. Fleets of starships glide along hyperspace routes, while enormous fortress-worlds pulse with energy.
"Today, the UNE commands trillions of systems. A civilization of more than one hundred and fifty-five sextillion souls. From frozen exo-worlds, to radiant core colonies, to the endless seas of gas giants — all beating as one heart under the banner of humanity."
⸻
Voice Overs Layered
The visuals shift to gritty footage:
• Soldiers marching in endless formations on massive parade grounds.
• Mechs charging across alien battlefields, FTL rounds cracking the sky.
• Civilians on lush colony worlds, cheering as fleets pass overhead.
• Priests blessing Marines before deployment, the cross gleaming under alien suns.
Different voices fade in like comms chatter layered with the narrator:
"UNE never leaves anyone behind."
"Remember your training. Remember your brothers."
"By faith we endure, by will we survive."
⸻
The Warfront
The map zooms again, this time highlighting zones in red — alien territories clashing against UNE borders. Symbols of eldritch horrors flicker at the edges of known space. Human rival factions marked in orange and gold flare across contested regions.
Explosions rumble. Fleets clash in cinematic scale, ships the size of continents tearing each other apart.
The narrator's voice hardens:
"Sixty-five percent of our borders are in constant war. Alien civilizations. Eldritch nightmares. Even our own kind — the human factions who chose conquest over unity. The UNE does not falter. We fight. We adapt. We endure."
⸻
The Final Tone
The camera pans upward, pulling past battlefields, past starships, past galaxies themselves, until only the vast black sea of the cosmos remains — dotted with billions of burning lights.
The narrator closes:
"For two hundred and fifty-six thousand years, humanity has burned like a star against the void. This is our age. This is our war. This is... the United Nations of Earth."
The UNE insignia slams onto the screen in golden light.
Drums pound. Silence falls.
-
(At the Barracks)
The barracks were quiet. Not the peace of rest — the silence of soldiers knowing the war wasn't over. The fresh graduates sat on bunks, medals still heavy on their chests, their eyes already hardened by battle. They weren't going home. Not yet.
Then the door hissed open. Sergeant O'leath Mason stepped in, voice carrying calm authority.
"Asura Khan. My office. Now. Commander Shepherd wants a word."
Every recruit looked up. Even in silence, they all knew — Asura was different. Special. The prodigy of Juno.
⸻
The Commander's Office
Asura entered the steel-lined office, Mason closing the door behind him. At the far end stood Commander Shepherd — tall, broad-shouldered, his uniform immaculate, medals shining like small suns. His eyes carried the weight of decades of war.
Shepherd gestured for Asura to step forward.
"Recruit Khan. Or rather... Marine Khan."
He studied the young man for a moment, then leaned forward, voice low and deliberate.
"You've made history here. Our star system has never seen a soldier like you. Blink-stepping like you've done it forever . Clearing the battlefield like a veteran Elite. You are Juno's prodigy — and word has spread."
Mason folded his arms, watching silently.
Shepherd continued.
"We've already received contact from the CGS — the Confederacy of the Golden Sentinels. They want you. Their ranks. Their banner. Their offer means better pay, better living, better food. Most men would take it without hesitation."
The room fell silent. Both Mason and Shepherd studied the young Marine, waiting for his answer.
⸻
Asura's Answer
Asura stood calm, his face unreadable behind his visor. Then, without a hint of hesitation, he said:
"No."
The word hit like a shockwave.
Mason blinked, stunned. "What?"
Even Shepherd leaned back, eyes narrowing. "You refuse... the Sentinels? Why?"
Asura's voice was steady, his tone absolute:
"Because I trained under the UNE. I fought under the UNE. My first blood was spilled for the UNE. This is my family now. And I will not abandon them."
The silence in the room was deafening. Mason's lips parted, stunned into rare speechlessness. Shepherd, after a moment, chuckled — low at first, then full of pride.
⸻
The Commanders' Pride
Shepherd rose from his chair, stepping forward until he stood eye-to-eye with the young prodigy. He placed a firm hand on Asura's shoulder.
