As the barracks door creaked open, it revealed a disappointing sight. The beds were rugged and uneven, their frames slightly warped as if they might give out under too much weight. The wooden walls surrounding them weren't much better—aged, splintered, and barely holding together. The entire structure looked like it had been built in a hurry and left to decay.
Zuno let out a quiet sigh as he stepped inside, the others in his squad following closely behind. This was where they would be staying for the foreseeable future, and whether they liked it or not, they would have to make the most of it.
He walked further in, slowing as he approached his assigned bunk.
Lower bunk.
A small pile of folded clothes rested neatly on top. His name was printed on the right side of the shirt, the lettering clean and precise. Beside it was a small insignia, simple and unremarkable. Not even a proper pin, just something printed into the fabric.
It didn't take much to understand what it meant.
Bottom of the barrel.
Zuno's eyes flicked briefly behind him, watching the rest of his squad enter. Their expressions mirrored his own—subtle disappointment mixed with quiet resignation. No one had expected comfort, but this was still worse than most imagined.
He turned his gaze back to his bunk. There was something faint in his eyes, not quite hope, but not entirely gone either. This was just the beginning, and that was what mattered.
His hand lowered, fingers brushing against the fabric of his new uniform. He gripped it lightly, feeling its texture and weight. Then he let his arm fall back to his side and turned away.
He moved toward what he assumed was the bathroom, gripping the handle and stepping inside. The space was small and bare, but it would do. Without wasting time, Zuno changed into his uniform.
When he stepped back out, his civilian clothes were left neatly folded on his bunk.
Nearly half an hour passed as everyone finished changing. The room remained quiet, each person sitting or lying on their assigned bed, waiting.
Eventually, a voice called out from outside.
Micheal.
Zuno stepped out with the others, noticing that Micheal had been standing there the entire time, unmoving.
As the group gathered in front of him, Micheal spoke.
"I suppose all of you are ready for tomorrow's training. I'll keep this brief. Get along with your squadmates. On the frontlines, everything will try to kill you. The people standing next to you right now might be the only reason you survive another day. That's all. Get some rest. Be up and ready at 0600 sharp."
With that, he dismissed them.
The sun had already begun to set as the recruits returned to their barracks. It didn't take long before Zuno and the others changed out of their uniforms and settled in for the night.
Sleep came quickly, driven by exhaustion rather than comfort.
Morning came early.
Training began with fifteen laps around the base. Zuno struggled from the start. His smaller frame and lack of endurance made it difficult to keep pace, and he quickly fell behind the others. Each step grew heavier, his breathing turning uneven as his chest burned.
By the time he finished, he was barely standing. He leaned forward, gagging as his empty stomach twisted painfully, but nothing came out.
After a short break, his breathing steadied. Strangely, he recovered faster than he expected. He dismissed it as his body adjusting.
"All of you need to build endurance," Micheal said. "This is just the beginning. At your current level, none of you would last a day on the frontlines. Now drop and give me fifty push-ups. If you can't manage that, I might as well shoot you now. It would be a mercy compared to what's waiting for you."
No one argued.
The day continued with endurance drills and strength training. Repetition wore them down until their bodies felt like they would give out. Micheal did not slow the pace.
The final task was an obstacle course that pushed what little strength they had left to its limit.
By nightfall, they returned to the barracks covered in dirt and sweat. Their muscles ached with every movement. They took turns showering.
Zuno waited, his arms too sore to move properly at first. He sat on his bunk until the worst of the strain faded, then cleaned himself and returned.
Most of the others were already lying down when he came back.
"Today was hell, and we have weeks of this ahead of us," Sarah said from her bunk.
Zuno agreed, but he said nothing.
Her words broke the silence.
"Complaining won't make it any easier," Claire replied. "We have another long day tomorrow."
"Instead of complaining, we could get to know each other," Derrick said, sitting up slightly. "I'll start. My name's Derrick. I plan to get through the next few weeks as simply as possible."
"Claire," the blonde added. "I'll do my best to be useful to the squad."
Sarah let out a small sigh. "Sarah. I'm here because of the draft."
Their attention shifted to Zuno.
He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I'm Zuno. I hope we can work well together."
Derrick nodded once before lying back. "That works. Get some rest."
Within minutes, he was asleep. The others followed soon after.
Zuno closed his eyes not long after.
The next few days followed the same pattern. Training, exhaustion, and repetition.
By the end of the first week, they began learning marksmanship.
