The instructors were the first to leave the ship. They ignored the wind’s currents, paid no mind to the stones slamming against their armors, and spread out in a wide circle, disappearing within the darkness of the sandstorm like ghosts. When Ratcatcher and the others rushed down the landing ramp, even the footprints of these men and women disappeared, washed away by the wind.

And when the trainees stepped through the portal, they had entered the pure stormfront. Utter darkness—there could be no better word for what had surrounded them. The light from the projectors struggled to break free; countless swirling particles in the air mercilessly choked the life out of it. The pleasant silence of the compartment had been torn asunder, replaced by the sandstorm’s roaring cacophony. Stones breaking against the power armor, metallic friction as the currents of sand licked the steel shells of the power armor, the howling of the wind itself—Ratcatcher grinned wildly at this change, eagerly welcoming the challenge.

The Iternian soldiers had taken up their positions, forming a series of patrols around the training area. The Reclaimers stood beside the Titans, slowly becoming statues as the sand reached their legs. Only the crimson lenses of the soldiers’ helmets burned like faint stars in this sea of darkness.

Ratcatcher took a few steps, adjusting herself to the unsteady surface. Aided by the hydraulics and servomotors of her armor and shielded by the thick armor plates, her body has completely ignored the hell reigning around it, and the girl has focused on what was more important. She turned to Elina and stood at attention, ready to carry out her orders.

Some groups had already disappeared into the darkness. Rowen, Esmeralda, and Edward had climbed onto Jumail, and the Malformed simply galloped through the sandstorm, paying it no more mind than he would an ordinary rain. When streaks of lightning burst out of the darkness, playfully dancing across the armor, Ratcatcher became worried about Jumail. She had read about them and how they could leave burns on a normal human’s body.

But after pushing the oculars of her helmet to their limits, she witnessed firsthand how contemptuously easily the boy ignored these discharges. Jumail wasn’t normal. Small bolts of lightning harmlessly died amidst his hair and the sand and storm around the group shifted, flowing over a small cocoon of safety created by Rowen’s telekinetic gift.

“Should we move out?” Carlos voiced Ratcatcher’s thoughts.

“Yeah, they are getting ahead!” She nodded eagerly.

“In due time,” Elina replied. “Vasily. Launch the full scan!”

Vasily stepped forward and extended his hand toward the direction of the complex. Their HUDs had already downloaded the map of the surrounding area, marking all the small hills and clefts along the way. But these maps belonged to a calm day and were hardly accurate during the rapid changes brought by the sandstorm.

The scanner worked by unleashing a barely detectable burst of energy, which checked the area for up to two kilometers ahead before ‘bouncing’ back and returning to the gauntlet. It served as a passable mean to create a map, although as Ratcatcher had learned in her previous exercises the scanner would often miss some pitfalls or crevices. But the one impeccable quality of this device was its ability to detect traces of energy and relay their locations back.

The teen’s gauntlet gave a warning sound, immediately filling the group’s map with markers of danger. Something mechanical and, more importantly, still working was a good kilometer ahead. The scanner kept on working, locating the IDs of a few instructors and the smaller and more compact engines of the…

“Minefield!” Ratcatcher yelled, opening communication with the others. She felt Elina’s hand on her shoulder and shrugged it off. “We have to warn everyone…”

“Of course we must,” Elina agreed. “But not with our communications partially jammed by the sandstorm. Carlos! Get Rowen’s team to stop! Eliza, Vasily, gather everyone else! And follow my lead, dammit,” Elina added to her on a secure channel. “I’m not trying to put anyone down.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Ratcatcher saluted, jumping to all fours.

In the Ravaged Lands regular mines served little use. All too often they were uprooted by a passing sandstorm, activated by a curious insectoid, or by the tremors of a sand reaper. This led to the introduction of more high-tech pieces of destruction, mines, which could detect the working engine of a battleplate or a vehicle and then leap out of the sand, exploding armor-piercing shrapnel right into your face. Or spilling acid everywhere. Whatever works.