"Then you've just given me the best damn news I've had in years. A prodigy — loyal to the core — here in Juno's ranks."
Mason's voice cracked with pride, his usual iron tone softened:
"Son... you don't know what this means. Having you here isn't just luck. It's hope. For this star system. For the UNE. You're not just another Marine. You're our spearhead now."
⸻
The Legacy of Choice
Shepherd straightened, his voice booming with finality:
"The CGS may have their Golden Sentinels. But we... we have Asura Khan. And that will echo through the cosmos."
Mason smiled for the first time the recruits had ever seen — a real smile, not born of mockery or drill.
For once, Asura said nothing. He only nodded. His choice was made.
And that choice would shape the future of Juno — and the UNE itself.
-
Asura stood firm before Commander Shepherd, visor dimmed, his tone calm but curious.
"Sir... are there others like me? In other star systems? Other prodigies?"
Shepherd leaned back in his chair, folding his arms, the glow of the holo-map casting sharp light across his face. He chuckled softly.
"Of course, Khan. Countless, in fact. Across the cosmos, the UNE births prodigies — gifted UNE Soldiers from all UNE Branches whose talents surpass the norm. Some are ace pilots, flying fighters like they're extensions of their own bodies. Others are medics, able to save lives in the impossible. Others excel in tactics, or demolitions, or ground combat. Each one... a blade forged sharper than the rest."
The map flickered, zooming outward. Galaxies bloomed like sparks of fire, each labeled with UNE banners, each one dotted with trillions of systems.
"The UNE controls more than 130 galaxies. Within them? Over twelve trillion star systems. And among all those worlds, prodigies are born — not many, but enough to keep our armies strong. They are scattered across our colonies, like stars themselves."
⸻
Juno's First
Shepherd stood, walking around the table until he stood face to face with Asura. His voice dropped lower, more reverent.
"But here, in Juno? You are the first. In all our history — across seven colonized planets, across centuries of blood and survival — no prodigy has ever appeared in our ranks. Until you."
Mason, standing quietly near the wall, added in his gravelly voice:
"Do you understand what that means, son? You're not just a Marine. You're Juno's first prodigy. Our example. Our standard."
Shepherd nodded.
"Others across the UNE may match you in skill, in strength, in specialty. But here, in this star system? You are the foundation. You are the one history will mark as the first. Every soldier who comes after will look back at your name."
⸻
Asura's Resolve
Asura lowered his head slightly, processing the weight of the words. He wasn't surprised — he had always carried himself with calm certainty — but even he felt the gravity of the commander's tone.
Finally, he looked up, his voice firm.
"Then I'll carry that weight. If I'm the first, I won't be the last. I'll make sure Juno has more."
Shepherd allowed himself a rare smile.
"That's what I wanted to hear."
Mason's chest swelled with pride, his voice breaking just slightly:
"God bless you, boy... you just gave this whole system hope."
-
The barracks doors slid open with a hiss. Asura Khan stepped inside, helmet tucked under his arm, calm as ever.
Every head turned. The Rust Wolves — Woo Jin, Jerome, Min-seo, Raul, John — all leaned forward. Even recruits from other squads, scattered across their bunks, perked up.
Woo Jin was the first to speak. "So? What happened? They called you to the commander's office... you can't just walk back in here and not tell us."
Jerome added, "Yeah, man — we all saw Mason come get you. Spill it."
Even Raul, who normally couldn't shut up, was dead quiet, waiting.
⸻
The Revelation
Asura set his helmet down on the edge of his bunk. He sat, his posture calm, but his eyes sharp as ever. When he finally spoke, his voice carried, clear enough for the whole barracks to hear.
"The commander told me I'm Juno's first prodigy."
Silence fell.
Every recruit froze, stunned by the weight of the words. Whispers broke out in seconds.
"First prodigy?"
"In our whole star system?"
"No way they declared that... I thought it was all a fuss at first"
Min-seo adjusted his glasses, eyes wide. "Wait... that means... in all seven worlds of Juno history, you're the only one?"
