《THE ASCENDANCY》 Prologue The sky was a hellish shade of red, thick with the choking smoke of burning wreckage and the acrid stench of plasma discharges. Anti-air batteries roared firing explosive shrapnel shells , launching volley after volley into the sky, tearing through the Xerath warforms descending in grotesque, insectoid waves. The cityscape of New Antioch¡¯s outskirts was barely recognizable¡ªwhat was once a bustling fortress-world settlement had been reduced to a field of ruin and carnage, its towering spires now charred husks of metal and stone. Amid the chaos, Justicar Jaxon Vaes clung to the armored plating of a Titan Juggernaut, perched high upon the war engine¡¯s massive frame. The Titan¡¯s Xeracite Siege Cannon discharged with a deafening BOOM, the recoil sending a shockwave across the battlefield as the blast obliterated a towering Xerath behemoth in the distance. The war machine was a walking fortress, forty meters of reinforced Adamantium and Xeracite plating, its every step sending tremors through the earth as it cut a path through the alien horde. Jaxon exhaled sharply, his helmet¡¯s HUD flashing with battlefield data. His regiment was stretched thin, dug into the ruins below, fighting tooth and nail against an unrelenting surge of Xerath bioforms. He had been providing overwatch, directing the battle from atop the Titan while laying down covering fire. Then the warning came. ¡°Justicar! Incoming fire!¡± The voice of Centurion Hadrian cracked over comms. Jaxon barely had time to react before a plasma bolt the size of a man¡¯s skull slammed into his left shoulder, the impact detonating on contact. His energy shielding flickered violently, trying to absorb the blast, but the force was too much. Pain lanced through his body as he was sent hurtling through the air, his vision momentarily whiting out from the sheer force. His back slammed into a lower platform of the Titan, the Adamantium plating buckling beneath him. His kinetic dampeners struggled to compensate, dispersing as much force as possible, but the damage was done. His ribs cracked, his left arm felt numb, and his visor flickered with red alerts.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°JUSTICAR DOWN!¡± The desperate cry rang through his comms, but Jaxon forced himself to push through the pain, gritting his teeth as he rolled onto his stomach. He felt something warm and wet pooling inside his armor¡ªlikely internal bleeding. Damn it. He barely had time to get to his knees before he spotted movement below¡ªa spine maw¡ªa xerath artillery beast, a twisted amalgamation of chitin,bio organic cannons and razor-sharp limbs, climbing up the Titan¡¯s frame, its soulless black eyes locked onto him. Jaxon snapped his vindicator rifle up, squeezing the trigger. Xeracite-infused tungsten rounds ripped through the creature¡¯s carapace, bursting out in sprays of black ichor, but it kept coming, its limbs twitching as it lunged for him. Jaxon didn¡¯t hesitate. Summoning his telekinetic might, he extended his left hand, ignoring the pain in his injured shoulder. The air trembled, an invisible force slamming into the spine maw mid-lunge, crushing its chitinous body like a tin can. Its limbs spasmed mandibles clicking in confusion before it was sent hurling off the Titan, crashing into the battlefield below. His brain burned from the exertion¡ªhis neural pathways screaming¡ªbut he had no time to recover. Another warning blared through his HUD¡ªa second plasma bolt streaked toward him. He turned just in time for it to slam into his chest, detonating against his armor in a burst of blue fire. Everything spun. Jaxon felt himself falling, his body tumbling off the Titan¡¯s edge. The world blurred, flashes of gunfire, explosions, and Xerath horrors filling his vision as he plunged toward the chaotic battlefield below. His pack thrusters fired automatically, slowing his descent, but the impact was still brutal. He crashed onto the remains of a burned-out transport, rolling off the wreckage and into the ash-covered street. His armor groaned, his HUD blaring critical damage warnings, but he forced himself to rise. ¡°Justicar! Do you copy?!¡± His regiment the black suns were rallying nearby, holding the line amidst the waves of incoming Xerath bioforms. They were outnumbered, but not outmatched. Jaxon spat blood inside his helmet, Damn it¡ªwhy hadn¡¯t his healing kicked in yet. gripping his rifle tightly as he looked toward the looming silhouette of the Titan above, still fighting, still pushing forward. His comms crackled again. ¡°Justicar! Orders?!¡± Jaxon inhaled sharply, ignoring the pain in his ribs. He could still fight. He would still fight. He raised his rifle, his voice cold and unwavering. ¡°We hold the line. We don¡¯t give them a single step forward.¡± And with that, he charged. As he ran forward, weaving between cover and unloading bursts of plasma fire into the advancing Xerath swarm, Jaxon¡¯s mind drifted. The pain, the adrenaline¡ªit brought back something buried deep. Chapter 1. Jaxon¡¯s legs struggled to keep up with his mother¡¯s desperate pace as she pulled him through the ruined streets. The air was thick with smoke, burning his lungs with every ragged breath. The taste of ash and blood clung to his tongue. Explosions rocked the district, shaking the ground beneath them, while the screams of the dying filled the air¡ªsoldiers shouting orders, civilians wailing, the inhuman screeches of the invaders tearing through the night like the wails of a waking nightmare. His mother¡¯s grip on his wrist was painful, but he didn¡¯t complain. Not when people were dying all around them. Not when every second counted. They ran past a collapsed overpass, where a transport vehicle lay twisted in the wreckage, flames licking at its shattered windows. A woman was still inside, slumped over the controls, her lifeless eyes staring at nothing. Jaxon tried not to look, but his gaze lingered too long. He wasn¡¯t used to seeing the dead. He could barely understand what was happening. One moment, he had been in their residence , watching his father¡ªa militia officer, nothing more than a man¡ªsuit up in his old combat gear, his mother whispering urgent prayers under her breath. She had told him to pack a small bag, just the essentials. Food, water, his datapad. He hadn¡¯t understood why¡ªuntil the alarms had blared. A city-wide emergency alert ordering all civilians to evacuate. Then the explosions had started. Now, everything was fire and ruin. His mother¡¯s grip on his wrist was painfully tight as they ran. ¡°Don¡¯t look back,¡± she begged, voice cracking. ¡°Jaxon, please¡ªdon¡¯t look back!¡± But he did. The district¡¯s outer barricades had already fallen. Xerath warforms poured through the breached walls, grotesque creatures of twisting limbs and chitin, their eyeless heads snapping in unnatural angles as they tore through the defenders. Men and women of the mortal legions fired their rifles in desperate bursts, but it was like trying to hold back an ocean with bare hands. Jaxon saw one of the beasts lunge into a squad, its bladed arms slicing through body armor like it was paper. Blood sprayed across the pavement. The remaining soldiers barely had time to react before another Xerath emerged, its grotesque, segmented limbs moving too fast for something so large. A soldier turned to run. The xerath was faster. Its scythe-like appendage cleaved through the man¡¯s spine in a single, horrifying stroke. Jaxon screamed. His mother yanked him forward, faster. They had to reach the shelter. The underground transit hub was close¡ªjust a few more blocks. They dodged past wrecked vehicles, broken bodies, collapsed buildings. The city he had known his whole life was nothing but smoke and flame now. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Then the barricade ahead erupted in an explosion of fire and shrapnel. Jaxon was thrown off his feet. The world flipped. His ears rang as his body crashed into something hard. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and for a moment, all he could do was lay there, stunned, vision swimming. His mother groaned beside him, blood trailing down the side of her head. She was still alive. Before relief could settle in, a shadow loomed over them. Jaxon¡¯s heart seized. The thing that stood before them was massive¡ªeasily three meters tall. Its elongated body was covered in blackened, carapace-like plating that shimmered with an unnatural, organic sheen. Its arms were long and bladed, razor-sharp scythes instead of hands, twitching as if eager to strike. Where a face should have been, there was only a grotesque, gaping maw lined with rows of needle-like teeth. Jaxon knew what it was. A Xerath Reaper. Jaxon had seen holo-footage of them in school. He had seen diagrams, read reports. None of it had prepared him for the real thing. The Reaper let out a clicking screech. He couldn¡¯t breathe. His entire body locked up in pure terror as the monstrous figure loomed over them. His mother moved first. She threw herself over him, shielding his small frame with her own. Her breathing was ragged, panicked, but she didn¡¯t hesitate. Jaxon could feel the desperate rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers clutched him so tightly they trembled. The Reaper let out a clicking screech. It raised its scythe-like appendage. Jaxon shut his eyes. A wet sound¡ªblade slicing through flesh. His mother shuddered. A sharp gasp escaped her lips. Then, slowly, her grip loosened. She slumped over him. Warmth spilled across his face. Jaxon opened his eyes. All he could see was red. His mother¡¯s body lay across his own, shielding him even in death. Her blood dripped onto his cheeks, onto his tunic, onto the broken pavement beneath them. A high-pitched ringing filled his ears. He didn¡¯t scream. He couldn¡¯t. The Reaper reared back for another strike¡ª Gunfire. Explosions. A booming voice¡ª¡°GET DOWN!¡± The weight of his mother was suddenly yanked off him as something heavy slammed into the Reaper, tackling it away in a whirlwind of thrashing limbs. A rapid burst of high-caliber rounds tore into the monster¡¯s carapace. Jaxon¡¯s vision swam. His head was spinning. He barely registered the figure kneeling beside him¡ªa massive soldier clad in black combat armor. Not militia. Not mortal legions. Jaxon had heard stories of them before¡ªGenome soldiers. The visor of the man¡¯s helmet reflected the flames around them. The insignia of the Sol Imperium¡ªa silver coiling serpent biting it¡¯s own tail burned bright on his shoulder plate. ¡°Kid¡ª¡± The soldier¡¯s voice was muffled, distorted by the chaos. ¡°¡ªstay with me! We have to move!¡± Jaxon stared at him, unblinking, unresponsive. The soldier cursed and scooped him up effortlessly, cradling him against his chest like dead weight. Jaxon barely felt it. His gaze remained locked on his mother¡¯s lifeless body, growing smaller and smaller as they ran. His fingers twitched. Then, finally¡ªhe screamed. The Evacuation They reached the transit hub. The underground station was a chaotic mess of fleeing civilians, wounded militia, and hastily arranged barricades. Alarms blared overhead. The station¡¯s blast doors were closing, sealing off the tunnels that led deeper into the city¡¯s underbelly. Last chance for evacuation. The genome soldier carried Jaxon through the frenzied crowd. ¡°Medic!¡± he barked. ¡°Get this kid checked!¡± The moment they arrived, medics rushed to pull Jaxon away¡ªbut the boy thrashed wildly in their grip. He clawed at the soldier¡¯s armor, trying to break free. ¡°No!