The morning after the Brussels patrol, the Command Base awoke in full readiness mode.
Kael had made it clear:
Peace was welcome.
But it could not last forever.
—
The main training hall, deep in the Base's sublevels, was fully activated.
The training drones positioned themselves.
Simulated combat panels lit up.
Weapons—both melee and ranged—were arranged on magnetic racks.
—
Kael gathered the group:
— Today we train as if tomorrow comes.
— Because tomorrow... might be war.
—
Training began at 7 a.m. and unfolded with intensity:
Nikita led physical combat sequences.
Claudia oversaw infiltration simulations in high-risk zones.
Amina and Samantha trained in decoding and symbol reading under pressure.
Marie and Patricia conducted persuasion and disguise drills under timed conditions.
Camila and Isadora handled logistics—resupplying, fueling, evaluating.
Kael moved between groups, observing, correcting, encouraging.
—
Even as the Stone, he insisted on training alongside them.
Sweat, fatigue, frustration, and growth.
All part of the process.
—
By the end of the day, bodies were exhausted.
But eyes—sharp and alive.
—
In the Common Hall, a table had been set.
No luxury.
Just sincerity.
Breads, cured meats, roasted vegetables, light wines.
Simple food.
Honest.
—
Kael was the last to sit.
He looked around.
Everyone there had sweat.
Made mistakes.
Improved.
And they were here.
Together.
He raised his glass.
— To the strength that comes from discipline.
— And the breath that only exists in those who don't walk alone.
The toast was sincere.
The silence that followed, even more.
Because that night, there were no masks, no commands, no alarms.
Just a Clan.
Prepared.
Connected.
Real.