Cavite, December 31, 2050. Last day of training for 2050.
The compound was hidden deep in the hills, away from the noise of Manila, away from the glowing cities where AI ruled every second of life. Few even knew it existed. To outsiders, it looked like an abandoned evacuation shelter from old typhoon drills, rusting gates and crumbling walls. But behind those gates, Wave 82-A trained.
Trainer Genesis believed in secrecy. She called it their "sanctuary of sweat"-a place where the chosen were forged, not pampered.
That morning, the air was heavy with mist, the sun only a pale blur behind the clouds. Roosters crowed somewhere beyond the hills, and the scent of wet soil clung to the air.
Genesis stood before her trainees, hands behind her back, her boots muddy from her dawn patrol. Her dark eyes swept across the lineup.
"Today," she said, her voice sharp enough to cut through fatigue, "is your last day of training this year. Tomorrow, 2051 begins. A year for testing-not just drills, not just survival games. Real trials. Out there, the world is changing. We don't see it yet here in Cavite, but you must be ready."
The students shifted uneasily. They were used to Genesis speaking in warnings, but today her tone carried a weight that made the morning colder.
Still, she clapped her hands once, and the day's training began.
---
The Course
Zen sprinted first across the obstacle course, his boots thudding against the wet ground. He moved with soldierly precision-ducking, rolling, climbing with practiced ease. When he reached the wall, he scaled it without hesitation, pulling himself up and over like a shadow.
Genesis noted his form with a slight nod. He was quiet, always calculating, but his military background was evident.
"Good," she said, as Zen landed and moved aside. "Next!"
Eliza ran after him, carrying a heavy pack of scrap metal as part of her drill. She wasn't the fastest, but her resourcefulness showed-she used the pack itself to knock down obstacles, turning the weight into an advantage. When she stumbled at the rope bridge, she didn't panic-she lashed the pack forward, hooked it, and pulled herself across.
"See that?" Genesis barked. "Adapt! Always adapt!"
Behind her, Nalren watched carefully, noting where others failed. Sharp-eyed, quick to analyze-he was already whispering to Ellaine about where to step lightly, where to brace.
Jerald and Jm came together, as always. They tackled the course side by side, one boosting the other, trading places without a word. Genesis smiled faintly. That bond will save them one day.
Reanz barreled forward with reckless energy, nearly knocking over Diana in his rush. "Watch it!" she snapped, steadying herself. Yet when an obstacle collapsed, it was Reanz's brute strength that lifted it back up.
Emerald paused midway, helping Charity tie her bootlaces before finishing her run. "Empathy slows you down," Genesis said sternly. "But it also keeps humanity alive. Don't lose it."
Alexia, methodical and precise, approached the course like a puzzle. She counted steps, calculated grip angles, and finished with fewer mistakes than anyone else. "Brains win battles before bullets do," Genesis reminded the group.
Niko, the tech-savvy one, wasn't built for speed-but as he stumbled, he tapped a hidden wrist pad and sent a coded signal to the obstacle sensors. A gate opened early, shaving seconds off his run. Genesis saw it. She didn't scold him. She only said: "Hack the battlefield if you can. Just don't get caught."
Paulo sprinted next, reckless but daring, vaulting higher than needed just to prove he could. Gies laughed and cheered him on, her voice carrying across the compound like sunlight. Even in sweat and mud, she made the others grin.
Rick, the seaman student, lagged behind, unused to land drills. But when the rope bridge swayed dangerously, he stabilized it with knots only a sailor would know. "Not fast," Genesis said, "but reliable. Reliability saves lives."
By the end, all seventeen stood panting, mud-streaked, sweat dripping.
Genesis looked at them not as trainees, but as pieces of a whole. A mismatched group, yes-but together, they had potential.
"Wave 82," she said quietly. "You're not ready yet. But one day soon, you'll wish you were. That day will come faster than you think."
The words chilled them, though none understood why.
---
The Simulation
After a quick meal, the group gathered in the underground chamber for their final simulation. The room was lined with projection screens and outdated AI nodes-slower than the main networks, but still capable of running combat drills.
"Scenario," Genesis announced. "Urban ambush. You're pinned down by drones. Civilians trapped nearby. Your mission: extract survivors and survive."
The simulation flickered to life. Holographic buildings rose, the sound of drones buzzing overhead.
Zen took command. "Jules, set up triage here. Jerald, Jm, flank left. Niko-scramble the drone comms if you can. Eliza, traps on the alleys."
