As dawn painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, a soft mist clung to the quiet county town, shrouding it in an ethereal embrace.

Outside the city gates, a line of peculiar carriages were lined up on the familiar dirt road.

These were carriages, alright, but unlike any I'd ever seen. Their frames and tops were adorned with sleek solar panels, glistening like scales in the early morning light. Two massive wheels, almost comically oversized, hinting at a speed and power that defied conventional expectations. A low, rhythmic hum emanated from their undercarriages—a subtle reminder of the remnant technology powering these vehicles.

The horses harnessed to them were magnificent creatures, their powerful muscles rippling beneath glossy black coats. They stood half a head taller than their ordinary counterparts, their long, graceful limbs promising swiftness and endurance. But it was their eyes that both captivated and unnerved—framed by patches of dark red fur, their vertical pupils reminiscent of a predator's gaze.

One of the horses raised its head, snorting loudly. The sound sent a shiver down Michael Wright's spine. He clutched his luggage tightly, instinctively seeking refuge behind a H.A.R.M. uniform. "Did you see its eyes?" he whispered. "They're like... like leopards."

The electrician approached, gently patting the horse's neck. He smiled and said, "This is a bloodsteed—half vampire. It runs swiftly and steadily, even through the darkest night. With these Solar Nomads," he gestured towards the carriages, "we'll reach Seattle in just two days."

"Half vampire?" I raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"A creation of the Sanguine Institute," the electrician replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. "The very institute that brought apocalypse to the world. Did you think they were toying with vampire blood for amusement? Their experiments yielded remarkable results—until they attempted to breed vampire and human intelligence into these beasts."

He paused, his gaze lingering on the bloodsteeds. "These creatures, however, are different. They've been carefully bred and trained over generations. There's no danger of them turning on us."

After calming the bloodsteed, the electrician returned to Ethan Atzmon's side and spoke softly, "From what I've observed, his skills are a bit of a hodgepodge. He's dabbled in body-tempering martial arts, something similar to those from Kongo Shintai, and he's got some rudimentary swordsmanship. The officers noted a distinct demonic aura surrounding his sword strikes."

He paused, recalling the encounter from two days prior. "I noticed his footwork was unusually light and agile. He's mastered the basics of Cobra's Coil, but with a unique twist."

Atzmon's brow furrowed. "Hmm… too scattered," he mused, his voice a low growl. "Seems he's lacked proper guidance."

The electrician nodded in agreement. "Body-tempering, demonic swordplay, and now H.A.R.M.'s movement techniques... It's a mess. One solid strike from me, and he'd be on the ground."

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The perils of a fragmented martial arts education were widely recognized. While dabbling in an assortment of skills might seem to offer versatility, it ultimately impeded true mastery. Time, after all, is finite.

"His talent should be on par with yours," the electrician remarked. "And he's roughly the same age as you, yet his realm lags behind. This lack of focus has clearly held him back."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Atzmon commented, his tone carefully neutral. Kane's eclectic training suggested a lack of established connections, a clean background.

"And besides," Atzmon added calmly, his gaze fixed on Kane's approaching figure, "we're not the same age. I'm a year and six months younger. Moreover, I had already reached the Wave Realm two years ago. Had I been the one at his door the other day, he wouldn't have lasted a second.”

Noticing Atzmon's poorly concealed emotions beneath his feigned indifference, the electrician raised an eyebrow. "Had Colonel Hightower been the one who answered the door," he remarked dryly, "you wouldn't have lasted a second either. The apprenticeship isn't a sure thing—why the jealousy?"

Ethan Atzmon twitched his lips, snorted coldly, and turned around to mount his horse.

… …

Dave Gray, the plumber, stretched and yawned, oblivious to the friendly banter among his colleagues. The trio—all from Seattle with unblemished backgrounds—had joined H.A.R.M. at the same time. Ethan, their leader, despite his clear talent and rapid ascent through the ranks, never lorded it over his comrades. Their easy camaraderie and good-natured ribbing were a constant.

Dave rubbed his neck as he approached the waiting group. "Alright, folks," he announced, "family members are in the carriages at the front."

Wade nodded and helped his sister, Jade Rivers, onto the designated carriage, noticing her slight nervousness.

"Um..." Dave Gray turned to the imposing figure of Butcher Garcia, surprise evident in his voice. "You're... family?" he sputtered, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Forget the carriage, big guy—you're riding a horse."

Garcia joined the agents and recruits as they all mounted their bloodsteeds. Ethan Atzmon took the lead, his mount setting the pace for the others to follow.

"Seattle awaits," Dave Gray called out, his voice a blend of encouragement and playful challenge. "Train hard, Wade. You've got potential. Who knows? One day you might earn a star on your sleeve."

"Yes, sir," Wade replied with a respectful nod.

Gray turned his attention to me, his demeanor shifting subtly. "Let's cut to the chase, Kane," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Interested in joining our team? Ethan's got some impressive women under his command. You're single, right?"

I glanced around, noting only Ethan Atzmon and the electrician on horseback. "Where's everyone else?" I asked.

Dave sighed. "They're staying in Pinewood County, waiting for the Containment Division patrol to take over."

"Containment Division?" I asked, curiosity piqued.

Dave seemed reluctant until Ethan Atzmon nodded at him. Clearing his throat, he explained, "H.A.R.M.'s Cascadia branch comprises four divisions. Apart from the Training and Recruitment Division—where you're headed—there's also Purge, Containment, and Hunter Division."

"The Containment Division? Well... They mostly stick to Seattle, patrolling and drinking. They're good at keeping things secure, but it's mind-numbingly dull. They rarely leave the city."

His expression brightened. "Our Purge Division, though—now that's exciting. The admiral and Colonel Hightower both cut their teeth there. We enjoy more freedom, roam far and wide, really see the world... It's quite the adventure."

Wade, looking perplexed, whispered, "But if you're always out of the city, don't you run into a lot of vampires?"

Dave glared at him, opening and closing his mouth, speechless. Then, he turned back to me. "Sergeant Kane, getting into Purge wouldn't be hard for you. Just a word from Atzmon would do it. His family's loaded, they have pull... And like I said, the girls in our team are top-notch. Give it some thought."

Wade, left behind, couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. While he and his peers faced uncertain futures, Sergeant Kane was already being wooed by H.A.R.M. captains.