The soft snores from Tarak and Kavlina vibrate in Avalel's ears, the blankets tightly covering their bodies as they sleep peacefully. Avalel, however, is wide awake, his eyes refusing to shut and his brain refusing to stop the gears turning in his body. He rolls about, sometimes cowering inside his blanket, sometimes cushioning his head with his palms, but none seem to work as he could only stare blankly into space, hoping that his mind can just allow him to rest.

Finally, frustrated, he stands up and walks around the room, shaking his head as he goes. However, his eyes catch a glimpse of a dim light glowing under the bed. Curious, he bends down, and as expected, the Anapadeia, its blade immaculate, immediately comes into view. Uncontrollably, his arm reaches towards it, and soon firmly grips it, pulling it out as if unsheathing from a scabbard.

That took you long enough.

Avalel groans silently. Not again.

Yes, the voice responds, I assume you have done something of value recently, young one?

Well...

Nevermind that, I already know. Why are you awake at a time this late?

I don't know. Suddenly, his legs begin moving unwillingly towards the door. As if he is a mindless machine, he puts on his cadet uniform, hiding the glowing sword somewhat inside the unbuttoned tunic. Then, opening the door, he robotically walks out into the freezing cold. He shivers, but his legs retain their steady rhythm forward. He continues walking until, finally, he arrives at the training ground once more. Wait... Unconsciously, he raises the Anapadeia, and as he chants the phrase, he lowers his arms and stabs the sword at the ground.

Nothing happens. Exasperated, he lowers the sword. Why did I even come here in the first place? It's been another whole two weeks since the first training on releasing energy, but I still haven't been able to do it. Kavlina can easily do it with both her arms, Tarak is especially proficient using his right arm, and even some of the ones in other classes are able to do it.

I assume you are trying to release energy using the sword as a catalyst? the voice asks.

How do you know?

That is besides the point. I feel you are making an effort as your energy concentration is flowing towards your right hand, but you do not get the concept yet. Pretend you are about to punch someone. Look at the target with your eyes and strike with as much strength as you can. Feel your arm burn with a searing heat...

So I just need to pretend my arm's a rifle? He thrusts the Anapadeia through one of the boards broken by Kavlina during the last session, and to his surprise, it snaps, smoke rising as it sizzles on the ground. Why didn't anyone tell me earlier?

With renewed confidence, he begins striking and slashing in random directions at the floor, disregarding the condition nor the possible consequences. Although the concrete floor does not burn as the wooden boards did, small sparks fly whenever the sword's tip scrapes the ground.

“This is it!” Avalel exclaims excitedly, “I can feel the energy surging throughout…”

“Well you're early,” a voice interrupts. It's Taravi, her cloak draped around her as usual and her knives fastened around her belt, “Training more, I presume?”

“Taravi, can you…”

“Wait,” she stops Avalel once more, “What you're holding... It's the Anapadeia?” That aura...

“Yes. I'm sorry for not telling you earlier,” Avalel apologizes.

“No need to be sorry. The Anapadeia is a great asset. It would be a shame if you didn't use it.”

Just then, Hayeviel also enters, his usual cheerful demeanor showing. “I see Avalel has finally decided to reveal the Anapadeia,” he smiles, “It's the perfect timing too.”

What did he mean by that?

“Well, I suppose we'll wait for the others now.”

Stealthily, Avalel slides the Anapadeia into a far corner, where it is near impossible for one to notice unless they deliberately look in that direction. As time passes, more cadets arrive, until it is roll call yet again. However, unlike the past few weeks, Sureya did not step forth and take the roll call. Instead, Hayeviel stands, towering above his assistants, and brings out a letter, its contents stored within a common military disk.

“We have received reports of a sudden attack from the Confederation on our northwestern outpost Lazairu,” he reads, “The local garrison is under great pressure, and the commander has requested any and all help across our lands, including soldiers-in-training. I request that Cadet Platoon Twenty Seven of Thille dispatch no less than ten of its best soldiers, including an instructor, to Lazairu. The same message has been sent to all other platoons, and will amount to approximately two thousand troops reinforced from Thille alone. May the troops be of use, and I wish you the best of results.”

A murmur begins to rise among the cadets. Some of the cadets' faces are pale with fear, others red with excitement. Avalel turns his head to Kavlina, but all he receives is a blank nod. Tarak meanwhile stays calm, his expression determined as he continues to stare at Hayeviel, unshaken.

“That was from the Ministry of Defence,” Hayeviel says, silencing the cadets, “Basically, they are requiring at least ten of us to forfeit training for the front. I understand that we still have a long way until the training is complete, which is why I will be asking for volunteers. That said, is there anyone who is willing to sacrifice themselves for the cause of the New Rule?”

Tarak immediately steps forth. “I'm not sure if I'm ready, but I'll answer the call.” Soon, other brave souls also step up, their faces grim but firm. Some deliver a brief embrace to their comrades before they volunteer themselves, their faces filled with pride.

“Alright, we have a satisfying fifteen volunteers already. Is there any more?” Hayeviel stares at Avalel, as if expecting him to give some sort of answer

With hesitation, Avalel finally steps forward. “I'll go,” he relents, “But on one condition: I do not want to kill anyone, so I will only disarm them.”

Taravi cannot help but produce a stifled laugh. “No killing?” she mocks, "What are you? A pacifist? No! You are a soldier, and you must never forget that, lest you lose your life to an enemy you didn't want to kill.”

“I'll go as well,” Kavlina says, her eyes meeting Avalel’s, “But different to Lel, I will kill all that stand in my way. Without fail.”

“Glad to hear some aggressive words, finally,” Taravi applauds, “The seventeen of you, I am proud that you decided to lay down your life for the New Rule. An aerial transport is already prepared in the main headquarters of the military, where you will be armed and equipped. We must hurry now. The enemy isn't going to wait for us!”

