District Four was one of the first ten districts, established over a century ago after the Wyrm began their relentless onslaught.
In the face of destruction, humanity reorganized what remained of their nations into smaller, fortified cities known as districts, designed for easier protection.
But even with extinction at hand, status dictated survival. The rich and powerful were placed in the first ten districts, far removed from the frontlines where humanity clashed with the Wyrm. Meanwhile, the lower classes were relegated to the outer districts, their lives considered expendable.
The streets of District Four screamed with life. Joggers traced their morning routes, drivers shouted at each other for the right of way, pedestrians weaved through the crowds, faces buried in their devices, not a care in the world.
And why would they?
They had never seen a monster up close. To them, it was something that lived on a screen. Larger than life, half-believable, like an elaborate government hoax designed to keep them entertained.
Magenta paused on the sidewalk, his gaze drawn to a massive monument nearby. It was a preserved fragment of a Phantom-class Wyrm. A monster that had nearly wiped out mankind. To this day, it remained the only one ever granted a name.
"Starscream," he muttered under his breath.
"You're not from District Four, are you?" a voice said suddenly.
Magenta turned, startled, and took a cautious step back from the stranger standing beside him.
"No," he replied, glancing at the towering monument again. "I got transferred here today. How'd you know?"
"The Starscream Monument," the stranger said, gesturing to the colossal fragment. "Anyone local would barely glance at it. We've been driving past that oversized thing for decades."
The man extended a hand with a polite smile. "Hagen Anneliese. Welcome to District Four."
"I'm Magenta Hommes. You can call me Maggie."
"Magenta? Like the color?"
"Yeah. Weird, right?"
"It's unique," Hagen said thoughtfully. "I like it."
Magenta raised a brow. "That's a first."
Hagen laughed, glancing at his watch. "Oh no, I'm late! See you later, Maggie!"
Magenta watched as Hagen jogged off, weaving through the busy street and disappearing around the corner. Something about the emblem on Hagen's jacket caught his attention, it looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.
Then Magenta smiled, a breath of relief passing through him. His mother had told him horror stories about the city all the time, about how they were all perverts and sex offenders.
But to meet someone as decent as Hagen so soon, maybe they had changed for the better.
He turned back to the Starscream Monument, eyes sparkling as they traced the rare material collected from such a monster.
He might've been good at hiding it, but Magenta was a nerd. The die-hard kind.
From Wyrms to Juggernauts, he wanted to see it all. His body shook slightly, the image of himself piloting his very own machine floating in his mind.
It all fascinated him, so much so that if given the chance, he'd stand here staring at the monument for an entire day.
Then a thought struck him.
'Wait... shouldn't I be somewhere?'
He froze for a second, before slapping his forehead.
"Crap! The Federation!"
Without wasting another second, Magenta bolted down the street, dashing past cars and dodging pedestrians as he made his way to the Federation's headquarters.
Today marked the last intake of the newest batch of riders, and thanks to General Fell's golden ticket, he'd been granted a last-minute opportunity to register, something otherwise impossible this late.
Turning into a quieter street now, Magenta slowed his pace as he reached the end of the path.
Before him loomed the Federation headquarters, an architectural masterpiece that dwarfed every other building he had seen in the district prior. The entrance resembled a grand cathedral, with a massive, golden window crowning the top.
Magenta calmed his nerves, straightened his jacket, and pushed through the towering doors. Slightly past the entrance, near the spiraling stairs leading to the upper floors, sat a receptionist behind a desk, her eyes flicking up as Magenta approached.
Stopping a few steps from the desk, Magenta cleared his throat. "Hi. I'm here for the annual rider intake."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, but the new batch intake has ended. You can still try next year," the receptionist said, politely dismissing him.
"I have a recommendation from Commander Fell," Magenta said quickly, though as the words left his mouth, he realized how unconvincing they sounded.
"Do you have it in writing?"
There it was.
"No, I... I was on the battlefield in Port Yosen, and he told me to come to the Federation. That I'd be accepted."
"I'm so sorry. Without a written letter or any physical evidence, I can't let you in," she replied.
Magenta slumped away toward a small group of chairs in the corner, sinking into one and putting his head in his hands.
He cursed himself for not asking for proof when he had the chance. The one opportunity he'd been given, the golden ticket to everything he'd ever wanted, was slipping through his fingers.
After today, the annual intake would be closed, and he'd have to wait another year to try again. But even then, did Commander Fell's promise extend past this intake? He sighed deeply.
"General Rass," the receptionist suddenly called out,
Magenta lifted his head and froze. A man walked into the headquarters, his presence commanding the room. Beside him were four women, all dressed in uniforms identical to Rass's, all adorned with the same emblem Magenta had seen on the Federation's door.
