Soon, the city defense force's garrison emerged in the distance. Enclosed by a formidable barbed wire perimeter, this once bustling logistics hub had been repurposed into a dynamic refugee coordination center, replete with tents and improvised shelters. A steady procession of military and rescue vehicles bustled in and out, ferrying supplies and refugees.

Outside the garrison, teams of city defense soldiers and volunteers were actively engaged in settling refugees, directing vehicles, and ensuring order. Patrolling soldiers kept a vigilant eye on their surroundings, embodying a sense of urgency. Among the sea of tents, refugees meandered, their faces telling stories of exhaustion and deep-seated worry.

In this moment, Sky's thoughts sharpened as he recalled the trial task assigned by the enigmatic transmigration system. Although puzzled by the origins and nature of this mysterious trial, he recognized the imperative of completing it. Utilizing the memories embedded in his character, Sky, he swiftly located Alan Miller, the middle-aged man responsible for refugee allocation. Owing to past aid from Sky's father, Miller had a special regard for Sky.

Upon finding the overburdened Miller, Sky discreetly inquired, "Mr. Miller, could you shed light on the current situation? Are we expecting a surge of new refugees? Will my place be expected to accommodate more? We're already running low on water and food, and I'm anxious about managing in the days ahead."

Miller, wearing a look of grave concern, whispered, "Sky, the outlook is bleak. Satellite City No. 15 has succumbed, bringing a deluge of refugees to our doorsteps. We're stretched to our limits trying to house them, with resources running thin. Many of those who have taken refuge here are from Satellite City No. 16, which had fallen prey to bandits weeks ago. We've been shouldering the burden of those refugees, but with Satellite City No. 15's fall, the situation has become increasingly complex and strained."

Sky's voice conveyed his concern, "I hadn't anticipated Satellite City No. 15's fall to be so swift. Could there be bandit spies or mutants among the new arrivals?"

Miller sighed heavily, "That's a pressing concern. Right now, we're giving priority to those with verifiable identities, primarily the families of government and military personnel from Satellite City No. 15. The others are undergoing stringent screenings." He paused, then assured Sky, "Your building is already sheltering enough refugees. I won't be directing more there for now. If you're in need of supplies, you can count on me."

With a grateful nod, Sky watched as Miller resumed his pressing tasks. A fragment of a forgotten memory briefly resurfaced in Sky's mind.

Sky's mind wandered back to that pivotal, tension-filled moment with his nine fellow interns in the secluded training session at the city defense force's hospital. They were huddled in the gene research lab, intently listening to Dr. Helen Spencer, a distinguished researcher, as she delved into the nuances of gene enhancement potions.

Dr. Spencer, commanding the podium, radiated a mix of expertise and zeal: "Students, you've successfully undergone the fusion with the J-type gene potion. We're now advancing to the next stage—the utilization of the I-type gene enhancement potion, the first in the line of primary enhancement potions."

Adjusting the projection screen, she brought up the complex gene sequences and the potion's chemical blueprint.

"The J-type potion has boosted your physical functions, yet within a realm understandable by the average person. The I-type potion goes a step further, enhancing your physical attributes and unlocking your latent potential, giving rise to embryonic forms of unique supernatural abilities. However, remember, starting with the I-type, each gene enhancement potion injection represents a significant gamble with life. I-type, H-type, and G-type are classified as primary enhancement potions. A successful fusion with the I-type can yield a gene enhancement fusion rate of 30-50%."

The interns exchanged glances, their nervousness palpable as they braced for the upcoming challenges.

Dr. Spencer continued: "The H-type and G-type potions will escalate the fusion rates, but the stakes are just as high. A misstep could lead to immediate death or a transformation into monstrosities similar to those in the wastelands. Yet, a successful fusion heralds your readiness to become true Awakeners."

Sky clutched his notebook, his emotions a tangle of excitement and apprehension.

