“Welcome back, everyone!" Hayeviel calls out cheerfully, the cadets behind him dripping with sweat, “That was quite a fast test, wasn't it?”

“I assume the daily run has just finished?” Perivial asks.

“Yes, and you all are just in time for the weapons cleaning and inspection!” Motioning to Sureya, she throws a bag full of dirty, mud-filled beam rifles on the floor. “These are the broken beam rifles used by one of our armies in a recent campaign,” Hayeviel explains, still with a grin on his face, “Of course, by 'broken' I mean they simply had too much dirt and mud clogged inside. All you have to do is to choose a rifle, clean it, and hold it according to protocol - all within 5 'ticks'. There are sponges and water over there, and the cleaning starts... now!”

Immediately, the cadets scramble towards the bag, snatching the first beam rifle that they can get their hands on. Splotches of mud stain their uniforms and arms as they reach into the bag. The entire scene, in fact, is one large mess as they argue and clamor over each other, some fighting over rifles while others shove their way out, clutching the filthy weapon tightly in their arms.

“How laughable,” Avalel scoffs as he stands behind the crowd. Wait, why did I say that?

“I would've never expected you to say that, Lel,” Kavlina remarks in surprise as she fills a pail up with water. He's suddenly becoming more like me.

“Kavlina! Avalel!” Tarak calls, his uniform splattered with mud, “Catch!” Two rifles fly out from his hands and softly land in the palms of Avalel and Kavlina. “Get a sponge for me as well, please!” he adds.

“Thank you, Tarak!” Avalel replies, just as Kavlina throws a sponge at him, promptly smacking him in the face.

“Stop standing there while expecting someone to hand you something, Lel!” Kavlina scolds, although a slight chuckle escapes her mouth.

Embarrassed, Avalel picks up the sponge and walks to Kavlina, where she has already begun cleaning the rifle from Tarak. A muddy Tarak follows, sitting down at Avalel's side and beginning to clean, not the rifle, but himself, scrubbing the dirt off his uniform.

“I hope you two don't mind me being here,” he says.

“We don't. Helping us get the rifles was a great help,” Avalel replies gratefully, “Well, at least I don't mind,” he adds when he catches a glimpse of Kavlina's slightly annoyed expression.

The three sit silently, scrubbing the rifles. However, Avalel could notice Tarak moving at a far faster pace, his hands blurred from the speed. Finally, he gathers the courage to gently tap Tarak's shoulder. “Why are you doing this so fast?” he asks.

“Oh, it's just a habit I have,” Tarak responds, “Before I became a cadet, I had a job that required fast and nimble hands. I simply couldn't shake the routine, even after months, almost a year, of arriving here. Ah, there's still a bit of mud left.” He rapidly wipes the little blemish on his attire before going back to the rifle. Just then, a loud click sounds from the direction of Hayeviel, and murmurs begin to rise among the cadets.

“What happened just now?” Kavlina questions, her eyes lifting up for a moment.

“One tick has passed, and everyone's becoming worried,” Tarak replies, “Many of us haven't even begun cleaning the insides of the rifles, which is the most time-consuming part.”

“Should I be worried then?” Avalel cautiously asks, staring at the many splotches of mud still clinging stubbornly on the exterior of the rifle's vent.

“Yes, you should,” Tarak laughs a bit nervously, “I can help you if you like.”

“By the way,” Sureya interrupts, “Here is a rifle from the same army, cleaned by a soldier while en route to another front. I expect every single one of you to have at least this standard.” She tosses a rifle on the floor. It's spotless, the nooks and crannies all vacant of the slightest trace of dirt. The battery, the most important yet most sensitive part of the rifle, is gleaming somewhat from the reflection of light above. In short, it's basically impeccable.

“How…” Nervous, Avalel could only utter a single word out of his mouth.

“Don't worry, Avalel,” Tarak reassures, his eyes still glued on his gun, “I can help once I'm done cleaning mine.”

“Thanks, Tarak,” Avalel sighs in relief, “You're such a nice person.”

“I've always been called a hard worker, but you're the first to make such a compliment.” His back slouches a little and he seems to stare into blank space, his hands still moving like a machine.

“Tarak? Are you alright?”

“Yes, I'm fine, thank you.” The two return to silence, frantically cleaning as time passes by, an unprecedented anxiety creeping up every time a click goes off, notifying all that another tick has passed.

Eventually, the trial is finally over. With help from Tarak, Avalel managed to finish cleaning his rifle, and he now runs up to the ranks, standing alongside Kavlina and attempting to copy the others' positions. Holding the rifle close to his chest, he feels the cold steel pressing on his uniform, the coolness penetrating his skin.

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“Alright, everyone! Weapons inspection time!” Hayeviel announces as the last click resonates before him. As he strolls forward, passing by each cadet, he occasionally sniffs the air or gently touches each rifle so as not to let even a single fingerprint smudge its surface. However, he makes a full stop when he approaches Avalel.

“Avalel,” he starts as a foreboding fog begins to rise around everyone, “Did you clean your uniform as well? I see some mud has made its way onto it, and it could stain the now cleaned rifle.”

“No, I didn't,” Avalel answers honestly.

“Ah, that's fine,” Hayeviel smiles, “All we have to do to get rid of the mud is to kick it out of your body!” He says as he launches a knee at Avalel's chest, his expression remaining cheerful.

