The National High School Ranking’s Standard Rankings was a list of students who failed to get a passing score. The minimum requirement was always known. That was the problem. It was unknown this time. Even the graders weren’t aware of anything. Unexpectedly, the whole affair was arranged by the military. Very few had the connections to find out why. The rest wallowed in misery and despair.
Since it was a decision approved by the government, there was only reluctant acceptance, a metallic cube delivered in the mail. No catchy letterhead in a secure envelope. No extravagant ceremony. No virtual meet and greet. The military seemed quite simple.
The GodFiends had a contact in the military, so Sikhail Goldhaven ended up learning more than required. A 3x3x3 cube, measured in cubic square inches. A touchscreen to scan your finger. An embedded chip to process and confirm your identity. A holographic message appeared once the requirements were met.
The message itself had various administrative codes. They controlled access to the facility, called a Military Zone, part of a larger Military Congregation. There was also a public visiting area, mainly for foreign nationals. It was the best way to advertise prestige and intimidation.
They would be Cadets, unofficial military soldiers. There were expectations to follow, classes to take, important buildings and services, and more. The end of the message was worded weirdly. Most people might wait 30 minutes arbitrarily. Some could be curious. A few might have a nagging feeling. A video would eventually play.
The speaker was a general reflecting on his younger days, lamenting about the things he wanted to do, but couldn’t. Ultimately, he explained how to pass the hidden exam, praising viewers for their formidable discipline and methods.
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Monday brought along with it several different moods. The heavy reality of a military convoy. A belief that a strong performance leads to greater control over one’s fate. Who didn’t want to continue studying or enter a prestigious university? Confusion in the previous military arrangement with volunteers. Rock-bottom trust for a fair and just system. Would anything change?
Sikhail GodFiend was woken up by his parents, more cheerful than most. Breakfast, luggage, advice, and then out the door. A fleet of tanks, as tall as a 2-story building, as long as 3 buildings back to back, greeted him. A carved metal dragon faced the sky. Its mouth opened with a tongue reaching into space. A guardian against unknown threats. A symbol of peace, prosperity, and the authority that protected it.
*Beep*
He scanned the tanks, read the information, and got into one. He saw the mass disorder and had the urge to advise, but he couldn’t afford to because it would defeat the purpose. Questions were flying everywhere, people had mixed results attempting to imitate others, and brute force was counteracted with brute force.
The driver nodded selectively. A kid had rushed in just after him, panicking, but was pushed out mercilessly and effortlessly. There was clearly an understanding of who was allowed or not, as well as the authority to enforce the situation. He stepped into the elevator behind the driver, his destination further up. When it opened again, he found himself in a spacious study with three other occupants. A male and two females. They glanced at him before looking away.
“Intellectual discussions are more favorable than pointless comments. I’m Mike Buttercups,” the boy said
The two girls only nodded, introducing themselves as *Persephone Demifiend* and *Lily Lightning*.
They discussed themselves and their ambitions as the tanks followed predetermined routes. Twelve Cadets were dropped off at different positions around each Military Zone, chosen randomly from the participants inside.
Military Zones were grinding zones intended to toughen up new recruits. Everything aside from death was fair game. Aches, sores, hell, brutality, and ruthlessness were all permitted.
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Two huge signs, *Military Zone 125* and *Reminder: Check-in* welcomed everyone. Sikhail GodFiend looked at his group. Twelve different school badges. They all looked at one another, nodding before the first one signed in. Four more, including himself, did the same thing.
The seven who remained panicked. Seven youngsters took out their cubes, trying to replicate the five who left. Two chanced upon a solution as three sank into despair. Thrown into a helpless situation, they followed the two that left. They would accept the punishment but needed to know where to go first.
“There may be additional instructions unique to the individual. For example, I saw a new line appear because I was too slow when scanning. That’s all I can say,” a student said after noticing his stalkers.
They shook their head after confirming that they were now alone. It was a red herring that they were instructed about. A series of complicated messages from an unknown source. The reality of the situation set it, so they could only trust their best. Each reminder, each answer, was a penalty. Insubordination was a quadruple penalty. The group was lucky; the others were dogged by infighting and psychological manipulation.
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Each Military Zone had a specific uniform look. Tall buildings stretched into the horizon. Electronic panels covered nearly every square inch, advertising services, business hours, and important messages.
Sikhail GodFiend’s first step into the compound was met by a domineering aura. It pressed down on him, sapping his strength. He dropped to the ground as his legs gave way. A pair of eyes seemingly stared into his soul, weighing on him like a thick, heavy brick. For a long time, he wasn’t able to breathe. Despair trickled in; soon after that, he wanted to give up.
He struggled, coped, and recalled specific memories. Convincing his parents to buy him a premium RPG. The grind. His first legendary. The first major boss he encountered. Rows and rows of enhanced buffs. He was reminded of how helpless he felt back then. A similar situation. One damage. Skip turn for two rounds. Immune to status effects. One shot despite having good equipment. He recalled the guides that popped up within the hour, meticulously dissecting these fearsome foes.
Bosses were just mobs with increased stats. The buffs they had were reworked from the main pool. There were unique mechanics to provide an identity to the fight. They had synergies that worked well together, complementing a single target instead of RNG throwing random ones on anything in range. The first thing to do was just breathe and relax. After that, everything could be broken down and countered.
As he internalized these principles, a smile appeared on his lips as the pressure gradually faded. As he gained more and more confidence, he looked up and stared fearlessly, lifting himself up. What started as a crawl transitioned into a stride as he picked up speed.
Some were not affected, passing by him earlier. Many pushed through like him. Others struggled, unable to take a step forward. They wanted to retreat but were stopped by a firm hand. With sullen expressions and cries of horror, they could only wade through the bog.
He stepped into the Administration Office, ignoring the looks of contempt as he refueled after a long journey. The military valued discipline and camaraderie, not postured fools. He stockpiled his bag before getting in line.
Near the front, the registration process became rather obvious. First, the metallic cube was scanned, beginning the process of full-body transformation. Pitch black. Polished. Thin, flexible nanofiber plates layered over each other. When he stepped up, a staff member took his cube, configuring it before placing it in a dedicated machine. Next, he put his arm into the same machine.
The nano transformation was incredibly smooth and fluid, almost like a pair of silk pajamas wrapped around his body. It seemed to possess life and intelligence. A very clever illusion. This was the Artificially Intelligent Hyper Soldier, a battle-suit. With a simple wrist movement, an encyclopedia of knowledge could be accessed. The onboard sensors were used to highlight contextually relevant information.
The staff member also offered an alternative explanation of the battle-suit as part of standard operating procedures.
He stepped off to the side to wait for the official tour. Classes, shops, and events were the most important things to remember. There was free time after, until dinner, followed by a countdown, then lights off. A buffet-style dining area was more luxurious than expected. Higher-end luxuries could only be earned with credits from official assignments, meritorious deeds, and recognition of excellence.
After lunch, he took an extended tour, exploring lesser-known and more remote areas. Having knowledge of the layout of the base was crucial. He even took risks with questionable detours. He eventually wound up in a corridor with many branching paths. Realizing that he was lost, he pulled up his map. A blinking dot was accompanied by a vast expanse of nothingness. Everything besides him was gone. He was diagnosing the issue when an invisible force pulled on his mind, influencing him in a particular direction.
He struggled against it, but it only pulled harder. He stumbled through many corridors, up and down stairs, long passageways, and secret entrances. When the force dispersed, he found himself in an underground lab.