Year 197 | April 2nd — Camp Zero / Zone 5-A
06 a.m. The siren didn't go off like a warning.
The lights came on with a harsh greenish glare, bright enough to cut through closed eyelids.
"Up," said a metallic voice over the speaker. "Gear up. Breakfast. Field. Five minutes."
Five minutes.
Jin sat up like someone waking from a punch. The others started moving in silence.
Rell cursed mid-yawn. Luke was still asleep with his eyes open. Matt smiled with his eyes closed.
"Five minutes? That's terrorism," he muttered, already using his foot to search for his boots.
Across the row, Kael was already up, putting on the uniform like he'd slept standing. Nox moved like a shadow. Lune was tying her hair into a new high knot. Vika was already sitting, boots lined up, eyes fixed on the wall — like she was waiting for something no one else could see.
Group 12-B shuffled down in a messy line, still adjusting belts, clasps, shoulder pads. No talking. Just the clinking of metal, the heavy soles hitting the floor, and the rough breath of people who hadn't even had time to exist before obeying.
Zone 5-A's mess hall didn't have a smell. Just a faint trace of something either too hot or too old — impossible to tell. The tables were steel, bolted to the ground, and the food came on metal trays with perfect dividers: one brown liquid of unknown origin, three pressed protein blocks, and two slices of white bread dense as wet cement.
There were no choices. No requests.
A mechanical arm came out of a wall slot, dropped the tray on the conveyor. Done. Next.
"House specialty," Matt said, nose slightly wrinkled. "Served with contempt and a hint of radioactivity."
"It's balanced," Vika replied, no irony. "The body absorbs eighty-three percent of the nutrients in under four minutes."
Jin raised an eyebrow. "You measured that?"
"Yes."
She bit into the bread. Didn't smile.
Matt spun the tray, studying the textures like he was about to perform an autopsy on his own fate.
"If someone dies, we'll know which part did it."
"Or all of them together," Jin muttered.
They didn't exactly eat in silence. Between spoonfuls, Matt made comments that bordered on the absurd, Rell huffed in response, and even Lune let out a muffled laugh. It was like they were trying to trick their stomachs with words.
Jin, however, chewed slowly. Watching.
Uses humor as a shield.
Jin remembered the rest too — risk of passive refusal.
Meaning: the kind of person who smiles right up until the moment they don't get up anymore.
Kael finished first. Nox didn't touch the liquid. Rell complained with his eyes. Luke ate everything, fast and methodical.
When the panel timer hit 06:27 a.m., a new order blared from the speaker:
"IMMEDIATE EXTERNAL FORMATION. ALL UNITS TO THE INTERMEDIATE YARD."
Chairs scraped in unison. Trays stacked, spoons dropped with that lingering metallic taste.
Vika was the first to stand. Jin noticed she never left scraps. Or distractions.
Matt yawned as he placed his tray on the belt.
"Haven't even digested and we're already gonna die."
They followed the group, slipping through the mess hall's sliding doors into the smooth concrete hallway
The lights there didn't flicker — they just watched.
And then, stepping out from the shadow of the building into the open yard, the morning damp smacked them like a slap without anger.
The yard was wet with dawn fog. The light from the overcast sky was still white, but dimmer — like the whole day had a fever.
The suspended display flickered on again.
INSTRUCTION 1.2
COORDINATED MOVEMENT / ADVERSE CONDITION
TIME TO EXECUTE: 00:15:0
CONSEQUENCE: GRADUAL PHYSICAL ADJUSTMENT
Jin stared at the word consequence like you'd watch the shadow of something coming from far away.
A second later, the instructors appeared at the edges of the field, positioning themselves in pairs — one on each side, like mirrored statues of rigidity.
"GROUP RESISTANCE!"
"LINE UP BY HEIGHT!"
Chaos broke out instantly.
"This is gonna go to shit," Matt muttered.
Jin was already moving. So was Vika. Kael turned his torso like a machine and took his place at the center with eerie precision. Luke stuck close to his brother, who dragged Rell along. Lune scanned the others, trying to predict the optimal formation.
Nox didn't move. He just stood in the middle until everyone had lined up around him, like he already knew exactly where he'd end up.
Once the final line settled, the instructor confirmed — no praise, no nod:
"UNIT 12-B. POSITION ACCEPTED."