¡± Jaxon screamed. ¡°I have to go back! My mom¡ªshe¡¯s still¡ªshe¡ª¡± The words broke into choking sobs. His mother was still out there. She was still lying in the street. She couldn¡¯t be gone. She couldn¡¯t. ¡°Kid¡ª¡± The soldier¡¯s voice softened, but there was no time. A sharp prick against Jaxon¡¯s neck. His body instantly weakened. His vision blurred. His struggling faded into nothing. The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was the soldier¡¯s faceplate, visor flashing in the dim light. Then¡ªnothing. Chapter 2. Jaxon awoke to silence. Not the kind of silence that meant peace, but the kind that felt wrong¡ªtoo sterile, too controlled, as if someone had erased the sounds from life . His body felt sluggish, heavy, like he was sinking into an abyss. His throat was dry, his head pounded, and when he tried to move, a sharp ache shot through his muscles. He inhaled, expecting the familiar scent of home¡ªhis mother¡¯s cooking, the old, worn-out chair in their domestic room¡ªbut all he got was the sharp tang of antiseptic and recycled air. Something was wrong. His eyes fluttered open. Dim white lights buzzed above him, casting a sickly glow on the metallic ceiling. He turned his head, wincing as pain lanced through his skull. The walls were smooth and gray, the floor lined with reinforced steel panels. He was lying on a cot, wrapped in a stiff, unfamiliar blanket. His bloodied tunic was gone¡ªhe was now in some kind of gray jumpsuit. This wasn¡¯t home. Was he on a ship? He had only been on a ship once. Panic gripped his chest. He pushed himself up with shaking arms, his vision swimming. The last thing he remembered was¡ª Fire. Screams. The Reaper. Jaxon¡¯s breath caught in his throat. He remembered the weight of his mother¡¯s body, her warmth turning cold against his skin. He remembered the blood¡ªso much blood¡ªand the clicking screeches of the creatures that had torn through New Antioch. His stomach twisted violently. Where was he? What had happened? The door to the room slid open with a hiss. A woman stepped in, clad in flowing black and crimson robes, the insignia of the Imperial Ministry emblazoned on her chest. She was tall and rigid, her dark hair neatly tied back, her gray eyes sharp and analytical. ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡± Her voice was emotionless, like she had done this a thousand times before. Jaxon swallowed, his throat burning. ¡°Where¡­ where am I?¡± The woman stepped closer. ¡°You¡¯re aboard an Imperial refugee transport, en route to New Canaan.¡± New Canaan. The name meant nothing to him. Jaxon clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. ¡°Where¡¯s my mother?¡± Silence. A cold, empty silence that stretched too long. The woman¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but something flickered behind her eyes¡ªa quiet acknowledgment of the pain she had likely seen too many times before. ¡° your mother¡­¡­ ?¡±¡ª¡°She didn¡¯t make it.¡± Jaxon¡¯s breathing hitched. No. He shook his head violently. ¡°No, she¡ªshe was with me, she¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± the woman said, though the words were hollow. ¡°There was nothing that could have been done.¡± ¡°Antioch was lost¡± Jaxon¡¯s hands trembled. It wasn¡¯t real. It couldn¡¯t be real. His mother had been holding him. She had been running with him. He could still hear her voice, feel the warmth of her arms¡ª He sucked in a shuddering breath. The woman studied him for a moment before speaking again. ¡°You are not the only one. Thousands of children have lost their families to the Xerath. But the Imperium does not abandon its own. You will be taken to New Canaan. There, you will be given food, shelter, and education. You will serve the Imperium.¡± Serve the Imperium. Jaxon barely heard her. His mind was elsewhere, stuck in that burning city, in the moment his world had collapsed. He clenched his jaw, his breathing ragged. He didn¡¯t want shelter. He wanted his mother. But she was gone. And now he had nothing. The journey lasted for hours¡ªmaybe days. Jaxon couldn¡¯t tell. He barely ate, barely spoke. When the transport finally landed, the children¡ªdozens of them, all orphans like him¡ªwere ushered out into the cold, gray world of New Canaan. Jaxon stepped onto the landing platform, blinking against the harsh artificial lights. The sky above was a dull, overcast gray, stretching endlessly across the horizon. Massive fortress-like structures loomed in the distance, their reinforced walls lined with gun emplacements and watchtowers. The entire planet looked like one massive military installation¡ªsterile, efficient, without warmth or beauty. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. This was no city. At least not like antioch was. Jaxon¡¯s boots clanked against the steel flooring as he was marched alongside the others down long corridors. The walls were lined with banners of the Sol Imperium, their golden sigils standing in stark contrast to the cold metal surroundings. Armed guards in uniform watched from the shadows, the visors of their hats reflecting the dim lights. They were led into a vast hall¡ªa massive chamber filled with rows upon rows of metal-framed bunks. Hundreds of children sat in silence, dressed in identical gray jumpsuits. Jaxon was assigned a bunk near the center. He sat down, running his hands over the stiff mattress. No pillows. No blankets. No warmth. This wasn¡¯t home. It never would be. Jaxon lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Around him, muffled sobs filled the air. Some children cried softly into their thin pillows, their bodies shaking. Others lay motionless, staring blankly into the void, as if their souls had already left them. Jaxon didn¡¯t cry. He wanted to. He wanted to curl into himself and scream until his lungs gave out, to tear at the walls, to run¡ªrun anywhere but here. But he didn¡¯t. Because crying wouldn¡¯t bring his mother back. His mother was dead. His father probably was too. Crying wouldn¡¯t bring any of them back. Footsteps echoed down the hall. A figure approached¡ªa tall, gaunt man clad in a black uniform, his face pale and devoid of warmth. He scanned the room, his eyes sweeping over the children like one might inspect machinery. ¡°You will wake at dawn,¡± he announced. ¡°You will train. You will learn. You will all become something¡ªsomething greater than yourselves.¡± His voice was void of compassion. ¡°Here, you are not just orphans. You are the future of the Imperium.¡± Jaxon clenched his fists beneath the thin blanket. Not a person. Not an orphan He turned onto his side, staring at the space beside him. For the first time in his life, he was truly alone. And he hated it. The next morning, the children were woken before dawn. Jaxon had barely slept, but it didn¡¯t matter. No one was given time to rest. They were marched outside, where the air was crisp and biting. Instructors in dark uniforms barked orders, directing them into lines. Physical training. Endurance drills. Mental conditioning. It was a boot camp. They weren¡¯t here to be cared for. By midday, Jaxon¡¯s muscles burned. His hands were raw from climbing steel beams, his legs ached from endless laps around the training yard. The older orphans were stronger, more disciplined, but the younger ones¡ªlike him¡ªstruggled. Some collapsed from exhaustion. They were dragged back to their feet. There was no sympathy. No kindness. Jaxon gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain. He wouldn¡¯t be weak. He couldn¡¯t be. It happened in the barracks later that evening. Jaxon had barely sat down on a chair when someone shoved him from behind. He stumbled, catching himself on the frame of his chair Laughter. He turned, meeting the gaze of an older boy¡ªa brute with sharp features and a cruel smirk. ¡°You don¡¯t belong here,¡± the boy sneered. ¡°Weaklings like you don¡¯t last long.¡± Jaxon said nothing. The boy shoved him again. Jaxon clenched his fists. The moment the older boy reached for him again, Jaxon snapped. His small frame lunged forward, fists swinging wildly. He hit the boy once, twice¡ªthen felt a sharp blow to his stomach. The air rushed from his lungs, and he collapsed to his knees. More laughter. But Jaxon wasn¡¯t done. With a growl, he tackled the boy, his fists striking harder this time. He fought like a cornered animal, teeth clenched, rage burning through his veins. By the time the uniformed instructors pulled them apart, Jaxon was bruised and bloodied¡ªbut the boy was worse. A voice beside him: ¡°Sorry. He¡¯s been here for a while. Likes to act tough.¡± Jaxon turned. A boy who looked slightly older than him was offering his hand, his sharp green eyes amused. ¡°I¡¯m Darius. But you can call me Holt.¡± Jaxon hesitated for a moment before taking the offered hand. His knuckles were raw, and his ribs ached, but the fire inside him still burned. He let Holt pull him to his feet. ¡°Jaxon,¡± he muttered. ¡°Jaxon Vaes. Where is here, anyway?¡± Holt gave a small, knowing smirk. ¡°New Canaan. They call it the Imperial Orphanage, but we all know it¡¯s a training world for people like us¡ªwar orphans.¡± He motioned to the other kids scattered throughout the barracks. ¡°But in Lucian¡¯s case, he was basically donated here by his family.¡± Jaxon glanced at the older boy he had just fought¡ªLucian, the one who had taunted him. He was still sitting on the floor, wiping blood from his nose, glaring daggers at Jaxon. ¡°Training world?¡± Jaxon asked, turning back to Holt. Holt nodded. ¡°Yeah. You noticed all the children here?¡± Jaxon frowned. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°You probably got the speech, right? ¡®You will be taken to New Canaan. There, you will be given food, shelter, and education. You will serve the Imperium.¡¯¡± Holt mimicked the cold, authoritative voice of the instructors. Jaxon¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°So that¡¯s what this is? They¡¯re training us for something?¡± Holt sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Basically, yeah. We¡¯re here to be shaped into something useful for sol. Soldiers, officers, spies, members of the ministry ¡ªwhatever they need us to be.¡± He leaned in slightly. ¡°Only difference is, we don¡¯t get a choice.¡± Jaxon exhaled slowly, glancing around at the other children in the barracks. Some were huddled in groups, whispering. Others sat in silence, their faces hollow and resigned. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be here,¡± Jaxon admitted. Holt¡¯s expression softened. ¡°None of us do.¡± Silence stretched between them. Then Holt clapped a hand on Jaxon¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Listen, it¡¯s good you¡¯re a survivor and all, but Legionnaire Makon doesn¡¯t like stubborn ones. The only reason he doesn¡¯t touch Lucian is because of his family¡¯s power.¡± Jaxon frowned. ¡°We don¡¯t have that privilege?¡± Holt shook his head. ¡°Nope. We¡¯re just bodies to them¡ªraw material to be shaped.¡± Jaxon¡¯s fists clenched. ¡°Who is Makon?¡± Holt scoffed. ¡°The giant man in the black uniform. He was a genome soldier once, but he runs Canaan now. Still insists people call him Legionnaire, though.¡± Holt glanced around, then lowered his voice. ¡°We like to call him helspawn¡ªbut only behind his back.¡± Jaxon¡¯s mind whirled with questions, but Holt was already stepping away. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it now,¡± Holt said, stretching his arms. ¡°Wait, I have more questions,¡± Jaxon blurted. Holt grinned. ¡°I¡¯ll answer all your questions by the morrow, Jax. Wait¡ªI can call you Jax, right? Jaxon hesitated before nodding. The nickname felt strange, but not unwelcome. Holt turned to leave but paused. you know your way to the quarters? Well Im sure you do ¡°Oh, and you should watch out¡ªLucian will want his pound of flesh.¡± Jaxon glanced at Lucian, who was still glaring at him from the other side of the barracks. He could already see the promise of future confrontations in the boy¡¯s sharp, eyes. Jaxon wandered back through the corridors, trying to ignore the ache in his ribs. Twice, he got lost. The halls all looked the same¡ªgray, cold, sterile. No warmth. No signs of life except for the giant gloomy portraits that were in the walkway By the time he got to the massive quarters, most of the orphans were already asleep, but he could still hear soft sobs here and there. He lay down on the stiff mattress, exhaustion pressing down on him. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he hadn¡¯t eaten he¡¯d somehow dropped his amenities bag in the midst of the chaos He realized, with mild frustration, that he also hadn¡¯t had a bath since¡­ Since the attack. He wasn¡¯t sure they had cleaned him upon the ship Jaxon swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. He would ask holt how he could get food in the morning. Chapter 3. Jaxon awoke to the blaring of klaxons. For a brief moment, he forgot where he was¡ªhis mind expecting the scent of home, the warmth of a familiar bed. Instead, he was met with the stiff mattress beneath him, the cold artificial air, and the distant murmur of groggy orphans stirring awake. Around him, dozens of orphans moved. Some were already pulling on their jumpsuits, lacing their boots with practiced efficiency. Others groaned, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, still not accustomed to the rigid schedule. The younger ones hesitated, their minds slow to catch up to the sudden, brutal awakening. Then, a deep, sharp voice cut through the air. ¡°On your feet. Now!¡± Jaxon snapped his head toward the entrance. A tall man in a black uniform stood in the doorway, arms clasped behind his back. His cold gaze swept over them, assessing. Legionnaire makon . The very air in the room seemed to drop in temperature at his presence. ¡°The Imperium¡¯s gracious hospitality ended yesterday,¡± the man continued, voice devoid of emotion. ¡°Today, your proper service begins.