The sky was red when Unit 9 emerged from the gate.
Red from the falling sun. Red from blood on their clothes.
Ashen staggered forward, hand on his side. His coat was torn, his wrapped blade humming faintly on his back like a heart that wouldn't stop beating. Behind him, Elira limped, her leg bound in a torn cloth. Lin supported Kerr, who had taken a gash to his ribs. Sera's shoulder was dislocated. Reynor… was silent.
The training field was quiet, too quiet for what they'd been through.
Then came the applause.
A slow, deliberate clapping.
Lieutenant Grey stood at the edge of the field, flanked by instructors in red armor. His face wore that same unreadable smirk.
"Well done, Unit 9."
Nobody spoke.
He stepped forward. "You walked into a living tomb and came out alive. Bloodied, battered… but breathing. That alone earns you merit."
Ashen didn't respond. His body screamed for rest, but his mind was still with the pale mask in the mines.
"Three units entered that desert gate," Grey said. "Only one came out together."
Ashen's head snapped up. "What?"
Grey's voice was low. "Units 6 and 7 were overwhelmed. Scattered. Lost contact. We pulled survivors… but there were few."
Elira clenched her fists. "They didn't even have a chance."
Grey looked at her. "That's war."
Reynor stepped forward. "That wasn't a normal drill. The creatures we faced—"
"I know," Grey interrupted. "And I'm glad you saw them."
Reynor scowled. "You wanted us to."
Grey nodded. "Only those who touch the edge of death can awaken their true self."
He turned to Ashen. "Some of you began that journey. Some… even crossed it."
Ashen said nothing. He could still feel that being's gaze inside him, like it had marked him somehow. He didn't know what it wanted—only that it hadn't killed him when it could have.
Grey raised a hand. "You have two days. Medical tents are ready. After that, the next phase begins."
Lin looked horrified. "Already?"
"Rest is earned through survival, not mercy."
The group dispersed slowly, each limping toward the camp beyond the field. Nurses rushed forward, taking names and dragging people away.
Ashen turned.
Reynor blocked his path.
"You're not normal."
Ashen stared at him. "Neither are you."
Reynor narrowed his eyes. "I watched you fight. That sword—it's not a military relic. It's something else."
Ashen didn't answer.
Reynor pressed on. "You hid it. You hide everything. Even from us."
"I have to."
"Why?"
Ashen's eyes flashed with something unspoken. "Because if I don't, they'll burn me alive."
Reynor's voice was tight. "Are you a traitor?"
Ashen looked away. "No."
"Then what are you?"
Ashen didn't know.
—
That night, the infirmary was packed. Bloodied recruits, groaning, crying, some missing limbs, others missing comrades. Ashen sat in silence as a nurse cleaned his wounds.
"You're lucky," she whispered. "Most from your trial didn't come back."
He nodded.
In the bed across from him, Sera sat with her arm in a sling, staring at the ceiling. "This wasn't training," she said softly. "It was slaughter."
Kerr, bandaged from neck to waist, chuckled bitterly. "Then we're the best damn survivors they've got."
Lin sat beside him, fidgeting. "What happens now?"
Elira answered from the far end, her voice dull. "Now we get stronger. Or die."
Ashen couldn't sleep. Not with the blade still humming at his side, not with Reynor's suspicion burning in the back of his mind. Not with that white mask watching him from his dreams.
That night, he dreamed of fire.
Not the fire that burned his village.
Something older.
Memory, twisted and raw. A tower swallowed by time. A god without a name. A whisper in a language long forgotten.
"Ashen."
The voice wasn't from the dream.
He opened his eyes.
Grey stood beside his cot.
"Come with me."
Ashen followed.
Out of the infirmary, down dark halls. Into a chamber beneath the base, where torches burned blue and the stone floor was carved with old glyphs.
Only Grey and a silent robed figure stood there.
"Ashen," Grey said, "this is the Seer."
Ashen tensed.
"She cannot speak aloud. But she can see through lies. She wishes to examine you."
Ashen took a step back. "Why?"
Grey's smile returned. "Because I told her you touched something divine."
The Seer approached.
She raised her hand to Ashen's chest. It didn't hurt.
But it burned.
Visions flooded him—flashes of red moons, shattered memories, a world drowned in silence. A temple. A blade. A name scratched into time itself.
She pulled away.
Ashen collapsed to his knees.
Grey knelt beside him. "You're not cursed. You're chosen."
Ashen gasped for breath. "By what?"
Grey stood. "Not a god. Not anymore. Something forgotten. Something angry."
The Seer whispered into Grey's ear.
Grey's eyes narrowed.
"She says your blade is not born of this era. It's a memory weapon."
Ashen blinked. "What does that mean?"
Grey looked down at him. "It remembers. Even when you forget."
Ashen's pulse quickened. "Why give this to me?"
"She didn't," Grey said. "It came to you. Like it remembered you too."
Ashen stood. "What now?"
Grey smiled.
"Now… we train you for war."
—
By morning, the storm had passed.
Reynor approached him at breakfast. No sneers. Just quiet.
"You saved me," he said.
Ashen nodded.
"I don't like owing people."
"I didn't do it for you."
Reynor paused. Then, to Ashen's surprise, chuckled. "Of course not."
They stood in silence.
"Whatever you are," Reynor said finally, "don't die before I figure it out."
Ashen looked at him. "Same to you."
Reynor walked off.
Elira passed by, nodding to him. "He doesn't say thank you. That was close enough."
Ashen sat down.
The table was full now.
Unit 9.
Alive. Together.
But changed.
Sera raised a cup. "To surviving."
Lin smiled. "Barely."
Kerr coughed. "Still counts."
Ashen watched them. Something inside him stirred.
For the first time since his village burned, he wasn't alone.
Not anymore.
Far above, Grey watched from a balcony. The Seer beside him.
"He's the one," she whispered.
Grey nodded. "Let's hope he's ready."
Below, the recruits laughed, healed, and braced for the war to come.