Dr. Spencer then broached the subject of intermediate and advanced gene potions: "Once your fusion rate with primary gene enhancement potions surpasses 90%, you'll face the most formidable challenge of your life. The F-type potion, marking the beginning of intermediate potions, is the key to transforming into a bona fide Awakener. Surviving its administration means awakening to wield immense supernatural powers, becoming a protector deity of the city-state. This stage is often equated with the initial step toward divinity. It's an ultimate gamble, where success brings an enormous leap in power, and failure means certain demise. Current statistics indicate a death probability exceeding 50%."

She paused, her gaze moving deliberately among the interns, ensuring they grasped the critical nature of this information.

"These potions can bestow upon the Awakeners powers that are almost revolutionary in nature. However, given the rarity of the necessary materials and the complexity of their production, our city-state can only produce a handful of such high-caliber potions every decade. Each usage must undergo rigorous scrutiny and consideration."

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"As for the S-level potion, it largely remains theoretical. In lab simulations and scientific extrapolations, the S-level potion is theorized to endow users with almost mythical abilities, like traversing dimensions, manipulating cosmic souls, or reshaping reality."

Her voice conveyed a complex mix of awe and curiosity: "But these remain theoretical and experimental. Due to the inherent risks and technical challenges, we've yet to transform the S-level potion from a theoretical concept into reality. Any questions?"

The interns looked at each other, each brimming with queries yet unsure where to begin. Breaking the silence, Sky inquired, "Doctor, if the fusion rate for a previous gene enhancement level hasn't reached over 90%, can we proceed with the next level potion?"

Dr. Spencer responded with a light chuckle: "You can, but based on the data we have, the mortality rate then skyrockets to over 90%."

As the memory faded, Sky shook his head and chuckled bitterly: "I must adapt to these frequent memory flashbacks, or I'll soon lose my sanity. For now, my priority is to head to the garrison hospital for today's check-up."

Deep within the gene laboratory on the third subterranean level of the city defense force's hospital, Sky sat up from a sophisticated full-body scanner, surrounded by Dr. Spencer and her team of assistants.

Dr. Spencer, with a gentle smile, asked, "Sky, how do you feel today? Noticed any abnormalities, or perhaps new sensations?"

Sky responded, shaking his head, "No significant changes yet, just a gradual improvement in my physical fitness each day."

Nodding, Dr. Spencer, observing the data on the scanner's screen, commented, "Your primary potion fusion rate has impressively reached 42% and continues to rise daily, which is exceptional. Interestingly, no pronounced supernatural abilities have emerged yet. But don't worry, it might indicate your abilities are uniquely special. We'll keep monitoring. Should your fusion rate plateau or reach 50%, I'll initiate the process for your H-type potion injection trial." She meticulously recorded Sky's physical data and also took some of his blood samples, passing them to her assistants.

"Sky, you might be sensing the intensifying situation in Satellite City No. 14, with the bandit coalition starting to converge on our location. It's likely we'll soon need to relocate this lab. You know, this isn't just a hospital department. Our work involves researching the mutants and altered humans from the wastelands, which is crucial for understanding gene potions and safely unlocking an Awakener's potential." Dr. Spencer glanced at Sky, "Your genetic fusion compatibility is outstanding. If you wish, I can facilitate your special personnel status for the relocation."

After a moment's hesitation, Sky asked, "Can my brother Raimondo come along?"

"That's not an option."

Sky shook his head, "Thank you for the offer, Doctor, but I've always lived in Satellite City No. 14 and am not ready to leave it just yet."

Dr. Spencer, understanding his decision, simply nodded, "Alright, that concludes today's check-up. Please come for daily assessments. Remember, this is now your paramount task. Don't be too focused on joining the combat missions of the city defense force. The research value of your physiology currently surpasses its combat utility."

Sky acknowledged her advice, saluted, and took his leave, though internally, he disagreed. The task assigned by the system was his top priority, and he was intent on completing the Aethercross World's novice trial mission swiftly.

