Year 197 | April 10 — Camp Zero / Zone 5-
The siren wailed at the same hour. The light flicked on with the same indifference. But when the barracks door slid open, the air rushed in sharp, with a clean sting. White flakes cut across the courtyard, caught in the fences, in hair, on eyelashes. Snow.
Jin stopped at the threshold, tilting his face to shield his eyes. The cold bit down to the bone.
"Snow?" Luke blinked fast. "In April?"
"In April ten years ago, no," Vika said, zipping her jacket up to her neck. "Now the weather's completely upside down."
"Translation: our bad luck," Matt rubbed his hands. "And we didn't even get coffee."
Kael was already set, boots lined, belt with zero slack. He brushed a flake off his shoulder like dust off a medal. Nox crossed the wet yard without hurry, eyelids barely moving, as if the snow had been programmed to fall on him and still couldn't reach.
"It's pretty," Lune whispered, almost to herself.
"Everything pretty around here doesn't last," Jin said, pulling on his cap. It wasn't a statement so much as a warning.
As if the Camp wanted to agree, the screens above snapped on with heavier letters that beat the white:
SPECIAL INSTRUCTION 4.1
EXTERNAL TRAINING — CAPTURE THE FLAG
DURATION: 06:00 HOURS
FORMATION: PAIRS
RULE: NO COMMUNICATION BETWEEN PAIRS
OBJECTIVE: RETRIEVE THE ENEMY FLAG
A buzz of comments cut through 12-B. First drill outside the perimeter since they'd arrived.
"GPS tagging…" Vika murmured, tightening the bracelet on her wrist. "At least the odds of signal loss are very low."
"Great," Jin nodded slowly, voice loaded with irony. "Then why do I feel like luck's never on our side?"
Catching it from the corner, Matt slid in: "Just another day in paradise."
Jin didn't look at him. "For some more than others." He tipped his chin at Vika, still focused. "You've done this route before, Vika?"
She lifted her eyes without rush. "No. When you fail, they don't send you to the same unit again. This is new to me."
The Husks lined up, unreadable masks facing the group. Wind kicked up white dust. Beside them, Matt adjusted his brother's collar and, without looking, said, "Stay close to the line, Luke."
"I'm close." Luke lifted his arm like answering roll call.
The big screen jumped to the list of pairs. Each couple, a dry beep.
"Matt Lerion / Luke Lerion."
Matt let out a half-smile, like he'd expected the obvious.
"Kael Surn / Rell Sivak."
"Opposites pair," Rell muttered. "Gonna be fun."
"Nox Hailen / Lune Avaris."
Lune nodded without fuss; Nox didn't even blink.
"Jin Kuroda / Vika Orell."
Jin arched one eyebrow, very slowly.
"Nice," he said under his breath. "Right on the one drill you don't know."
"I might not know this place, but I've done this drill," Vika answered, eyes on the screen. "Lucky you—we're at least stuck together today."
He rolled the bracelet on his wrist, almost smiling. "Stuck is strong. Let's say… temporarily shackled, Mom."
As much as Vika hated it, the nickname had stuck.
Tyran clapped his gloves together, way too hyped for this cold. More pairs flashed up, but no one in 12-B wasted time reading. The outer gate opened on a white ravine.
"Bracelets," an instructor said. "No returning before time. No contact with other pairs. Interfering with an opponent's gear results in a penalty for the whole squad."
"And if someone gets lost?" someone from 12-C asked from the other side.
The instructor didn't turn his head. "Don't get lost."
The bracelets sealed to their wrists, skin burning cold. Two arrows lit the display: one for their own flag, another for the "enemy," set in a different quadrant of the woods. The arrows shifted when they moved. The compass trembled by millimeters.
"If the compass freaks, we follow topography: trenches to the south, rise to the east," Vika listed, all business.
"If I freak, follow someone else," Jin shot back.
"I believe you can stay sane for at least six hours."
"You believe way too easily."
Matt passed them, hand tapping Jin's back in a quick gesture. "Alive first, flag second."
"Alive—if we're lucky," Jin corrected, because sometimes stubborn keeps you moving.
Matt laughed. Jin didn't.
When all the pairs reached the line, a whistle cut the air and the drill began.
The snowfall thickened. Bigger flakes, crosswind. The noise turned woolly, swallowing voices. The trees at the edge of the perimeter looked like columns from some old building, now buried. Past the gate, asphalt gave way to hard ground, then to the sensation that the earth sank a little under every step.
"Jin, fix your breathing," Vika said without looking, adjusting her own pace. "You won't last long like that."
"Oh great. Now you're managing my breathing too, Mom?" Jin snapped.
"Stop calling me that. If you fall and yell for me, I won't help."
