As the instructor finished the breakdown of Voidwalkers, the room fell into a tense silence. That was until one cadet—a lanky guy from the back row—clutched his chest dramatically.
"My god… they're real…" he whispered loud enough for half the room to hear. Another cadet, eyes wide, leaned forward like he was in a horror movie. "Bro, did you see that black outline? I swear it blinked!"
Someone actually let out a genuine gasp, while another girl fanned herself with her notes like she was about to faint."I didn't sign up for this," she whispered. "I was promised benefits and stability. Not memory lightning and smiling mutants."
Seyfe leaned back in his seat, exhausted already from the day. He muttered under his breath, "They should hand out Oscars for some of these performances."
Even the short silver-haired girl near the middle—still as bubbly as ever—raised her hand."Do we get extra credit for not fainting?"
The instructor paused, eyes narrowing, though his mechanical arm clicked once—maybe the only sign of amusement.
"No. But you do get to meet the real thing next month."
The room collectively groaned.
The Veiler finally dismissed the class, his voice sharp and final. The room stirred with movement, cadets stretching stiff limbs, some muttering quietly about the sheer volume of information just dumped on them.
Once again, they were herded back to the cafeteria—because apparently, food was the only reward they'd get before whatever came next.
Seyfe found himself munching absently on something that tasted vaguely like curry but had the texture of foam. He wasn't even sure if he was hungry or just eating because it beat overthinking.
The room buzzed with subdued chatter. People laughed nervously, others stared blankly at their trays.
All they could do now was wait. For what? No one knew. Only that an announcement was coming.
And announcements in Veiler Academy were rarely ever good news.
The intercom blared with static before a cold, clipped voice filled the cafeteria:
"Attention all cadets. You are to immediately proceed to the field for a meeting with your squad leaders. This includes all seven squadrons. You are to be present in fifteen minutes—sharp. Those who are late will be punished severely."
A quiet wave of dread swept through the room.
Chairs scraped against the floor in a chaotic chorus as cadets stood almost in unison. Trays were abandoned. Conversations died instantly. Some looked confused, others annoyed—but most just looked exhausted.
Seyfe stood slowly, eyes still locked on the trio across the room.
They didn't flinch.
The tall silver-haired guy finally stood, brushing non-existent dust off his uniform. The tattooed girl gave a dramatic sigh and stretched like she had just finished a nap, and the small one gave a small, chipper "Let's go!" like this was just another casual stroll.
Seyfe scoffed."Of course they're not worried."
Then he moved with the tide of cadets, back into the heat of whatever storm the Veilers were brewing next.
As the sea of cadets funneled out into the open field, the murmurs grew louder, like a low swarm of nervous energy. Seyfe could feel it in the air—the stiffness in everyone's shoulders, the half-healed soreness in their limbs, the silent flashbacks of yesterday's hellish trials.
The field looked exactly the same.Untouched.Unforgiving.
The dirt still bore the imprints of where cadets collapsed, clawed, and cursed their way through training. The wall loomed in the background like a monument to despair, and even the wind that passed through seemed to carry yesterday's screams.
Seyfe muttered, "Great. Back to the scene of the crime."
Squadrons began to form into lines, instructors pacing with those cold, detached gazes. Seyfe spotted Aki already standing at the front—arms crossed, face unreadable.
And then, one by one, the other squad leaders began to appear.
Each carried an air that separated them from the cadets: calm, calculated, and absolutely terrifying in their stillness.
Seyfe stood quietly in the middle of his formation, eyes narrowed, jaw tight.He didn't know what they were about to be thrown into next…But he knew it wasn't going to be good.
The field was a tense sea of cadets, a restless mass waiting to be molded, shaped, and tested. The air felt thick, as if the very atmosphere had been pulled taut, waiting to snap. Yesterday's brutal training had left its marks on the cadets, and today, an even greater weight pressed on their shoulders. They stood in tight clusters, eyes darting, whispers circulating like shadows.
Overhead, the sky was an unsettling gray—neither dark nor light, but something in between, like the calm before a storm. The distant hum of machinery buzzed low, punctuated by the soft shuffling of feet. Cadets wiped sweat from their brows, hands fidgeting, their minds racing with questions. What did this meeting mean? What would they be asked to do next?
The command came suddenly, cutting through the murmurs.
"All cadets, stand at attention. The remaining Veiler Handlers are arriving."
Seyfe's pulse quickened, his gaze snapping to the distant gates. The sound of boots hitting the ground echoed sharply, a rhythmic thump that sent a jolt through his spine. He could feel it—the atmosphere shifting, the air thickening with authority and purpose.
From the gate, the six remaining Veiler Handlers emerged, their figures casting long shadows on the field. They were more than just soldiers. They were legends. Figures of power. Each movement was calculated, every step deliberate. They carried an aura of command that clung to them like an iron shroud.
As they advanced in perfect formation, the cadets stiffened instinctively, some shrinking back, others puffing out their chests in defiance. They were no longer students here—they were prey or predator, and they could feel the Veiler Handlers' eyes on them, dissecting their every movement.