The ground had threatened to swallow her limbs whole, but Ratcatcher had bridged the distance with ease, ripping her arms and legs free before she could be buried. Several other groups had also noticed the mines and were now trying to contact them. Those she sent straight to Elina, joining a few boys in her messenger duty. Another group had received an update from the leader and was already hurrying back. Two other groups had pushed way forward, and she had to plead with them to trust her. But eventually all the trainees returned to a single group, abandoning the individual approaches.

“Stop rushing ahead like idiots!” Elina snapped at Rowen. “You can’t just brute force through everything!”

“Yeah, my bad, ma’am!” He saluted her and approached the supposed minefield. “No trouble. Ladies first.”

Elina clapped her hands together, unleashing a loud sonic boom that pushed the storm around her back for a few moments. The recoil of her shot carried the teenager’s body backward, tracing lines with her heavy armored boots. Ratcatcher and Vasily caught their leader before she could ungracefully fall on her ass.

The shockwave released by her hands skewered the sand ahead, creating a path four meters deep and detonating several dozen mines. Yellow paint shot in all directions, immediately being carried away by the storm. A flame appeared between the palms of the silver-haired trainee from another group. It became a small orb of plasma, growing in intensity and size as the boy spread his arms wider and wider. Finally, after forming a human-sized ball, the trainee let go.

It flew forward in a stream of destruction, licking its way through the minefield. The mines didn’t even have time to explode; they were momentarily evaporated along with the paint. The edges of a newly formed tunnel became sand, quickly crumbling under the fury of the wind.

Rowen raised his hand and made a quick slap gesture. A perfect footprint of a human hand has appeared on the sand, bulging the ground deeper and deeper and damaging the mines enough to set off a chain reaction and explode them all at once. Not content with clearing just one patch of land, Rowen pressed his fists together and spread them wide, unleashing his telekinetic power and widening the already impressive gap in the minefield. He wanted to keep going, but Esmeralda patted him on the back and the boy stopped, breathing heavily.

“And that’s how the cookie crumbles,” Rowen laughed, and Jumail sent him to the ground with a tap. “Hey! What was that for?!”

“Because you pointlessly exercise yourself, man,” Vasily grinned, helping Elina stand up. “We have a long way ahead of us; do you think it is the only nasty shit in our way? And your ass will be a hindrance for your team if you drop from exhaustion like a sack of shit…”

“Fo…ur… Da…ys,” Augustus’ voice said over the comm.

“Apologies, sir!” Vasily straightened up. “Geez, weren’t we supposed to be free of this MOST HONORABLE TEACHER IN THE WORLD out here at least?”

“ You’re just keep digging your own grave at this point, Vas.” Carlos slapped him across the shoulder.

“A werewolf!” The silver-haired trainee shouted, jumping to stand in front of his team. Three energy balls rose above his shoulders as he pointed at a dune hill’s crest ahead. “There!”

Ratcatcher followed his gaze and saw only swirling sand above the place. If there were any traces of a being standing there, they had already been swept away. But she could swear that someone was watching them, observing the group not with predatory hunger, but rather with mundane curiosity. In a sense, that feeling reminded her of the Other. She tried to take a step forward, only to have Elina take her hand.

“Werewolves do not exist,” the group leader declared.

“I swear I saw it! Crimson eyes, fangs, and… a backpack…” the boy stuttered.

I really should learn his name. No, in fact, everyone’s names. Ratcatcher decided. It’s just rude to call him by his hair color. Both this kid and Rowen had similar hair colors, hinting that they could have come from the sanctuary cities in the irradiated west. Hidden behind air purifiers, force fields, and several protective perimeters, the people in these regions shared a common characteristic. Silver, almost white hair, and pale skin. Of course, she could be generalizing yet again. After the mission is over, she will meet up with everyone and introduce herself, shyness be damned.

“Oh sure, I am the literal spider, but werewolves are where ya draw the line?” Jumail laughed, supporting the trainee, his voice barely audible over the storm. “There are plenty of Malformed in the Ravaged Lands. Some fur and fangs? Ain’t nothing special.”