He huffed and smirked sideways. "Yes, ma'am."
Vika shook her head, but a smile almost slipped before she reset.
Ahead, Kael and Rell moved like mismatched lines: one marks the beat, the other improvises. To the right, Lune kept respectful distance from Nox, like pacing an animal you're not sure will run or stay. Farther on, Matt and Luke vanished behind a stand of trees, one silhouette over the other, the same old trick: Matt widening space and Luke filling it without bumping.
Snow clung to their hems. The GPS blinked, complaining about the cold. The arrow still pointed north. They obeyed. For minutes, only the crunch of white under boots and breath puffing in short clouds.
"The enemy flag's northwest." Jin tapped the bracelet, arrow blinking on the screen. "Ours is east. What's the move?"
Vika walked a few slower steps, weighing terrain and map. She went quiet, silver eyes fixed on the screen.
"Northwest," she said at last, steady. "By distance, we'll get there faster."
Jin arched a brow. "And if that's the wrong call?"
"Possible," Vika admitted without changing tone. "But it's the only one I can think of."
He let out a short laugh, tugging his cap. "Why does that sound like something people say right before dying?"
"Are you always like this?"
"Like what?"
"So… down."
"Everybody needs a talent. That's mine."
She ignored it. Jin adjusted his cap and followed.
The ground sloped. The woods tightened, light slanting in. A rock line rose like exposed bone. Vika pointed. "Don't step on the crest. Ice won't hold. Drop into the shade, climb back up ahead."
"And you swear you've never been here."
"Different camps, almost identical drills. If you'd studied this camp's topography, you'd know where to step."
"Maps don't show when someone drops."
"They show where it's likeliest."
"Wow. Super comforting," Jin grumbled.
Vika didn't answer. She just kept going. Jin trailed, testing each foothold with his boot tip. Cold bit in layers, and the wind carried the metallic smell of snow soaking hidden iron.
The bracelet buzzed. Signal interference flashed red, then cleared.
"Yeah, looks like luck's off the table," Vika said.
"We were doing so well," Jin forced a smile.
"Let's just not trip over each other. Relax. Or are you scared?"
"Not scared," he said. "I just don't wanna die in a stupid way."
"Mm. Solid choice."
They moved on. Camp sounds fell behind, swallowed by trees. The others' tracks faded one by one. Now there were just two points in the white, heading where the arrow said—and still it felt like the world had tilted one degree the wrong way.
Jin searched for some joke, but the wind stole the punchline. He glanced sideways at Vika. Snow crystals clung to her lashes, shining.
"What?" she caught it without breaking stride. "Why're you staring?"
"Just checking you're not freezing," he said with half a smile.
Vika narrowed her eyes. "And you think you look any better?"
She didn't wait for an answer. He looked forward again, face neutral, like the talk never happened.
The woods opened into a corridor of dark stone ahead. The wind made a high sound there, like metal scraping metal. Jin and Vika hunched their shoulders at the same time, a shared reflex neither commented on. The arrow insisted on the same heading.
They pushed into the corridor, and the snow felt denser there, like dust from a ceiling about to cave. The forest stretched in lines that never ended. Tall trunks, white-laden, branches too heavy to sway. Snow packed around their boots, and with every step the cold seeped deeper under their clothes.
The bracelet blinked once a minute, like reminding them north was always north. An invisible north, smothered by wind.
"You step wrong," Vika said, still not looking.
"How do you step wrong on snow?"
"Heel first digs a hole. If you have to run, you'll sink."
"Anyone ever tell you you're extremely controlling?"
"I'm telling you that if something happens, you'll get stuck and we'll have a problem."
He crooked a smile and adjusted his pack. "We'll? Or I will. You seem like the type who never leaves anyone behind, huh? Maybe that's what'll make you fall."
Vika didn't answer, but her pace quickened. Her posture shifted, like a heavy weight had landed across her back. Jin followed, eyes cool, measuring the distance between them—always the same.
The wind sharpened, flinging bigger flakes into their faces. Jin lifted his arm to shield his eyes.
Ahead, Kael and Rell were gone. 12-B had scattered through the forest, each pair disappearing into its own trail. The white swallowed footprints in minutes, like nothing had passed there.
Jin kicked a fallen trunk and swore under his breath. "Wonderful."
"You always talk just to hear yourself?" Vika asked.
"No. I just like the sound of my own voice."
"That explains a lot."
She leaned in to check the bracelet. The map jittered, the arrow wobbling. "We're near a sector boundary. Natural interference."
"Translation: we're lost."
"No," Vika set her gaze. "Lost is having no direction. We have one."
"Oh sure. The arrow blinking like a drunk bug is a great direction."
She breathed deep, ignored it, and kept going—measured steps, chin up into the wind.