The countdown started. And the training finally began.
"MAINTAIN THE LINE. FIXED LOAD RESISTANCE."
Two instructors crossed the field carrying a horizontal metal bar, about four meters long, with dozens of small handles attached along its length. They set it on the ground with precision.
"GROUP POSITIONING. OUTER GRIP. ARMS EXTENDED."
Matt looked at Jin. "Well this looks promising."
Jin didn't reply. He stepped forward and grabbed one of the handles, feeling the cold metal hum under his fingers.
Vika grabbed another, no hesitation. Kael was already in place. Rell hesitated, searching for a spot, until Luke gently nudged his brother's arm to make room.
"ON MY COMMAND, LIFT AND HOLD THE STRUCTURE. THE GOAL IS TO ENDURE."
The order came, and Group 12-B lifted the bar — unevenly. The weight was distributed, but the exhaustion wasn't.
The first twenty seconds, they held firm.
The next thirty, hands started to shake. Jin felt his shoulder muscles screaming, even though the bar hadn't dipped yet.
"ADVERSE CONDITION INITIATED."
A blast of artificial wind sliced diagonally across the field. The bar wobbled. A metallic creak echoed like a warning.
"Knew this was gonna turn into a physical metaphor for suffering," Matt said through clenched teeth.
The bar tilted slightly. Rell nearly lost his grip. Lune locked her knees and sucked in a breath.
Kael didn't move. Neither did Nox.
"GROUP LEVELING! PUNISHMENT IF YOU GUESS WHO'S TO BLAME!"
The sentence was absurd — but no one dared to laugh.
Jin forced his forearm, trying to counter the imbalance. The bar lifted by a centimeter — just enough to realign. Vika kept her breathing steady. Sweat dripped from her chin like a precise metronome.
The timer read 09:44.
Matt was gasping. Jin's hands tingled. Luke barely blinked.
Rell was mentally cursing everything that weighed more than five kilos.
With thirty-four seconds left, the second wind blast came — stronger, more sideways.
This time, Luke faltered. His arm gave out for just a second — small, almost unnoticeable — but enough to throw the balance off. A beat later, another recruit stumbled trying to compensate. The structure crashed down on one side and tipped violently.
"GROUP FAILURE DETECTED."
The metal slammed against the ground with the sound of a collective slap. The instructor didn't say anything else.
Jin closed his eyes for a second. The bar was still vibrating on the floor.
The countdown reset to 15:00.
"At this rate, they're gonna ask us to hold the planet up with our bare hands," Matt sighed.
"Only if it's spinning the wrong way," Jin said, rolling his shoulders and stepping back into position.
Next to him, Vika took a deep breath.
"Second attempt," the instructor announced. "Now with individual motor evaluation."
The sentence had barely finished when one of the recruits — tall, always tense-looking — turned to Luke.
"It was him. The kid dropped it!"
Luke didn't respond. He just stood there, breathing hard, hands still near the bar.
"Obviously. Kid can't even hold a folder, how's he gonna carry tactical gear?"
Another recruit clicked his tongue in agreement. "He's here out of pity."
Matt moved before he could think. He turned, let go of the bar, and walked straight to the first guy.
"Say that louder," he said — voice low enough to be dangerous, not calm.
The kid laughed, confused. "What, you gonna protect your baby brother now?"
"No. I'm gonna break your teeth, one by one, and feed you liquid protein till the cycle ends."
The whole place froze for two seconds. Tension buzzed between boots and held breaths.
Two Agents moved in from the sides with machine-like precision. One grabbed Matt by the shoulder. The other raised an arm and pointed to the timer.
"PROTOCOL VIOLATION. INTERNAL CONFLICT DETECTED. CYCLE RESET."
15:00. Again.
Matt looked at Luke, then at Jin, then muttered a silent curse and went back to his spot. The instructor said nothing. Just waited for everyone to reset.
Jin rolled his wrists, breathing deep. His hands hurt. The bar hurt. His pride hurt.
But nothing — absolutely nothing — hurt as much as seeing Matt not smile.
So that's it. Nothing ever makes him serious. Nothing — except messing with his brother.
The training dragged on through the rest of the morning.