Avalel reels back and collapses onto the ground as he feels the air suddenly getting knocked out of his lungs. That kick... He chokes and spits on the ground, gagging and clutching his chest. The rifle falls onto the small puddle of saliva with a slight splash.

“You…” Kavlina steps forth, but her shoulder is quickly grabbed by Hayeviel.

“This is the military. We ought to instill some discipline, don't we, Kavlina?” He squeezes her shoulder tightly, a deceiving smile still plastered on his face. That strength... Kavlina winces in pain as she reluctantly steps back into the ranks.

“Now, everyone else,” Hayeviel turns to the rest of the cadets, “You all did quite a good job with this task, but since Avalel has failed, you all should receive some punishment as well to shoulder some of the burden of a fellow comrade. Now, carry the rifles on your back. We're going to do yet another run. Avalel, I shall leave you here to finish your cleaning. If you are not finished when we return, I'll leave the punishment to your comrades. Alright, let's go!” The cadets groan, some glaring at Avalel with no attempt to hide their malice and disappointment. Ashamed, Avalel can only look downwards as he walks slowly to the bucket of water.

“I don't care if you have the Anapadeia,” Hayeviel whispers as Avalel passes by, “Here, you are my soldier, and soldiers need firm discipline.”

“Wait!” Tarak cries, “I was the one who helped him clean, so perhaps it was the mud that came from me that ended up on his uniform.”

Hayeviel silently walks to Tarak and smiles, before kicking his shin, forcing him to go down on one knee. “I don't like liars,” he says with a grin, “but if you would like to help out Avalel here, you may. Before that, though, I need you to wash the wooden sticks from the test. A platoon needs hygiene, after all!”

The cadets leave, following Hayeviel, but not without a glance at Avalel before they disappear from sight. As Avalel and Kavlina make eye contact, he could see her eyes are filled with dismay... and a hint of pity.

“Sorry I had to make you go through this, Tarak,” Avalel apologizes, “I should've been more careful with myself and not just the rifle.”

“It's alright. The kick hurts, but it's nothing compared to what I've endured before.”

“Tarak, I never asked you this, but where did you come from? I remember you said something about arriving here for almost a year.”

Tarak stops, his hand still holding a sponge as the water drips down onto the floor. “I came from a place quite far away. I never knew what it was called, just that it was subterranean, like this city, as well. The difference is, that 'city' was a settlement of miners, and I happened to be the unwanted son of an affair between my father, a miner, and an affluent woman in the city.” His eyes stare upwards, as if in longing for a certain place or person, before he lets out a sigh.

“My father loved me, but he treated me no better than his colleagues. He's a harsh man, never praising me for anything other than my work. As the son of a miner, I had to do many errands, and many of them required me to move with haste.”

“That's where your habit comes from?”

“Yes, sadly. Eventually, the ones in power found out about the 'scandal' and attempted to execute me and my father, that woman among the prosecutors. My father spent all his savings for me to take a transport here, where after some more travel, I eventually wound up in Thille. The government here got me a dorm which I share with 4 other people, but it's quite cramped, so I enlisted myself in the military in hopes for a bigger dorm, which I did, but it also came with more roommates. So here I am…”

“By the way,” Avalel asks, “Would you like to live with me and Kavlina? I think it might be a little lonely with just the two of us.”

“Sure, thanks.”

“I'll lead you to the dorm tonight then!” Dad, I hope you won't mind me not visiting you for a while. Wonder what you would think if you can see me right now…

A hooded figure stands in the shadows, his presence nearly undetectable by anyone as the cadets run by, panting and their feet quaking the ground. So this is the training regimen of the cadets of the New Rule... how soft. Suddenly, he notices Kavlina, her short hair bouncing up and down as she runs, sweat soaking her uniform. That face. It's unmistakable.

He raises an arm until it barely touches his mouth. “Common Leader,” he whispers, “I have some intel that may be of interest.”

A pause, but a voice soon responds. “What is it?”

“I've found the girl. I shall relay my location to you now.”

"Thank you, Tailas. Your job here is finished." Suddenly, the figure feels a jolt in his chest, and the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat stops. He falls, a hand desperately clutching his torso.

“Common Leader, you…” He grits his teeth in anger, but it is too late. His vision goes dark and he lies silent, lifeless.

“Tevlaia, you heard what the scout said, right?” Nasition says as he ends the call.

“The search went much faster than expected. Your network of scouts and spies are powerful, Nasition,” Tevlaia compliments.

“Nothing is better than an army of disposable prisoners, lulled to service by the promise of freedom.”

“You're quite the villain, aren't you?”

“It's child's play compared to you, Tevlaia,” Nasition laughs, “Anyways, what do you make of this?” A screen appears, its left side totally blank save for a bright red dot. On its right, a picture of Kavlina in her cadet uniform, taken a few moments ago, is shown, the other cadets near her blurred.

“An underground city? And that... the military uniform of the New Rule?”

“Perhaps. Do you think you can begin the infiltration?”

“It'll be quite difficult if it turns out our targets have the protection of one of our rivals.”

“Let's discuss the details with the rest of the team later.”

“Alright.” Just let this be over with. Her mind drifts to a scene sixteen years ago. I'm sorry, Stasibel, but I have vowed to fight for the greater good.