Still, he was pretty sure he'd heard the name Rass before. Putting a hand to his chin, Magenta racked his brain, chasing fragments of lost memories. Then it hit him like a truck, and he bolted toward the receptionist's desk.
"Captain Rass!"
The man turned, his ruby-dyed eyes narrowing as they landed on Magenta. "Who are you?"
Magenta snapped into a salute, his heart pounding. Standing this close, Rass was even more imposing than he'd imagined. The dark hair, the piercing gaze, the face that could guarantee a modeling career.
Rass looked like the embodiment of authority, despite seeming barely old enough to rent a car.
"Magenta Hommes, sir!" Magenta stammered, his voice almost cracking. "We met yesterday. Your Juggernaut defeated the Havoc-class Wyrm in Port Yosen!"
Rass's expression didn't change. "Never seen you before," he said flatly, turning back to the receptionist as if Magenta didn't exist.
Magenta felt his stomach drop, but he clenched his fists. "Please, sir! Can you confirm with her that Commander Fell gave me a golden ticket into the federation's new batch?"
At that, Rass glanced back at him, his expression as unreadable as a blank page. Magenta froze once again as their eyes met.
"Please, sir!" he repeated, heart thumping even faster.
Rass sighed, long and slow, as if Magenta's very presence was a chore. "Fida," he muttered to the receptionist, "Commander Fell approved him. Let him in."
The receptionist straightened immediately. "At once, Captain!" She bent over the desk, scribbling down Magenta's name on a tag before passing it to him. "Briefing has already started, so you should hurry!"
"Thank you, ma'am!" Magenta exclaimed, grabbing the tag. He whirled around, already running down the hall.
Then he returned, just a second later.
"Your energy blades were so cool, what exactly was the power source. Was it primite? Or tacectine? Or was it an unknown substance only known to the top brass of Pandora!"
"Are you sure you have time for this?" The receptionist asked him.
"No, ma'am!" He replied quickly. "I have no idea where the briefing is."
"Oh, It's the thirty-second room to the right. It leads to the courtyard!" she said, and before the words even left her mouth, he was already dashing down the hallway.
"Thanks!" his voice echoed, fading as he disappeared down the corridor.
One of Rass's associates chuckled, watching him go. "You know that kid?"
"He used the self-destruct feature on his standard 'naut to kill a monster," Rass said.
The associate let out a low whistle. "That's hilarious. I'd like to meet him again, figure out what goes on in his head."
"Do as you please," Rass muttered, already walking away. His boots clicked against the polished floor as he turned left toward his office, his associates falling into step behind him.
Then just moments later, after a series of loud footsteps and overly audible exhales.
"I'M HERE!"
The door banged open, slamming against the wall with a loud thud.
Everyone in the room turned their heads to the sound, their attention snapping to a boy standing at the entrance, hunched over and gasping for breath. Noticing the sea of eyes on him, he straightened awkwardly and stumbled into the line-up, trying to blend in.
"Late on your first day," a voice boomed from the front of the room. It belonged to the combat commander, his gaze locking onto Magenta. "State your name, Pilot!"
Magenta braced himself. Here come the laughs.
"MAGENTA HOMMES, SIR!"
The room remained silent.
"Tough crowd," Magenta muttered under his breath.
"Due to being late, I'm hitting you with a minus-five penalty," the commander announced coldly. "Come to my office later."
"Yes, sir," Magenta responded, his voice small, shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Now, continuing my statement from earlier!" The combat commander turned his attention back to the group. "All hundred of you are part of the 117th batch for the Federation's army. Unlike the national forces, you are not considered disposable and will be equipped with the newest mechs money can buy."
"Commander Paul," a familiar voice spoke up from the crowd. "You mentioned a minus-five penalty for Maggie—the latecomer. What does that mean?"
"Maggie?" Magenta raised a brow, wondering who dared use his nickname so brazenly.
Commander Paul addressed the question but had to explain something else first.
"While all robotic armory used to fight the Wyrms are referred to as Mechs, there are specialized models issued only to the Federation's strongest. Which go by the codename, 'Juggernaut' The only way for rookies like you to even dream of getting those is by topping the rankings."
"Rankings?" Voices echoed in the crowd.
"Yes, the squad rankings," Paul clarified. "It's a tier-based system that evaluates your performance across several criteria: Total eliminations, matches won, and your individual performance. The better you perform, the higher you climb. Don't worry about it for the time being, it'll be explained later."
"So that means..."
"Yes," Paul continued, cutting through the murmurs. "Mr. Hommes' team will start with a minus-five penalty, which automatically puts them at the bottom of the rankings."
The room grew quiet, but Magenta could feel the stares on him. His heart hammered in his chest. As part of his agreement with Commander Fell, he had to top the rankings.
And now, he first had to overturn a deficit.
"That's impossible," Magenta whispered, falling to his knees as the reality of his situation settled in.