Each new group failure came with worse adverse conditions: more wind, less time, a shakier bar, a wet surface. On the fourth attempt, they added sound stimuli that rang in their ears like broken alarms. On the fifth, one of the Husks dumped water over the center of the yard, forcing the group to hold balance on slick concrete.
Jin stopped counting the minutes and started counting the number of tingling fingers.
During the final attempt, no one spoke. Not Matt. Not Rell. Not Lune.
Vika stuck to a square breathing rhythm. Kael didn't even blink.
Nox stood so still the wind seemed to flow around him like he was part of the environment.
And it was there — right at the edge between pain and obedience — that they made it.
The bar stayed up until the timer beeped.
TASK SUCCESS — UNIT 12-B
CONDITION MET. TEMPORARY RELEASE GRANTED.
They let go of the structure with the slowness of someone releasing guilt. Shaky arms. Buckling knees. The ground felt too welcoming.
"TEN MINUTES. LIQUID MEAL. HYDRATION. NO SOCIAL INTERACTION."
No one questioned the order.
They sat on the ground as they were, scattered, no formation. A few nutrient capsules were handed out. One translucent bottle of isotonic liquid for every two people.
Rell tried to joke it was fancy wine, but even he didn't laugh.
Matt drank half his dose and rested his head on his folded arm. Luke sat beside him, saying nothing — just being was hard enough.
Vika studied their hands — hers and everyone else's — like she was cataloging involuntary reactions.
Jin just breathed. Deep. Contained.
There was no talking. But there was survival.
After the break, training picked up exactly the same way — same commands, same bar. The only difference? Now it hurt more.
The day dragged on like that. A cycle of effort, short break, harder effort.
Until, without warning, the final siren sounded.
The hallway smelled of stale dampness and cheap disinfectant. The lights had switched to night mode — amber, dim, almost merciful.
The group walked in silently. No words. Just the muffled sounds of boots being pulled off, zippers opening, staggered breathing.
Jin threw himself onto the top bunk like diving into a coma. His muscles screamed even while still.
Matt sat at the edge of his bed, elbows on knees, eyes lost somewhere.
Luke was already lying down, curled on his side.
Kael was cleaning his boots with a dry cloth — even in the dark.
Vika was running mental notes — Jin could tell by the way her fingers moved.
Nox was already asleep. Or meditating. Or existing on some other frequency.
Rell was trying to scratch a blood blister out of his palm.
Lune combed her hair with her fingers, eyes brimming but refusing to spill.
No one celebrated. No one cheered. But no one was pulled out either. And that… maybe that was a win.
Jin stared at the ceiling for a while, not thinking of anything in particular — just feeling the blood still pulsing inside his hands.
After a few minutes, he climbed down slowly and sat next to Matt on the bunk.
"That was cool, what you did for Luke," he said quietly. "Back when you stood up for him."
Matt didn't answer right away. His eyes were still locked on the floor.
"When we got our parents' sentences… he was one. I was four."
He exhaled through his nose, not sarcastic for once.
"I didn't even get what was happening. I just remember sirens. And someone saying it was temporary."
He ran his hand through his hair, not bothering to fix it.
"If I'd been old enough… maybe I could've absorbed his sentence. But I didn't even know what a sentence was."
Jin didn't respond. Just watched.
Matt slowly lifted his eyes and glanced at Kael, who was still methodically cleaning his boots — like the movement itself kept him anchored to reality.
"And you?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. "I saw in your file it was a voluntary absorption. Who didn't you want to share the sentence with?"
Kael took a second. Then answered with disarming simplicity:
"My sister. Ella." He paused. "She was four."
The silence that followed was heavier than anything they'd carried that day.
Jin looked away, swallowing hard. Matt just nodded once, like something inside him had finally settled, then let out a soft breath and murmured, his voice sliding back toward its usual tone:
"If anyone wants to swap brothers, I'm taking offers. Must know how to pitch a tent and share rations."
Jin let out a short laugh, barely audible.
The tension in the dorm didn't vanish, but it loosened — just enough for air to move again.
Jin climbed back up to his bunk. Laid down with no pillow. His body throbbed, but his mind was just… quiet.
There were no dreams that night. Only muscle discharge, piled-up emptiness, and the silent repetition of a phrase he pretended not to think:
Twelve weeks.
Twenty-four squads.
I just need to stay on my feet.