As the barracks door creaked open, it revealed a disappointing sight. The beds were rugged and uneven, their frames slightly warped as if they might give out under too much weight. The wooden walls surrounding them weren't much better—aged, splintered, and barely holding together. The entire structure looked like it had been built in a hurry and left to decay.
Zuno let out a quiet sigh as he stepped inside, the others in his squad following closely behind. This was where they would be staying for the foreseeable future, and whether they liked it or not, they would have to make the most of it.
He walked further in, slowing as he approached his assigned bunk.
Lower bunk.
A small pile of folded clothes rested neatly on top. His name was printed on the right side of the shirt, the lettering clean and precise. Beside it was a small insignia, simple and unremarkable. Not even a proper pin, just something printed into the fabric.
It didn't take much to understand what it meant.
Bottom of the barrel.
Zuno's eyes flicked briefly behind him, watching the rest of his squad enter. Their expressions mirrored his own—subtle disappointment mixed with quiet resignation. No one had expected comfort, but this was still worse than most imagined.
He turned his gaze back to his bunk. There was something faint in his eyes, not quite hope, but not entirely gone either. This was just the beginning, and that was what mattered.
His hand lowered, fingers brushing against the fabric of his new uniform. He gripped it lightly, feeling its texture and weight. Then he let his arm fall back to his side and turned away.
He moved toward what he assumed was the bathroom, gripping the handle and stepping inside. The space was small and bare, but it would do. Without wasting time, Zuno changed into his uniform.
When he stepped back out, his civilian clothes were left neatly folded on his bunk.
Nearly half an hour passed as everyone finished changing. The room remained quiet, each person sitting or lying on their assigned bed, waiting.
Eventually, a voice called out from outside.
Micheal.
Zuno stepped out with the others, noticing that Micheal had been standing there the entire time, unmoving.
As the group gathered in front of him, Micheal spoke.
"I suppose all of you are ready for tomorrow's training. I'll keep this brief. Get along with your squadmates. On the frontlines, everything will try to kill you. The people standing next to you right now might be the only reason you survive another day. That's all. Get some rest. Be up and ready at 0600 sharp."
With that, he dismissed them.
The sun had already begun to set as the recruits returned to their barracks. It didn't take long before Zuno and the others changed out of their uniforms and settled in for the night.
Sleep came quickly, driven by exhaustion rather than comfort.
Morning came early.
Training began with fifteen laps around the base. Zuno struggled from the start. His smaller frame and lack of endurance made it difficult to keep pace, and he quickly fell behind the others. Each step grew heavier, his breathing turning uneven as his chest burned.
By the time he finished, he was barely standing. He leaned forward, gagging as his empty stomach twisted painfully, but nothing came out.
After a short break, his breathing steadied. Strangely, he recovered faster than he expected. He dismissed it as his body adjusting.
"All of you need to build endurance," Micheal said. "This is just the beginning. At your current level, none of you would last a day on the frontlines. Now drop and give me fifty push-ups. If you can't manage that, I might as well shoot you now. It would be a mercy compared to what's waiting for you."
No one argued.
The day continued with endurance drills and strength training. Repetition wore them down until their bodies felt like they would give out. Micheal did not slow the pace.
The final task was an obstacle course that pushed what little strength they had left to its limit.
By nightfall, they returned to the barracks covered in dirt and sweat. Their muscles ached with every movement. They took turns showering.
Zuno waited, his arms too sore to move properly at first. He sat on his bunk until the worst of the strain faded, then cleaned himself and returned.
Most of the others were already lying down when he came back.
"Today was hell, and we have weeks of this ahead of us," Sarah said from her bunk.
Zuno agreed, but he said nothing.
Her words broke the silence.
"Complaining won't make it any easier," Claire replied. "We have another long day tomorrow."
"Instead of complaining, we could get to know each other," Derrick said, sitting up slightly. "I'll start. My name's Derrick. I plan to get through the next few weeks as simply as possible."
"Claire," the blonde added. "I'll do my best to be useful to the squad."
Sarah let out a small sigh. "Sarah. I'm here because of the draft."
Their attention shifted to Zuno.
He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I'm Zuno. I hope we can work well together."
Derrick nodded once before lying back. "That works. Get some rest."
Within minutes, he was asleep. The others followed soon after.
Zuno closed his eyes not long after.
The next few days followed the same pattern. Training, exhaustion, and repetition.
By the end of the first week, they began learning marksmanship.