* Scene Three ─ The Girls & The Chasers

> At last, we looked up into the sky without fear.

Jensen was on his way to the training room.

He had already forgotten when the last time he visited was.

Three years? Or was it five?

He thought while nodding towards the soldiers that were saluting along the way. Practically every single person here at the Belden Base knows him. Not only was it because of his rank, but also his reputation.

In order to prevent the outcries from the public, the S.D.A had covered-up a part of the truths about the clinical trials. That misled some people to think that Jensen was just some unprecedented Shell-Wielding genius, including the press.

What was ironic was that Jensen knew the truth. He knew that he was only an ordinary soldier in the S.D.A before he had gotten experimented on by the S.D.A. He had always been ordinary, but he had only discovered it recently. Because even going through that experiment, he still did not win against a single scavenger.

He realized that all these years, he had been living in complacency. It deceived him, even distorted his cognition.

He finally knew that he wasn't special, nor was he actually powerful.

Sadly, these kinds of thoughts would not help with what he was doing next.

After Jensen had just recovered, his superiors had immediately asked him to return to the job. He was sent back to Mellow Space Station to await for new missions. However, Sahil pulled a few strings and hindered it. He did not let Jensen go back and do what he does best. Instead, he assigned him some work that was not related to battling. Something like pep talking the recruits that were completing their trials at the Basic Training Center. Lieutenant Miranda was in charge of them currently.

Jensen kept moving forward, watching the familiar surroundings sweep past him. He had once gotten trained at the Belden Base. Unfortunately, those memories that were flooding back only tensed him up more.

He had never been so nervous. Even back when he was fighting the Star Creatures alone for the first time, his heart had not beaten this fast.

He had always been a warrior, not some public speaker. Not to mention being in the state he was at the moment, he really did not have extra confidence to inspire others.

He stopped right outside of the entrance of the training room. Jensen hesitated for a second, but he finally decided to take one step forward into the wide-opened automatic door.

He stopped at the door. Around a hundred pairs of eyes welcomed him. It contained expectation, excitement and admiration. Those young Shell Wielders were a mixed company. They stood straight at ease, and everyone was equipped with Shelling Bubbles and masks.

Not a single person dared to move or remove their masks to speak. They were afraid that once they did, it would mess up their breathing pattern; which would cause their shells to drop onto the floor.

Jensen looked at them and remembered his past. He used to be one of those people who was standing in the troops. He had once gone through the amazing experience of learning how to wield and control shells. Humans' breathing frequency is generally fixed. However, every person's number of breaths and intake amount per minute would still differ because of the structure of the lungs, size of the chest areas, blood circulations and all kinds of physical factors. In addition, different genders were also an element.

The ability to wield shells comes from the Star Creatures' bodies. It was a subsystem extended from their respiratory system. And the Shelling Bubbles were like substituting lungs. They are able to hold and exchange air.

One must establish a connection with the Shelling Bubble when they are using it for the first time. This step was called tuning. The purpose was to adjust to the constricting rhythm. Once the lungs had become coherent with the Shelling Bubble through the breathing tube, the shells would start operating as well.

The tuning time every person requires can differ. But once they have done the first run, even if they have switched to new Shelling Bubbles in the future, the time that they take to readjust will shorten substantially.

Jensen was still standing at where he was, waiting for the instructor to do a brief opening for him. His heart was still beating fast. This batch of recruits were facing their completion exams soon, which meant that they had to start getting into the swing of things. At one glance, they did look decent.

Novice Shell Wielders are normally the ones that are filled with enthusiasm the most in the troops. However, they are also the most frivolous. Jensen knew that better than anyone else, because once you had inadvertently obtained the power that exceeds others, it would be easy for them to assume that they are omnipotent from then on. Power and strength may give you hope and make you addicted to the feeling of it, you would also be conceited.

You will forget about the approaching danger.

After returning from the Wall of Dawn, Jensen was more convinced about this than ever. And he could not believe that all this time he had been on his high horse facing every battle just like the other rookies.

He was certainly stronger than other Chasers, but there was still a limit within the power he had. No one should neglect the weakness in themselves, even with a Shelling Bubble. He had made this mistake once, but he would not repeat it ever again; nor was he willing to watch the future hope of this planet follow along his tracks.

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They need to know the truth.

Jensen was determined.

The instructor speaking in front of the troops had finally finished his words. He glanced at Jensen, politely nodded and handed him the crowd.

Jensen slowly walked forward until he reached somewhere close to the front row of the troops. Once again, his eyes swept over the crowds, slowly meeting each and single one of them. This batch of trainees were all pretty young. That would mean that they could be governed by their emotions easier, and it would be harder for them to stay calm.

"Fellow young warriors," Jensen started, trying to capture the thoughts in their eyes.

"Perhaps you've heard my name before, or perhaps you've seen me on televisions, interviews, or press." Jensen continued. "My name is Jensen Cavil. Just like everyone else, I am a Chaser of the S.D.A."

