Five long months had passed since Youri first set foot inside the Orbiton Pilot Academy. Five months of relentless pressure, sleepless nights, bruised bodies, and fractured egos. What had begun with dozens of hopeful recruits had been reduced, slowly and mercilessly, to only ten.
Most had dropped out.Others had been expelled.A few had simply broken.
The remaining ten carried that weight quietly.
The buffet hall was unusually subdued as Youri sat at one of the long tables, a metal tray resting in front of him. Across from him sat Kess, leaning back slightly, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp with anticipation. Lunch break was usually loud, filled with nervous humor and half-serious bravado—but today was different.
Today mattered.
"So," Kess said at last, breaking the silence as he stabbed at his food, "today's the day."
Youri nodded. "Real cockpit."
Kess let out a short breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Five months of simulators. Guess they finally trust us not to kill ourselves."
"Or their machines," Youri replied dryly.
They exchanged a faint smile. Both knew the truth—simulations were forgiving. They reset. They warned you before mistakes became fatal. A real orbiton did not.
A presence settled beside Youri.
Aiden had taken the seat without asking, folding his arms and glancing sideways at him. His expression was calm, composed—but the sharpness in his eyes betrayed his intent.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Aiden said. "Simulations are nothing compared to the real thing."
Youri didn't respond immediately. He finished chewing, wiped his mouth, and only then looked at Aiden.
"We'll see," he said evenly.
Aiden's lips curled into a faint smirk. "We will. Only a few of us are walking out of this with a Minerva seat."
He stood, pushing the chair back. "Might as well accept that now."
He walked away, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence.
Kess exhaled. "He's really convinced it's his."
Youri shrugged. "Conviction doesn't make you right."
The announcement echoed through the hall moments later.
"All remaining recruits—report immediately to Hangar Six."
Every sound stopped.
Hangar Six stood at the far edge of the academy grounds, its massive armored doors sealed tight. The ten recruits assembled in perfect formation, boots aligned on the concrete, eyes forward. The open airfield stretched wide around them, the pale Terrian sky hanging overhead.
Commander Varos stood at the entrance, hands clasped behind his back. His presence alone was enough to straighten spines.
The recruits snapped to attention and saluted.
Varos let the silence linger before speaking.
"Recruits," he said, his voice calm and commanding, "you have endured training designed to break most candidates before the third month. You have faced exhaustion, pressure, and failure without excuse."
He paced slowly in front of them, boots striking the ground with measured precision.
"For that, you have earned my respect."
Varos stopped and faced them directly.
"This year, the academy accepted fewer candidates than usual. That was intentional."
A few recruits shifted subtly.
"The graduates of this class will be considered for a special unit—one composed of only six orbitons."
A pause.
"Three of those seats are already occupied by veteran pilots."
The weight of the implication settled heavily.
"That leaves three."
Behind him, the hangar doors began to move.
With a deep mechanical groan, the seals disengaged. Light spilled outward as the doors parted, revealing the cavernous interior beyond. One by one, the hangar lights flickered on.
The recruits froze.
Ten orbitons stood within.
Each towered over twenty meters tall, their silhouettes broad, immovable, and uncompromising. These were not machines designed to inspire comfort—they were built to dominate battlefields and reshape wars.
Closest to the entrance stood five LEX units.
Their armor was a muted slate-blue, reinforced by pale, bone-colored plating at critical impact zones—shoulders, forearms, thighs. Fine seams traced their massive frames, glowing faintly with restrained amber light, as if immense energy pulsed beneath the surface.
Their heads were compact and angular, recessed into the torso for maximum protection. Narrow visors cut across their faces, dark and unreadable, flanked by subtle sensor arrays and antennae seamlessly integrated into their design.
Their limbs were thick and brutally reinforced. One arm carried a massive shield assembly—angular, rigid, immovable—while the other bore an industrial-scale rifle matched to the unit's overwhelming mass. Their legs were layered with interlocking armor over hydraulic muscle, ending in heavy, clawed feet designed to anchor the machine against recoil, shockwaves, or shifting terrain.
These were the backbone of the Terrian Empire.
The LEX units.
To the opposite side of the hangar stood the remaining five—different in presence, refined in design, unmistakably superior.
The Minerva units.
They shared the same towering height, but their frames were sleeker, more poised. Slate-blue armor was accented with thin gold lines tracing along seams and joints like deliberate calligraphy etched into metal.
Their torsos were compact and layered, overlapping plates reminiscent of a knight's cuirass reborn for a mechanized age. Their heads were smaller in proportion, angular and helmet-like, with narrow visor arrays that suggested focus rather than brute force.
Broad, winged shoulders extended outward and back, hinting at integrated thruster systems and advanced weaponry. Exposed pistons and reinforced joints peeked through the armor along their arms and legs, restrained power barely contained by meticulous engineering.
In their hands, the long rifles felt less like tools and more like extensions of their bodies.
Varos stepped forward into the hangar, the recruits following in stunned silence.
"These," he said, gesturing toward the LEX units, "are the machines that forged the Terrian Empire. Reliable. Devastating. Unyielding."
He turned toward the Minervas.
"And these are issued only to pilots worthy of command."
He paused.
"Above them exist two more classifications."
A hush fell over the recruits.
"The Royal Knight units—built for absolute dominance and tasked with the direct defense of Terria itself."
Several recruits swallowed.
"And beyond even that…"
Varos's gaze hardened.
"The God Units."
A chill passed through the line.
"They are legends to most of the universe," Varos continued. "To you, they are a possibility."
He faced them squarely.
"Prove yourselves."