The air had bite that morning, sharper than usual. Mist still clung to the edges of Camp 70, and the sun was just a dull smear behind the clouds.
Then came the alarm.
One long, sharp blare—enough to cut through the quiet and send every squad into motion.
Boots hit gravel. Cadets fell into formation.
Raith stood with Squad C-707 in their assigned zone. Unlike the other squads, everyone in his squad was quiet.
Nobody said a word. No side chatter. No nervous energy. Just focus.
They waited, shoulders squared, breaths rising faint in the cold.
That was when Raith noticed, across the yard, that movement stirred near the entrance to the Drill Yard.
Shadows—coming their way.
"Shhh! Be quiet!" One of the Cadets reminded the others.
Everyone stood at attention. Suddenly, everyone felt nervous.
The Wardens had arrived.
One by one, they emerged—fourteen in total—crossing the Drill Yard with purpose. Each stopped at their assigned squad.
Their eyes cut through posture and stance with the sharpness of experience. Raith didn't need to be told which ones had seen real combat.
Every single one of them had, and maybe they had seen wars and deaths, too.
It was in how they moved. How they stood. How they made the Cadets around them hold their breath.
Even Kev, normally the loudest, was quiet in front of his squad's Warden.
And then she appeared.
Raith felt a flicker of something—not fear, not awe, but something close to being disarmed. The woman wasn't like the others.
She wasn't towering or overly armored. But every step she took sent a ripple through the squad lines.
She was heading toward them.
'Why does she seem familiar?' Raith thought, straightening without realizing it.
With a glance, the Warden appeared to be in her late twenties.
She was tall and slender. Her black hair was let loose and fell on her shoulders. She was... beautiful.
A scar traced from her jawline to her collarbone—faint, but deliberate. A mark of experience, not carelessness.
Her eyes were crimson. Not Force-glowing. Just naturally red—and that somehow made them more unnerving.
She wore a sleek combat suit, dark and reinforced along the joints but otherwise minimal. No flash, no unnecessary gear. Just practicality stitched with quiet style.
She stopped in front of them. Didn't smile. Didn't posture. She simply looked.
The kind of look that measured value, and didn't find much.
"Squad C-707?" she asked.
Cael, already trying to assert himself, stepped forward. "Yes, ma'am."
Her eyes flicked to him. "I'm Warden Ivara Dren."
The way she said it—calm, smooth, with a cold undertone—shut down whatever energy lingered around the nearby squads.
Then came the chill. "And don't call me that. I don't like it."
Cael blinked. "Then… what should we call you?"
Her gaze lingered on him. Just a second too long.
"Miss Ivara," she answered before standing right in front of Raith, "It's nice to finally meet you... all."
Then she looked at the others, eyes shifting from one squad member to the next—Liria's unwavering posture, Vanna's shifting feet, Demitri's solid frame, Cael's confused expression.
Each glance seemed to press deeper than it should.
"We're not wasting time with ceremonies or drills," she said. "Follow me. Training Ground 07."
Then she turned without waiting.
And just like that, the squad fell in line behind her.
The squad followed Ivara through a narrow path between buildings until they reached an open arena carved into the ground—rough terrain, jagged stone edges, and a massive ring in the center.
Training Ground 07.
"Do any of you know the other name for this Training Ground?" Ivara asked.
Nobody could answer.
Without wasting any more time, she said, "Ashwake Yard."
"Ashwake Yard?"
The name alone sounded ominous. Raith and the others exchanged glances.
"It's a retired training ground. Still good enough for training," she added. "Besides, nobody prefers this place, so we don't need to take turns with the other squads."
The whole squad nodded. They wanted to ask if there was a story behind it being a retired training ground. But nobody dared to ask.
Ivara chuckled at their reaction. "Well, look at you guys. Cadets... Late awakeners."
"Life changed drastically right after awakening?" she asked.
Everyone nodded, though most were still trying to figure out where their Warden was going with this.
Then she dropped it.
"But you're not strong enough to survive."
A few faces twitched. Some brows furrowed. One Cadet looked like he'd just swallowed a stone.
Ivara chuckled softly.
"That's not an insult," she said. "It's just the truth."
She let that sit for a moment before adding, "But you will become stronger under me."