“No, she meant it must be a Wolfkin!” Ratcatcher looked at Elina, and the leader nodded. “From the Wolf Tribe! The shock troopers of the Reclamation Army! Lady or mister, we are not biting! You can come closer and say hi!” She waved her hand.

The feeling of being observed didn’t disappear, but the wind carried a loud snort toward the group from behind the storm’s wall before whoever it was began to gain distance and move away from the group.

“Move into one unit, everyone!” Elina ordered.

Following her orders, the group gathered. Ratcatcher, Jumail, and a few other trainers best suited to traverse the rough terrain were sent out to serve as scouts. Vasily and the trainees with scanners or drones served as the group’s eyes. And Carlos rushed back and forth, relaying the orders and sending the information back to Elina.

With the trainees fully focused on the task at hand, the eagerness to show off and outdo each other disappeared. In its place came a slight nervousness at falling behind or messing up, but along with it came a surge of adrenaline and a new desire to see the group succeed. Twice more, they encountered small minefields, and the plasma-wielding trainee cleared a path through both.

A kilometer ahead, the group encountered a small dot armed with an automated weapon. Ratcatcher called Edward, and the boy confirmed that there was no living being within the structure. By darting across the sand, she distracted the weapon, allowing Jumail to close in on it and collapse the armored bunker beneath his legs. Elina immediately contacted them afterwards and warned against pulling such stunts ever again. The next two automatic weapons were taken down by Carlos and their leader, with Barjoni casually weaving around the shots of paint and Elina’s shockwaves leaving only rubble in their path.

They evaded and weaved around quicksand pits masked by the usual rock formations. Ratcatcher and Carlos nearly fell into one such trap, but were warned by one of the trainees who had lived in the Ravaged Lands before. The boy called the group over, showing them how a mutated insectoid at the bottom of this pit had created the rock formation, and how easily it could crumble under the weight of a normal human.

After meeting with the werewolf, Esmeralda and Edward began to use their powers to the fullest, scanning the area for any living creatures. Occasionally, they spotted the instructors moving in a circle around the group. Out of curiosity, Carlos ran to meet one of them in person, but found only the emptiness of the desert all around. Augustus and the others didn’t want to be seen.

The complex outer walls had finally emerged from within the storm’s embrace. High and shattered, they bore the marks of centuries. Part of the stone had fallen off the walls, revealing metal plates within. Security towers had long since collapsed, torn down by sandstorms. Gaping cracks the size of a torso littered the structure, and still it stood, refusing to give in to the age, refusing to betray the trust of its creators.

People lived here. Ratcatcher understood, looking around. The full gravity of the situation had only now dawned on her. Before, she had treated this training as a funny game. She looked around, witnessing the sea of sand. Once, there used to be green fields, roads connecting the centers of civilization, and airplanes flying through the sky. Perhaps this facility will send someone into the space. Three hundred years ago, everything died.

Not destroyed; you can rebuild your life after falling down, after all! The Extinction was far worse. Billions upon billions perished in flames or died in unspeakable agony from deadly viruses devouring their flesh. Countless more were buried underground, scratching their fingers to blood in a vain attempt to escape before starvation and dehydration had done them in. The lack of medical care caused many more to die from previously easily curable diseases. And unleashed bioweapons descended upon the survivors, taking a grievous toll.

She imagined losing Liam like this. To see her cute, annoying, adorable, and precious brother lost to claws or hungry jaws. What horror must the people of the Old World have experienced when the defensive system meant to protect them turned against them?

Iterna endured behind its shield, but even they had lost precious troves of knowledge and later were swarmed with immigrants, fighting tooth and nail first against corporate takeover and later against bigotry and fear when their first president, Joanna Mubarakari, orchestrated a massive campaign against abnormals. Thousands of students who arrived in Iterna for an exchange program were killed back ten, forever sullying the relationships between countries and birthing grievances and oaths of vengeance. Iterna fully admitted its guilt and never once tried to diminish or, Planet forbid, glorify it in the history books.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Without thinking, Ratcatcher dropped to her knees, silently praying to the Planet to care for every lost soul and grant them a happier afterlife. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, was one of the main tenets of the Planet’s beliefs. Carlos was the second to get down on one knee, praying to his own god. One after another, the trainees followed suit, respecting this sobering moment and paying their respects to the lives lost. Elina and a few others chose to keep watch, giving the teens a couple of minutes.