"We'll meet for an evaluation tomorrow," Paul concluded. "For now, make your way to your rooms and get some rest. Tomorrow won't be easy."
The commander stepped off the stage and walked out of the courtyard, leaving the recruits to continue their chatter. But Magenta didn't hear any of it. His mind was too preoccupied with a single thought: 'How am I supposed to pull this off?'
"He said the exams, right? I heard it's a five versus five format, that's what my brother said!"
"Hell no, the exams are written. Where did you hear that from? Is your brother an idiot?"
"What did you say about my brother?!"
Magenta was about to snap when a voice cut through the noise, speaking directly to him.
"Are you alright?"
He glanced up, spotting Hagen standing there.
"Hagen!" Magenta rose to his feet.
"I'M HERE!" Hagen struck a dramatic pose, arms on his hips, a cruel imitation of his earlier entrance.
Oh shut up!" Magenta muttered, rolling his eyes. "Wait, you want to become a rider?"
"Yeah, is that surprising?" Hagen asked.
Magenta studied him once more. Hagen was undeniably handsome. Short red hair, hazel eyes, and a face that would look right at home on a magazine cover.
"Maybe," Magenta said, still sizing him up. "Still, I would have never pegged you for a rider."
"Same here to be fair." Hagen said, looking at Magenta. At his scrawny barely five eight stature, with a head of black puffy hair that slicked across his forehead. "You look more at home at a science exhibit than you do anywhere near here."
"I get that a lot." Magenta replied with an awkward smile, then looked around. "There's so many people here, never would've thought the federation got this much applicants."
"Well, this is a particularly large batch." Hagen muttered, his eyes narrowing as he stared at a girl across the room. There was an undeniable aura around her. "With some equally good pilots."
"Is that so?" Magenta murmured, scanning the room. "Still, with a hundred of us, a lot of us should pass, right?"
Hagen shook his head. "Most of us won't make it."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Nothing," Hagen replied quickly, then with a smile. He turned to walk away. "It was nice having this chat, Maggie. I'll see you later."
Magenta watched as Hagen joined another group of people, his posture relaxed as they all began talking amongst themselves. With a sigh, Magenta muttered to himself, "I guess I'll go to my room then."
He walked back through the door he'd come through, stepping out of the courtyard. He had no idea where the rooms were or if they were even inside the federation building.
But he figured he'd have to wander a bit to find them. He passed the 32nd door, his thoughts on the conversation with Hagen and the evaluation tomorrow.
Subconsciously, Magenta felt the urge to find Commander Fell, to ask what exactly had gotten him picked for this opportunity. But he knew that wasn't a luxury he could afford now.
If what Hagen had said was true, if there was such strong competition, then to rise to the top of the rankings, he'd need to be better than every single one of them.
"I'm so dead." He muttered to himself.
"Are you Magenta Hommes?" A voice called out, snapping Magenta from his thoughts. He turned to see a girl with purple-dyed hair and colored contacts.
"Yeah." He stopped in his tracks. "Is there a problem?"
She held up her hand, a tag dangling from it. His name written in bold lettering alongside another name: Beatrice Morrow.
"What's that mean?"
"For starters, that you're my roommate," she said, gesturing for him to check his own tag. He did, and saw her name on his as well.
"Oh, nice to meet you... Ms. Morrow."
"You can call me Bea!" she said brightly, striking a pose straight out of a light novel.
"I'll see to that..."
She smiled, then walked forward. Leaning in just enough that he could feel her breath against his skin. "I hope we can be the best of friends, Maggie."
"Huh?" He blurted out, backing away the best he could, arms instinctively raised in self-defense.
"Don't you want to be my friend?" She titled her head, asking.
"Well... I don't see anything wrong with it."
"Good!" She turned and walked down the hall, humming as she did. "Our room's by your left, 104!"
Then she disappeared just past the corridor, her humming getting louder each step of the way.
"Mother..." Magenta muttered, glancing up at the ceiling. "I have met one of those city weirdos you warned me about."
He opened the door and stepped through. Inside, a large empty room greeted him. The only furniture was two beds, one on each side of the room. Beside one bed were several bags, no doubt hers.
"Mine's the opposite then," Magenta murmured, walking further into the room. He sat down on the empty bed.
Right now, he couldn't help but pluck at his hair for getting that penalty, but somehow, someway. As he lie on the bed. He couldn't help but feel calm.
They didn't have beds like this in the barracks. In fact, they didn't have beds at all. Soldiers were forced to sleep on the ground, constantly wary of the shockwaves caused by the Wyrm.
He was finally at the start of everything he had ever wanted, at everything he needed. And even if he couldn't promise himself anything.
He wouldn't let this slip from his grasp.
T-MINUS TEN HOURS TO THE EVALUATION.