Gunfire thundered across the mock battleground. The rookies' first true mission had devolved into chaos the instant the gates clanged shut behind them.
The air reeked of iron and powder. Smoke clouds mingled with the acrid stench of kaiju blood, the ground quaking beneath clawed feet.
"Line up! Keep firing!" an instructor's voice barked from above the walls.
But the rookies couldn't hear him over the roar.
Bullets rattled in uneven bursts. Screams mingled with the guttural screeches of kaiju as the creatures burst through crumbling barriers. Their hides, slick and armored, absorbed stray rounds, sending rookies stumbling back in panic.
"Too close! They're too close!" someone yelled.
Kafka Hibino's rifle bucked in his hands. His shots went wild, barely grazing one beast before another slammed against the barricade. His arms trembled, every recoil a punishment.
On his left, Reno Ichikawa was holding ground better, teeth grit as he aimed in sharp, controlled bursts.
On his right, Akira Kurogiri was almost unnervingly calm—sidestepping, blade flashing to parry claws, his pistol barking precise headshots that dropped kaiju clean.
And in the distance, Kikoru Shinomiya was blazing like a storm. Her blade cut in vicious arcs, precise and merciless. "That's three!" she shouted, voice sharp, slicing another kaiju's tendon before finishing it clean through the throat.
Her count had begun.
Kafka's knees hit the ground, sweat burning his eyes. He stared helplessly as the others pressed forward—Reno, desperate but steady. Akira, controlled and efficient. Kikoru, a blur of elegance and rage.
And him? One percent compatibility. Shots scattering. A dead weight.
A poisonous thought crept in. If I just used it. Just a little of that power…
Images clawed into his head—bones snapping, flesh twisting, claws bursting from his arms. Kaiju strength flooding his veins.
Maybe then I'd be useful.
"Senpai!" Reno's voice cracked through the haze. He cut down a kaiju mid-charge, not even looking back. "Don't even think about it!"
Kafka flinched. "R-Reno—"
Then Akira's voice cut like a blade through the smoke.
"You're not here to be strong. You're here because you know them better than anyone!" His sword screeched as it clashed with kaiju hide, sparks scattering before he shoved the beast back and shot it through the eye. "Not Mina, not Hoshina—you!"
[Ravan: Host morale manipulation detected. Target: Kafka Hibino. Probability of compliance: high.]
Kafka's throat tightened. He gritted his teeth. "…Right."
Forcing himself up, he snapped his rifle to the side, not to shoot—but to point.
"Forget the chest!" he shouted to the closest recruits. "That armor's a waste of bullets—go for the joints! Behind the knee, under the armpit!"
The rookies blinked at him, startled. They obeyed. Their next volley shredded a kaiju's legs, sending it crashing to the dirt where a final round finished it.
Kafka's voice gained strength. "The hide near the gills—that's soft! Aim there!"
A burst of fire hit exactly where he said, and the kaiju shrieked before collapsing.
"Don't swing wide!" he barked to another. "The tail's just a whip—cut at the base where it connects! That's where the muscle is!"
The rookies gasped, then obeyed. Another kaiju fell.
It wasn't tactics. It wasn't raw strength. It was biology. Years of hauling kaiju corpses, cutting them apart, scrubbing their remains from city streets—Kafka knew how they broke.
And suddenly, the rookies were landing killing blows they hadn't before.
On the sidelines, Reno's grin split wide as he emptied another magazine. "That's the senpai I know!"
Akira smirked faintly, cutting a kaiju's claw in two. "Took you long enough."
Kikoru sliced through another beast, panting as she pulled her blade free. "Four!"
Akira calmly shot two more. "Five."
Reno yelled, "Three for me!"
The tension began to flip. Fear turned to competition.
[Ravan: Observation—host leveraging rivalry as morale fuel. Probability of group cohesion growth: 92%.]
Kaiju corpses began piling. Gunfire regained rhythm.
Above, on the control deck, voices overlapped.
"Recruit Hibino's output is still one percent, but look at this—his directions are increasing survival rates by thirty percent!"
"He's reading the biology like a manual… did this guy study them his whole life?"
Mina Ashiro leaned forward, arms folded, hawk eyes locked on the feed. Her gaze darted from Kafka shouting weak points, to Reno fighting tooth and nail, to Akira's deceptively effortless control.
Hoshina chuckled, scratching his chin. "That one percent weakling's turning into a walking kaiju encyclopedia. And the others—look at 'em dance."
Mina's lips tightened. "…This isn't over. If they burn out now, the second wave will crush them."
Ikegami, one of the aides, muttered nervously. "Still… their sync rate is climbing. Even Izumo and Kaguragi are matching tempo."
On-screen, Haruichi Izumo fought like a textbook knight, calm and disciplined, cutting tendons with surgical grace. Beside him, Aoi Kaguragi roared like a brawler, hacking wildly but landing crushing blows.
"Hah! Got one!" Aoi shouted, face streaked with grime.
Haruichi merely nodded. "Sloppy… but effective."
Not far away, Iharu Furuhashi screamed as he tripped over a corpse, flailing his rifle. A stray bullet by sheer luck punctured a kaiju's eye.
"I-I got it! Did you see that?!" he yelled, chest heaving.
Another rookie muttered, "No way…"
Reno groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between bursts. "He's hopeless…"
Kafka barked between breaths, "Even hopeless can be useful if you aim the right way!"
The rookies laughed despite themselves.
The battle surged on.
Kikoru panted, hair sticking to her face. "Nine!"
Akira calmly cut one down, then fired another shot. "Ten."
"Six!" Reno grinned, staggering but refusing to stop.
Even Haruichi and Aoi began shouting their counts. Rivalries lit across the field like sparks on powder.
And for the first time, it wasn't rookies scrambling against the tide. It was rookies fighting like soldiers.
Kafka wiped blood from his cheek, chest still heavy. He wasn't slaying kaiju, not like them. But for the first time, the others looked to him. They listened.
[Ravan: Development logged. Hibino assuming battlefield niche role. Host's group integration stabilized.]
From above, Hoshina tilted his head, amused. "So, Captain. Who're you betting on? The prodigy? The anomaly? Or the one percent clown who won't die?"
Mina didn't answer. Her eyes never left the screens.
The battlefield roared with another kaiju scream, smoke cloaking the exhausted rookies as they reloaded, blades dripping, lungs burning.
But none of them—Kafka, Akira, Reno, Kikoru, Haruichi, Aoi, even Iharu—showed signs of backing down.
Kafka's chest ached with the weight of it all. His voice was hoarse, but he still shouted: "Don't waste your strength—aim for the weak points! Every kaiju has them! Make every shot count!"
And the rookies obeyed.
The tide had not turned fully—but for the first time, it felt possible.
To be continued—
This story is inspired from various fanfics i have read from around the world so if you find any similarities please dont mind . Thank you
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T/N :
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