After paying their respects, the group dispersed. Prior to the mission, the trainers assigned individual entrance points for each team, along with an approximate coordination for whatever they needed to scavenge.

Ratcatcher scaled the wall, leaping down in an explosion of sand and stone just in time to spot an insectoid warrior a few dozen paces ahead. It stood on six long stalked legs, each sharp enough to splinter a bone. Twin-bladed arms arched from a chitin-covered torso; the blades’ edges were dangerous enough to cleave through the armor plating.

What’s it doing here? She wondered, dropping low. An insectoid warrior was just as dangerous as a spider matriarch in combat, and the keen minds of these beasties made them even tougher to fight. There’s no way the instructors put something like that in here on purpose. Unless… She frowned, becoming bothered by its unmoving posture, and then grinned wildly.

“Finally!” Carlos laughed, landing next to her. Standing up, the teen moved his fingers. “Something to smash around. Stand back, everyone; it’s time to shine.”

“Wait!” Ratcatcher shouted, gesturing to the team to hold their positions.

She tore a small piece of rubble off the wall and threw it like a spear at the insectoid. The solid stone chunk passed through the suddenly ephemeral form and crashed at the base of its food. The sand erupted in a mine explosion, splattering yellow paint everywhere.

“Ha! Knew something was off!” The trainee laughed.

“This was evil.” Vasily’s helmet shook, and the boy approached cautiously, examining the wreckage. “A hologram plus a mine? How was anyone supposed to figure it out on their first try?!”

“Good idea, Vasily,” Elina said.

“Wait, what did I do?”

“Trainees!” the leader shouted over the communications, ignoring Vasily’s question. “We have just encountered a new type of trap! If you see an oddly behaving wildlife, double check before engaging it! The one we ran into was a hologram with an added mine.”

Her words were echoed by the other students, who spread the warning to everyone in the complex. Vasily was busy dismantling the trap, loudly proclaiming his admiration for the thing, when Ratcatcher sensed something else. Her own power armor had thinner armor plating on the palms and soles of her feet. It allowed her to feel the tiniest tremors across the surface.

And that was exactly what she felt now. A distinct directional movement beneath the sea of sand, the push on the opposite side of the wind, circling around Vasily and coming at the boy’s back. She barely had time to tackle him in the back when the ground erupted, unleashing their first opponents.

Six-legged training drones, the kind used so often in the movies. Stylized after a spider, their exposed joints were covered in thick cables, and the hooked claws at the ends of the thin legs allowed the drones to swim beneath the sands. Ratcatcher desperately tried to get out of the way when the drone thrust its leg at her ocular, sending the limb forward like a spear.

“Ha!” Carlos’ hand caught her, holding the trainee steady as the boy kicked up, shattering the limb with his full force. “Worry not, lady, the gallant knight is…”

“Thanks!” She laughed, kicking forward with both legs and using Carlos for support.

The drone’s head, a small square-shaped tablet with four orange oculars and twin moving knife mandibles, got shattered under the kick. Her legs went on further, splitting the drone’s body in two. Hearing more movements beneath the sand, the group synchronized their visions.

The HUDs’ screens changed. The central part still projected the things that the trainees witnessed with their own eyes, but additional information had been coming, first projected onto their retinas and then processed by their brains.

Another drone jumped out of the sand beneath Vasily, only now the boy was ready. Looking through Elina’s lenses, the boy sidestepped the claws aimed at his back and grabbed the machine by round body. In a single brutal move, he slammed the drone down with enough force to dent the steel hard enough to damage the mechanical innards, then jumped away, evading the cascade of sparks pouring from the cracks.

