The armory in the lower basement of Sector 7 Academy was a graveyard of secondhand gear. Racks of dented alloy armor, worn leather straps, and discarded kinetic sidearms lined the concrete walls.
Caine stood before a metal locker tagged with his assigned squad number: Auxiliary Squad 4.
Inside hung a standard-issue scout vest—heavy canvas lined with basic kevlar—and a pair of steel-toed combat boots. No energy shields. No high-grade alloy weapons. The Academy didn't waste expensive gear on students flagged as unstable or low-tier.
"You're the new guy?"
Caine turned to see a girl leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over a dark gray tactical jacket. She looked around his age, seventeen, with short black hair and sharp, observant hazel eyes. Resting on her hip was a small, sleek holster containing a compact CrystalHeart focus rod—a tool used by ranged support specialists.
"Caine," he introduced himself, adjusting his vest straps. "Auxiliary Squad 4."
"I know who you are," she replied, stepping into the room. "I'm Lyra. I'm the navigator and ranged cover for this unit. Word travels fast about the kid who shattered a testing monolith with a baseline CHPower of 10."
"It was an accident," Caine said smoothly, sticking to his cover story. "Internal energy recoil."
Lyra chuckled, a dry sound with little humor in it. "Sure it was. Whatever story keeps Director Thorne from locking you in a lab works for me. But out in Sector 7's Outskirts, 'accidents' get people killed."
She tossed a small, wrist-mounted locator device onto his locker bench.
"Put that on. The Outskirts are beyond the main barrier wall. The environment there is contaminated with residual Jahgred radiation—it scrambles standard comms, so that wrist beacon is the only way the transport can track our vitals and pull us out if things go sour."
Caine picked up the beacon and strapped it to his left wrist, intentionally keeping it away from his right arm. "Who else is on the team?"
"Just three of us," Lyra said, turning toward the corridor. "Me, you, and Jax—our heavy vanguard. Jax has a Level 22 shield-type CrystalHeart, but his energy core leaks heat, so the Academy dumped him here with us 'misfits'."
Caine followed her down the dimly lit hallway toward the heavy blast doors that led to the transport bay. Through the thick reinforced glass, he could see the armored transport vehicle idling, its engines sending low vibrations through the concrete floor.
Beyond those doors lay the Ruin Zone—a place where 40 years of wild Jahgred evolution had turned the remnants of old human cities into a dangerous hunting ground.
Caine reached into his jacket pocket and squeezed his right hand into a fist beneath the fabric. Deep inside his muscles, the dense, compressed energy thrummed in response, eager for the fight ahead.
"Let's move," Caine said.