¡± Jaxon felt a nudge from behind. ¡°Come on,¡± Holt muttered. He was already dressed, adjusting his boots with casual ease. ¡°Unless you want to get on Makon¡¯s bad side.¡± Jaxon forced himself to move, ignoring the soreness in his limbs. He was still adjusting to the brutal physical strain of training, his muscles screaming in protest with every movement. He hadn¡¯t even taken off his jumpsuit from yesterday, so all he had to do was lace up his boots and fall in line beside Holt. The rest of the recruits shuffled out of the barracks, moving into the massive corridor beyond. The air outside was cold. Not natural cold¡ªsharp and mechanical, biting against his skin. It stung his eyes, making him blink rapidly. The artificial sky above was still dark, illuminated only by distant floodlights. New Canaan had no sunrises. No warmth. Just an endless, gray expanse. As they marched, Jaxon glanced around. In the far distance, he could see other buildings¡ªlarge, identical structures looming in the dim light. More facilities like this one? Were they also filled with orphans, just like him? Or were they something else entirely? No time to think about it. They reached the training grounds, where rows of children were already assembled. The cold metal flooring beneath them sent chills through Jaxon¡¯s boots as he lined up next to Holt. Makon, paced before them. ¡°Standard drills,¡± he barked. ¡°Running first. Then formations. Then endurance.¡± His eyes scanned over them, sharp and calculating. ¡°Weakness will not be tolerated.¡± Then the drills began. Jaxon ran, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His lungs burned. His legs ached. But he forced himself to keep moving. Beside him, Holt kept pace effortlessly, his breathing steady. Jaxon shot him a look. ¡°How¡­ are you not¡­ out of breath?¡± he gasped. Holt smirked. ¡°Well, if you ignore the fact that I¡¯ve been here for four years and I¡¯m already used to this¡­¡± He shrugged. ¡°I guess I¡¯m just really good at it.¡± Jaxon nearly stumbled. ¡°Four years?!¡± His lungs felt like they were about to burst. He winced. ¡°How old are you now?¡± Holt thought for a second. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ I was eight when they brought me here, so¡ªyeah. Twelve.¡± This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. "Twelve?!" You''re my age! Jaxon slowed slightly, catching the glare of a nearby instructor. He quickly picked up the pace. Lowering his voice, he muttered, "I could''ve sworn you were at least fifteen." Holt laughed. ¡°Nope. They take us before we hit 15. That¡¯s the cutoff.¡± Jaxon frowned. Why? He thought Before he could ask, a harsh voice rang out. ¡°Faster! Move like you mean it!¡± Jaxon clenched his jaw and pushed forward. By the time they finished, Jaxon could barely stand. His body screamed in protest, every muscle aching. Makon paced before them again. ¡°Pathetic,¡± he muttered. ¡°If you cannot handle this, you will not survive what¡¯s to come.¡± He stopped in front of a boy who had collapsed earlier. The child stood stiffly, trembling. Makon tilted his head. ¡°Do you think this is difficult?¡± The boy hesitated. ¡°N-No, sir.¡± Makon smiled. It was not a kind smile. ¡°Good. Then you won¡¯t mind doing it again.¡± A few orphans stiffened. Makon turned sharply. ¡°All of you. Again.¡± A quiet groan rippled through the group, but no one dared to protest. Holt sighed. ¡°Told you he was a helspawn .¡± Jaxon exhaled shakily. I hate this place. Holt smirked. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to.¡± Later, in the mess hall, Jaxon slumped over his tray, staring at the gray, glue-like paste in front of him. Holt was already halfway through his meal. ¡°Eat.¡± Jaxon wrinkled his nose. ¡°This isn¡¯t food¡ªI asked you for food not poison¡± ¡°It is if you¡¯re hungry enough.¡± Holt took another bite. ¡°And You get used to it.¡± Jaxon forced himself to take a bite. It was as awful as it looked. Across the hall, a group of older recruits whispered among themselves. Lucian was among them, smirking as he spoke. Occasionally, his gaze flicked toward Jaxon. Jaxon tensed. ¡°He¡¯s going to come after me, isn¡¯t he?¡± Holt followed his gaze and shrugged. ¡°Probably.¡± ¡°Great.¡± ¡°Just don¡¯t let him corner you alone,¡± Holt muttered. ¡°He likes making examples out of people.¡± Jaxon exhaled, forcing himself to take another bite. Then, his stomach twisted. Something felt wrong. He glanced around again. And that¡¯s when he noticed it. There were no girls. Every single orphan in the mess hall was male. Jaxon frowned. ¡°Holt.¡± Holt raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yeah?¡± Jaxon leaned in slightly. ¡°Where are all the girls?¡± Holt smirked. ¡°Took you long enough to notice.¡± Jaxon shot him a look. ¡°I¡¯ve been busy trying not to die from exhaustion .¡± Holt chuckled. ¡°Fair. Anyway, they¡¯re here. Just¡­ not with us.¡± Jaxon frowned. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Holt lowered his voice. ¡°New Canaan has multiple training facilities. This one? Just for us. The females have their¡¯s.¡± ¡°Why separate them?¡± Holt exhaled. ¡°Back when New Canaan was first set up, they kept everyone together. Then¡­¡± He hesitated. ¡°Something happened. No one knows the full story. Fights broke out. They did things and well people went missing to sum it up it got bad.¡± Jaxon didn¡¯t like the way Holt said missing. Still, he had bigger concerns. He forced himself to focus. ¡°So¡­ about Lucian.¡± Holt sighed. ¡°You just won¡¯t let that go, huh?¡± Jaxon shot him a look. ¡°You brought him up first.¡± ¡°Fair.¡± Holt smirked. ¡°Look, just stay out of his way. Lucian¡¯s different. His family didn¡¯t perish like ours¡ªhis family sent him here. He thinks he¡¯s better than the rest of us because of it.¡± Jaxon frowned. ¡°Sent? You mean his family gave him away?¡± ¡°More like ¡®donated¡¯ him.¡± Holt¡¯s voice was laced with amusement, but there was a sharpness behind it. ¡°Lucian comes from a noble house¡ªhouse varik one of the old families from before the Imperium fully took over. His parents are still alive, still powerful, but they sent him here to be forged into something better.¡± Jaxon scoffed. ¡°Sounds like they didn¡¯t want him.¡± Holt shrugged. ¡°Depends on how you look at it. For the nobility, having a son trained in a place like New Canaan is a badge of honor. The Imperium¡¯s elite want their heirs to be strong, disciplined, and ruthless. They don¡¯t want soft politicians¡ªthey want warriors. So they throw their kids in here, knowing full well that only the strongest survive.¡± He jabbed his spoon into his meal. ¡°And Lucian? He thinks he¡¯s better than the rest of us because of it.¡± Jaxon glanced across the mess hall, spotting Lucian sitting at a table near the center. He wasn¡¯t alone. A few other older children sat with him, all of them dressed in the same gray jumpsuits, but their postures were different¡ªcalm, collected, exuding a quiet sense of superiority. ¡°They all nobles too?¡± Jaxon asked. Holt followed his gaze before nodding. nope. Others just latched onto him because he¡¯s powerful. Lucian¡¯s got this whole ¡®future great person¡¯ aura about him, and people like that tend to attract followers. Doesn¡¯t hurt that his family¡¯s name still carries weight, even out here.¡± Jaxon narrowed his eyes. ¡°So that¡¯s why he thinks he can push people around.¡± Exactly.¡± Holt sighed. ¡°Look, I get it¡ªyou want to fight back. But trust me, picking a fight with Lucian isn¡¯t like fighting some street thug. He¡¯s 14 he¡¯s bigger he¡¯s trained, you just got lucky Jax. And He¡¯s been here for years. And more importantly¡ª¡± he gestured around the room, ¡°¡ªhe has allies.¡± Jaxon clenched his jaw. He hated the idea of letting someone like Lucian get away with treating people like trash. But he wasn¡¯t stupid. He needed to be smart about this. He forced himself to relax, exhaling slowly. ¡°Noted.¡± Holt grinned. ¡°Good. Now hurry up and eat. We¡¯ve got another round of training and lectures after this.¡± Lectures!!! Jaxon groaned but shoveled another spoonful of protein paste into his mouth. His body still ached from the morning drills, and the idea of going back out there so soon made his stomach twist. But he didn¡¯t have a choice. Chapter 4. Jaxon had been here for about ten months now. While he couldn¡¯t say he had completely gotten used to the environment¡ªor being an orphan¡ªhe had at least grown accustomed to the sounds of the klaxons. He had learned to rise immediately when they blared. His body had adapted to the rigid schedule, even if his mind hadn¡¯t. Ten months of grueling drills, followed by equally exhausting lectures. These weren¡¯t the kinds of lessons normal children learned. There was no numeracy, no history, no astronomy¡ªunless it related to the Imperium or the Xerath. Today was one of those days. They had finished their drills; now, they had their lectures. The lecture hall was dimly lit, like every other room in the facility. The only illumination came from the massive holographic display at the center of the room. Rows of children sat in silence, their faces a mixture of boredom, curiosity, and quiet dread. A few whispered among themselves, already familiar with the material. Jaxon, however, sat completely still, his fists clenched beneath the desk. A figure stepped forward¡ªInstructor Fischer. He was a tall, older man. Much smaller than Makon, but tall nonetheless. His face was weathered with scars, his piercing gaze sweeping over the room. Unlike the other instructors, Fischer wasn¡¯t cruel. He wasn¡¯t soft either. And on rare occasions, he even joked with them. He was no Genome Soldier, though. His uniform bore the insignia of the Mortal Legions¡ªa rifle encircled in silver¡ªbut his experience came from wars fought in his youth. With a tap on his wrist, the display flickered, revealing a monstrous, insectoid figure. It loomed over them, its exoskeleton fused with jagged mechanical plating, its elongated skull housing rows of razor-sharp teeth. Two digitigrade legs supported its towering form, each step designed for speed and agility. An average Xerath drone. Fischer¡¯s voice was sharp and precise. ¡°The enemy is unlike anything humanity has ever faced. They do not negotiate. They do not surrender. The Xerath exist for one purpose: consumption. If they are not stopped, they will consume us all.¡± The holographic figure shifted into a combat stance. Fischer continued. ¡°The Xerath are divided into five known classes. We have talked about two¡ªthe Drones and the Titans. Now, we will focus on one of the deadliest: the Reapers.¡± His voice grew graver. ¡°Unlike Drones, they are not disposable. Unlike Titans, they are not mindless brutes. Reapers think. They strategize. And they kill with precision.¡± The image changed, revealing a new horror. Jaxon¡¯s stomach twisted. The Reaper was taller than the Drone, its elongated body wrapped in obsidian-colored armor, its eyeless head crowned with a jagged exoskeletal crest. Each of its four biomechanical arms ended in curved, serrated blades¡ªrazor-sharp, honed for slaughter. The very thing that had slaughtered his mother. His hands trembled beneath the desk, but he forced them to stay still. Then, the display zoomed in on the blades. At the base of each weapon were holes¡ªsmall, circular openings along the edges. Almost ornamental at first glance. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Fischer¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°You may have heard stories about the Reapers. Some of you may have encountered them. You may think you understand what they are capable of. But there is one thing you must know above all else¡­¡± He tapped his wrist again, and the image changed. This time, it was a simulation. A human soldier locked in combat with a Reaper. The soldier fired his rifle. The rounds bounced off the Reaper¡¯s thick carapace. The creature moved with unnatural speed, dodging the shots with terrifying efficiency. Then, in a single fluid motion, the Reaper plunged its blade into the man¡¯s chest. There was blood. A lot of blood. The soldier remained alive for a few seconds, struggling¡ªtrying in vain to fight back. Then¡ªconvulsions. His body spasmed violently, veins turning black as the infection spread. Within seconds, his mouth foamed, his eyes rolled back, and blood poured from his orifices¡ªnose, ears, mouth. Jaxon¡¯s jaw tightened. Would this have happened to his mother? Fischer¡¯s voice was grim. ¡°Reapers do not just kill. Their blades inject a biological agent¡ªspores, engineered by the Xerath. These spores travel through the bloodstream, attacking the nervous system and vital organs. If a target does not die from the initial strike, they will succumb within minutes. There is no cure.