Elina responded in kind, observing the situation around her legs through Vasily’s lenses. She did not move until the very last moment, patiently waiting as the sand circled around her. Then she struck, catching the drone at the exact moment its head appeared from beneath the sand. Her roundhouse kick had severed the head, leaving the body twitching helplessly. With a grunt of annoyance, Elina stomped at the machine, breaking it into pieces.

The reports came in, outpacing even Elina’s warning. The drones were attacking the other groups. Most of them had handled the situation well, except for three students. Two had “lost” their fingers, as the HUDs announced, and the plasma-wielding student had “lost” his entire arm when the claws closed around his shoulder. Of course, no real injuries had occurred; the armor kept the students safe, but for the rest of this training, the “injured” would have their “damaged” parts locked by the armor, limiting their mobility.

“Sorry, ever…yone,” the boy said over the comms.

“Eh, relax. Remind me to show you my first power armor training. Now that was a blunder!” Vasily cheered him on. “It nearly chopped my dick off!”

“Live and learn. It could have happened to any of us. Akebia Group, shield your wounded comrade!” Elina commanded.

“Yes, ma’am!”

Elina had her group advance slowly, allowing Vasily to check every nook and cranny in their path toward the destination. Ratcatcher kept Vasily safe from any sudden attack, trusting her back to Elina, and Carlos ended up being the one watching the rear. They walked across the spacious defensive complex.

Underground missile silos had long since been covered by tons of sand; their hatches had evaporated, and the deadly payloads inside had either already exploded or been launched during the Extinction. Hangars stood shattered, their melted black forms resembling cones. The small headquarters had first been bisected by a laser and then had endured a fierce bombardment. Teeth of stone and steel now rose in its place.

Their way in ended up being the massive elevator meant to move vehicles and equipment down. It stuck out like a sore thumb, making Ratcatcher look around warily. Surely such a thing could not have been placed under the open sky? At the very least, the bombardment would’ve destroyed it. She calmed down a bit after noticing the remains of the complex walls around them.

“Still working.” Vasily lowered himself to one knee and ran a hand over the control panel. The tendrils of his gauntlet moved, slipping under the buttons. “Look at this beauty! Three hundred years and none the worse for wear. Don’t worry, precious, I won’t harm you, no way, no how,” he whispered to the panel, quickly tapping upon his gauntlet. “I will treat you with the respect you deserve, sweetie.”

“Well, that’s kind of creepy,” Ratcatcher blurted out, and even Elina nodded.

“This is a technological marvel, and you will treat the situation with proper reverence!” Vasily snapped. “Eliza, imagine if you can, please. Three hundred years without maintenance. Three hundred years enduring looters, weather, earthquakes…”

“Hey, Augustus Group!” Rowen called over communications. “Mind if we use yo…ur entrance? Ours is a bit ti…ght for me.”

An image came along with Rowen’s request, and Ratcatcher whistled. Tight was underselling it! Their group had dug their way to a small tunnel only to see a small hatch suitable for a normal human, leading to an emergency escape shaft dozens of meters deep. A person in power armor could theoretically fit in there, but Jumail was out of luck. Widening it was out of the question; even Rowen’s power wouldn’t do much against walls that had survived the apocalypse.

Elina hesitated, and Ratcatcher low-key understood her. To beat the Torosian Group to a punch! To outdo someone who had ever received nothing less than perfect grades in pretty much every category, not least because the headmaster hoarded all the strongest abnormals for himself.

She paused, focusing on her thoughts. Would a cheap victory really satisfy either of them? Winning fair and square was the best, and just because the instructors…

Wait a sec. Ratcatcher’s eyes flashed. Since when did either Torosian or Akebia ever make a mistake or lapse in judgment? After planning this operation for so long, how could they miss such an obvious…

“Yes, of course you can!” Ratcatcher shouted over the comms, and Elina turned to her.

“Eliza, I am the commander…”

“Yes, yes,” she interrupted Elina and fell on one knee. “I agree, but please listen to me! The clues! Augustus mentioned the Week of Misery, and there will be no individual scores in today’s mission. It is clear as day!” She felt her heart beating, struggling to formulate her thoughts.

