The atmosphere inside the truck shifted as quickly as snow melting under the noon sun.
The academy's instructions had not appointed a team leader; the personnel list wasn't even included. Everything had to be coordinated by the students themselves.
Even though some students had high comprehensive scores, Casia knew the school understood that these rankings only counted for so much. After three months of surgeries and training, each student had grown tremendously in strength—unpredictable, even among peers. Outwardly, everyone was polite, but their inner resolve and confidence could not be measured easily.
The truck cabin was heavy with tension, like volatile gunpowder in the air—one spark could set it all off.
"I'll introduce myself first," a voice broke the silence. "Gustin Evelyn, rank 15 overall, with two inhibitory tubes. I studied a semester at the Divine Academy, so I have some experience with mission planning and execution. I'm willing to serve as team leader. There are twenty of us; dispersing individually would make this Second Class Soldier mission extremely difficult. Since we don't know each other, and no past grudges exist, there should be no concerns of bias in my leadership."
"Thoughts?" Gustin added softly, clearly prepared for possible resistance.
"Kristens." A broad-shouldered man seated opposite Casia spoke politely. "Gustin, may I ask you a question?"
"Of course, Kristens." Gustin replied with a smile.
"You're from the Evelyn family, one of the twenty-three great noble houses, yes?" Kristens asked.
"Indeed. Evelyn is a rare name in the Empire," Gustin confirmed, inwardly amused. Influence like that carried weight in every situation—including now.
"Then I, Kristens, cast my vote for Gustin." Kristens was decisive, though clearly a self-made type; following an experienced hand seemed wise.
"That's fine, but shouldn't someone from the Hill family naturally lead?" A dissonant, soft voice came from Casia's side. Pale-skinned, angular, heavily made up, dressed entirely in flawless gray-white formal attire, the man held a dark wooden cane across his knees. His presence was theatrically elegant.
"Li Hill," he introduced himself, his tone smooth and lingering like cicadas' song in a storm. "Our family is also one of the twenty-three great houses, historically producing commanders. I attended the Divine Academy for several years. Twenty people in one squad is excessive; splitting into smaller teams allows for swifter, more efficient action while preserving life."
Li's gaze lingered on a silent woman nearby, extending his syllables: "Wouldn't you agree, Kara Meredith? As the last member from a great house, and hailing from an assassin-specialist lineage, you should be ready to assume responsibility in critical moments. This mission suits your skills perfectly."
Kara held a mid-sized sniper rifle, its black barrel stark against her short, jet-black hair. Her low, emotionless voice matched the weapon she cradled. "Those who want to follow me can stay behind."
Silence followed.
"That works. Three sub-teams, coordinated operations. Simple, effective," Li said, eyes narrowing, his face glinting in the dim light like polished silver.
Gustin, sidelined, suppressed a twitch at the corner of his eye. Surrounded by fellow nobles, he could only sit quietly. Seeing Li and Kara silent, he quickly added, "Of course, as team captains, all three of us can coordinate. Everyone may choose whose leadership to follow. During the mission, we can support each other."
No one objected; the silence acted as tacit approval.
"Now, let's each introduce ourselves, including specialties if possible," Gustin concluded, sealing any lingering dissent. Noble family influence mattered, but practical skill and experience were also carefully noted by the students.
Casia, last to introduce himself, realized this squad's members all ranked within the top two hundred, with at most four inhibitory tubes. Compared to his inexplicably high overall rank of 1024 and twenty-four active inhibitory tubes, he sensed he had landed in one of the "special squads" Borong had mentioned.
The mission would be difficult, but with such teammates, Casia felt relieved. Though the challenge level increased, the quality of his squadmates more than compensated.
Like a finely crafted watch, smooth operation required not only precision and fit of the gears, but also the quality of the materials themselves.
After introductions, the truck fell silent again, the tension dense and unpredictable.
The heavy truck had been moving for two days, stopping only once for meals and rest to alleviate fatigue.
After a full day of travel, one night, the vehicle slowed. Casia, half-awake in the cabin, was jolted alert. Knocks on the steel side of the truck signaled it was time to disembark.
"We're here! Get out!" someone shouted.
Casia, nearest the door, opened it. Outside blazed a fiery, nearly setting sun, while a hot, dry wind carrying dust and sand struck his face.
The old station they had arrived at was mostly buried under sand, its tracks long disused. Small mounds dotted the terrain, with trees sprouting along the edges. The faint scent of flowers hinted at spring's end.
The massive truck sat like an unerasable stain on the road, steam hissing as it replenished its systems. Casia, having eaten, leaned against the truck and gazed at the thin crescent moon in the sky—a rare sight after months of academy confinement.