The cold started to really bite. Jin's hands throbbed inside his gloves, and every breath felt like a cut under his ribs. He looked at Vika again. This time she didn't notice.
They trudged on, snow deepening with each bend. The GPS chirped weakly, warning of signal drop.
The wind brought a different sound. Not a tree. Not ice falling. A low, metallic drag.
Vika stopped. "You hear that?"
Jin turned, squinting. "If it's Rell trying to sing again, I'm done."
Another crack. Heavier. Iron on iron.
Left side.
Vika's breathing dropped a note. "That's not wind."
It came again, closer. A metal snap, then a deep thud. Snow sloughed off branches in slabs.
Jin grabbed Vika's arm before he even thought. "Stop."
She didn't pull away. They went still, breathing as little as possible. The wind howled, but another rhythm thumped beneath it: heavy, deliberate. Like the forest had learned to walk.
Between the trees, a shadow appeared. First the angular head, then broad shoulders, joints sparking. The metal body threw cold flashes of white back at them. Two and a half meters tall, the central core pulsing in uneven cycles.
Vika held her breath. "No way."
Jin didn't look away. "An Ares. I'd only seen it on feeds. Live is… less fun."
The machine rotated its torso slowly. Red sensors swept the snow, blinking until they fixed on two human heat signatures. The core sped up.
"It marked us," Vika said, already backing off.
The first step punched the snow down half a meter. The second made the ground vibrate. A retractable blade slid from its right arm, metal gleaming cold.
"Run," she ordered.
Jin was already pulling air in when the machine lunged. The strike came down, shearing a full tree like paper. The fall nearly clipped Jin. The impact made the snow shiver underfoot.
"Crap!" He spat a thin ribbon of blood into the white.
The Ares pivoted toward him, blade raised.
"Hey!" Vika shouted, sprinting at a diagonal. She snatched a rock the size of her palm and whipped it at the side sensor. It didn't break, but the bot hesitated for a heartbeat, turning its torso to reassess.
Jin staggered up, gasping. He yanked a half-buried metal bar from the snow—leftover from some old drill or wreck. The weight was awkward, but better than nothing.
"Come on, big guy," he said, bracing it like a spear.
The Ares slashed. Jin slipped past by inches, feeling the cold rush of the cut. He slammed the bar against the leg. The shock rang up his arm, almost tearing the grip from his hand.
"That's not taking it down!" he grit, face twisted.
"It will if it stalls for a second," Vika shot back.
She ran in circles, eyes hunting weak points. The core was shielded, but the leg movement screeched out of sync. Unstable power.
"It's off balance!" she panted. "There's a drop behind it—if we push, it'll go over!"
"Oh, great plan. Tip a two-ton bot off a cliff with our good intentions."
"You think holding bars trained us for this? Either we throw it, or we die!"
The Ares swung again. The blade tore through a thick trunk. The crash nearly caught Jin. The impact rattled the snow.
"Distract it!" Vika yelled.
Jin zigzagged, every step burning in his ribs. The Ares tracked him, sensors locked. It opened a lane.
Vika dove to the side, grabbed the fallen bar, jammed it between the joints of the rear leg, and shoved with everything she had.
The Ares stalled, core flickering.
"Now!" Jin barked.
He struck again with his own bar. The machine stumbled, ground sloping toward the cliff that began a few meters ahead.
Vika shoved once more—but the motion threw her off. Ice under her boots gave way.
She slid with the machine's weight.
"Vika!" Jin hurled himself forward.
His hand caught her wrist at the last instant. The Ares toppled into the void, metal thunder rolling into nothing. The air that rose from below was razor-cold, almost solid.
Jin's arm burned. His ribs screamed. He held anyway. He felt her fingers shaking.
"Please… I don't wanna die!" Vika's voice broke, eyes full of tears mixed with snow.
For a heartbeat, he saw just a girl—scared, small. And something old in him reacted.
"Hold," his voice came out flat, but every muscle said otherwise.
Centimeter by centimeter, he hauled until she rolled back onto the lip. Vika collapsed onto her side, panting, hair plastered to her face. Jin fell on his back beside her, chest heaving in tight spasms.
For a while, they just lay there, the wind covering everything else.
Vika turned her face, lips trembling. "I…" She swallowed. "I don't wanna die."
"You won't." His voice came firm, almost harsh. "Not here. Not while I'm still chained to you."
She forced the sob down, closed her eyes, breathed deep.
Jin stared up at the white sky for a few seconds. The wind slapped his face, too cold for any feeling to last.
"Next time, yell before you fall," he said, low, like talking just to cut the silence.
She let out a shaky laugh. He didn't.
The bracelet blinked red: ROUTE LOST.
They were off the path.