“I am not sure I understand you.” Carlos shrugged. “Lissie, mistakes happen all the time in…”

“No, she is on to something.” Elina paced back and forth, pressing a hand to the bottom of her helmet. “Have you paid any attention to the other groups? The Akebia Group has drones but no scanner. The Torosian Group lacks any hacking tools. We lack drones…” She stopped and roared. “Son of a whore! How did I miss something so obvious?!” Elina had snapped her fingers and opened the channel with the rest of the trainees. “Everyone! We’ve been had! The instructors have set us up for failure again! The goal is not to retrieve the artifacts individually, but to work together and complete the mission in time! I say, fuck their plan! Converge on my location, explorators; we are going to do it our own way!”

“Trainee Elina, I would like you to refrain from implying that the instructors deliberately hindered the chances of the successful completion of the mission,” Torosian’s voice said clearly on the communications. Ratcatcher looked around, but there was no sight of the man.

“With all due respect, sir, we are supposed to be all alone on this mission. Stop interfering and clear the channel!” Elina shouted brazenly, and the group heard Osero’s laughter before Torosian cut off the communication.

“Three weeks of the manda...tory cleaning duty and five weeks working in the kitchen, trainee,” Augustus briefly entered the comms. “Ke…ep up the good work, everyone.”

“I’ll never be able to leave these dreadful restrooms at this point!” Elina slammed her leg into the sand all the way to the knee. “Six months! I already owe six months!”

“It’s ok, I’ll help you out!” Ratcatcher laughed.

“That you will.” Elina pointed with her fingers. “Prepare your power, Eliza! They say communication is almost impossible underground? Ha! I might just have an idea how to solve that problem!”

****

“Nice kids. Reached the site way earlier than I’d expected and even managed not to lose anyone. Could’ve set a record if they hadn’t stopped to pray. Eh, can’t say I begrudge them that,” Osero laughed. “Even figured out your scheme.”

Torosian ignored the remark. There was no scheme or trap in place, save for a few obstacles. Explorators, all of them, had to make decisions in the field and cooperate when necessary. He could’ve walked them through this step by step, but what would have been the point? A good teacher lets his wards make mistakes and learn from them. Empirical experience often trumped theory when it came to working in the field. It is better to teach the future explorators this simple fact in a controlled environment where nothing can endanger their lives.

“Why are you tagging along?” He asked instead.

They stood twenty meters from the trainees. The darkness left Torosian’s armor, revealing the glowing yellow pain beneath. Now it swirled around the pair, perfectly mimicking the sandstorm, keeping all sounds and visuals concealed within the small cone. Such was the power Torosian had received at birth.

“The last time I trusted your words of peaceful cooperation, I ended up with a knife in my throat.” Osero tilted his head.

“You have people to keep an eye on me,” Torosian said.

Osero was a captain. The Reclamation Army didn’t have a clear military structure like the Iternian military, and a captain’s rank could range from regional commander to overseer of a few hundred. But his brother was put in charge of a crawler, a massive mobile military base, one of the many fists of the Reclaimers. Armed to the brink with the settlement’s leveling weapons, it had bastions upon bastions of defensive installation upon its hull and could store the supplies and perform maintenance for a small army. Short of becoming a full governor or strategist, Osero had become one of the most influential people in this region of the Reclamation Army.

Why is he here? Torosian never regretted his choice to betray his homeland. The Dynast burned whole families alive for the corruption of their parents. Mercilessly and meticulously, the tyrant sought to build a perfect state by forcing every nation, every group of people, to live under his banner. Only such a state could last as long as the person in charge of it. Remove him, remove Commander Devourer, and the Reclaimers will fall apart in the flames of a civil war. No single person should have this much value. No sane ruler would implement such cruelty and allow abnormals like Orais or Wolfkins to carry on their gruesome practices.