¡± The display shifted again, showing a battlefield littered with contorted corpses. Their bodies twisted. Their faces frozen in screams. ¡°This,¡± Fischer said, ¡°is what awaits those who underestimate the Reaper.¡± Silence. Even the orphans who had been whispering earlier had nothing to say. Jaxon swallowed hard. They aren¡¯t unstoppable. He had seen one die before. But not before it had killed his mother. Fischer¡¯s voice pulled him back. ¡°If you ever find yourself alone against a Reaper, do not engage. Unless you are a Genome Soldier, you will not win.¡± A hand shot up¡ªRainer. One of the more confident orphans. Sharp-eyed. Always asking questions. ¡°Sir,¡± he said, ¡°if Reapers are that dangerous, how do Genome Soldiers fight them?¡± A murmur rippled through the class. Fischer exhaled through his nose, nodding slightly. ¡°A good question. One that I would love to know the answer to. When you find out, let me know¡ªbecause Genome Soldiers would sooner die than reveal the secrets of their regiments or their brotherhood.¡± He smirked slightly. ¡°Sadly, that includes Makon.¡± There were a few groans of disappointment, but Fischer continued. ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s lesson will cover ranks¡ªthe hierarchy of the Imperium¡¯s military forces and its Mortal Legions.¡± Jaxon barely heard the rest. He had seen a Genome Soldier kill a Reaper before. His fists clenched beneath the desk. Then, the klaxons blared, signaling the end of the lesson. As Jaxon left the hall, he spotted Holt walking out of another lecture room. ¡°Jax,¡± Holt greeted, running a hand through his blond hair. His voice was shaky, as if something had just happened. Jaxon said nothing. Just nodded in return. They made their way down the corridor toward the showers. The facility was always dimly lit. Always silent. Everything was scheduled. Everything was controlled. Even bathing had a time limit. The water only ran once a day. If you missed it, you missed it. Jaxon had missed it five times including the period he arrived. He walked into the showers alongside the other children. The room was stark¡ªgray walls lined with exposed pipes and metal grates. The moment the pipes rattled to life, children moved with urgency¡ªstripping down and stepping beneath the lukewarm spray before it was too late. Jaxon took his place under one of the nozzles, turning his back slightly. The lack of privacy still felt unnatural, even after months. Nearby, Holt ran a hand through his damp blond hair, his face unreadable. Then¡ªLucian entered. Lucian always acted like he was above the other children. Like he was better. He strode toward a nozzle¡ªbut another kid was already using it. Lucian¡¯s eyes darkened. He loomed over the smaller boy, tilting his head. ¡°That¡¯s my spot,¡± he said flatly. The other boy hesitated. The showers were first-come, first-served¡ªthere were no assigned spots. But Lucian didn¡¯t care about rules. After a few moments, the boy stepped aside. Lucian smirked, stepping under the nozzle. ¡°Smart choice.¡± Holt gave Jaxon a look. ¡°One day, someone¡¯s gonna put Lucian in his place.¡± Jaxon smirked slightly. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure I have a front-row seat when it happens.¡± For the first time that day, Holt chuckled. Chapter 5. The metallic hum of the ventilation system droned in the background as Jaxon lay on his mattress, staring at the ceiling. Sleep was a luxury he rarely had in this place, and tonight was no different. The quarters were silent except for the occasional rustling of feet, the soft breathing of children lost in exhaustion. Yet Jaxon was awake, his mind replaying the events of the day. Something about Holt felt¡­ off. He¡¯d noticed it earlier, but he said nothing. Across from him, Holt sat up on his cot, arms draped over his knees, staring at the floor. The dim overhead light cast shadows over his face, making his expression unreadable. Holt had switched bunks after the second month, asking the boy next to Jaxon¡ªa quiet kid named Sali¡ªif they could trade spots. The boy had agreed quickly, maybe because he wanted nothing to do with Jaxon. Jaxon shifted slightly. ¡°You okay?¡± he asked quietly. Holt exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his blond hair. He always did that when he was tense. ¡°Yeah.¡± A pause. ¡°Just in thought.¡± Jaxon narrowed his eyes. Holt wasn¡¯t one to brood¡ªnot like this. Something was bothering him. Before Jaxon could ask, the door to the quarters slid open with a sharp hiss. A few children lifted their heads, eyes narrowing at the figure stepping inside. Lucian. Jaxon tensed. Lucian strode in like he owned the place, two of his usual lackeys flanking him. He wasn¡¯t the biggest or strongest child, but he carried himself like he was. Confidence¡ªor arrogance¡ªrolled off him in waves. His sharp eyes scanned the bunks until they landed on Jaxon and Holt. A slow smirk spread across his face. Jaxon sat up fully. ¡°What do you want?¡± Lucian ignored him, turning his gaze to Holt. ¡°Didn¡¯t see you at the mess hall,¡± he said smoothly. His voice was casual, but there was something underneath it¡ªsomething calculated. Holt shrugged. ¡°Wasn¡¯t hungry.¡± Lucian tilted his head slightly, as if considering the answer. Then he smiled. ¡°That¡¯s not good. You need to eat. Keep your strength up.¡± Jaxon frowned. This wasn¡¯t normal. Lucian picked fights all the time, but this was different. This felt deliberate. Holt met his gaze evenly. ¡°I¡¯ll survive.¡± Lucian chuckled, stepping closer. ¡°Of course you will. But it¡¯s funny, isn¡¯t it? How you and Jaxon over here are always together. Like brothers.¡± He paused. ¡°Or something else.¡± His lackeys laughed. ¡°You saying they¡¯re fucking, Lucian?¡± one of them said. A few children stirred uncomfortably. Some turned their heads, pretending not to hear. Others watched with quiet curiosity, sensing the shift in the air. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Jaxon clenched his fists beneath his blanket. ¡°What¡¯s your point?¡± Lucian smirked. ¡°No point. Just an observation.¡± Then, as if losing interest, he turned and walked toward the door. His lackeys followed, their footsteps echoing in the quiet barracks. Jaxon exhaled, but he didn¡¯t relax. Holt stared at the door long after Lucian had left, his jaw clenched. ¡°He¡¯s probably planning something,¡± Jaxon muttered. Holt nodded once. ¡°Yeah.¡± Morning came too soon. The klaxons blared, signaling the start of another brutal day. Jaxon rose immediately, his body moving on instinct. Months of training had conditioned him to obey the sound. Their schedule never changed¡ªwake up, drills, lectures, sleep. Repeat. Drills were relentless. The instructors pushed them through sprints, endurance tests, exercises that left them gasping for breath. The facility had no room for weakness. By the time they finished, the children were drenched in sweat, their bodies aching. They were given exactly 15 minutes to eat at the mess hall before heading to lectures. Jaxon and Holt walked side by side as they made their way down the metal corridors. Then¡ªit happened. Holt took a step forward, then suddenly¡ªhis body gave out. Jaxon barely had time to react before Holt collapsed onto the cold steel floor. For a second, everything slowed. The sound of boots against metal faded. The chatter of children heading to class disappeared. Then¡ª ¡°Holt?¡± Jaxon dropped to his knees beside him. ¡°Hey¡ªcan you hear me?¡± Holt¡¯s body was trembling. Not from exhaustion. Not from fatigue. Something was wrong. His fingers twitched violently, curling against the ground. His breathing came in short, uneven gasps. His eyes¡ªusually sharp, usually aware¡ªwere glazed over, unfocused. More children stopped. Murmurs spread. Some hesitated, watching. Others took a step back. Jaxon¡¯s mind raced. What the hell is happening? Then he noticed¡ªHolt¡¯s hands. His fingertips were trembling uncontrollably, his muscles spasming beneath his skin. His breaths came faster, shallower. Jaxon looked up¡ªand saw him. Lucian. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed, watching. He wasn¡¯t surprised. He wasn¡¯t confused. He was just there, smiling. Jaxon¡¯s blood ran cold. Rage surged through him. He started to rise, fists clenched, but before he could move¡ª A sharp voice cut through the tension. ¡°Instructor approaching!¡± The crowd scattered. Jaxon barely had time to react before a firm hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. It was Instructor Fischer. Jaxon sat through the rest of the day in a haze. He went to the lecture, sat through discussions of tactics and Imperium ranks, but he wasn¡¯t really there. His mind was on Holt. On what Lucian had done. Holt was still out cold in his bunk when Jaxon returned. His breaths were steadier now, but his face was pale, his fingers still twitching slightly. Jaxon clenched his jaw. Whatever Lucian had done, he would pay for it. That night, long after lights out, he made his move. He slipped out of bed without a sound. Years of sneaking, thanks to his father¡¯s surveillance, had taught him how to be silent. Lucian¡¯s bunk was near the far end of the barracks. His lackeys¡ªMarek and Orion¡ªslept nearby. But Jaxon wasn¡¯t here for them. Just Lucian. Jaxon stepped closer, his heart pounding. He could hear Lucian¡¯s slow, even breathing. Peaceful. Like he didn¡¯t have a care in the world. Jaxon clenched his jaw. Then, in one swift motion, he grabbed Lucian by the throat. Lucian jolted awake with a choked gasp, eyes wide as Jaxon pinned him down. The other children stirred but didn¡¯t move. Some watched from their bunks, too afraid to interfere. Others simply turned over, pretending to be asleep. Jaxon leaned in, his voice low, dangerous. ¡°Your problem was with me.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t have to go after Holt.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t lie, I know you did it.¡± Lucian¡¯s lips curled into a smirk, even as Jaxon¡¯s grip tightened. ¡°Do you?¡± His voice was hoarse but taunting. ¡°Can you prove it?¡± Jaxon¡¯s fingers twitched. He could end this right now. A sharp twist, a single blow¡ªmore pressure. But then a thought slashed through his rage. Why was he having such dark thoughts? He was still a kid. Slowly, Jaxon let go, stepping back. Lucian coughed, rubbing his neck, his smirk never fading. ¡°Smart choice,¡± he rasped. ¡°But you know this isn¡¯t over.¡± Jaxon¡¯s eyes burned with quiet fury. ¡°Yeah,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯ll kill you if you come close to my friend again.¡± Then, without another word, he turned and walked away. Chapter 6. Weeks had passed since Jaxon had nearly crushed Lucian¡¯s throat in the dead of night, yet the tension still lingered. Lucian hadn¡¯t retaliated¡ªnot yet¡ªbut Jaxon could feel it, an unspoken promise hanging in the air between them. Every glance, every smirk Lucian threw his way felt like a reminder that it was not over. Holt had mostly recovered from whatever had happened to him, though he was quieter now. He still cracked jokes, but something was missing. And he was pretending not to notice. Jaxon wanted to ask, but every time he opened his mouth, Holt would change the subject. Something was wrong. But whatever it was, Jaxon never got the chance to figure it out. Because that morning, everything changed. The klaxons screamed through the barracks like every other morning , dragging Jaxon from the haze of restless sleep. Groans and grumbles echoed around the room, but it didn¡¯t matter. They were still going to get up. They were still going to do their drills. Then the door slid open. Legionnaire Makon stepped inside. The room went silent. Makon¡¯s presence always demanded attention, but this time, it was different. There was something in the way he stood¡ªthe rigid set of his jaw, the sharp way his eyes scanned the recruits, as if he was searching for something specific. Behind him stood two men, dressed in the black uniform of the Mortal Legions, fully armed. That wasn¡¯t normal. Jaxon¡¯s stomach twisted. Makon clasped his hands behind his back. ¡°Today,¡± he began, voice steady and unreadable, ¡°marks a turning point in your training. The next phase of recruitment has begun. And yes, I know it has come a bit early. Ships have arrived to transport eligible children to their designated assignments.