Good, just like that. Keep talking.

A voice called out from deep in his heart.

Tell them how good you are. Tell them that those rumors about the Chasers are all real, and tell them that they can become as powerful as you are.

Jensen paused for a second, choosing to ignore the voice.

Ironically, he might have chosen to say these in the past. Compared to the present, he used to be good at giving speeches in front of the media or subordinates. Although his speeches were normally filled with ego. Perhaps that was what the S.D.A needed — a phony model; to give people a sense of hope.

A hero that was created and shaped by the officials.

Sadly, he was no longer able to spit those words out as easily as he could before; neither could he keep making up those exaggerated stories.

Jensen stayed silent for a few seconds, then lifted his voice. "I know a lot of people think that I'm talented and outstanding. And I know that some media might have gone a little overboard describing me. They would say that I'm invincible, indestructible, or that I can fight off dozens of them at the same time." His voice was sonorous.

"I stand here today to tell you guys that I'm just like you all. I'm a normal person."」He announced.

Jensen paused again, but this time he walked to a male cadet standing in the front row. "What's your name, soldier?"

The boy hesitated then moved his mask slightly off his face. "Garent Kent, sir." He answered, immediately putting his mask back on once he had finished.

"May I see your Shell Lance, Garent?" Jensen asked.

After hearing the superior's command, the boy seemed like a deer in the headlights. He was frozen for a moment, before quickly glancing at the instructor near him. The instructor nodded, allowing the boy to regulate his breaths and change the rhythm. The shells started pouring out from his back, moving to his sides.

Garent did not change his stance, he was trying his best to command his shells while standing at ease. The congregated shells soon formed into a shell object that was shaped like a needle. Shell Lance is a type of Shell Object. However, Garent's Shell Lance was split at the tip like a trident.

Impressive.

Jensen couldn't help but thought. He watched as the boy wielded the shells steadily with his hands behind his back. Although beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, his performance was still way above average.

Humans are animals that rely on their limbs after all. Despite the fact that it was the thought that controls the shells, most Shell Wielders still tend to deploy shells with hand movements.

"Well done," Jensen looked at Garent and spoke. "Now point your Shell Lance at me," he ordered, catching the boy off guard once again. Thankfully, he didn't take long to consider this time.

Garent rotated his Shell Lance, pointing the tip right at Jensen. The Major reached out and grasped the tip with his hand.

The trainer saw and struck to move forward, but was stopped by Jensen's arm. "Everyone watch this carefully." He balled up his fist and pulled the blade out.

Jensen held his opened hand high up. The sharp shell had left a wound in his palm. Blood started pouring out from the cut, running down along his wrist. "I'm just like you. I'm weak. I bleed. I got injured. One day, I must face death as well," he emphasized. "I'm not legendary, nor am I a deity of some sorts. I am a warrior of the S.D.A just like each and every one of you."

He dropped his fist, suddenly remembering what Sahil had said to him at the Wall of Dawn a couple of months ago.

"With the Shelling Bubble, you'll be much stronger than ordinary people. Even I would get injured by the shells." Jensen held up his palm again. "Unfortunately, I still can't guarantee that you'll be invincible after learning how to wield shells. Neither can I be certain that you will be able to defeat every single Star Creature you encounter, and live through the lives serving at the front line." He said, stating the terrible truth.

They will feel fear and angst after hearing this. However, he would rather help them recognize how puny they are and how to get over it than letting the young sprouts lose their lives over complacency and optimism.

"No. Learning how to wield shells will not make you as good as I am," Jensen continued. "Because I was just like everyone else, an ordinary Sheerian." He explained. "What we do is never meaningless. Our sacrifices won't go without return."

"Today, I stand here to tell everyone that even as an insignificant human we must fight. Although the Shelling Bubbles can't grant divine powers, we must not cower." Jensen took a quick breath before continuing on. "Soon after when you face your real enemies, you will then feel your own weakness. But remember, true power does not come from the strength you were born with. It comes from the determination we have to overcome our own weaknesses." He made his conclusion with an impassioned tone, as if he had been narrating the details throughout the entire speech just for this final sentence.

I tried.

Jensen told himself. As he was talking, he had been watching everyone's expressions. At first it was pride, then it turned to dismay. At last, confidence surfaced.

Most importantly, it was steady confidence.

They will make it through.

Jensen thought. Over or underestimating the situation would be bad in both ways. Only the confidence one had built through recognizing the reality would be able to withstand the real challenges.

He stared into each pair of young eyes. For a moment, he seemed to have gained his confidence back from them and his speech. Perhaps he really was an imposter, but his determination and willingness to defend this planet were never fake.

"I wish you all well, trainees." At last Jensen said, then raised hand up for a salute.

Sounds of palms hitting the thighs erupted from the audience, coming from the uniformed cadets down below him.