Asura nodded once. "That's what they said. UNE has prodigies across other galaxies — pilots, tacticians, medics, soldiers. But here, in Juno? I'm the first."
⸻
The CGS Offer
Raul leaned forward, whispering like he was afraid the walls might hear. "So... did they try to take you? The Sentinels? Word is they poach prodigies left and right."
Asura's expression didn't change. His answer was immediate.
"They offered. I said no."
The silence broke into gasps. Even Woo Jin blinked in shock. "You turned down the CGS? But... their living conditions... their pay... their food—"
Asura cut him off, voice steady.
"I trained under UNE. I bled under UNE. My first battle was under UNE. I'm not leaving. Not now. Not ever."
⸻
The Response
The barracks erupted.
Some privates cheered, slapping their bunks, shouting "That's UNE, baby!" Others whispered in awe, staring at Asura like he was already a legend. Even the Rust Wolves felt a chill of pride run through them.
Jerome muttered, shaking his head. "Damn, bro... you really said no to the gold-plated boys."
Raul grinned, pointing at him. "Khan, you're built different. Straight up."
Woo Jin, quiet at first, finally smiled. "I knew it. You were never gonna leave us."
John, as always, simply nodded once in approval.
⸻
The Atmosphere
The recruits had gone into that day fractured — still haunted by the battle, still scarred. But Asura's choice lit something inside them. If a prodigy — someone who could've left for better living, better food, a life of glory — chose to stay with them, then maybe... just maybe... they weren't doomed kids anymore.
Maybe they were UNE Marines.
And maybe that meant something.
-
The barracks buzzed faintly with chatter after Asura's revelation. Then a voice cut through, casual and warm.
"Yo! What's up, guys?"
The squad turned. A recruit who graduated with them and a person who fought alongside them during the battle of Novara, he gave a sharp grin, and dust-colored boots swaggered up, helmet tucked under his arm.
"Name's Marco Garcia, from the farm planet. Seen yall beast going crazy in that battlefield — We did great out there. Damn fine work."
Raul squinted, then laughed, pointing a finger. "No shit? Garcia? You from a farm world, too?"
Marco smirked. "Damn right. Outer ring, Colony #4. Grew up wrangling steelbeasts and plowing dust fields. Thought I'd never see beyond the farms until UNE came knocking. Guess fate wanted me carrying a rifle instead of a shovel."
Raul chuckled, shaking his head. "Hell, we could've been neighbors and never known it. From dirt to blood, eh?"
The two clapped hands, farm boys recognizing their shared roots.
⸻
The Question
Marco leaned against a bunk, eyes scanning the group.
"So what's next, you think? We done here? Do we actually get to go home, see the folks, eat something that isn't nutrient paste? Or do they throw us back into the fire?"
The question hit hard.
Woo Jin glanced down at his medal, the shine already dulled by memory. "I... don't know. I want to go home, see my mom, my dad. But after what happened out there? Feels like we don't get that luxury."
Jerome sighed, rubbing his face. "Yeah. Feels like war's waiting for us outside the gates already."
Min-seo adjusted his glasses, his tone blunt. "UNE doesn't slow down. Not when sixty-five percent of our colonies are still in active conflict. My guess? We're deployed. Immediately."
Raul muttered, "Damnit... no break, huh?"
Asura stayed quiet, sitting with arms folded, visor catching faint light. His silence said everything.
⸻
The Weight of Reality
The barracks went quiet for a moment, the weight of Marco's question pressing down. Were they soldiers now — or just kids still pretending?
Then John, silent until now, finally spoke in his low, steady tone:
"Doesn't matter if we go home or go to war. We stick together. Rust Wolves stay Rust Wolves."
The group nodded. Even Marco, who had just joined their circle, felt the truth of it settle in his chest.
Whatever came next — rest, or the fire again — they'd face it as one.