¡± A murmur rippled through the quarters . They had known this was coming. Their time in New Canaan had always been temporary¡ªeventually, they would be divided up, sent to different branches of the Sol Imperium¡¯s vast war machine. Some would go to infantry regiments, others to officer training programs or specialized fields like engineering and intelligence or even ministry work. But something about this felt¡­ off. Then Makon continued. ¡°The following fifty names will not be joining the standard recruitment.¡± Silence. Jaxon¡¯s spine went rigid. Makon pulled out a data pod and began reading from it. One by one, he called out names. ¡°Gideon Dregg.¡± Jaxon recognized that name. Gideon was one of the strongest boys in the barracks. Silent. Disciplined. He also hated Lucian. ¡°Gin Severan. Hrolf Guthrie. Xandro Spinoza.¡± This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. More familiar names. They were some of the most physically capable children in the barracks. The ones who never faltered in drills, never showed weakness. Then there were other names¡ªones Jaxon barely recognized. Then¡ª ¡°Lucian Varik.¡± Jaxon gritted his teeth. Of course Lucian would be involved in something like this. At least he¡¯d be rid of him. At least the constant worry about Lucian biting back would stop. Then¡ª ¡°Holt Darius.¡± Jaxon¡¯s breath caught. He turned to Holt, who had gone completely still, his usual sarcastic mask nowhere to be found. It made sense. If this selection was based on physical ability, Holt¡¯s name was bound to be called. His endurance was one of the best in the barracks, even better than those older than him. Jaxon felt a brief flicker of pride for Holt. Then¡ª ¡°Jaxon Vaes.¡± Something in Jaxon¡¯s stomach dropped. The rest of the names blurred together. He barely heard them. Makon finished reading, then looked up. ¡°You fifty have been chosen for a greater purpose.¡± The room shifted. Jaxon could feel it¡ªthe uncertainty, the whispered conversations about he and holt from those left behind. ¡°They¡¯re supposed to be at least fourteen.¡± ¡°Why take them early?¡± ¡°Even if it¡¯s for something else, that doesn¡¯t make sense.¡± Jaxon¡¯s pulse quickened. He and Holt they weren¡¯t old enough to be chosen yet. He could understand holt he had been here for almost 5 years now. But Why was he, he¡¯d barely been here a year ? They were led out of the quarters, then out of the barracks, escorted by the armed men and several instructors. Was this standard procedure?. The children who had been left behind watched them go¡ªsome with envy, others with relief. A few looked¡­ afraid. Holt kept his voice low as they walked. ¡°Jax¡­ this doesn¡¯t feel right.¡± Jaxon nodded once. Barely a motion. He noticed how the men walking alongside them never spoke, never even looked at them. Just marched in perfect formation, weapons in hand. Something was wrong. By the time they reached the landing platform, Jaxon had counted six ships with the Imperium insignia docked, loading up recruits. But they were being led toward a different transport. Bigger. Sleeker. Unmarked. The inside of the transport was unlike anything Jaxon had ever seen. Fischer had taught them that most Imperium ships were cold, utilitarian, built for war or logistics-harsh metal interiors, exposed wiring, the constant hum of machinery thrumming through the walls. This one was different. The walls were smooth and seamless, deep gunmetal gray with faint blue lines of energy pulsing beneath the surface. The overhead lights glowed softly¡ªnot the harsh fluorescents Jaxon was used to. Even the air smelled different. Not like zeta fuel or recycled oxygen, but something¡­ sterile. Artificial. Jaxon hesitated as they were herded inside, scanning the interior. The seating was lined in rows along the walls, each recruit given a designated spot. But unlike normal military transports, these weren¡¯t regular seats. They were reinforced harnesses. Full-body restraints. His pulse quickened. ¡°Sit,¡± one of the officers ordered. No explanations. No details. Just that single command. Jaxon sat. The moment he did, mechanized clamps locked around his wrists and shoulders, securing him in place. He tested them¡ªno give. Not an inch. He wasn¡¯t the only one who noticed. A few seats away, Holt grunted, tugging at his restraints. ¡°This is a bit much, don¡¯t you think?¡± His usual dry tone was there, but Jaxon could hear the unease beneath it. Holt turned to him, voice lower. ¡°Jax¡­ why do I feel like we¡¯re prisoners instead of recruits?¡± Jaxon didn¡¯t answer. Because he felt it too. Across from them, Lucian was perfectly at ease, reclining slightly, his smirk barely fading as the officers moved down the rows, ensuring each recruit was properly restrained. He caught Jaxon¡¯s gaze and gave a slow, amused tilt of his head. Like he already knew something they didn¡¯t. Then he looked at Jaxon and murmured, ¡°Looks like we¡¯re still stuck together, Jax¡­on.¡± The way he stretched out his name¡ªweird. Off. Jaxon clenched his jaw. The doors sealed shut with a hiss. A voice crackled over the intercom. Not Makon¡¯s¡ªsomeone else¡¯s. Calm. Detached. ¡°Initiating launch sequence. Atmospheric departure in thirty seconds. Remain still.¡± Then the ship lurched forward. The force slammed Jaxon back against his seat, the flesh of his cheeks being usher back as if by invisible fingers, his bones rattling under the strain. The acceleration was brutal¡ªfar more intense than a standard military transport. Something about this wasn¡¯t normal. The ship wasn¡¯t just leaving New Canaan. It was leaving fast. Holt swore under his breath. His hands curled into fists, his knee bouncing slightly¡ªnervous energy he wasn¡¯t even trying to hide. ¡°Where in Hel are they taking us?¡± No one answered. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the lights dimmed, and the voice returned. ¡°Rest. You will need your strength for what comes next.¡± Jaxon swallowed hard. That sounded more like a warning than reassurance. Chapter 7. Jaxon didn¡¯t know how long he had dozed off¡ªminutes, hours? The absence of time gnawed at him. Then¡ªa sudden jolt rocked the ship. A few of them startled awake, blinking groggily. The restraints across Jaxon¡¯s chest automatically unlocked with a soft hiss, retracting into the seat. The doors slid open. A wave of cold, sterile air hit Jaxon¡¯s face. Where was this place? There were no banners of the Imperium. No familiar insignias. No instructors waiting to bark orders. Everything about this place felt weird. The walls were a deep matte black, smooth and seamless, glowing with faint blue lines that pulsed in steady rhythms¡ªnot unlike the ship The recruits were ushered out, guided down a narrow corridor lined with what looked like observation panels¡ªdark glass that gave the impression they were being watched. Jaxon¡¯s skin prickled. Then, they entered a massive hall. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, lined with white lights. The floor was cold steel, polished to a mirror shine. No chairs. No desks. No training equipment. Just empty space. At the far end, a figure stood waiting. Not an instructor. Not a soldier. Not Makon. A man in a long black coat lined with silver. He was tall¡ªtowering, probably over seven feet¡ªhis posture perfect, his expression unreadable, his buzz cut gave him a domineering look His gray eyes swept over them, calculating, studying. Jaxon had thought no one could be taller than Makon¡ªbut here was someone in the flesh.And unlike makon The man smiled. But it wasn¡¯t a kind smile. ¡°Welcome, recruits. I am senior Centurion Dietrich Tyron. You will refer to me as Centurion Dietrich ,¡± he said simply, his voice even, clinical. Jaxon¡¯s breath slowed. The man¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Your real training begins now.¡± Then the doors behind them sealed shut. A chill crawled down Jaxon¡¯s spine. They still hadn¡¯t been told what they were training for. For a long moment, no one moved. Fifty recruits, all standing in silent confusion, their gazes flicking from one another to the massive, imposing figure before them. Some, like Lucian, stood with an easy confidence, arms crossed, smirking as if this was all a game. Others, like Holt, shifted uneasily, shoulders tense, eyes darting to the sealed doors behind them. Jaxon clenched his fists. He had spent months training. He had survived in New Canaan. And yet, something about this place felt worse. Dietrich took slow, measured steps toward them, his polished boots clicking softly against the steel floor. ¡°You were all chosen because you showed promise,¡± he said, his tone almost bored. ¡°Some of you because of your intelligence. Others because of your strength, resilience, and discipline. A few of you¡­ simply because you survived. And some¡­ because of influence.¡± His cold eyes swept over them, stopping at Lucian. Jaxon narrowed his eyes. Dietrich continued. ¡°But promise means nothing without proof.¡± A metallic hiss echoed through the hall as a section of the floor slid open behind him. A large steel container rose from the ground, locking into place with a mechanical snap. Dietrich turned slightly, gesturing toward it. ¡°Your first test begins now.¡± The crate¡¯s locks disengaged with a sharp click. Then, the container¡¯s walls folded open. A collective breath hitched. Inside were weapons. Blades and stun batons. Lined up in perfect rows, polished and gleaming. Some recruits straightened, suddenly more alert. Others frowned, confusion flickering across their faces. ¡°Choose,¡± Dietrich commanded. ¡°Quickly.¡± Jaxon didn¡¯t hesitate. He moved, grabbing a combat knife from the rack. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was something. Beside him, Holt took a stun baton, his grip tightening around the handle. Lucian, of course, reached for a baton . He smirked, rolling his shoulders as if he had already won whatever this test was. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. One by one, the recruits armed themselves. Some hesitated, uncertain, but no one wanted to be caught empty-handed. A metallic hiss echoed through the hall as sections of the walls slid apart, revealing rows of hardened training dummies¡ªmechanized humanoid forms, their limbs reinforced with dull combat plating. Each one stood perfectly still, but Jaxon knew better than to assume they were harmless. Some recruits exhaled quietly in relief¡ªthis wasn¡¯t a real fight. Not yet. But the relief was short-lived. Dietrich clasped his hands behind his back. ¡°Your objective is simple: incapacitate your target before it incapacitates you.¡± Jaxon narrowed his eyes. Incapacitate? As if on cue, the dummies¡¯ eyes flickered to life with a dull blue glow. A deep mechanical hum vibrated through the room as the constructs shifted into combat stances. Then, they moved. Jaxon barely had time to react before the dummy in front of him lunged forward. The mechanized opponent was fast¡ªfaster than Jaxon had expected. It closed the distance with precision, swinging its reinforced arm toward him in a sharp, calculated strike. Jaxon twisted out of the way, narrowly avoiding the blow. He could feel the air shift as it passed, inches from his ribs. No hesitation. Jaxon moved, bringing his combat knife up in a fluid arc, aiming for the dummy¡¯s exposed neck joint. The blade slammed against reinforced plating with a sharp clang. It didn¡¯t even scratch it. His mind raced¡ªthis wasn¡¯t like the drills or the fights among children in New Canaan. This opponent didn¡¯t hesitate. Didn¡¯t make mistakes. It was programmed for efficiency. Another strike¡ªthis one aimed at his legs. Jaxon jumped back just in time, but his footing slipped slightly on the polished floor. The dummy pressed the attack. Jaxon barely blocked, gritting his teeth as he absorbed the impact with his forearm. His muscles burned, but he refused to let it throw him off balance. If he couldn¡¯t outmatch it in strength¡­ He had to outthink it. Outthink a robot? Well, that sounded stupid. He still had time to joke in this sort of situation. Maybe Holt was rubbing off on him. From the corner of his eye, Jaxon saw Holt struggling. Holt¡¯s stun baton crackled as it connected with the dummy¡¯s chest¡ªbut it barely staggered. His opponent didn¡¯t even slow down. The construct swung low, catching Holt off guard. He barely managed to block, but the force of the impact sent him stumbling back. His breath came in sharp, panicked gasps. Jaxon¡¯s stomach tightened. Holt wasn¡¯t winning. He could see it in the way his friend hesitated, how his movements lacked confidence. The dummies were relentless, calculating, efficient. There was no room for