Lyra stepped forward with crisp precision, saluting in the classic military fashion.
Ryan, T9's vice, downed his beer in one loud gulp, crushed the can in his hand like it was nothing, and tossed it to a nearby cleaning bot.
He then barked, "Everyone, fall in!"
The soldiers responded quickly, forming up in two neat rows. Squad No. 7, however, was sluggish, dragging their feet and barely managing to line up.
All eyes zeroed in on Lyra, who stood beside Ryan. Their gazes carried a blend of curiosity, doubt, and straight-up mockery.
To them, she looked too young, too soft. As if the moment needed an extra dose of awkwardness, Lyra coughed a bit from the dust kicked up by the training grounds, not exactly helping her first impression.
"Is she seriously a Level-Seven Peculiar?" someone muttered under their breath.
"I saw her in the AMAT vids, but she still looks too weak for this," another voice chimed in.
