"THUNDERBOLT STRIKE: AMAE!!!" Nugia's shrill cry tore through the air.
In a split second, that small fist lunged forward. The punch landed with a velocity that defied human comprehension.
BOOM!
It wasn't just the sound of an impact; it was a sonic thud that sent a shockwave of wind whistling through Jean's hair. The veteran instructor froze. His breath hitched as his eyes locked onto the blinking digits on the mannequin's digital display—numbers so rare, they felt like a myth.
DISPLAY: 00 N
In his thirty years of service, Jean had only witnessed that number three times. First, from a man with ice-cold eyes who now served as Captain. Second, from a young girl with a blonde ponytail who had risen to the rank of General. And third, from a sharp-eyed boy who had recently ascended to the same General's throne.
After more than a decade, the "00" had returned.
The hair on Jean's neck stood on end. The mocking laughter from Unit 001, which had been echoing seconds ago, vanished from his senses. In his vision, Nugia's small frame began to overlap with the shadows of those three legendary figures. Jean realized he wasn't just looking at a cadet; he was witnessing the birth of a monster.
"Aw, man! The machine's broken," Nugia said with an innocent, guiltless face, shaking his hand out. "And here I thought I'd hit it with everything I had!"
"How dare you come back here with that poker face!" Meyra hissed. Without warning, she delivered a double "punch of love" to the heads of the two boys in her unit.
THUMP! CRACK!
Amae and Nugia groaned simultaneously, rubbing their skulls—a natural response when bone met Meyra's iron-hard knuckles.
"You're all useless!" Meyra marched forward, her combat boots thumping against the metal floor with such force that Reyna and Amae winced, feeling the ground tremble under her wrath.
She stopped before the mannequin, centering her breath, searching for momentum. But instead of focus, a nightmare surfaced: the image of Jack, lunging through the air with his stiff face, trying to kiss her. Meyra shook her head violently to dispel the disgusting thought.
Then came Ed—the arrogant, muscular brat—appearing in her mind, reaching out to embrace her. Meyra's brow furrowed deep. She took a sharp, jagged breath until the vision vanished.
The breaking point came when Nobo—that ugly, dark-skinned fool—approached with puckered lips. Meyra's dam of patience burst. Her fury ignited. The steel mannequin seemed to tremble in fear as she threw a punch fueled by pure, surgical rage.
"GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU MONKEY-LIPPED FREAK!!!"
BAM!
The deafening crash echoed throughout every corner of The Monolith.
DISPLAY: 650 N.
A strike triggered by pure disgust had bypassed the logic of human physics. Instantly, Unit 009 erupted in cheers, chanting her name and showering her with praise. Meyra had successfully defended the honor of her own lips.
Jean stepped into the center of the room, his voice booming through the suddenly silent hall.
"Attention, all units! Based on the accumulated average physical strength points, first place remains Unit 001 with an average of 664 N!"
"WOOOOOO!!!" Nobo and Jack cheered wildly. Ed smirked at Meyra with a look of triumph. "Get those lips ready, sweetheart! Second place means nothing!"
Meyra looked at Jean with pleading eyes, but the instructor wasn't finished.
"However, on the battlefields of PETERUMMAN, accuracy and speed determine life and death. Based on integrated scores of marksmanship and reflex agility... the overall highest-scoring unit for this session is... Unit 009."
The holographic screens flashed: 94% for Unit 009, while Unit 001 languished at 72%. The gap was astronomical.
"Impossible! The system is rigged!" Ed roared.
"The machines never lie, Cadet," Jean replied coldly. "You have the brawn, but you are slow and reckless. Unit 009 is declared today's overall winner. You are entitled to high-grade nutrition from the Central Sector for tonight's dinner."
Meyra crossed her arms, looking down at Ed with pure disdain. "So, who needs to go back to shooting school, Mr. Third-Rank?"
***
CYCLE 12.00
The cadets' wristbands glowed blue in unison. It was time for nutrient replenishment. Jean led them out, but he remained behind inside the Sector 07 Monolith.
As soon as the automatic doors hissed shut, Jean's fingers danced across the holographic panels. He dove into the deepest encryption to unearth the buried truth.
Jean's eyes widened. On the central screen, Nugia's power graph stood like a pillar, soaring past the peak achievements of the three legendary figures. The line didn't just hit the top; it pierced through the screen's limit, as if the Monolith's system could no longer contain the boy's existence.
"Not a monster... this is a system failure," Jean whispered, his voice trembling.
He knew that if this data reached Vier's hands, Nugia would be dragged to the underground labs to be vivisected as an experimental vessel. With shaking hands, Jean committed the greatest act of treason in his career. He tapped the OVERRIDE command. He deleted Nugia's original logs and replaced them with junk data: 00 N - System Error.
"For now, let the world think you're just a lucky piece of trash, kid," Jean muttered, staring at the closed steel doors. "Because if they find out what you truly are, you'll never see your friends smile again. You'll just be meat on an operating table."
Outside, Amae's laughter discussing the 'Thunderbolt Strike' faded into the distance, unaware that behind them, an instructor had just risked his life to hide the identity of a 'Calamity.'
***
SECTOR 7 DINING HALL
The smell of rusted metal that usually dominated Sector 7 was now masked by the steam of the central kitchen. Dozens of cadets stood in an orderly line, holding cold iron trays. No chatter filled the air; only the clink of metal and the heavy drag of exhausted boots.
Nugia and Unit 009 stood in the middle of the queue. Dried sweat left a sticky, uncomfortable film on their skin, but the gnawing hunger in their bellies was far worse.
One by one, rations were placed on their trays by mechanical servers: 2 Dry Buns—hard as rocks, requiring extra effort to chew. 2 Sausages and 2 Pieces of Mixed Meat—the only precious sources of protein. A mix of Wilted Vegetables and Mushrooms—pale, but full of essential minerals.
And a small slice of Chocolate Cake—a luxury 'gift' of glucose for their exhausted brains.
"Is this it?" Amae stared at the two sausages on his tray, his eyes nearly watering. "After 50 laps and everything, they only give us this?"
"Shut up and eat, Amae," Meyra whispered, snapping her dry bun with a loud crack. "At least you don't have to share those sausages with Unit 001."
They sat at a long table made of cold steel. Nugia stared at his food blankly. To him, this was merely fuel to keep his heart beating, though technically, these calories would never be enough to replace the energy he had just unleashed back at the Monolith.
Suddenly, the low hum of the dining hall fell silent.
Unit 001 marched past their table. Ed, Nobo, and Jack carried similar trays, but their faces were flushed red with fury.
Drog stopped right beside Nugia. He slammed his tray onto the table, nearly making Amae's chocolate cake jump off.
"Enjoy your trash food, brat," Drog hissed, his eyes burning with pure hatred. "You might have won today because of a glitchy system. But remember, outside the Monolith walls, there are no sensors to fake your death."
Nugia looked up, his mouth still slowly chewing the sausage. He didn't retaliate with words. He simply met Drog's gaze with an intensity that made Drog flash back to the 'Calamity' Jean had sensed.
"Drog, move!" Zilla commanded in a low, firm voice. The leader of Unit 009 stabbed his fork into the meat with enough pressure to make Drog take a step back.
Scoffing, Unit 001 retreated to their designated table.
Meyra took a long breath and glanced at her team. "Ignore those 'Mr. Perfects.' Eat up. Remember what Instructor Jean said? Tonight, we get the high-grade nutrients at the dorms."
At those words, the spark in Amae and Reyna's eyes returned. They began to
eat ravenously, trying to squeeze every drop of nutrition from the minimal meal to survive the next cycle.