Human technology had advanced exponentially, a direct result of reverse-engineering ancient alien technology salvaged by the first generations of survivors following the catastrophic nuclear fallout. Yet, despite centuries of research, humanity had only managed to unlock a mere 20\% of that alien technology's true potential. Fortunately, that fraction was more than enough to help them withstand the unrelenting, everyday perils of their world—most notably, the threat of the devils.
An old philosophical maxim echoed through Graves's mind as he walked: "How would one value life when there's no death? Death is what gives value to life."
Today, Graves was finally meeting with his teammates. No... his friends.
Following his reckless solo charge against the Spider Devils—an act that had severely jeopardized both his life and the lives of his comrades—he had been promptly dismissed from the combat academy. In the eyes of the brass, he was a liability. However, Winter's father possessed deep, influential connections within the upper echelons of the military hierarchy. Driven by the constant, desperate persuasion of Winter—their only child and a prodigy with an exceptionally bright future—her parents had pulled every available string to satisfy her demands. Of course, even with high-ranking officials willing to bend the rules, Graves was permanently barred from serving as a front-line combat soldier. Instead, he was reassigned to the medical corps, an alternative path where he had freshly taken the specialized examinations and passed fairly.
Deep down, Graves knew that if he were placed under the exact same circumstances again, he would probably make the same choice and charge the devils. His only real regret was that he lacked the genetically enhanced body of an awakened individual. But at the very least, he had proven a point : he had been able to kill a Spider Devil.
When the armored ambulance had originally rushed him to the academy hospital, he had been in absolute critical condition. Yet, utilizing advanced, alien-derived medical tech, the trauma surgeons were able to completely regrow his destroyed muscle tissue and shattered bone structures in a single week, fully repairing his collapsed lung. He recalled reading historical archives about the old world, where an injury of that magnitude would have required grueling months or even years of agonizing rehabilitation. He couldn't even begin to imagine surviving such a tedious, primitive process. He was profoundly grateful that he could still sleep in a clean bed, eat highly nutritious military rations, and wear the standard-issue camo and black leather boots—even if he was no longer a combatant.
Still, a persistent anxiety gnawed at the back of his mind. During his extensive surgeries and cellular regeneration treatments, the military doctors had undoubtedly run complete diagnostic scans on his biology. They likely knew he was a "no-talent"—an unawakened human without a Gene Lock opened. Yet, strangely, no one had questioned him about it since he woke up from his week-long coma.
"Or they didn't know?"
Shaking off the uneasy thoughts, Graves adjusted the collar of his neatly pressed camouflage uniform, ensuring his black leather boots were polished to a mirror shine.
Walking into the sprawling, noisy expanse of the military cafeteria, his eyes scanned the crowded tables until they landed on a familiar group of four.
Seated at the center table was Apollo, a tall, dark-skinned young man with bulging muscles, a crisp low-cut hairstyle, and his signature serious expression. Next to him sat Gamby, a powerfully built young woman who shared a striking, near-identical resemblance to Apollo in terms of built, right down to her imposing physique—though her look was softened by long, curly hair. Graves knew that if Gamby ever caught him referring to her mentally as a "woman" instead of a girl, she would probably squeeze the remaining air out of his lungs.
Opposite them sat Julius, his well-built frame shifting with effortless grace. His striking yellow hair hung just above his eyes, framing a handsome, flawless face. He let out a frequent, easygoing laugh that consistently caused several female cadets at neighboring tables to turn their heads. Sitting right beside Julius was Winter, looking exceptionally beautiful with her short, light blue hair and slender frame. She was quietly listening to the banter, occasionally chiming into the conversation with a soft, genuine smile.
Graves smiled, the warmth of seeing them alive washing over him.
Right then, Julius's gaze drifted toward the entrance. Spotting him, the handsome cadet's face lit up, and he raised a hand, waving enthusiastically across the cafeteria.
It truly was wonderful to see them again. Though they had briefly visited his hospital bedside a few days after he regained consciousness, this was their first official gathering since the incident.
He knew he had an immense amount of explaining to do, and they needed to catch up on the details of their official graduation status. But the moment the reality of the upcoming interrogation settled in, a cold sweat instantly broke out down Graves's spine. Imagining Gamby towering over him with a terrifying, malicious glint in her eyes made him physically shiver in his boots.