The week of leave had passed in a blur of packing and painful goodbyes. Xavier had held his mother for a long time, promising her that the 5th Garrison wasn't a death sentence, even though the news channels often called it exactly that. Now, standing on the tarmac of the Blood Hound headquarters, the reality of his choice was setting in.
The base was located in the desolate badlands of the Eurasian sector, a place where the sky was perpetually grey and the ground was scarred by decades of Gate wars. But as Commander Will Rogers led Xavier and Mikhail toward the main hangar, the grim exterior gave way to something unexpected.
The hangar doors groaned open, revealing a cavernous space that smelled of hydraulic fluid, ozone, and serious money.
"Whoa," Xavier breathed, his eyes widening behind his glasses.
It wasn't a scrap heap. It was a cathedral of war. High-tech diagnostic computers lined the walls, their screens cascading with green data streams. drones zipped through the air like hummingbirds, welding armor plates and running diagnostics. In the center of the room, illuminated by overhead floodlights, stood two towering machines.
They were Titans. Brand new. Their chassis gleamed with untouched silver plating, their joints covered in pristine polymesh. They looked like gods of steel, dormant and waiting for a heartbeat.
"Hey, wonder kids," Will Rogers grunted, pointing a callous finger at the metal giants. "Those are yours."
Xavier felt his heart stop. He looked at the sleek curves of the aerodynamic thrusters, the massive cannons mounted on the shoulders. "Woah... are you serious? We get those?"
He turned to the Commander, a smile splitting his face.
Will Rogers looked down at him, his expression stone cold. His eyes didn't even blink. The silence stretched for an agonizing ten seconds.
"I'm... I'm sorry, Commander," Xavier stammered, the smile sliding off his face. "I assumed..."
"Good," Rogers said, his face cracking into a terrifyingly dry smirk. "Because if I let a 4% and a nervous wreck pilot millions of dollars of hardware on day one, I'd be court-martialed. Those belong to the Lieutenants. Keep walking."
Xavier deflated, ears burning, while Mikhail stared at the floor, trying to make himself invisible.
They walked past the Titans toward a workstation where two men were waiting. One was leaning back in a swivel chair, spinning a digital stylus, while the other stood rigid, arms crossed, looking like he chewed rocks for breakfast.
"Wonder kids, meet your squad leaders," Rogers announced. "My 1st Lieutenant and Tech Chief, Trevor. And my 2nd in Command, the Field Specialist, Spector."
Trevor, a guy with messy brown hair and oil-stained fatigues, waved the stylus lazily. "Sup."
Spector, a man with a buzzcut and a physique that looked carved out of granite, just nodded
"Nice to meet you, boys," Trevor grinned. "And nice to meet you too, seniors." Mikhail added.
Xavier blinked. "Seniors?"
Trevor burst out laughing, spinning in his chair. "Relax, kid! No need for the 'senior' crap. I'm twenty. Spector is twenty-one. We're barely three years older than you. The 5th Garrison doesn't have many old timers. The turnover rate is... high."
Xavier swallowed hard.High turnover rate. Right.
"Enough chatter," Rogers barked. "Trevor, are they here?"
"Fresh off the printer, Boss." Trevor stood up, walked to a heavy workbench on the left, and retrieved a sleek, black polymer case. He set it down in front of the recruits and popped the latches.
Inside lay two innocuous items. One was a single, fingerless glove made of a red and black synthetic material. The other was a compact, silver backpack with blue trim.
"Here you go, boys," Trevor said, tossing the glove to Xavier and the bag to Mikhail. "Your Nanotech suits."
Xavier caught the glove. It felt warm to the touch, humming with a faint vibration.
"Back when you got drafted," Trevor explained, tapping a keyboard, "you filled out a preference form for your Exo-suit's 'Base Mode.' This allows you to carry your armor in civilian zones without looking like a tank. It's bonded to your biometrics."
Xavier looked at the glove. It was sleek, stylish, and unassuming. "Can we... try them?"
"Go ahead," Spector said, his voice deep and rough. "Don't hurt yourself."
Xavier slipped the glove onto his right hand. He clenched his fist and pressed the small, tactile sensor on the palm.
Schlick-hiss.
It was fluid. The red material expanded instantly, crawling up his arm like living liquid metal. It enveloped his chest, his legs, and finally his head. Plates of black hardened armor snapped into place over the red mesh. In seconds, he was encased in a lightweight, tactical Exo-suit. On the left breastplate, the bronze emblem of the Blood Hounds gleamed.
"Cool," Xavier whispered, his voice synthesized by the helmet.
Mikhail touched the strap of his backpack. Swish. The silver metal unfolded, wrapping around him in a protective shell of blue and chrome. It was bulkier than Xavier's, clearly designed for defense.
"Retract," Rogers ordered.
Xavier thought the command, and the suit dissolved back into the glove.
"Step onto the scanner," Trevor pointed to a circular pad. "We need to sync your neural link."
Xavier stepped up. A blue laser grid swept over him.
Ping.
[EXTERNAL SYSTEM DETECTED: ESDF NANOTECH NETWORK]
[INTEGRATION REQUESTED: ALLOW?]
"Yes," Xavier thought.