Aki Varess, the Veiler Handler of the Overseer Squadron, stood alone, a silent sentinel at the front of the group. Her raven-black hair, as dark as the void between worlds, cascaded down her back, gleaming with an unnatural sheen. Her eyes—deep and cold, like endless shadows—scanned the field, her gaze calculating, observant. She didn't flinch, didn't blink, as if she could see through the very fabric of time itself.
Behind her, the rest of the squad leaders formed a perfect line, their presence magnetic, suffocating. The air seemed to warp around them.
Jannet Dwight – Spearhead Squadron: A warrior in every sense, her sharp features framed by the red scarf that fluttered like a bloodied banner in the wind. Her armor gleamed with the polished sheen of someone who had seen battle—and survived it.
Hansel Fel – Asher Squadron: The quiet one, his gaze locked behind his visor. He was more machine than man, a cold observer, a calculating force with an unnerving stillness that made the cadets wary. There was no mercy in his eyes.
Ura Gintoki – Fallacy Squadron: A trickster, all sharp smiles and quicker hands. His unbuttoned coat billowed in the breeze as he absentmindedly shuffled cards between his fingers. A man who turned chaos into his personal game, and the cadets were the pawns.
Jerome Hykali – Owl Squadron: Cloaked in shadows, his silent steps made him almost invisible. His presence was unsettling, like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The air around him seemed colder, as if time itself slowed when he walked.
Kira Jahina – Kemika Squadron: A figure bathed in strange, glowing light from the potions she carried. Her eyes burned brighter than any fire, a mad scientist in a world of magic. The scent of alchemical reactions lingered in her wake, like a volatile storm about to erupt.
Hyacinth Uganda – Foxtail Squadron: Her smile was disarming, but it was a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She was calm, soothing even, but there was something dangerous beneath the surface, an unpredictability that made her just as deadly as any weapon.
The cadets stood frozen as Aki Varess stepped forward, her presence amplifying, overwhelming. Her voice sliced through the tension, cool and commanding, echoing like a strike of thunder across the field.
"These are your Veiler Handlers," she said, her voice like ice scraping stone. "From this moment on, you belong to us. We will break you. We will mold you. And you will rise."
Her eyes flicked to the cadets—each one, as though weighing their worth, appraising their futures.
"The world you knew is gone. The world you will face will be harsher, crueler, and filled with monsters of both flesh and magic. Your weakness will get you killed. Your fear will get you erased. And if you cannot survive..."
She let the words hang in the air, as cold and sharp as the blade at her hip.
"...then you will disappear into nothingness. Forgotten. A relic of a world long gone."
The cadets felt the weight of her words like a physical blow, each syllable a stone that crashed against their chests. Some looked away, others steeled themselves, but none could escape the raw gravity of her gaze.
"You are not here to be coddled," Aki continued, her voice lowering like a predator's growl. "You are here to be weapons. To fight. To survive. And to become what the world needs."
She turned her gaze to the other squadron leaders, who nodded in unison, their silent approval making the air hum with anticipation.
"Now... Let the training begin."
Seyfe's muttered words barely escaped his lips as the weight of Aki's declaration settled like a dark cloud over the entire squadron. The oppressive silence that followed her speech seemed to strangle any attempts at conversation. His thoughts were a whirlwind of frustration, disbelief, and reluctant understanding.
"So what we just tasted on the first day was just a prelude? Damn, who knew that this government was run by sadists?"
He wanted to scream, to vent out the tidal wave of anger building in his chest, but he knew better. There was no one to vent to here. No one who would understand. The other cadets had fallen into a similar trance, eyes wide, bodies tense, as if the mere sound of Aki's voice had sealed their fates.
Around him, the weight of reality was setting in. This wasn't just some training program. It was a relentless grind to break them down, to shape them into something they hadn't agreed to become. The "Veilers" weren't heroes or soldiers—they were tools. Weapons forged by the government, meant to be used and discarded as needed.
Seyfe glanced around at his fellow cadets. Some faces were pale, others strained with barely suppressed panic, but there was a quiet determination in the air. Perhaps some had already resigned themselves to this fate, accepting the cruelty of it all. But Seyfe? He wasn't going to roll over that easily. This wasn't the kind of world he had ever wanted to live in.
He clenched his fists, the anger surging through him. The cruel tests, the constant manipulation—he wasn't going to let them make him into one of their soulless soldiers. He wasn't just a tool for them to use. Not now, not ever.
But before he could indulge in more of his rebellious thoughts, the sharp crack of a whip echoed across the field, and Aki's voice sliced through the murmur of the cadets.
"Enough chatter! The real test begins now."
The tension in the air ratcheted up instantly. The cadets straightened, the sudden shift in Aki's tone sharpening their senses. Whatever came next, it was sure to be worse than anything they had experienced so far.
Seyfe's mind raced as he braced himself for whatever hellish task would come next.