"Each patrol force has a total strength of roughly thirty thousand,"
Leit continued, sketching out a structural diagram.
"Ten battalions under its command, each at full strength numbering between two and three thousand."
The chalk squeaked across the blackboard.
"The First Battalion—three thousand strong—directly commanded by the Lord of the City. They are the fortress's core defenders, the hardest bone in the Iron Dragon."
"The Second Battalion—mobile reserves. An ace unit, always on standby to respond to sudden threats."
"The Third Battalion…"
Leit paused, a rare hint of emotion entering his voice.
"The Arcanist Corps, three thousand strong. They are stationed at the fortress's three Nex Accumulation Towers, responsible for maintaining barriers, providing long-range fire support, and transmitting intelligence. They are precious assets—and priority assassination targets for the alien races."
"The Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Eighth, and Ninth Battalions are the fangs that operate outside year-round. They handle raids, defense, sabotage…"
"The Seventh Battalion has always been the primary external force—an elite ace unit!"
Leit's voice lowered slightly.
"But in the last mission, it lost more than half its strength and is currently undergoing rest and replenishment. At present, most of its members are recruits like you."
Raine's heart stirred.
Aaron was the deputy captain of the Seventh Battalion.
Black Falcon was its instructor.
That meant Raine and Kyle's group would most likely be assigned to the Seventh Battalion in the end.
"The Tenth Battalion is… somewhat special,"
Leit said, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"They are an ability-user mercenary corps, over three thousand strong, composed of civilian awakeners. Their combat power is formidable, but discipline is loose. Under normal circumstances, they only act if paid."
"Below the battalion level are four companies, each with five hundred men."
Leit continued refining the structure.
"Below companies are ten squads, each with fifty men. And beneath that is the most basic combat unit—five-man teams."
"In the future, you will fight in such a unit, back to back, entrusting your lives to one another."
He set the chalk down and clapped the dust from his hands.
"Now tell me—who are you?"
Silence filled the hall.
Leit let out a cold laugh, his finger sweeping across the young faces below.
"Right now, you are nothing but numbers. A line of ink in the training camp roster. Survive three months, pass the evaluations, and you'll earn the right to report your name, receive a Formal ID plate and military pay."
"If you don't survive—"
He paused, his voice turning icy.
"The mass graves will gain another nameless corpse. If you still have family, they'll receive a bronze martyr's medal and thirty jin of black rye. That is your value."
The lecture hall fell deathly silent.
Suddenly, a voice roared from the back rows.
"So what?!"
A scar-faced young man stood up, eyes bloodshot.
"My father and mother were both killed by alien races! My village—one hundred and thirty-seven people—only I escaped! I didn't come here for military pay—I came for revenge!"
"Even if I can only tear a chunk of flesh off those monsters, my life is worth it!"
"Yeah!"
Another recruit stood, his voice hoarse.
"My older brother was a Shieldguard! He died at a breach in the Great Wall three years ago—couldn't even recover all of his body! This life of mine was picked up by my old man; it should've ended long ago!"
"Kill those bastards!"
"Blood debt must be repaid with blood—"
The shouts erupted like a tidal wave.
Young faces twisted with rage, eyes burning with hatred.
Kyle and the others' chests heaved violently, clearly just as affected.
Raine sat in silence.
He understood that hatred completely.
In this world, any human family could be torn apart by alien races. Every inch of land was soaked in blood and tears.
This hatred was what kept them standing here, weapons in hand.
He, too, wanted to live—to control his own fate.
And the war before him was the purgatory he had to cross.
Leit did not stop the recruits' shouting.
He waited calmly until the roar gradually subsided, then spoke slowly.
"Remember this hatred. Fuse it into your flesh and blood."
"Because on the front lines, fear will erode your will, exhaustion will drag down your body, despair will corrode your soul—only hatred is the most enduring fuel."
Leit walked down from the podium, passed through the silent crowd, and stopped at the doorway.
"That concludes today's lesson. Evening training continues. Dismissed."
The recruits filed out of the hall one after another, the atmosphere heavy.
Raine and his group walked at the very end, lifting their heads toward the sky.
At dusk, the horizon was stained red like blood.
And above that crimson glow, a vague, dark-red outline was slowly becoming clearer.
It was the sign of an alien invasion.
And in recent days, its color seemed deeper, its outline more solid.
"You noticed it too?"
Raine turned his head. Kyle was standing beside him, also gazing at the sky.
"Yeah," Raine nodded.
"The Crimson Moon is getting darker. That's not a good sign."
"Alien activity intensifies with the Crimson Moon's cycle,"
Kyle said quietly.
"The deeper the color, the more stable the rifts—and the more active those things become."
The two stood in silence, staring upward.
…
In the distance, at the center of the fortress, the three Nex Accumulation Towers.
The crystals at their peaks were flashing at an urgent frequency, like the transmission of some silent message.
On the city walls, the number of patrolling soldiers had visibly increased. The bells signaling the changing of the guard rang half an hour earlier than usual.
By the edge of the training ground, Black Falcon stood with arms crossed, overseeing the recruits' evening drills.
From time to time, his gaze swept toward the horizon, his brow tightly furrowed.
Then, suddenly, three sharp, urgent bells rang out from the heart of the fortress.
Clang!
Clang! Clang!
The sound echoed through every corner of Iron Dragon Fortress—this training camp included.
All the recruits froze, looking up in confusion.
The expressions of Black Falcon and the other instructors changed instantly.
"All units—attention!"
His roar exploded like thunder, and the recruits snapped to attention on instinct.
"Training halted! Assemble on the field by squads! Move!"
No one dared ask questions.
More than a thousand recruits rushed to the field, forming square formations.
Raine and the others exchanged uneasy glances.
The bells kept ringing—each peal more urgent than the last.
All across the fortress, waves of black and silver figures were in motion.
Officers in uniforms of every color converged toward the central command hall.
The air was taut with tension.
"Something's happened,"
Kyle muttered, his hand unconsciously resting on the hilt of his training blade.
"Something big,"
Gore licked his cracked lips, excitement flashing in his eyes.
"I can smell blood."
What followed was a long, agonizing wait.
A light rain began to fall, cold droplets striking the recruits' faces, but no one moved.
From the direction of the command hall, faint sounds of fierce argument could be heard…
An hour later, the rain stopped, and night fully fell.
Torches were lit one by one along the walls.
At last—the doors of the command hall opened.
A group of officers filed out in grim silence, faces dark as storm clouds.