[SYNC COMPLETE]
[NEW TAB UNLOCKED: THE ARMORY]
Xavier's violet System menu expanded. Suddenly, a detailed schematic of his new suit appeared, rotating in 3D.
[ITEM: MK-IV NANOTECH SCOUT SUIT]
[DURABILITY: 100%]
[OUTPUT CAPACITY: 15%]
[MANA EFFICIENCY: E-RANK]
But it was the tab next to it that made his heart race.
[CUSTOMIZE & UPGRADE]
Use Shop Points (SP) to modify suit architecture, enhance mana-channels, or install black-market software.
"Whoa," Xavier whispered. The regular cadets had to wait for Trevor or a mechanic to upgrade their gear. Xavier could do it from his mind.
"You good, Reyes?" Trevor asked, noticing Xavier staring into space.
"Yeah," Xavier said quickly. "Just... calibrating."
They were dismissed to their quarters—a spartan room with bunk beds. As they unpacked, Xavier turned to Mikhail.
"Hey, Mik," Xavier asked casually. "When you check your status menu... do you see an option to upgrade your suit?"
Mikhail blinked, looking confused. "Upgrade? No. It just shows me the battery life and the integrity percentage. Why?"
"Nothing," Xavier smiled, hiding his excitement. "Just curious."
***
The alarm didn't sound. Instead, a heavy hand shook Xavier's bunk frame, rattling his teeth.
"Wake up, sleepyheads."
Xavier jolted awake, checking the holographic clock. 02:00 AM.
Spector stood in the doorway, fully dressed in combat fatigues. "Gear up. Five minutes."
"Five minutes?" Mikhail groaned, rubbing his eyes. "For what? Is it a drill?"
"Move," Spector commanded.
Ten minutes later, they were bouncing in the back of a heavy-duty, armored off-road SUV. Spector drove like a maniac, tearing across the cracked earth of the wasteland with only his night-vision headlights cutting through the pitch black.
The base was miles behind them. There was nothing out here but wind, rocks, and the oppressive feeling of mana radiation.
"Where are we going?" Xavier asked, gripping the handle above the door as the car hit a crater.
"There's a fractured Gate nearby," Spector said, his eyes glued to the road. "Sector 4. It's leaking. That means the Red Army is active tonight."
"The Red Army?" Mikhail squeaked.
"Monsters," Xavier clarified, recalling the intel he'd bought. "Local fauna mutated by Gate energy. They travel in packs."
"Exactly," Spector said. He slammed on the brakes, the SUV skidding to a halt in a cloud of dust. "We're here."
They were in the middle of nowhere. Jagged rock formations jutted out of the ground like skeletal fingers. The air tasted like copper.
"Wait," Xavier said, looking around. "Do we get our Titans? Is the transport bringing them?"
Spector laughed, a dark sound. "Titans? Kid, Titans are expensive. Fuel is expensive. You two? You're cheap."
He unlocked the doors.
"Normally, cadets train in simulators for a month. But the 5th doesn't have time for simulations. This is your initiation. If you can't survive a localized breach in your suits, you have no business piloting a fifty-ton war machine."
"Get out."
Xavier and Mikhail stumbled out of the vehicle. The wind howled.
Spector leaned out the window. "Follow the coordinates on your HUD. It's a 10-click hike back to the extraction point. Don't die."
He floored the gas. The SUV roared away, its tail lights vanishing into the darkness, leaving them alone in the silence.
Ping.
[QUEST REACTIVATED: THE INITIATION]
[OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE THE FIRST MISSION]
[REWARD: 100 STAT POINTS]
[SPECIAL REWARD: PERMANENT MANA OUTPUT BOOST (SMALL)]
Xavier stood in the dark, the wind whipping his hair. He felt the familiar thrill of the quest. "100 points," he whispered. "And a boost."
Mikhail was hyperventilating next to him. "We're going to die. We're going to die. I'm a 19%, but I can't fight monsters! I've never fought a monster!"
Xavier turned to him. "Wait. You're a 19%?"
"Mikhail," Xavier said, stepping closer. "If you're a 19%, you should have been in the 3rd or 4th Garrison. Why did you only get an offer from the Blood Hounds?"
Mikhail looked down, ashamed. "Because... because during the aptitude test, I froze. I didn't shoot. I hid. They said I had 'cowardice in my DNA.'"
A screech echoed from the rocks. A high-pitched, chittering sound that made the hair on Xavier's arms stand up.
"Well," Xavier said, touching the red glove on his hand. "Tonight, you don't get to hide. Suit up."
Mikhail swallowed, his hands shaking as he reached for the silver backpack. Swish. The blue armor encased him.
Xavier activated his own. The red and black armor locked into place, the HUD flaring to life with night-vision optics. He looked at the radar. Red dots were appearing. Dozens of them.
"Analysis," Xavier commanded.
[ENEMY TYPE: CRIMSON RIPPER]
[THREAT LEVEL: D-RANK]
[QUANTITY: 15+]
[WEAKNESS: NECK JOINTS]
"They're coming," Xavier said, his voice steady. He settled into the Kid Dynamite stance, his fists glowing with a faint trace of his 4% mana. "Stick close to me, Mik. And whatever you do... don't stop moving."
From the shadows of the rocks, pairs of glowing red eyes opened. The Red Army was hungry.