-
The barracks lights dimmed to a low glow. Outside, the city was quiet — no alarms, no sirens, just the low hum of generators and the occasional echo of a passing patrol. Inside, the newly graduated Marines tried to make the best of their night.
Shirts were off, sweat still glistening from the day's drills. Even after war, UNE training didn't let up. The Wolves — Woo Jin, Asura, Raul, Min-seo, Jerome, John — along with Marco and a handful of other fresh Marines, filled the room with the smell of iron, leather, and disinfectant. All built almost like bodybuilders but lean.
⸻
The Messing Around
Raul flexed his biceps in the mirror, smirking. "Damn, tell me these aren't the arms of a future UNE general."
Marco laughed, clapping him on the back. "General? More like cafeteria duty, hermano."
Jerome shook his head, tossing a rolled-up shirt at them. "You two farm boys think muscles win wars? Better pray for brains."
Woo Jin cracked a grin for the first time in days, leaning on his bunk. "Brains? Then Min-seo's carrying us all the way to the frontlines."
Min-seo, cleaning his glasses, smirked faintly. "Finally, some recognition."
Even John let out a quiet exhale — his version of a laugh.
The room rippled with chuckles and playful jabs, the kind of brotherly noise that only came when the adrenaline finally drained and all that was left was relief they were alive.
⸻
The Shadows of Grief
But not all joined in.
At the far side of the room, some Marines sat in silence, medals dangling in their hands, eyes empty. One recruit cradled a photo of his brother — lost in the Eryndor Prime assault. Another stared at the ceiling, whispering prayers to a God he wasn't sure was listening.
The laughter dimmed when eyes drifted to them. The room remembered — not everyone made it back.
Woo Jin's smile faded. The image of bodies torn apart, soldiers screaming, civilians burning — it all came back, sharp as ever. He looked down, fists tightening.
Raul noticed, his joking tone quieting. "...They'd want us to laugh, you know. That's what keeps us sane."
Asura, silent at his bunk, finally spoke — his voice calm, low, carrying weight.
"We mourn them. But we fight for them too. That's what it means to be UNE."
The barracks hushed. Heads nodded. Some tears were wiped away in silence.
⸻
The Night Ends
The Wolves settled in. Some still whispered jokes. Others prayed. A few cried themselves to sleep.
But beneath it all was the same bond — forged in fire, sealed in blood, carried forward by memory.
They were more than just Marines now.
They were brothers.
And in the silence of the night, under the shadow of Eryndor Prime, the Rust Wolves found the strength to keep moving forward.
-
The morning sun filtered through the barracks windows, casting long beams across rows of bunks. Recruits stirred, some still half-asleep, others already lacing boots out of habit. The room still smelled of disinfectant and sweat, the echo of last night's laughter and grief hanging faintly in the air.
Then the door slammed open. Sergeant Drill O'leath Mason entered, hands clasped behind his back, his presence heavy but not thunderous. The Wolves snapped to attention, the rest of the barracks following.
Mason scanned the room, his voice firm, but calm — almost paternal.
⸻
The Speech
"Marines. You've earned something today. After blood, sweat, and sacrifice — you've earned the right to go home. To see your families. To remember why you fight."
A murmur of relief rippled across the room. Raul let out a low whistle. Jerome clenched his fists, smiling for the first time in days. Woo Jin's heart skipped; he thought of his parents, waiting on their colony world, not even knowing if he lived.
Mason's tone sharpened.
"But don't mistake this for discharge. You are UNE Marines now. And war doesn't wait."
He stepped forward, his gaze cutting through the room.
"In time, you will be called back. Your next mission within a week time, will take you beyond Juno... beyond even this galaxy. Your orders will be to strike at the heart of the alien invaders who dared attack Eryndor Prime. The Typonians."
⸻
The Typonian Threat
The holo-projector on Mason's wrist flickered, projecting the image of a spiked alien warship, its hull glowing with strange blue veins of energy.
"The Typonians are no rabble. They are a Type 3.2 civilization — not as advanced as us, but close. Do not underestimate them. Their fleets are vast. Their armies fight with precision. Their science is brutal. If you treat them lightly, they will kill you."
