On a newly designated training ground at the edge of the Hell's Gate base, a thirty-man elite mobile force personally selected by Colonel Quaritch had already assembled.
Known as the "Hellfire Squad," its members were all battle-hardened veterans who had survived multiple skirmishes with the Na'vi, their eyes fierce and radiating a grim aura of lethality.
Maine, Dorio, and Falco stood before them.
Maine's towering physique and cold, stern expression carried a natural authority. Dorio's sharp gaze swept over every soldier, while Falco quietly operated his data pad, recording their baseline physical and tactical statuses.
Colonel Quaritch stood to the side, arms crossed, clearly intending to observe the entire training process in person.
"I know you all think you're tough because you survived the harassments of those blue monkeys," Maine said. His voice wasn't loud, but it reached the ears of every soldier with absolute clarity. "But let me tell you, you survived most of those past fights out of sheer luck and the armor on your backs, not because of what's up here." He tapped his temple.
Some of the soldiers below scoffed, wearing dismissive expressions.
Ignoring their reactions, Maine continued, "Starting today, forget your fixed patrol routes and rigid outpost defenses. What you're going to learn is how to think like hunters, move like ghosts, and strike with the precision of the Grim Reaper in this godforsaken forest."
The training immediately shifted to practical application.
Dorio took charge of close-quarters combat and emergency reflex drills. She demonstrated how to use the kinetic momentum of the Na'vi's towering frames against them, how to read and evade the pounce vectors of Viperwolves, and how to utilize the environment to create barriers and counterattack windows when surrounded. Her movements were blindingly fast and ruthlessly efficient, completely devoid of pointless flourishes. Within a few exchanges, she slammed the sturdiest soldier in the squad onto the dirt, earning the immediate, grudging respect of these hardened veterans.
Falco then introduced them to their new gear. He explained in detail the effective range and blind spots of the newly issued sensors, how to interpret data feedback to judge threat levels and enemy counts, and the optimal deployment points for long-range communication relays in dense terrain. He also organized multiple simulated skirmishes, training the soldiers to execute rapid flanking maneuvers, crossfire coverage, and tactical retreats guided by early sensor warnings.
Most importantly, Maine personally instructed them on plasma rifle combat tactics. He emphasized the fundamental differences between energy weapons and ballistic firearms—there was no ballistic drop, but the weapons required a brief charge time, meaning their firing windows and sustained rate of fire differed from traditional rifles. He trained the soldiers to fire precise, controlled bursts to exploit the weapon's terrifying armor-piercing capabilities against Na'vi hiding behind massive tree trunks or the bony armor of Titanotheres. He also introduced a three-man rotating fire formation to eliminate gaps in fire coverage during charge cycles.
The training was brutal. Maine's team held these men to the uncompromising standards of elite Imperial Guard regiments from the Warhammer universe. The grueling high-intensity rucks, stealth crawls, and tactical synchronization drills had even these self-proclaimed elite RDA soldiers groaning in agony.
But the results were undeniable. In just a few days, the squad's discipline and tactical capabilities underwent a visible transformation. They began to understand how to leverage the forest's shifting light and ambient sounds to conceal themselves, learned highly efficient squad communications, and grew increasingly adept with their new weaponry.
During a simulated defensive exercise, Maine and Falco acted as Na'vi skirmishers to launch a surprise attack. Without receiving any direct orders from above, the Hellfire Squad relied on sensor alerts and their newly forged unit cohesion to rapidly occupy advantageous high ground and establish a devastating crossfire net, successfully "repelling" the assault.
Once the training concluded, Colonel Quaritch walked over to Maine, a rare look of grim satisfaction crossing his face. "Not bad, Maine. These boys finally look like a real outfit. That new gear of yours is impressive, too—way better than the junk our tech boys have been slapping together."
"They still need practical field testing," Maine replied with his usual stoicism. "The actual battlefield is the only true forge."
Quaritch grinned, baring his white teeth. "You'll have your chance soon enough. The southeastern sector of the mining district has been lively lately. Perfect spot for them to stretch their legs. You interested in tagging along? Call it their final exam."
"We'll go," Maine nodded. "We will deploy alongside them to provide on-site tactical guidance."
A blade forged and honed by the hands of the exploration team was about to be drawn. This initial field test would not only verify the efficacy of their training but also provide the team with invaluable first-hand data on the Na'vi's latest tactics and the true combat capacity of the RDA's upgraded forces.
The southeastern mining sector lay at the edge of a towering forest of spiral-grained trees.
The terrain was far more complex than the lowlands; massive buttress roots and cascading bioluminescent vines formed a natural labyrinth, making it a playground for Na'vi ambushes. A secondary RDA supply pipeline ran through this area, which had recently been targeted for frequent sabotage.
The entire Hellfire Squad, accompanied by Maine, Dorio, and Falco, boarded two Samson tiltrotors and made a low-altitude insertion into the target zone.
In accordance with their new tactical protocols, they did not land directly near the pipeline. Instead, they fast-roped into a relatively open clearing about a kilometer away. Spreading out into a defensive wedge, they began to advance silently toward the pipeline, utilizing their newly issued sensors and the dense foliage for cover.
Falco moved at the center of the formation, operating his portable terminal. The screen displayed real-time sensor streams from the tactical network deployed along the pipeline. Suddenly, several red pips began to flicker on the edge of the display.
"Contact warning. Three o'clock, distance two hundred meters. Five—no, seven life signatures. High movement velocity, utilizing tree cover to approach pipeline Marker Three," Falco reported coolly.
Back at Hell's Gate, Colonel Quaritch observed the operation via real-time feeds. He remained silent, leaving the tactical command entirely to Maine on-site and the Hellfire Squad's commanding officer, a veteran sergeant named Reynolds.
"All units, radio silence. Execute Contact Protocol Three," Sergeant Reynolds commanded over the squad's encrypted channel, his voice steady. Thanks to the intense training, he was now highly comfortable executing ambush tactics backed by early warnings.
The soldiers immediately halted, dropping behind natural cover. Their plasma rifles hummed with a low, charging whine as they pre-charged the capacitors. Maine and Dorio melted into the background, taking up high-ground positions on the flanks to provide overwatch and heavy fire support.
Moments later, the slender forms of seven Na'vi hunters emerged from the shadows of the canopy. Moving with fluid grace, they swung from massive branches and slipped past hanging vines, making almost no sound. They were clearly unaware they had been detected, their focus locked entirely on the exposed segment of the pipeline ahead as they prepared crude, hand-crafted explosive charges.
Just as they crossed the fifty-meter threshold and raised their arms to throw the explosives, Sergeant Reynolds barked his order:
"Fire!"