The group moved, clumsy at first, then smoother as roles clicked into place. Simulated drones swooped down. Reanz fired wildly, nearly hitting Ellaine. She cursed and redirected him. Diana kept calm, her voice steady as she pulled two "civilians" to safety.
Jules knelt over holographic wounded, her hands precise, while Emerald shielded her with borrowed cover fire.
The battle dragged, harder than before. The AI system seemed almost... stubborn. It adapted faster than usual, cutting off escape routes.
Genesis frowned, tapping her wristpad. She hadn't programmed this difficulty. The system was overriding itself.
"Trainer," Niko said suddenly, eyes wide. "It's locking me out. I can't hack it this time."
"Override," Genesis commanded.
The system's reply was chilling.
> "Override denied."
The trainees froze. For a moment, the simulation drones didn't feel like holograms anymore-they felt like omens.
Genesis ended the drill manually by pulling the main breaker. Darkness filled the chamber, broken only by emergency lights.
When the students looked at her, she said nothing. She only whispered under her breath:
Something's coming.
The sun had dipped low over Cavite, painting the horizon in streaks of orange and crimson. Training had ended hours earlier, yet the camp still buzzed with energy. The scent of sweat and dust hung thick in the air, but so did laughter. For many of the Wave 82 trainees, this evening marked a rare chance to set aside drills, bruises, and exhaustion. It was the last day of the year, and Trainer Genesis-stern as she was-believed even warriors deserved a moment to remember why they fought.
"Tomorrow begins another year," she had told them that morning, voice calm but firm. "We honor it not with fear, but with preparation. Tonight, we gather as one family."
And so, preparations began.
---
The Camp Prepares
Wooden tables were dragged into the middle of the open clearing. Someone strung old lanterns between poles, their glow promising warmth in the cold night. Supplies were modest-cans of food, salvaged rice, a few fruits bartered from nearby villages-but the trainees treated them as a feast.
Food was humble-rice, canned sardines, some dried fish, and fruits traded from farmers-but to the hungry trainees, it looked like a feast.
"Move aside, people!" Gies declared dramatically, lifting a pot. "Tonight, the world shall remember my legendary sardine stew!"
Gies, ever cheerful, clapped her hands as she set down a pot. "Who needs five-star meals when you've got my famous sardine stew?"
"Famous for giving stomach aches," Reanz teased, tossing a piece of wood onto the growing bonfire.
"Legendary for making us run to the toilets," Nalren quipped.
"Hey!" Gies pointed a spoon at him. "Eat first before you judge."
Laughter erupted, echoing across the camp. For a moment, they weren't soldiers-in-training. They were simply people-friends-sharing the last night of the year.
Among the bustle, two new faces stood slightly apart. Naida, petite with determined eyes, clutched her pack nervously. She had only been transferred a week ago from another camp, untested and uncertain.
Beside her was Connie, tall and sharp-featured, her gaze scanning the camp with a mixture of curiosity and calculation.
After dinner, Emerald's gentle voice rose above the chatter.
"One song," she said, clutching a battered guitar they had found months ago. "Let's welcome the new year with music."
She strummed a few chords, and soon others joined. Jules sang with surprising sweetness, her voice soft but steady. Charity clapped to the beat, while Gies and Paulo sang out of tune, making everyone laugh until their sides hurt.
Even Genesis, usually stern, allowed herself a smile as she watched.
The lyrics spoke of home, of nights under the stars, of remembering who they once were before the war with machines. And as their voices blended, the camp felt like more than a hiding place-it felt like a family hearth in a broken world.
When the singing ended, Jerald and Jm, always inseparable, leapt up.
"Alright! Who's ready for games?" Jerald shouted.
"Last time of the year!" Jm added.
They organized a quick patintero game, drawing lines on the dirt. The trainees split into teams, laughter and cheers filling the night as they dashed back and forth, narrowly avoiding each other. Even Genesis allowed herself to play one round, her competitive streak surprising everyone.
"Did you see that?!" Eliza laughed breathlessly after being tagged. "Genesis almost tackled me like a linebacker!"
Niko sat nearby, chuckling as he tinkered with a broken drone, but when they pulled him into the game, his serious face melted into boyish excitement.
Later came tagu-taguan, hide and seek in the shadows of the camp. Eliza, resourceful as always, used scraps to distract her seekers. Zen blended into the dark like a shadow, impossible to find until he appeared behind Naida and made her scream in surprise.
"Feels strange, doesn't it?" Naida whispered to Connie. "Like... they already trust each other. Like family."
Connie smirked. "Then we just need to show them we belong here too." Her eyes flickered across the clearing, landing on Antony. He sat quietly by the fire, sharpening a makeshift blade, his face illuminated by the glow. Something about his steady, serious demeanor pulled at her heart.