Raith stiffened slightly. Her eyes had hovered on him a second longer than the others.
"Before we begin, I'll explain the system you've all just stepped into," she said, voice still calm. "Tuners are ranked from Level 1 to Level 99. But we don't use numbers alone in combat reports. We also use designations."
She lifted one hand, activating a small holo pad on her wrist. A projection flared in the air—five glowing symbols stacked top to bottom.
"Level 1 to 20—you're Cadets."
"Level 21 to 40—Soldiers."
"Level 41 to 60—Wardens."
"Some of us are called Enforcers, too. Especially when we lead a bigger mission." Her eyes sharpened. "That's where I stand."
"Level 61 to 80—Knights. Few ever reach this rank."
"And from 81 to 99—you're Generals. There are only eleven alive today in our Haven Bastion."
Raith felt a chill creep in.
"Level 100 is a theory. We call it the King Rank. Nobody knows if there are people who have reached this rank."
A few of them swallowed hard after listening to this. Even Cael had gone quiet.
Ivara lowered the display.
"Normally, we'd run formation drills today. But that's a waste."
Her lips curled slightly, not into a smile, but something close.
"I want you guys to fight me."
Her words stunned the squad.
Vanna raised her hand, "I'm sorry, miss. But you want us to fight you, a Warden?"
Ivara smiled before nodding. She then tilted her head. "And here's the deal. Simple."
"Every squad needs a leader. So..." Her gaze swept over them again. "Whoever lands a hit on me—just a hit—will be appointed Squad Leader."
Raith blinked. That wasn't what he'd expected.
Cael immediately straightened. "Seriously?"
Ivara nodded once. "No restrictions. You can take me on one at a time or all at once. If none of you can manage even a scratch… then I pick."
"Then, how do we decide if we cooperate?" Vanna asked.
Ivara smiled. "If you can cooperate, you'll know right away who is the leader."
Everything she said made a lot of sense. So, nobody asked anything anymore.
Vanna leaned toward Raith and whispered, "You going for it?"
He shook his head slightly. "I'm not interested in being the leader."
Demitri shrugged. "Better one of us than someone who thinks they already deserve it."
Ivara stepped into a massive ring in the center and cracked her neck once.
"Hurry up," she said. "Step in when ready."
Cael didn't hesitate.
"Let me start. I've been waiting for something like this," Cael said, cracking his neck as he stepped forward.
He activated his Force—Break Step.
With a low burst of pressure, his foot slammed down, and he vanished into motion. Short dashes fired off one after another, launching him in zigzag patterns across the yard.
Every step left a kinetic shockwave in his wake, and when he pushed harder, thin blade-like arcs shimmered behind him—pressure trails sharp enough to slice if you got too close.
Fast. Flashy. Confident.
But Ivara didn't move.
Then—just as Cael burst forward one last time, aiming straight for her—her hand flicked out.
A split-second later, Cael was flat on the ground, face in the dirt, arms twisted underneath him like the fight had been edited out of existence.
Silence.
Ivara raised an eyebrow. She hadn't even used a Force.
"Next," she said.
Vanna stepped up next. "Alright. Let's try the sound."
She used Pulse Whistle, her body vibrating slightly before she released a sharp wave of dissonant pressure.
The sound shattered around Ivara, who tilted her head, took one step, and tapped Vanna on the shoulder.
"Next."
Demitri tried third. Arms turning to steel, full offense mode. His Steelshift form glinted in the light as he charged like a bulldozer.
Ivara danced past him. One twist. One hand to the ribs. He was down.
"Next."
Liria entered without a word.
Her Hydroform Manipulation summoned mist from the air. Blades formed mid-lunge—fast, precise.
But Ivara ducked, disarmed her, and knocked her back without even a hair moving out of place.
"Next."
Then all eyes turned to Raith.
He hesitated.
"I said I didn't want it," he murmured.
"Just come," Ivara said. "Or you want to be the weakest S-grade here?"
Those words hit hard.
Dane. Kev. Mira. Elisa. All of them—facing their own trials in their own squads. They took the chance of being awakened to change their life.
And here he was… trying to live a simple life again.
'You already set the bar. Now live up to it.'
Raith stepped forward. Super Strength activated. Still, he held himself in order not to put too much burden on his body.
'This should be enough.'