Gilbert led his squad down the worn corridors, their watches guiding them toward their assigned room. The tower rose nine floors high. The first floor housed a common area and library, the second contained laundry facilities, and from the third floor upward, residential rooms filled the building.
The halls were heavy with neglect. Cobwebs clung to corners, and cracked doors revealed glimpses of equally dilapidated rooms. The only floor that looked cared-for was the library on the first level. Bookshelves stretched floor to ceiling, and the ceiling itself bore grand iconography — murals depicting Marine Knights locked in fierce combat against beast-like Styx, human foes, and towering, three-eyed humanoids. The ancient frescoes told stories of valor and sacrifice.
Their room featured a modest living area, three small bedrooms, and a kitchenette. Yet, like the rest of the tower, it was trashed—furniture missing legs, broken pieces scattered about. The only items that seemed somewhat usable, though still questionable, were a few tattered mattresses leaning against the wall.
"I get cleaning up, but what about the furniture?" Kean muttered, kicking a broken chair leg across the floor. "I'm no carpenter, just so you know."
"That's what the money's for," Chen Mei replied quietly.
"I thought that money was some kind of compensation for nearly dying," Kean said, clearly annoyed.
"Don't you know? The military only provides the bare basics in the first year," Wolfgang said, prodding a sagging mattress with his boot. "Everything else—furniture, clothing, even kitchen access—you have to pay for yourself."
"Can any of you actually afford anything?" Adam asked, scrolling through the Citadel store on his watch.
"Unless you brought something from before, we're stuck with what we've got," Wolfgang replied.
"Okay, let's pool our money together and give it to the girls to buy what we need," Gilbert suggested. "The rest of us can start cleaning, then we head to the cafeteria for food."
The group sprang into action. They swept floors, stacked broken furniture in the hallway, and tidied as best they could. Hours passed until bots arrived at their door, hauling in supplies—paint, furniture, kitchenware, toiletries.
Kean caught Wolfgang and William leaning lazily against a wall."You guys too good to clean?" he asked.
"Yeah!" they answered simultaneously, with William even rolling his eyes.
"Clean or I'll make you both clean," Gilbert said firmly.
"You may be able to beat Wolf, but you're not beating me," William shot back, enunciating every word.
"Then the three of us could just attack together," Gilbert teased. "Are you sure you can take down Adam and Kean before I take down Wolfy?"
"Your leadership is evident, and I appreciate the direction you're taking," William said, then grabbed a broom and began sweeping alongside the others. Wolfgang followed suit.
The squad cleaned in relative silence, even tidying the hallway until it looked almost spotless.
Near midnight, the smell of cooking drew them to the kitchen. Ana was busy preparing a meal, while Chen Mei hovered nearby, trying to help without getting in the way.
"Since this is officially our first day as a squad, I thought we should share a meal," Ana said. "Anyone who complains can drink Saharan wind." Wolfgang and Kean immediately shut their mouths.
"What did you make?" Gilbert asked.
"Fried chicken, stewed pork, rice and peas, and coleslaw," Ana replied. "Mei made coconut water."
"How do you make coconut water?" Kean asked, earning a sharp tap on the back of his head from Adam.
William pulled out chairs for Ana and Chen Mei, then sat himself down."Well then, thank you, ladies, for the meal," he said sincerely.
They ate quietly, the clatter of utensils and soft murmurs filling the room.
William eventually broke the silence. "We aren't a squad that gels easily. We come from different worlds. Wolfy and I are from New Astrea, a Tier II city. Chen Mei hails from Tier I Beijing on another continent. The rest of us are from Tier III cities—and orphans, at that."
Gilbert nodded, feeling the weight of the truth in those words. "I can't promise to be a great leader, or even a decent one. But I swear this—I will defend every one of you as if I'm still back in the orphanage. Anyone who hurts one of us will answer to me. One for one."
He gathered his dishes and carried them to the kitchen before heading to his room.
Unlike the others, Gilbert's quarters were small but private—a twin bed pushed against a white wall with one painted red, a desk with a single lamp, and a bonsai crafted from an exotic plant he didn't recognize. A sturdy hardwood trunk etched with iconography sat at the foot of the bed. A single window let in pale light, and a small adjoining bathroom contained a shower and basin.
Lying back on his bed, Gilbert took out the letter given to him before leaving the orphanage:
My dearest Gilbert,
As your father, I recognize that I haven't always lived up to my role, nor been the brightest example. I left you in your mother's care, who entrusted you to St. Mary's, with your aunt and grandmother. I've always tried to do right and shield those I love, but I confess I have failed.
Even the best intentions can be undone by betrayal.
The greatest gift I leave you is your mother's remarkable creation—the duo core. Normally, marines can only sync with power armor tied to their lineage. But with this duo core, you can embrace two lineages and craft a hybrid armor. You have a natural talent for this, and your mother designed these cores just for you.
As you progress, you'll sync with one core as a Marine Knight, but when you become a Dread Marine, you'll harness the other.
I also took steps to protect you by hiding your true identity. When you enlist, your last name will be recorded as Kruger, shared with the other orphans. This is temporary, to shield you until you're strong enough to protect yourself and those you care about.
Be cautious of those beyond the federation—they may bring chaos unimaginable.
With all my heart,
Your Father
A solitary tear traced down Gilbert's cheek as the letter's weight settled deep inside him. He read it again and again through the night, the quiet hours blurring until exhaustion claimed him. The letter rested beside him as he finally drifted into restless sleep.
When morning light seeped through the window, Gilbert carefully folded the letter and tucked it into his trunk, as if sealing away a piece of his soul.
The day passed in a blur until, walking toward his first History lecture, he noticed something strange. His squad and cohort had all grown—each now a striking eighteen years old.
The realization washed over him like a wave.
Among the familiar faces, he spotted Adam and found the courage to break the silence."Were we all given steroids or something?"
Adam chuckled. "No, it's the serum. They don't expect us to fight at normal kid size, so it triggers a hormonal growth spurt."
"What's wrong with you? You've been out of it since yesterday," Adam teased.
Gilbert sighed. "I guess I just experienced a shock."
As they strolled through the grand citadel, passing imposing statues commemorating generations of Marine Knights and their battles against the Styx, they reached a nondescript building.
Inside, the hollow halls echoed faint whispers of anticipation.
The squads filed into a spacious classroom, segregated by city origins. Most hailed from Tier II cities. Squad 9 settled near the back, drawing curious glances—they were the only non-noble squad to complete the challenge, unlike others who had spent the day marching and training.
An elderly man shuffled in, his cane thudding sharply against the floor, silencing the room.
His presence was commanding, even unsettling.
Some students struggled to stifle panic, a few fainted, while others bit their lips, blood appearing at the corners of their mouths—a reaction to the intense tension filling the air.
Ana leaned on Adam for support, holding herself steady.
"Settle down and pay attention," the man said, his voice cutting through the quiet. "I'm Professor Eric Bernard. Welcome to History."