uncertainty. If Holt didn¡¯t adjust fast, he was going to lose. And Jaxon had no idea what happened to the ones who lost. Lucian, on the other hand¡ªwas thriving. He was calm. Focused. Every movement was precise, practiced, deadly. He didn¡¯t waste energy. He didn¡¯t panic. He was controlling the fight, not just reacting to it. Like he had done this before. Jaxon felt a knot tighten in his stomach as he watched Lucian move with cold efficiency. Lucian didn¡¯t just dodge¡ªhe predicted. One well-placed hit to the knee joint. Another to the shoulder servo. Then, with surgical precision, he drove the butt of his baton into the dummy¡¯s head, sending it crashing to the floor. It twitched once¡ªthen went still. Lucian stood over it, completely unscathed. His smirk deepened. Why was Lucian¡¯s fight so easy? ¡ª Jaxon forced himself to focus on his own fight. The dummy lashed out again, its attack pattern relentless. Jaxon ducked low, letting the strike sail over his head. And that¡¯s when he saw it. A small gap between the armor plating near its side¡ªan open spot just beneath the ribs. A mistake. Or was it purposely put there? Jaxon put the thought at the back of his mind, he didn¡¯t hesitate. He shifted his weight and drove his knife forward, aiming straight for the exposed section. The blade sank in. Not deep¡ªbut enough. The dummy jerked violently, its movements stuttering. Sparks flickered from the damaged section as its systems attempted to compensate. Jaxon ripped the knife free and slammed the hilt into its head, sending it staggering back. Then, with one last calculated motion¡ªhe swept its legs out from under it. The dummy collapsed. A sharp metallic whine filled the air. Then¡ªsilence. Jaxon exhaled sharply, his muscles burning. He had won. ¡ª Jaxon turned just in time to see Holt struggling to land a finishing blow. His dummy was still pressing forward, but its movements were slowing, its servos twitching from repeated strikes. Jaxon moved. Before the dummy could counterattack, he rushed forward and slammed his boot against its back, forcing it off balance. Holt didn¡¯t waste the opportunity. With a sharp crack, he drove the stun baton into its exposed circuits, sending a burst of electricity through its frame. The dummy twitched violently¡ªthen collapsed. Holt fell back, panting. ¡°That¡­ sucked,¡± he muttered. Jaxon held out a hand, pulling him to his feet. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°But you¡¯re still standing.¡± Holt let out a breathless chuckle. ¡°Barely.¡± They turned¡ªjust in time to see Lucian watching them. Smirking. One by one, the fights ended. Some recruits triumphed, standing over their deactivated dummies, breathing heavily but victorious. Others were on the floor, clutching bruises and minor injuries. Not everyone had passed. Dietrich studied them with cold, clinical interest. ¡°Acceptable. You all pass¡ªfor now,¡± he finally said. ¡°But barely.¡± His gaze lingered on the fallen recruits. ¡°Failure is not tolerated here.¡± The walls of the white hall opened up again, revealing other recruits¡ªflanked by men almost as tall as Dietrich . Had the other recruits gone through the same thing? Then, Dietrich¡¯s voice thundered across the hall. ¡°You are all here to become the first line of defense for the Sol Imperium¡ªotherwise known as Genome Soldiers. Or at least¡­ you will attempt to be.¡± A cold silence filled the hall. ¡°Like I said¡ªand like you have probably heard from your overseers ¡ªfailure is not tolerated. Some of you will not make it. Some of you may survive, but you will be broken mentally.¡± Dietrich¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°But those who survive¡­ will be made into something more. Something beyond human.¡± Jaxon felt his stomach tighten. ¡°You will serve Sol with everything you have. Some of you may have questions. Some of you may wonder why you were chosen. But let me be clear¡ªI do not care.¡± His voice was ice. ¡°The world you are on is called Megiddo.¡± Jaxon barely had time to process the name before a ripple of shock spread through the recruits. Megiddo. A name you were never meant to hear. A place that does not exist.¡± ¡°Dietrich¡¯s lips curled into a faint smirk, but it was void of amusement. ¡°Megiddo is a classified training facility for Genome Soldiers. The only person permitted to disclose its location is the Imperator himself. Most of you may know who that is. Some of you may not.It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± Jaxon swallowed hard. ¡°This world also harbors the Genetorium¡ªthe key to the creation of Genome Soldiers. You will all take this information to your graves. That is not a threat, that is certainty .¡± Should you fail¡ªif you prove too weak, too slow, too fragile for what lies ahead¡ªyou will not be dismissed. You Will not be exiled. I will lead you to your graves myself.¡± His gray eyes darkened. ¡°And then, I will follow your putrid soul to Hel¡­ and end you a second time.¡± The silence was suffocating. Jaxon¡¯s breath came slowly, evenly. Around him, no one dared to speak. Even Lucian, who always had some snide remark, remained perfectly still. Dietrich finally exhaled, as if bored with their existence. ¡°You will now be led to your dorms in the same groups you arrived with. Each dormitory will house fifty recruits.¡± A pause. His lips curled slightly. ¡°That is a vast improvement from Canaan.¡± The sarcasm wasn¡¯t lost on them. Dietrich straightened, his tone final. ¡°You will know be told what your second test is.¡± His next words carried a weight that settled in Jaxon¡¯s chest like iron. ¡°I hope you all survive.¡± ¡°Now, let me introduce you to Malikk. He is the man who will teach you what you need to know, and judge whether you are worthy to join or be cutoff. Listen to his words carefully¡± Immediately after Dietrich said this, the doors to the other recruits sealed shut, leaving the fifty of them alone with Dietrich and the newcomer, Malikk. Chapter 8. Jaxon studied the man whom Dietrich had introduced¡ªmeanwhile, the Centurion had already left, leaving them with the newcomer. The newcomer strode into the hall, regarding them with dark gray eyes¡ªthe same cold shade as Dietrich¡¯s. He wore a long-sleeved shirt bearing the Imperial insignia, tucked into combat trousers fastened by a thick belt. It was far from the rigid uniforms Jaxon was used to in the Imperial orphanage. He was tall and broad¡ªnot as tall as the Centurion, but stockier. He had black hair, which he tied into a tight bun, with a black lining underneath his eyelids, giving him a somewhat feminine look. The man studied them for a moment, then spoke. ¡°I am Malikk Uthman, a Legionnaire First Class of the Imperium,¡± he said, his tone firm and clipped. ¡°By now, common sense should have told you¡ªwe are Genome Soldiers. Myself, my comrades, the men you saw in those rooms, and my superior, Centurion Dietrich¡ªwhom you will not see for some time.¡± Jaxon remained still, listening. The man had a strange accent, with deep guttural sounds rolling off his tongue. It was different from anything Jaxon had heard before. ¡°You are here to become Genome Soldiers,¡± Uthman continued. ¡°But not just that. You will learn what it means to be one. From now on, forget everything you learned in the Imperial orphanage. Your lessons there are useless. Only your experiences will serve you here.¡± Lucian rolled his shoulders, his smirk widening. ¡°That¡¯s a nice speech. You enjoy hearing yourself talk?¡± His voice was light, mocking. ¡°Or are you just stalling because there¡¯s nothing actually waiting for us? And when do we eat? I¡¯m bloody hungry.¡± A few recruits shifted uneasily. Jaxon didn¡¯t miss the way Holt tensed beside him. Uthman¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. He simply stepped forward, his boots echoing against the cold steel floor¡ªslow and deliberate. ¡°You are of the Varik lineage, correct?¡± Lucian¡¯s smirk deepened. ¡°Of course.¡± That was his mistake. Uthman moved without warning. His huge fist sank into Lucian¡¯s gut with brutal precision. Lucian choked on his breath, doubling over. Before he could recover, Uthman¡¯s boot smashed into his ribs, sending him sprawling onto the cold steel floor. Lucian gasped desperately for air. Jaxon didn¡¯t even try to hide his satisfaction. Uthman stepped over Lucian¡¯s crumpled form. His expression remained unchanged, his voice flat. ¡°You think your name will shield you?¡± Uthman¡¯s voice was low, controlled, but beneath it was something colder. ¡°I have seen noble sons bleed out in the mud, crying for their mothers. I have seen the heirs of great houses torn apart by the very enemies they thought were beneath them. And do you know what their names did for them?¡± Lucian coughed, still struggling to breathe. ¡°Nothing.¡± Uthman¡¯s voice remained level. ¡°You are lucky I held back. You should be dead¡ªor at least on the path to it. Speak out of turn again, and I will rip off your arms like a little boy tormenting a fly and beat you with them.¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. He turned his back on Lucian, returning to his previous position. His face hadn¡¯t changed once throughout the entire encounter. ¡°I am not cruel,¡± he said, ¡°but the next person who speaks out of turn will be disciplined.¡± He let the silence stretch for a moment. No one dared to speak. ¡°Now¡­ where was I?¡± He let the question hang for a second before continuing. ¡°Ah, yes. You shall forget all you learned at the orphanage. From this point forward, your training will not consist of meaningless drills. You will learn through experience.¡± A pause. ¡°You will hunt. Think of it as a second test.¡± A few of the recruits shifted uncomfortably. Uthman continued. ¡°Xeraths are not the only beasts that threaten the Imperium. Most of you have lived your lives on hive worlds, fortress worlds¡ªsheltered behind steel buildings and metal turrets. But Megiddo is a desert world. And it is far from empty.¡± He took a step forward, his voice growing colder. ¡°You will partake in a hunt. You will track, kill, and survive against Megiddo¡¯s creatures. The weak will not return.¡± Jaxon felt his stomach twist slightly, but he kept his expression neutral. Hadrian gestured toward the far side of the hall. ¡°You will now be led to your sleeping space, where your basic gear will be waiting for you. From this moment forward, you are no longer recruits.¡± A pause. ¡°You are Initiates.¡± His gaze swept over them. ¡°Have I made myself clear?¡± The response was immediate. ¡°Yes, Legionnaire Uthman!¡± Uthman nodded once. ¡°Then prepare yourselves.¡± Jaxon exhaled slowly, barely hearing Holt mutter beside him. ¡°I really don¡¯t like this guy.¡± Jaxon agreed. Uthman turned sharply on his heel and motioned toward the far end of the hall. ¡°Follow me.¡± The massive steel doors hissed open, revealing a long, dimly lit corridor. The walls were the same seamless black as the rest of Megiddo, lined with faintly glowing blue lines. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of their boots against the metal flooring. Jaxon kept his steps even, but he could feel Holt walking close beside him. ¡°So, just to be clear,¡± Holt muttered under his breath, ¡°they¡¯re probably going to throw us into a desert filled with what I¡¯m sure will be deadly creatures to ¡®train¡¯ us.¡± They reached another set of reinforced doors at the end of the corridor. Hadrian gestured, and they slid open with a deep thunk, revealing their new quarters. It was a massive chamber¡ªtwice the size of the quarters on New Canaan. The ceiling was high, lined with dull overhead lights that barely cut through the shadows. The air smelled of metal and recycled oxygen. Rows of steel-framed bunks lined the walls. No blankets, no comforts. Just a single mattress, thin as paper. Holt sighed, muttering under his breath. ¡°Some improvement.¡± Another voice whispered from behind. ¡°The only thing that¡¯s somewhat better is the spacing.¡± It was Gideon. Jaxon was surprised he had spoken at all. Was he trying to form an alliance? Still, Jaxon gave a slight smile at Gideon¡¯s remark. Hadrian gestured toward the lockers. ¡°Your equipment is inside. Take only what is assigned to you.¡± No one moved at first. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, the Initiates hurried toward the lockers. Jaxon found his near the center of the row. His name¡ªJaxon Vaes¡ªwas stamped into the steel. He hesitated for a moment, maybe due to the fact that his name was there; it had been a while since he¡¯d seen his name written down anywhere. Inside was his gear: a sturdy vest, a set of dark fatigues, a long, serrated combat knife¡ªalmost the length of a short sword¡ªa stun baton, and a belt with a knife sheath. He grabbed the fatigues, stripping off his old jumper. Modesty wasn¡¯t a concern¡ªeveryone here had bathed together before. Then, a voice cut through the low murmur. ¡°But, sir, Legionnaire!