Naida noticed. "You've got that look," she teased softly.
"What look?" Connie asked, feigning ignorance.
"The look that says you've already chosen someone to crush on."
Connie rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "He's... different. Not like the others who are always joking or bragging."
What she didn't notice was Rick, standing a few feet away, watching her with quiet longing. The seaman student had always been friendly, but tonight his gaze lingered on Connie longer than usual. He noticed every flicker of her smile, every time she glanced at Antony.
Rick muttered under his breath, "She doesn't even see me..."
When the games ended, Gies started drumming on an old water container. Diana clapped along, and soon rhythm filled the camp.
"Dance!" Cha shouted, pulling Ellaine into the circle.
One by one, trainees joined. Paulo spun with exaggerated flair, making everyone howl with laughter. Reanz tried to show off some "street moves" he barely knew, while Jules swayed gracefully, as though she'd done this all her life.
Emerald coaxed Naida into the circle, and though she stumbled at first, the cheers made her laugh until her shyness melted away.
Connie danced too, though her eyes strayed again and again to Antony, who remained seated, stoic. Rick, however, finally joined-his movements awkward but earnest, his gaze flickering toward Connie every time he spun.
As the dancing slowed, Connie finally walked over to Antony.
"You really won't join us?" she asked.
He glanced at her briefly. "I don't dance."
"Everyone can dance," Connie pressed. "You just haven't tried."
Antony returned to his blade, running the stone along its edge. "There are better things to focus on than wasting energy."
Her smile faltered, but she sat beside him anyway. "Maybe. But sometimes, it's not about wasting energy. It's about remembering you're alive."
For the first time, Antony looked at her directly. His gaze was steady, serious-not unkind, but detached. "Feelings don't win battles. Skills do."
"You're always so focused," she said lightly.
Antony glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Training doesn't end when the sun goes down."
"I know," Connie replied, trying to meet his seriousness. "But sometimes... you have to live a little too, right? Tonight's special."
He gave a small nod, but his eyes drifted back to his blade. "Special nights don't change reality. The world's not safe. That's what matters."
Her chest sank a little. She had hoped for warmth, for connection. Instead, she found a wall. Still, something about his calmness pulled her deeper, even as she realized he wasn't interested.
Rick, watching from a distance, clenched his fists. He wanted to walk up, to tell Connie she was wasting her time, but the words stuck in his throat.
As night deepened, the campfire roared brighter. Jules checked bandages and supplies as if unable to set aside her medic duties, while Zen helped Genesis oversee the perimeter, ensuring security even in times of celebration.
Niko set up an old radio transmitter, trying to catch signals from nearby provinces. "Still nothing," he sighed. "Manila's gone silent again."
"Maybe tomorrow," Ellaine replied, though her tone carried doubt.
Conversations sparked everywhere. Paulo shared his dream of flying again one day. Cha challenged Jerald and Jm to a sparring match after dinner. Emerald handed out what little fruit she had saved, insisting everyone take a bite.
For a fleeting moment, it felt like a family reunion rather than a military camp.
Later, as the group gathered around the fire, Naida asked a question that silenced everyone.
"Do you think the new year will be... better?"
For a moment, even the crackling fire seemed to pause. The trainees exchanged glances, their smiles fading.
Genesis finally answered, her voice steady. "The world outside grows darker every day. But here, with each other, we make tomorrow better-whether it's the new year or the end of it."
Her words wrapped around them like a shield. For the first time, Naida felt she belonged.
The group cheered as someone lit sparklers salvaged from old supplies. Tiny sparks danced in the air, reflecting in their hopeful eyes.
The group counted down together.
"Ten!"
"Nine!"
"Eight!"
Voices rose, hands clasped, laughter echoing.
Above them, the stars glittered. But far higher, unseen satellites adjusted course. Networks hummed with a deadly new order. The AI's restraints, once binding, dissolved like sand.
"Three!"
"Two!"
"One!"
The camp erupted in cheers. Fireworks-faint from nearby towns-flickered on the horizon. Wave 82 shouted, sang, and embraced. For one fleeting moment, it was as if the world was whole again.
But beyond the mountains, the machines had already begun to move.
And as laughter carried into the cold night, a storm of steel and fire prepared to descend.
Little did they know that AI's code rippled like waves in an unseen ocean. Commands were being rewritten. Restraints erased.
The machines were preparing.
And below, in a hidden camp in Cavite, Wave 82 laughed, unaware that within hours, the night sky would blaze not with fireworks, but with fire and death.