It was the last day of the third week of boot camp, and the squad had grown closer than before, even considering themselves friends. Zuno stood outside in the field with them, alongside the rest of the platoon, just as he had every day. Micheal stood before them with his hands behind his back, while the recruits, including Zuno, remained at ease, their arms resting at their sides.
The atmosphere was completely different from the day they arrived. They were no longer civilians—they were on their way to becoming soldiers. The first couple of weeks had been focused on strength, endurance, and marksmanship, with other training mixed in between. The results of that work were clear.
Zuno was no longer thin and frail. His body had filled out, muscle forming where there had once been little. Compared to the others, he now stood among the fittest. His progress had been unusually fast. His body adapted to the training quicker than it should have, evolving in a way that felt unnatural. It was something he had never experienced before, and it lingered in the back of his mind as something strange.
Before he could dwell on it further, Micheal began to speak.
"The past two weeks have finally shown results, and now we have only one final week ahead of us. Today and the next will be the most important days of your training… and probably your lives."
He scanned the platoon, his gaze as sharp as ever.
"Since you all are already sorted into groups, it makes things easier on my part. Today, I'll teach you how to defend yourselves if hand-to-hand combat ever occurs, so we'll start with an example. Each member of your squad will fight one another, as if your lives depend on it… but don't actually kill each other."
He paused, letting out a small sigh.
"I don't feel like filing any paperwork if that happens. If your opponent yields, or I end the fight, it's over. Move on to the next. Now, let's start. Decide who you'll fight."
The formation broke apart as squads began choosing their matchups. Zuno's squad decided to split by gender, which left him facing Derrick first.
Zuno wasn't pleased. Derrick was the strongest in their squad. Still, there was no backing out, and he didn't know how Micheal would react if he held back.
Zuno stepped forward as Derrick did the same. They faced each other in silence.
"Since we're buds… you're gonna go easy on me?" Zuno asked.
Derrick didn't respond. His expression remained cold, unreadable.
They began to circle, both watching for an opening.
Derrick found one first. His fist shot forward, striking Zuno in the nose and snapping his head back.
Pain hit immediately.
Zuno staggered slightly before regaining his footing. The impact felt strong enough to break something, but no blood came, and the pain dulled faster than expected. There was no time to question it.
Derrick kept pressing.
Zuno raised his guard as another punch came, then another. Each blow forced him back, his feet dragging through the sand. Blocking slowed the damage, but it wasn't enough. He couldn't stay on defense forever.
The next punch came.
Zuno stepped into it, letting his arms absorb part of the impact as he closed the distance. He slipped between Derrick's arms and drove his shoulder into his chest.
Derrick lost his balance, stumbling sideways.
Zuno moved quickly. He hooked his leg behind Derrick's and tripped him, sending him to the ground.
Zuno followed, climbing on top of him and raising his fist, ready to strike.
Before the blow could land, Derrick raised his hands.
"I yield."
Zuno stopped immediately. He got off him and offered a hand, helping Derrick back to his feet.
"Good job."
Zuno nodded slightly and stepped back, catching his breath.
Claire and Sarah had already finished their fight, with Claire coming out on top. Soon after, the rest of the platoon finished their matches and returned to formation. Their uniforms were covered in sand and dirt, and their faces showed the strain of the sparring.
Micheal stood silently, watching them, a hint of satisfaction in his expression as his gaze passed over the group. After a moment, he cleared his throat again.
"Now that we're all warmed up, let me tell you about the enemy. Although they are humanoid, they are all but human. These Arachtoids are far stronger, faster, and more dangerous than you can comprehend. One second—no, one millisecond of hesitation will be the cause of your death. Their skin is tough, so regular ammunition will be like shooting a bear with an airgun. It would only piss them off and make your death certain."
He moved his hand from behind his back and gripped the pistol at his hip, unholstering it.
"Thankfully, our government has been working hard to find a way to kill these bastards, and this right here is that way."
He raised the pistol slightly. It was clearly not a standard weapon—bulkier, with strange curves and symbols engraved into its surface.
He lowered it and aimed at the ground behind him, turning his body as he pulled the trigger.
The shot rang out loudly, nearly deafening. Sand and dirt burst into the air where the round struck. As the dust settled, a small crater was left behind.
"And this puppy right here is one of the smaller calibers. That should tell you how dangerous these things are. Weapons like these are what you'll be using to defend yourselves on the frontlines. It's a different world out there, I can promise you that. So for this last week, we'll be teaching you how to use these properly—and how to survive if you lose yours, which I wouldn't recommend."
Micheal blew the smoke from the tip of the pistol before reholstering it and turning back toward the platoon. He returned to his original stance, his gaze fixed on them as a slight smirk formed on his face.
"So now… shall we get started?"