¡± Jaxon turned. It was Guthrie. He was sweating buckets, trembling slightly, as if saying that one thing had taken everything out of him. ¡°How¡­ how could we possibly match you both in physique and presence?¡± Uthman walked past Jaxon toward Guthrie, staring at the boy like a giant might stare at an ant. ¡°Next time, raise your hand.¡± A pause. ¡°But since your question carried no venom, I shall answer.¡± Uthman glanced around at the rest of them. ¡°There is a reason we recruit while you are young. You are still growing. And we shall assist you in that growth. The Genetorium shall assist you in that growth. They shall alter you. It is not a problem.¡± He tilted his head slightly. ¡°Is that all, child?¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Guthrie responded quickly, even though the Legionnaire¡¯s answer was vague. Uthman strode back to the center of the room. ¡°The hunt begins by the morrow.¡± A murmur rippled through the group. Uthman ignored it. ¡°You will be dropped into the hunting zone in teams of five, and you will decide your comrades yourselves¡­¡± ¡°This is not an exercise. This is not a simulation. You will bleed. You will suffer. Some of you will die. That is the price of becoming a Genome Soldier.¡± A pause. Then, Uthman¡¯s eyes swept across them once more. ¡°Do not disappoint me¡ªdo not disappoint Sol.¡± Chapter 9. Jaxon barely slept. Even as the dim lights of the dormitory flickered into their night cycle, he lay awake, staring at the steel ceiling. The weight of Uthman¡¯s words pressed down on him. Some of you will die. He had heard threats before. Instructors back on New Canaan had barked about discipline, about the Imperium not tolerating weakness. But this didn¡¯t feel like a threat. It felt like a fact. They would be dropped into the wild. Alone. No support. No second chances. He turned his head slightly, catching the faint outline of Holt lying in the bunk beside his. His breathing was steady, but Jaxon knew his friend wasn¡¯t asleep either. ¡°Still awake?¡± Holt whispered. Jaxon exhaled quietly. ¡°Yeah.¡± A long pause. Then¡ª ¡°Do you think we¡¯ll make it?¡± Holt¡¯s voice was quieter than usual. Not joking. Not sarcastic. Jaxon didn¡¯t answer right away. Would they? He swallowed, staring at the cold ceiling. The words sat on his tongue, heavy and bitter. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he muttered finally. ¡°But I don¡¯t want to die.¡± Holt let out a long, hard breath. ¡°Yeah. Me too.¡± A beat of silence. Then a small chuckle. ¡°If we survived Makon and Canaan, we can survive anything.¡± Holt¡¯s tone was light, but Jaxon could hear the tension beneath it. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Jaxon. We¡¯ll make it through this.¡± Jaxon turned onto his side. ¡°Any idea who we should add to our team?¡± Holt let out a sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but definitely not Lucian.¡± ¡°I was thinking about Gideon,¡± Jaxon said. ¡°But I doubt he¡¯d want to join us. Then I thought about Guthrie.¡± Holt scoffed. ¡°The crier?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Jaxon responded. Holt hesitated. ¡°He¡¯s strong, I¡¯ll give him that, but won¡¯t his¡­ nature hold us back?¡± ¡°We won¡¯t know unless we try,¡± Jaxon muttered, though even he wasn¡¯t convinced. Holt sighed again, rubbing his forehead. ¡°Fine. But if he panics the moment things go wrong, it¡¯s on you.¡± Jaxon didn¡¯t argue. Guthrie might be strong, but fear made people unpredictable. ¡°Who else?¡± Holt asked. Jaxon exhaled, rubbing his eyes. ¡°No idea. Everyone good will probably be claimed fast.¡± Holt scoffed. ¡°So, we just grab whoever¡¯s left? Sounds like a great strategy.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like we have many options,¡± Jaxon muttered. He turned his gaze back to the ceiling, ignoring the hunger pangs in his stomach and willing himself to sleep. But one thought wouldn¡¯t leave his mind. Who wouldn¡¯t make it back? Jaxon pushed the thought aside and closed his eyes. Still, sleep didn¡¯t come easily. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The dorm was silent, but not truly still. He could hear the soft rustle of fabric as others turned in their bunks, the occasional cough, the low murmur of someone whispering a prayer. He didn¡¯t pray. He just counted his breaths. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Somewhere in the distance, a ventilation unit hummed. He wasn¡¯t sure when exhaustion finally won. The klaxons blared, dragging them from their restless sleep. Jaxon was already moving, pulling on his fatigues and fastening the vest over his chest. The others stirred around him, all moving with the same tense energy. Holt yawned, dragging himself up. ¡°So much for beauty sleep.¡± Jaxon turned, scanning the room. The other initiates were already forming into groups¡ªsome pulling friends close, others moving purely based on instinct. Lucian had already gathered his team. He stood near the center, smirking, with Orion and Marek¡ªhis two lackeys from Canaan¡ªflanking him. Jaxon¡¯s gaze flicked to the fourth member, someone he didn¡¯t recognize. But it wasn¡¯t them that made his stomach tighten. It was Gideon. Jaxon was certain Gideon hated his guts. So why had he joined Lucian? Had Lucian promised him something? Or had he chosen strength over his own principles? Holt nudged him. ¡°Guthrie¡¯s alone.¡± Jaxon glanced toward the trembling boy. He stood awkwardly by himself, eyes darting nervously between groups. Jaxon hesitated. He needed a third. ¡°Guthrie,¡± Jaxon called. The boy flinched. His wide eyes darted between them before he hurried over. ¡°You¡­ you want me on your team?¡± ¡°Can you fight?¡± Holt asked bluntly. Guthrie swallowed. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯ll try.¡± Jaxon sighed. ¡°Good enough.¡± That made three. They needed two more. A shadow loomed behind them. ¡°I¡¯ll join you.¡± Jaxon turned¡ªand found himself looking up at a tall figure. Dain. He was one of the taller boys in Canaan, his shaved head and sharp features gave him a permanent scowl. Unlike Lucian, he wasn¡¯t cocky, nor did he talk much. And he had been one of the better fighters during the first test. Holt raised an eyebrow. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be the team-playing type.¡± Dain simply shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t trust the others.¡± ¡°And you trust us?¡± Jaxon asked. ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Dain responded, ¡°but you¡¯d be the easiest to handle if you turned against me.¡± Jaxon nodded reluctantly. ¡°Alright. You¡¯re in.¡± At the last minute, another boy¡ªSera¡ªjoined them. Or rather, no one else wanted him, so they asked, and he said yes. Uthman entered moments later, his presence sending a chill through the space. ¡°Gather your teams,¡± he ordered. ¡°You have five minutes.¡± Jaxon and Holt exchanged a look. Uthman led them to an open hangar, where ten black dropships waited. The air was thick with the scent of zeta fuel and burning ozone. Massive blast doors yawned open, revealing the reddish wasteland beyond. Megiddo. Jaxon¡¯s first real look at it sent a cold weight into his stomach. The sky was a dead, hazy orange, the land stretching out in endless dunes and jagged rock formations. The wind howled, kicking up swirls of dust. It looked¡­ lifeless. Uthman stepped in front of them. ¡°Each ship will drop you at different points,¡± he announced. ¡°You will have seventy-two hours to reach the extraction zone. There will be no outside assistance.¡± A pause. ¡°You have fifteen minutes to retrieve a supply pack from the armory.¡± Uthman pointed toward a door at the back of the hangar. ¡°After that, you will board.¡± The hangar exploded into motion. Jaxon sprinted with the others toward the armory, heart pounding. Inside, rows of equipment lined the walls. The selection wasn¡¯t generous, but it was practical. Each survival pack contained: ? Dried meat ? A single water canteen ? A data pod ? A combat knife (shorter than the ones in their sheaths) ? A compact rifle When Jaxon picked up the rifle, it felt heavier than he expected. The metal was cold, the weight unfamiliar in his hands. He had seen rifles before¡ªhis father had one and some instructors used them¡ªbut holding one himself was different. His fingers instinctively curled around the grip, but it felt awkward, unnatural. He adjusted, trying to find a comfortable hold. The stock pressed against his palm, but it wasn¡¯t quite right. Was it supposed to feel this unsteady? His thumb traced the safety switch, and he hesitated. A weapon meant power, meant control. But right now, it felt like an unfamiliar tool¡ªone he didn¡¯t know how to use, yet one he¡¯d be expected to rely on. Uthman must have noticed the reactions in the hangar. ¡°You have never fired a rifle before,¡± he stated. It wasn¡¯t a question. Most remained silent. A few nodded hesitantly. Uthman exhaled. ¡°Then listen carefully.¡± He grabbed a rifle and effortlessly chambered a round, the motion practiced and smooth. ¡°This weapon is not complicated¡ªat least not as complicated as gauss rifles . You pull back the bolt.¡± He demonstrated, the metallic click-clack of the mechanism sharp in the air. ¡°You load a round. You push the bolt forward.¡± Another click. ¡°Then you aim, and you fire.¡± Uthman turned without warning and fired a single shot at a random target across the hangar. The bang rang out, startling several initiates. The round struck the target with a deafening clang, leaving a deep but narrow dent. Uthman lowered the weapon. ¡°You will learn the rest in the field,¡± he said coldly. ¡°Or you will die.¡± Jaxon swallowed hard. Holt let out a breath. ¡°Well. That was reassuring.¡± Jaxon checked his weapon. The bolt felt stiff, and he struggled for a moment before getting it into place. Holt muttered beside him, ¡°Bet Lucian¡¯s acting like he¡¯s an expert already.¡± Jaxon didn¡¯t have to look. He already knew¡ªLucian was probably smirking, pretending he was a born marksman. Or maybe, just maybe, he still felt the sting of Uthman¡¯s last lesson. Five minutes later, they were strapped into their drop seats inside the ship. The metal walls hummed around them, the engines roaring to life. Jaxon took slow breaths. Uthman¡¯s voice crackled over the comms. ¡°The data pods given to you outlines a path it is not guaranteed to be a safe path but it will get you to where you need to be¡± ¡°Survive¡± Then¡ªthe ship jolted. ¡°The bay doors slammed open, and a blast of cold air tore through the cabin, yanking at Jaxon¡¯s jumpsuit.¡± Jaxon barely had time to suck in a breath before they were ripped into free-fall. ¡°The wind swallowed their screams as the void yawned below. The hunt had begun.¡± Chapter 10. Chapter 10 The world spun as they fell. Jaxon clenched his teeth, the hot wind tearing at his jumpsuit, howling past his ears. The dull orange haze of Megiddo blurred below¡ªthe jagged ridges and endless dunes rushing up to meet them. The planet below was a wasteland, an endless sea of jagged ridges, scorched dunes, and lifeless rock formations. There was no vegetation, no water¡ªjust heat and death. Above him, the dropship was already vanishing , its engines burning white-hot as it left. The others were close¡ªHolt, Guthrie, Dain, and Sera¡ªeach plummeting through the open sky like embers scattered by the wind. The data pod, now strapped to his wrist, vibrated through the rushing wind. Jaxon forced himself to focus. A small map flickered to life on the pod, the trajectory of their descent marked in red. Their drop zone was close. Too close. The ground was coming up fast. Then¡ªimpact. Jaxon hit the ground hard, rolling with the momentum as a cloud of sand exploded around him. His breath was knocked from his lungs, and for a moment, all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears. He groaned, spitting out a mouthful of grit. A few feet away, Holt groaned, pushing himself onto his elbows. ¡°I¡¯d rather burn in Hel than do that again,¡± he wheezed, coughing up red sand. Jaxon forced himself upright, scanning the area. Dain had landed a few meters away, already on his feet, checking his rifle with the same calm efficiency he always had. Sera groaned nearby, still lying on the desert floor, winded but intact. Guthrie was the last to land¡ªand he landed badly. They had all landed badly, but his was worse. His body slammed into the sand, his legs buckling as he tumbled down a small dune. Jaxon was at his side in an instant. ¡°Guthrie! You alive?