So when an Iternian agent approached Torosian, he agreed to work for them. By working with the Intelligence, Torosian had earned a rank of S-class explorator, giving him the right to bend Iternian laws for the sake of his country. Betrayal, blackmail, murder—whatever it took for the mission’s sake, he did it. S-ranks no longer existed, long ago replaced by the Shadows, yet it made no sense for a Reclaimer’s captain to put himself in such danger and approach him. Could the Reclamation Army be planning a betrayal of sorts? No, Osero had ever been a weak-willed fool, bound not by a greater good but by morality and his word.

“Mom and Dad miss you,” his brother said.

“I thought you told me that you would shoot me if I appeared near our house.” Torosian shrugged.

“And I wasn’t joking!” He nearly fell when Osero slammed his palm against his back. “ Take one step close to my kids, and I am pulling out a heavy plasma. But you could’ve called. They aren’t getting any younger.”

“I know. If they need any medicine, call me immediately; I’ll help in any way I can. But I made my choice. It’s better not to rebuild burned bridges.”

Standing so close to Osero was distracting. It reminded Torosian about the days when he and his brother would set out to angle an Insectoid for dinner. Born into a relatively low-income family, he and his brother had to work from an early age, either guarding one of the three cusacks, the family’s precious livestock, or helping their mother with repairs around the house while their father toiled in a factory. After Ravager left and Wyrm Lord took over, the situation changed. More resources were poured into the region, industrializing the land and easing the burden on the locals. Soon after, the two joined the army.

In years past, they had spent most of their lives stabbing and shooting each other at every encounter. Speaking civilly touched something deep within his soul—feelings he had long since abandoned. Torosian looked at the trainees, focusing on what was truly important.

Elina had arranged for each trainee to be marked by Eliza, allowing the girl to create a special three-dimensional map in the air. It showed the exact location and even altitude of each marked trainee, and Eliza handed over the map to her leader. Torosian became curious upon hearing how the trainees intended to divide their forces. One group will enter through the elevator, another through the main entrance, and the last through the abandoned hangar in the distance, thus covering several levels.

Curious. Efficient in terms of time management, the trainees exchanged supplies among themselves, making sure no one was left without a scanner, hacking tools, or drones. Like true explorators. They even ensured that all groups had several close-range combat specialists, eliminating the chance of another successful ambush. So far, so good. Explorators are supposed to think for themselves. But how will the map help them coordinate their efforts? Without a means of communication, it was a useful tool in case someone got lost, but not much more.

“Your loss,” Osero replied. “Sure you don’t want to allow our troops in? Wolfkins are complaining; they made bets on which ‘cubs’, as they call the trainees, would perform best and now they have no way to confirm the winner.”

As per the Iterna-Reclaimers agreement, the soldiers of the Reclamation Army kept their distance from the complex. A few curious scouts from Wolfkins’ ranks attempted to sneak up on the instructors, and one even paraded in front of the trainees, but otherwise the former enemies kept their word and guarded the perimeter.

“Keep these bloodthirsty, undisciplined maniacs away from the trainees, captain. Or I will order their removal,” the headmaster warned. Osero tensed, and Torosian decided to make a concession for the parity’s sake. If Iterna and the Reclamation Army had truly entered the era of peace, then joint training might even become a thing in the future. “Everything is being recorded. Tell the wolf hags; we will send them a copy, cutting off only private parts.”

“Keep the banter and insults; they love them,” Osero advised.

Out of all the Wolf Tribe, he only trusted the Dragena Pack and the Alpha Pack. Mostly because both of them acted professionally and had captured explorators in the past, later returning them during a prisoner exchange. As for the others? He had seen the cruelty the Janine Pack has been inflicting upon the foes, the mercilessness of the Foulsnout Pack, and the burning ruins left by the Ashbringer Pack. According to rumors, Ashbringer followed the ancient rules of her tribe and allows cannibalism within her ranks. Rather than burying the fallen comrades, the soldiers are expected to eat them.

No. It would be better to keep those murders at bay. He thought, watching the trainees enter the elevator. The other instructors were already downstairs. It was time for them to move as well.