"SARGENT, SIR! YES, SIR!"
Shouts erupted across an open field as a massive figure emerged from a dark tunnel. The glint from his glasses caught the setting sunlight as he strode into the open space, the breeze stirring his black ceremonial cape, revealing the red underside, his heavily decorated black uniform clicking with the sounds of the many medals that adorned his uniform.
"YOUR GREETINGS TO MAJOR CARMAN!"
A commanding voice barked. The man wore the uniform of the Pangaea Protection Army; his black standing out in contrast to the sea of brown cadet uniforms, though he had fewer medals than the major, he was clearly also a high-ranking officer.
"SARGENT, SIR! YES, SIR! WE GREET MAJOR CARMAN, SIR!"
The recruits echoed as one, their voices filling the field. Major Carman mounted the podium, his towering frame now even more imposing, flinging his cape dramatically as he reached the centre.
Ahem...
The Major cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over the rows of fresh recruits, their chants halting. He then glanced down at a paper, squinting at its contents with a scrutinising intensity before he finally spoke.
"You were once common citizens of the homeland—babes with no knowledge of what it took to keep the peace you so blissfully enjoyed, ignorant of the monsters beyond our borders…"
He paused, a flicker of discomfort on his face as he scanned the rest of the page. Then, with a sigh, he crumpled the paper and tossed it aside, looking up at the great flock of boys.
"Now that you wear this uniform, there is no return until your service is complete. The only return is death. Your training officer will provide further instruction. Hail Lucifer!" he chanted, his voice thick with frustration as he looked up at the dead lamp above him and to the dying light from the sun.
"HAIL LUCIFER!" the recruits chanted in unison, voices booming.
With that, Major Carman stepped off the podium. Silence slowly returned as the Sergeant took his place.
"This is your living quarters. Get your things in place and call it a day. Tomorrow, training begins," he announced, pointing at a gated-off complex as its gates swung open.
"You can find your rooms via the prompt on your AulWris. A map of recruit-accessible areas has been uploaded. Locate the Mess Hall by evening. Dismissed!" With those final words, the Sergeant turned and walked off into the tunnel.
Sometime later…..
"295... Ugh, finally." A tired voice mumbled, the boy's silver hair gleamed under the fluorescent lights that lined the hall. He now stood before a door, raising his arm to swipe his AulWris against the scanner on the doorknob. A small beep, and the door slid open; light from outside poured into the dark room. Without hesitation, he walked in the door, sliding shut behind him and flopped face-first onto the bed, going into a deep sleep as soon as his slumped body touched the bed.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
An alarm blared. Waking the boy from his sleep, he shot upright.
"Mess Hall... Right," he murmured as he stood tapping on his AulWris on his left hand, the lights to the dark room came on, he looked around for a bit in search of a mirror, stopping after finging it by the left side of the bed he then walked to it glancing at his reflection in the mirror, straightening his collar and a few rumpled edges of his brown uniform. After he was done, he stepped out of the room, tapping on his AulWris to turn off the lights as he shut the door behind him. As he walked down the hall toward the stairwell, he took note of the room numbers—an attempt to gauge the size of the building he was in.
Boots clacked against concrete as he descended. The muffled sound of conversation grew louder.
"Oh hey, another one's coming," someone sneered.
A group of older recruits leaned against the wall. Their uniforms bore signs of experience—faded patches and extra pins.
"Hey, boot! Come here a sec!"
The one who spoke had a long scar across his cheek. The others chuckled.
"Yes, sir," the boy said quickly, standing at attention.
"What's your name, rookie?"
"Dustin Mall, sir!"
"A Mall?" The older recruit raised a brow as he looked at Dustin's hair as if to confirm. While his friends murmured among themselves.
"How old are you?" he asked, shifting his studying gaze from Dustin's hair.
"Fifteen, sir!" Dustin replied.
"What are you doing in the military at fifteen? Members of the great families are exempt until seventeen," he said as he looked Dustin in the eye, looking for a reason.
"Yes, sir. But I volunteered early to serve the motherland, sir." Dustin replied. The group fell silent. Then the scarred officer gave a nod of respect.
"At ease, soldier. You may carry on. It's a noble thing to serve the people of Pangaea," he praised as he nodded positively.
Dustin saluted and moved on, their quiet conversation fading behind him.
After following the map on his AulWris, he finally arrived at the Mess Hall, with twenty minutes to spare.
He spotted some fellow recruits in a line and joined them in silence. Laughter broke out nearby.
"Oh! These boots look feisty, don't they?" a blond senior laughed.
"How many do you think will even make it to the main barracks?" another cackled.
"That's if they last a week, haha!"
Their taunting was cut short.
"THAT'S ENOUGH!"
The Sergeant entered the Mess Hall, his voice like thunder.
"Line up. Uniform check."
The recruits scrambled into order.
"There are fifty of you instead of the two hundred enrolled. Tardy recruits, it seems—one hundred and fifty of them."
He tapped at his AulWris. A glowing interface shimmered before him as he fiddled with unseen data.
"Carry on with your meal."
He exited without another word, leaving a trail of confusion.
"How did he check our uniforms? He just stood there."
"Is it a Gift? Some sort of scanning ability?"
"I don't know, man. He was staring at his AulWris the whole time. Maybe he was bluffing?"
Theories flew between the recruits as the line shuffled forward.