¡± The boy groaned, rolling onto his back, his face twisted in pain. ¡°I¡ªI think I might¡¯ve broken something. Hr?lfokk, that¡¯s not good.¡± Jaxon checked him quickly. No blood. No obvious fractures. Just a rough landing. ¡°You¡¯re fine, Guthrie,¡± he said, gripping the boy¡¯s arm and pulling him upright. Guthrie winced, muttering something in his dialect. It was a low, guttural string of words, spoken through clenched teeth. His accent, usually faint, was thick with pain. Jaxon frowned. ¡°What?¡± Guthrie let out a shaky breath, still holding his side. ¡°Nothing.¡± Dain approached, rifle slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning his data pod. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°We need to move. Now.¡± His voice was as flat as ever. ¡°The extraction point is fifty kilometers northeast. It¡¯s not impossible, but the terrain is unforgiving.¡± Jaxon¡¯s gut twisted. Fifty kilometers. That was a hel of a long way to go on foot, especially with no supplies beyond what they carried. He was about to ask how they were supposed to make that trek when¡ª A deep, guttural sound rumbled through the dunes. Or rather, it was more like a vibration. Faint. But growing. Jaxon¡¯s grip on his rifle, still strapped to his shoulder, tightened. ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Holt, now beside Jaxon and Guthrie, nodded slowly. ¡°Yeah¡­ I really don¡¯t like that I heard that.¡± The sand shifted. Then¡ªsomething burst from beneath them. A massive, chitinous body erupted from the sand. A gaping jaw¡ªlined with rows of jagged teeth¡ªsnapped shut where Guthrie had been sitting just a moment ago. A worm. Almost three meters long. Its segmented body glistened under the hazy light, covered in dusty white chitin plates. Its eyeless head swung toward them, mandibles clicking as if it could taste the air. Guthrie screamed. Jaxon moved on instinct. He grabbed Guthrie by the strap of his survival kit and yanked him backward just as the worm lunged again, its maw slamming into the sand where he had been. Dain was the first to react¡ªon the offensive. He raised his rifle and fired. The shot rang through the dunes, a sharp crack against the howling wind. The cylindrical bullet struck the worm¡¯s plated hide¡ªbut barely penetrated. The worm shrieked, its body writhing¡ªthen it lunged again. Jaxon raised his rifle, heart hammering. Just pull the trigger. But his hands refused to move. He had steeled himself after his parents¡¯ death. He had seen his own mother die. Was he a coward? He wasn¡¯t able to do anything then. And he still couldn¡¯t do anything now. ¡°Jaxon, shoot!¡± That was Holt¡¯s voice¡ªand it was enough to snap him back. Jaxon fired. The recoil slammed into his shoulder. The shot hit the worm¡¯s mouth, where the plating was thinner. It let out a shrill, unnatural screech. It wasn¡¯t dead. Nor was it hurt. But it was angry. Dain had already reloaded. His shot was more controlled, more precise¡ªalmost like an expert marksman. This time, it stuck deeper. The worm convulsed, thrashing wildly¡ª Then, just as suddenly as it came¡ª It vanished beneath the sand. The silence that followed felt heavier than the desert itself. Jaxon¡¯s breaths came fast, his hands still gripping his rifle, fingers locked stiff around the trigger. Then Guthrie broke the silence. He was still on the ground, chest rising and falling in quick, panicked gasps. His fingers dug into the sand like he was trying to anchor himself to something solid. His voice cracked with fear. ¡°W-what¡­ what was that?¡± Dain answered, his voice calm. ¡°A desert wyrm.¡± They all stared at Dain, expecting an explanation. He continued, ¡°They can sense the movement in the sands.It Must have noticed us when we dropped.¡± Jaxon sighed. ¡°How do you know that?¡± Dain didn¡¯t answer. He just crouched, running his hand through the sand where the worm had disappeared. His eyes flicked to the horizon. ¡°The sand¡¯s still shifting.¡± Jaxon followed his gaze. In the distance, faint ripples moved through the dunes¡ªslow, methodical¡ªlike something was circling beneath the surface. Holt cursed. ¡°We need to get the hell out of here.¡± Sera, who had been eerily silent since landing, finally spoke up. ¡°Running might not help.¡± His voice was quiet but steady. ¡°If they can hunt by sending movement, we¡¯re better off being careful about where we step.¡± Jaxon clenched his jaw. He didn¡¯t like the idea of standing still and waiting to be picked off. He glanced down at his data pod. The extraction point was still fifty kilometers . That was quite the distance to cover with monsters beneath their feet. ¡°We move slow,¡± Jaxon decided. ¡°Find higher ground. Figure out how to avoid these things.¡± Dain was already moving. ¡°There were rock formations a few clicks north when we dropped. If we make it there, we might have a chance.¡± ¡°Better than getting eaten,¡± Holt muttered. Jaxon offered a hand to Guthrie, who took it with a shaky grip. He was still rattled. ¡°Come on,¡± Jaxon said. ¡°Let¡¯s go before it comes back.¡± They moved cautiously, stepping lightly, spreading their weight over the sand instead of stomping through it. Jaxon tried not to think about how the dunes felt alive beneath his boots. Chapter 11. The sun beat down on them as they trudged forward. Jaxon could feel the heat pressing against his skin, his fatigues already damp with sweat and red sand. His tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth. The urge to empty his canteen and drown his thirst gnawed at him, but he resisted. There wasn¡¯t enough water for that. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, but he ignored it. The group moved in silence, each step slow and deliberate. One misstep, too much pressure on the sand, and the wyrms would return. Jaxon¡¯s grip on his rifle tightened, his knuckles pale against the stock. His first shot against the beast had been more panic than precision. Would he choke again if it returned? Holt walked beside him, adjusting the strap on his kit. ¡°Do you still think we¡¯ll make it?¡± Jaxon didn¡¯t answer. A few steps ahead, Dain kept his eyes locked on the horizon. The rock formations weren¡¯t far now¡ªbarely a couple hundred feet ahead. Dark, jagged structures jutted out from the dunes like the bones of a dead giant. ¡°We¡¯ll set camp when we reach the rocks,¡± Dain said over his shoulder. ¡°If we keep moving in this heat, someone is going to collapse.¡± Jaxon was not about to argue. His boots felt heavier with every step. They reached the rocks in silence, each of them keeping an ear open for any signs of danger. Exhaustion and sweat pressed on them like a second layer of gravity. Jaxon¡¯s boots scraped against the cracks in the rocks as he climbed, his body aching from the harsh trek. Megiddo¡¯s sun hung like a merciless god above them. Even though it was setting, its orange glare still painted the landscape in blazing heat. By the time they made it to the top, Guthrie collapsed onto his back, falling onto a shaded patch of rock, breathing heavily. ¡°This¡­ planet¡­ was made¡­ to kill us,¡± Guthrie panted. ¡°But we¡¯re somehow still alive. For now.¡± ¡°Not for long if we let our guard down,¡± Dain muttered, his eyes scanning the desert beyond. His rifle remained in his grip, firm despite the glistening sweat on his palms. Holt flopped down beside Guthrie, wiping sand from his face. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit,¡± he said dryly. ¡°Just ignore the fact that we were almost eaten.¡± Jaxon dumped his pack on the ground and rolled his shoulder, wincing as the joint crackled in protest. Sweat dripped from his brow, staining the dusty earth beneath his feet. He swiped a grimy forearm across his face, smearing dirt and exhaustion. His eyes scanned the desolate horizon, a scowl deepening the lines on his face. What was he doing here, anyway? He hadn¡¯t signed up for this. Sera was the last to climb up. He seemed the least affected by the trek or the desert conditions, barely breaking a sweat. Crouching near the edge, he scanned the horizon and took a sip from his canteen. ¡°We should take shifts watching. We don¡¯t know what else is out here,¡± Sera suggested. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Jaxon nodded, but for now, he needed rest. Holt stretched his legs out and sighed. ¡°If we¡¯re going to be stuck together for¡­¡± He glanced at his data pod. ¡°Sixty-seven more hours¡­ maybe we should actually get to know each other.¡± Guthrie groaned. ¡°I think you already know enough about me.¡± Holt smirked. ¡°That you scream louder than klaxons? Yeah, we know that part.¡± Guthrie shot him a halfhearted glare, too exhausted to argue. Jaxon leaned back against the rock, exhaling. ¡°Holt¡¯s got a point. We barely know each other. If we¡¯re going to trust each other with our lives, we should at least know the basics.¡± Dain scoffed. ¡°Trust is earned, not given.¡± Jaxon turned to him. ¡°Then maybe we start earning it.¡± A beat of silence. Surprisingly, Sera spoke first. ¡°I grew up on Kalthok,¡± he said, still watching the dunes. ¡°A frontier planet on the outer colonies. A lawless place.Dry just like this¡ª ruled by a triarchy of warlords and strategists who rose to power through conquest and cunning. It was brutal¡­ but it was home. The imperium moved the child survivors to Canaan after a pirate raid wiped out my settlement.¡± Jaxon frowned. He hadn¡¯t expected that. Holt whistled. ¡°Pirates?I Thought sol wiped those out.¡± Sera¡¯s expression remained cold. ¡°Not all of them.¡± Silence fell over the group before Holt spoke again. ¡°Well, since we¡¯re sharing¡­ My memories are mostly from Canaan. I don¡¯t even remember my homeworld. I barely remember my parents¡ªI do remember that they were civilian workers though, nothing special. He hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t even know if they¡¯re alive.¡± Jaxon¡¯s stomach tightened. He knew that feeling all too well. His father could still be out there. He held onto hope, but deep down, he knew better. His father had probably fought to the end. He and Holt hadn''t ever had intimate talks like this before. They were close, but they had never had any reason to discuss their personal lives or homes. Guthrie let out a breath. ¡°I am from Drangheim. A high-order world known for harsh winters. I Grew up around soldiers my whole life. My father was the High King of Drangheim, but he and my mother were killed by my uncle in a Bl¨®er?kr.¡± They all looked at him, confused. Guthrie sighed in frustration before explaining , ¡°It is¡­ like a coup. I ran away. Maybe because I knew I was next. Or maybe¡­ I wanted to gain enough strength to kill him. It did not matter though, I was caught by a Judicator while trying to board a ship. And, well¡­ here I am.¡± Jaxon drooped his head before nodding slightly, pitying Guthrie. Why would a Judicator be on a high-order world? They were a higher caste of the Mortal Legions, more brutal judges than warriors. Then again, high-order worlds were critical industrial and strategic planets. It made sense. Then, all eyes turned to Jaxon. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°New Antioch.¡± Guthrie blinked. ¡°Wait. Antioch? The world that was raided by the Xerath?¡± Jaxon didn¡¯t answer. He didn¡¯t want to talk about his mother. About her death. Instead, he turned to the last member of their group. ¡°What about you, Dain? Any dark secrets?¡± Dain¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°There is nothing to tell.¡± Holt scoffed. ¡°Come on. No tragic backstory? No noble house that sent you away? Not even a ¡®fought for scraps on the streets¡¯ story?¡± Dain lowered his gaze. ¡°I lived on a station. Sol took me. End of story.¡± ¡°Does it matter?¡± Holt smirked. ¡°Yeah, it does. We are all trauma-dumping. Your turn.¡± Dain¡¯s eyes remained unreadable. ¡°I was raised on a station. No family. No homeworld. Just metal and emptiness.¡± Jaxon did not push further. Instead, he glanced at his data pod. The extraction point was still far¡ªtoo far. But at least they had a plan. They would move at night. Stick to the rocks. Find water¡ªsomehow. And Survive. They had to. Dain stood up and slung his rifle over his shoulder. ¡°We leave soon. Get some rest while you can.¡± Holt groaned. "Alright, leader. Wake me if something tries to eat us." Jaxon chuckled despite himself. For the first time since the drop, he didn¡¯t feel like they were just strangers thrown together. They weren¡¯t friends. Not yet. But they were closer than before. And that mattered.