As the elevator opened at the lobby, Sky was greeted by the chaotic scene within the hospital's main hall. Through the glass windows, he saw an armored troop carrier near the hospital entrance. A gene warrior, armored in alloy-covered battle gear, hurried into the lobby carrying a gravely injured soldier, followed by a group of injured comrades supporting one another. A doctor and two nurses quickly stepped forward, placing the severely injured soldier onto a mobile emergency bed and hooking him up to various medical devices. The doctor, looking tense, called out, "Hurry, get more help. The other wounded need immediate treatment, bring wheelchairs and take them to the emergency room!"

The robust gene warrior, forehead streaked with sweat and dust, appeared weary and anxious. While managing the incoming wounded, he urgently briefed the doctor, "We're the 5th Gene Warrior Combat Squad of the city defense force, ambushed by bandits. One critically injured and unconscious, seven temporarily incapacitated. We've all undergone enhancements beyond the H-type and need the specialized recovery potion for gene warriors immediately."

The doctor, acknowledging the captain's insignia on the warrior's shoulder, replied, "Understood, Captain. I'll promptly notify the gene laboratory for the recovery potion and arrange a specialized surgical unit."

In the frenzied heart of the city defense force's hospital, deep below the surface, Sky leaped into action amidst the chaos. With the eagerness of a warrior born, he approached, his voice cutting through the turmoil, "Is there anything I can lend my strength to?"

A nurse, her eyes briefly catching the badge of valor on Sky's preparatory class uniform amidst the frantic bustle, commanded, "Help us get those wounded warriors onto their chariots of healing."

Sky, ever the steadfast hero, responded with a firm, decisive nod. "Understood." With swift and sure movements, he stepped forth, aiding the healers in their noble task, a beacon of hope as he gently lifted a fallen comrade into a wheelchair.

Captain Max, a weary titan of the battlefield, caught sight of Sky's valorous deeds. His face, etched with the scars of countless battles, softened into a smile of gratitude, a rare moment of warmth in the cold face of war. "Thank you, young hero. May I inquire your name?" His voice, though weathered by the screams of battle, still carried the weight of command.

"Sky. Sky Rebel," came the reply, as steadfast as the stars themselves.

"A name as boundless as the heavens. I am Max, Max Russo. Let your mind etch my name alongside yours." Max's words were abruptly cut by the shrill cry of his communicator, an omen of further strife. His features darkened like a storm cloud as he listened, the news striking like a bolt of lightning. "Our ranks are thinned to five, ammo dwindling. What? Understood." With a whispered curse, a harbinger of the challenges to come, he turned, his presence commanding the room.

"Warriors, heed my call," Max's voice thundered, "an urgent mission beckons. Satellite City No. 15 cries out in pain, its convoy under siege. We must rise, replenish our arsenals, and bring salvation." His gaze swept across his diminished squad – two valiant men and a warrior woman, alongside the towering Hank, a giant among men.

Hank, his voice heavy with the burden of war, questioned the wisdom of their leaders, "Are they blind to our plight? Sending us, barely more than shadows of warriors, back into the fray? We cannot even muster a full battle formation."

"Hank, hold your tongue," Max's command silenced the air, "those refugees harbor minds crucial to our cause – the scholars of the gene research lab."

Hank's protest died in his throat.

In that moment, Sky felt destiny's call. He advanced, his salute as sharp as a sword's edge, "Captain Max, I stand ready to join your quest. My strength, though humble, is yours."

All eyes turned to the young warrior, Max's brow creasing in thought. "A student of the military arts, yet you stand among us?"

"Indeed, Captain. A student I may be, but my blood sings with the power of the I-type, a fusion rate of 42%," Sky declared, his gaze unflinching.

"Have you donned the mantle of alloyed armor?" Max probed.

"In the crucible of training, I have," Sky affirmed.

Max, weighing the fates, proclaimed, "So be it. Sky, you are chosen. Stand with us, the 5th Gene Warrior Squad, on this noble mission. To arms, we march!" Turning, he strode towards the waiting steel beast that would carry them to battle.

Sky's heart surged with purpose. "Yes, Captain!" he vowed, following the path of warriors to the armored chariot, ready to carve his destiny in the annals of time.