The transport trucks rumbled along the cracked highway, their engines growling beneath the weight of armor and recruits packed inside. The air was heavy with sweat, steel, and the faint whine of weapons charging. Every rookie sat in silence or nervous chatter, swaying with each bump in the road.
Akira Kurogiri sat near the end of the bench, his rifle resting against his knee, sword sheathed at his hip, pistols secured on his chest harness. His eyes scanned the faces of his peers — some pale with dread, others burning with anticipation. Beside him, Reno Ichikawa tightened and re-tightened the strap on his rifle as though the motion itself would steady his heart. Across from them, Kafka Hibino slouched forward, arms crossed, pretending to nap even as his knee bounced restlessly.
Kikoru Shinomiya sat upright near the front, posture impeccable, eyes forward. Even now, she radiated the poise of her lineage — the Shinomiya heir, untouchable. Yet her fingers drummed against the hilt of her axe, betraying the storm beneath her calm mask.
The convoy stretched long. Dozens of recruits, freshly assigned to platoons under Tachikawa's finest leaders, rolled toward their proving ground: Sector D-12.
Above in HQ, Captain Mina Ashiro's voice crackled through the radio systems, calm and crisp.
"Recruits, listen well. Today marks your first live deployment. This is not training. Civilian lives depend on your performance. Failure is not an option."
A hush settled inside the trucks. Even the engines seemed quieter under Mina's words.
Vice-Captain Hoshina's voice followed, warm but edged with a teasing sharpness.
"Don't wet yourselves now. This is where the Defense Force weeds out the wheat from the chaff. Stick to orders, cover your squadmates, and you just might come back in one piece. Maybe."
Nervous laughter broke the silence. Kafka grimaced. Reno swallowed hard. Akira smirked faintly, eyes closing as if to savor the tension.
[Ravan: Incoming data stream. Fortitude levels in Sector D-12 fluctuating. Probability of daikaiju presence: 13%. Subjugation difficulty: High. Recommendation: host remain concealed. Suppression protocols active.]
Akira tilted his head slightly. (Always so cheerful, aren't you, Ravan?)
[Ravan: Sarcasm detected. Logging response. Do not die.]
The trucks braked sharply. The back doors clanged open, sunlight flooding the dim interior.
"Out! Line up!" barked Nakanoshima, the burly platoon leader with a scarred jaw and voice like rolling thunder. His presence alone silenced the chatter. "You rookies are under me now. Don't embarrass yourselves."
On the next truck, Higarashi stepped down, adjusting his glasses with a clinical precision. His platoon gathered quickly, stiff as though facing an exam. "Formations will be by book. Disrupt my calculations and I will note your failure in the report."
A few recruits gulped audibly.
Ikaruga, the battle analyst who had temporarily joined field command, stood with her squad clipboard in hand, her expression calm but firm. "Stay in formation. Relay data to me instantly. Panic costs lives."
The rookies shuffled into their assigned groups.
Kafka found himself in Nakanoshima's platoon with Reno and Akira, a small comfort amidst the sea of new faces. Kikoru, naturally, was placed under direct observation by Higarashi's squad — the brass wanted her discipline tested under the harshest scrutiny.
"Figures," Reno muttered, adjusting his grip on his rifle. "They want her chained down by the strict guy."
Akira smirked. "She'll break the chains if she has to."
Kafka stretched, trying to play it off. "At least we're together. Right? We can cover each other's backs."
[Ravan: Correction. Host will cover everyone's back. Reno probability of survival: 67%. Kafka probability of survival: 12%.]
Akira kept his face still, though a muscle in his jaw twitched. (Shut it.)
Sector D-12 loomed before them. The once-bustling district lay in ruin, skyscrapers gutted, windows shattered, streets choked with abandoned cars and debris. Silence reigned — an oppressive stillness broken only by the distant cry of crows circling high above.
"Civilians evacuated two hours ago," Mina's voice came through again, this time colder. "But kaiju signatures remain active. Your task: neutralize all variants within the sector. No breaches. No escapes."
The rookies swallowed as her words settled.
In HQ's observation deck, analysts sat before glowing monitors, reading waves of data. Konomi Ikaruga's assistant adjusted her headset, eyes flicking to Mina. "Captain, multiple kaiju readings confirmed. Estimated fortitude: between 5.2 and 6.8. Variants identified — Ant Types, Worm Types, and… Tiger Beetle Types."
Hoshina whistled softly, leaning on the railing beside Mina. "Tiger Beetles for the kids' first dance, huh? Rough welcome party."
Mina's lips pressed into a line. "They'll endure. Or they'll fail."
On the ground, the rookies formed up. Weapons hummed with energy, barrels gleaming in the weak light. Reno checked his rifle one last time, breath steadying. Kafka fiddled with his trigger, sweat beading at his temple. Akira drew his sword halfway, its polished steel catching the sun before sliding it back with a quiet rasp.
Kikoru rested her axe on her shoulder, eyes locked ahead. She radiated confidence, daring the kaiju to test her.
Nakanoshima's roar broke the silence. "Remember your training! Stick to your squadmates! This isn't about glory — it's about results!"
Higarashi pushed his glasses higher, voice cold. "And don't you dare break formation. A single failure of order will result in collapse. Do. Not. Falter."
A nervous rookie whispered too loudly, "Collapse? Are we really that close to dying—?"
"Shut it!" another hissed, shoving him quiet.
Akira stood calm, unreadable amidst the trembling.
[Ravan: Host's heartbeat steady. Comparing to average recruits: superior resilience. Audience perception—intimidation factor increasing.]
The rookies' eyes flicked toward him again, whispers rippling. "How can he be so calm?" "Does he even feel fear?" "Maybe he's just… not human…"
Akira ignored them.
Above, Mina raised her hand, her sharp gaze sweeping the battlefield like a blade.
"Defense Force recruits," her voice rang through the comms, "this is your moment. Prove your worth. Protect this land. Protect its people. Do not shame the uniform you wear."
Hoshina grinned lazily, raising two fingers. "Show me what you've got, brats. Time to dance."
The massive gates of Sector D-12 creaked open, rust groaning as daylight spilled into the shadowed ruins. Dust swirled outward, as if the city itself exhaled.
The rookies tensed, rifles rising, blades gleaming.
Mina's hand fell.
"Engage."
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
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
T/N :
Access 25 chapters in Advance on my P@treon: patreon.com/GodFic