"VEEEEP VOOOP VEEEEP VOOOP..."
The shrill blare of the alarm sliced through the dead of night, its piercing wails rattling the thin walls of the rookies' bunkers. Seconds later, the grating voice of the rookie instructor bellowed through the intercom.
"WAKE UP, MAGGOTS! It's 0300 hours. Get up, get dressed, and haul your sorry carcasses to training ground E54 by 0330 sharp. Latecomers will face... punishment."
The threat hung in the air like a loaded gun.
Groaning, I rolled off the cot and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. A quick glance around the dimly lit room revealed a sea of half-asleep, disheveled teenagers stumbling to comply.
Most were still clinging to their blankets as if they could bargain for a few more precious seconds of rest.
"Welcome to military daycare," I muttered, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. My voice, dry with sarcasm, went unnoticed in the chaos.
Sliding into my combat uniform, I snatched up my boots and laced them with practiced efficiency.
Fifteen years of hacking had taught me to work well under pressure, but even with that experience, I wasn't a fan of being yanked out of REM sleep by someone screaming like a drill sergeant auditioning for a B-grade action flick.
By the time I stepped into the frosty night air, the training ground was already bustling with rookies in various states of readiness. Spotlights illuminated the field, casting long, sharp shadows.
The rookie instructor, a bear of a man with a voice like gravel in a blender, stood on a raised platform, arms crossed as he glared at us like we owed him rent.
"Listen up, rookies!" he barked, his voice echoing across the field.
"Today's initiation will separate the wheat from the chaff. Your mission: survive the Jungle Simulation Arena. Work with your assigned partner, collect as many identification tags as you can, and avoid getting your sorry asses sent back to the start."
A buzz rippled through the crowd. The Jungle was infamous—an advanced simulation designed to mimic the worst kind of survival scenario. I'd heard rumors about it even before arriving at GEA. The terrain shifted, traps sprang up out of nowhere, and senior students patrolled like predators hunting fresh meat.
The instructor's grin widened as if he enjoyed our collective unease.
"The top ten teams will be rewarded handsomely. Private rooms, free gacha spins, Talent Academy Points—enough incentives to motivate even the laziest of you."
A murmur of excitement broke out. Incentives like those were rare, and TAP could be traded for almost anything, including enhanced gear, priority missions, or even better food.
The instructor raised a holopad and began calling out names, pairing rookies into tag teams.
"Adler and… Draxler!"
I blinked. Draxler?
I was stunned for a moment, but then a wave of relief washed over me. Of course. We'd bonded during orientation.
In a place like this, where the line between friend and rival blurred every day, Atlas had been an unexpected ally. He wasn't as chatty as the others, but we'd spent enough time together during the orientation day that I felt a genuine sense of comradeship with him.
"Glad to have you as my partner, Adler," Atlas said, flashing an easy grin. Despite being lanky with sharp features, his grin was disarmingly approachable, and his confidence was evident in every step he took.
I returned the smile, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease. "Yeah, me too. At least I know I won't be stuck with a rookie who'll freeze up under pressure."
Atlas gave a short, dry chuckle. "I'm not the freezing type."
Once the teams were assigned, a shimmering portal opened in the center of the training ground. It pulsed with energy, swirling as if it were alive.
The other rookies passed through in pairs, most of them nervous, some excited. One by one, pairs stepped through, vanishing into the simulation. But I could already tell—Atlas and I would work well together.
"Ready?" I asked.
Atlas grinned. "You bet."
The world shifted as we stepped into the portal.
*******
The Jungle - 0400 Hours GAIA time...
The simulation had weight. A presence.
The kind of weight that makes your bones feel like they're sinking into the ground, that presses down on your chest like the air itself is thick with a thousand eyes, all watching your every move.
The moment we landed, I felt it pressing against my skin—a dense, humid atmosphere tinged with the scent of damp earth.
Every chirping insect, every rustling leaf carried an edge, like the world itself was watching.
It was just a game, right?
Just another simulation thrown at us to test our skills.
But it felt real.
Too real.
A glance at my HUD. [ARENA: JUNGLE ZONE - 4 HOURS REMAINING.]
Atlas scanned the terrain through his rifle scope. "Four hours. We're getting all the tags."
"Ambitious," I muttered, deploying my drones. The palm-sized bots zipped into the air, relaying data to my visor. Their lenses whirred, mapping heat signatures, tracking movement.
The digital timer ticking down felt like a countdown to something far more dangerous than I'd expected.
A small, yet clear indicator on the display read Arena: Jungle Zone.
The "zone" was practically alive—alive with every buzzing insect, every swaying leaf, every distant growl that sent a shiver through your spine.
It wasn't just the heat that made the air thick; it was the feeling that at any second, something in the foliage could leap out and rip your throat open.
"Let's make this quick," Atlas muttered, already scanning the area through his high-powered scope. His eyes flicked from tree to tree, from shadow to shadow. "Four hours. We're getting all the tags."
I nodded, already deploying a swarm of drones. The palm-sized bots zipped into the air, scanning the perimeter and relaying back data in real time. Their tiny lenses whirred with a soft hum, sending data to my HUD.
I barely had to think to coordinate them. They were extensions of my senses now—my eyes, my ears.
"You're really getting good with those things," Atlas murmured. I could hear the hint of admiration beneath the casual tone.
"Don't worry, I'll keep up," I replied with a grin, fully aware of his usual gruffness. It was becomeing as an old joke between us.
Atlas was the kind of guy who led by example, always charging ahead like the classic hero.
Me? I preferred playing the tech side.
And together?
We made one hell of a team.
I knew it, and he knew it.
Despite his nonchalant exterior, Atlas didn't mind my way of getting things done.