The recruits shifted uneasily. The room, which moments before had exhaled in relief, now felt heavy again.
Mason continued:
"We — the UNE — are stronger. More advanced. More united. But strength means nothing without discipline. You all know that now, after Eryndor. You saw how quickly death comes when you falter."
⸻
The Father's Tone
Mason's voice softened, not weak, but steady and warm.
"Spend this time with your families. Hold them. Remember their faces. Because when you return, you will carry them with you into battle. That is what makes you Marines — not your rifles, not your armor, not even your tactics. It's the people you fight for. Never forget it."
He straightened, eyes firm.
"Dismissed. God bless you all."
⸻
The Aftermath
The recruits sat in stunned silence. Some cheered softly, already dreaming of home-cooked meals and familiar voices. Others, like Woo Jin, felt a mix of joy and dread — the warmth of family reunion shadowed by the looming storm.
The Rust Wolves exchanged glances. Marco broke the silence with a grin. "Guess we're getting a vacation... before marching into hell again."
Raul smirked back. "Farm boys always come home, hermano."
But Asura said nothing. He simply stared at the holographic image of the Typonian warship, his eyes cold, calculating.
-
Scene cut.
The Rust Wolves split, each carried by UNE transports to their respective worlds. The war was on hold for them, for now.
For Woo Jin, the drop ship descended through the clouds of his home colony — a vibrant farming world, fields stretching far beneath the golden light of dawn. His chest tightened as the familiar landscape filled his visor. For the first time since boot camp, since the blood and fire of Eryndor Prime, he was home.
⸻
The Reunion
The landing platform was crowded. Families waited in anxious clusters, banners waving in the morning breeze. The transport hatch hissed open, and Marines filed out one by one — medals shining faintly in the sun.
Then Jin stepped down.
"Jin!"
He barely had time to react before his mother crashed into him, arms wrapping tight, sobbing into his chest. His father was right behind, gripping his son's shoulder with proud, shaking hands.
Woo Jin's little siblings clung to his legs, their eyes wide with awe at his uniform, their voices squeaking with excitement:
"Big brother's a Marine!"
Jin dropped to one knee, pulling them close. His throat tightened, tears stinging his eyes. For the first time in what felt like years, he smiled.
They're safe. They're alive.
⸻
The Celebration and the Shadow
His family had attended his graduation after all — sitting in the stands, watching him stand tall with the Rust Wolves — but seeing them now, away from the parades and medals, was different. This was real.
———
Neighbors and old friends gathered, clapping him on the back, offering food, cheering his return. His mother placed a hot bowl of stew in his hands, his father poured him a drink. His siblings begged him to tell stories.
He laughed, he ate, he hugged them all.
But when the noise quieted, when he caught his reflection in the window, he saw it: the same eyes he'd seen in the barracks after the battle. Haunted. Heavy. A Marine now.
⸻
The Thought
That night, as his siblings slept curled beside him, Jin sat by the window, staring at the stars. Somewhere out there, the Typonians were waiting. Somewhere out there, more battles like Eryndor Prime burned in silence.
He clenched his fists, whispering to himself:
"For them. Always for them."
And in that quiet moment, Woo Jin knew — he'd march back into hell as many times as it took.
Because his family was why he fought.
———
His other squadrons also gets to see their families back at their home planet too in Juno Star system. It was a lovely reunion after days they met during their graduation.
It was a peaceful timing for them, but in a weeks time they will be deployed again, and they have to stay ready and sharp.
Asura doesn't see his family, as he lived alone. he grew up in an abusive household. His father was a drunk and always beat him over the little things, his mother doesn't care as she always defends the father.
His father passed away due to an illness, he has 2 siblings and all were little brothers still living with the mom. His family... loves his sibling much more than him, they never got hit ever, and is always favored... all because they were the younger brother.
Asura alone, simply just existing. "Damnit!" He instinctively punch through the wall shattering it...
—————————
To be continued...