Well, that was very sudden, Avalel thinks as the cadets neatly form a line behind Taravi. With some final farewells and wishes of luck, the seventeen begins to depart, walking at a brisk pace behind Taravi.

“Wait, Avalel,” Hayeviel calls out, “You're missing something, aren't you?” Slowly and dramatically, he walks to a far corner, almost hidden away from all the cadets, and halts, his feet just touching the hilt of the Anapadeia. “Pick it up.”

With all eyes on him, Avalel nervously walks to Hayeviel. As he passes by the cadets, his ears catch the many whispers nearby. “That's the Anapadeia, isn't it?” “How did it end up in his hands?” “Even if he had found the Anapadeia, he should've given it to Kavlina or someone more worthy.”

Doing his best to ignore the comments, he picks up the Anapadeia from Hayeviel’s feet, the blade gleaming under the indoor lights.

You didn’t forget about me, did you? The voice says.

Avalel sighs. He had wished to keep his ownership of the Anapadeia a secret, but as many secrets go, they are eventually revealed to all.

Taking a deep breath, he jogs back to the group. The volunteers do not know what they will see or where they're going, but there is a strange sense of excitement, as if they are looking forward to their first taste of war. Soon, they reach a dome of sorts, its entrance wide and imposing, as if welcoming giants to the inside. Above the entrance is a sign, written in bolded letters: East Station Four, Level Seven. As they step inside, the spacious station seems to shrink the sizes of everyone in comparison to its imposing structure. Whether it be the many hundreds of people, as well as many lines of tubes and yaravezas, identical to the one Avalel and Kavlina used to enter Thille, organized into rows and columns, or even the platforms themselves all seem small to their eyes.

Without a word, Taravi heads to one of the lines, and after tapping several times on a holographic screen, a host of four-seat yaravezas arrive in unison, their clean surfaces glimmering and reflecting the light inside the dome.

“You should not have volunteered, Lel,” Kavlina murmurs as they step on a yaraveza.

“What?” Avalel asks, catching only the minimal movement of Kavlina's lips.

“Nothing.” In silence, the two take a seat in the yaraveza, where the only other passengers are Tarak, and Baria, the friend of Noriel.

Throughout the short journey, Avalel and Kavlina did not utter a single word even though Tarak and Baria are in constant conversation. Avalel had only a slight taste of war, but it was already enough for him to somewhat foresee the upcoming battle. The scenes of gore and death, the screams of soldiers, the cruelty and sadism as one tries to kill the other… Frankly, it scares him. If there is even a god, may it protect us. Especially Kavlina and Tarak... Please don't let them go as well.

The yaraveza comes to a lurching halt. As the volunteers step out, they find a large hangar coming into view, and in it, a single aerial transport, if one could even call it that, that is. Entire platoons of soldiers file in through its gigantic entrance, their heavy equipment strapped on their backs. Its many wings are like fins on a flewus, a fish Avalel often ate in his childhood. It has no windows, and its black surface makes it seem more of an oversized prison than a moving vehicle. Still, its size makes it a structure deserving of awe, which is exactly the expression implanted in the faces of many volunteers.

Taravi leads the group to an open area in the hangar, where several soldiers are distributing equipment to the new arrivals.

“Line up,” she orders.

With amazing efficiency, the soldiers simply take a quick glance at each individual before swiftly tossing a heavy bag, a fully-charged beam rifle, and a helmet into their arms. Inside each bag is the basic equipment: a full-body, heat-proof suit, pieces of plate armor for the shoulders, shins, forearms, and waist, a vest, long boots, a knife, as well as provisions of food and water. As soon as each person receives a bag, he or she will be shoved away in order to make way for the person behind. With this efficient and fast system, it takes only a few moments before all seventeen members have a bag each. With that, Taravi leads them to a vacant spot, not far from the transport itself.

“Change out of your cadet uniform here,” she commands, “Fast! The soldiers awaiting our aid cannot wait!”

Wait, I've never learned how to properly wear all these. Carefully, Avalel looks at several volunteers near him, copying their every movement. However, as he soon realizes, the armor is relatively easy to equip, as it somehow could attach itself onto the suit. The only difficulty lay in the shin guards and vest, as there are many clips which fasten them around the boots and upper body respectively. As he puts on the helmet, an extension stretches out, latching itself onto the vest as neck armor. A while later, the volunteers, standing in a neat line in front of Taravi, are ready, their expressions serious and determined.

“All seventeen of you here are brave souls,” Taravi begins, “Despite lacking the proper training, you volunteered yourself to serve your cause. From now on, although I will still lead all of you, I will not see you as cadets, but as true professional soldiers of the New Rule. Now let's go and rescue our comrades!”

A shout of courage exits from each volunteer’s mouth. Proudly, they march up to the transport, where they soon take a seat on one of the numerous rows. Although there are hundreds of soldiers, professional and cadets alike, there are only isolated whispers between individuals as all feel a mixture of anxiety and excitement for the upcoming battle. Avalel gently strokes the blade of the Anapadeia, while Kavlina continues to practice the release of energy using her knife. Although some eyes stare for a while at the two, particularly at Avalel, their gazes soon avert away, focusing instead on the battle.

“All personnel are now onboard,” a voice announces, “We shall be departing Thille now.” Gradually, the engines on the transport rise from a hum to a roar, lifting the heavy vehicle up. The ceiling of the hangar slowly slides apart, allowing the transport to exit into the surface. For the first time in a while, Avalel can finally look forward to breathing the fresh air of the surface, away from the subterranean city of Thille.

Lazairu, we're coming.

“The fools have answered their call,” Tevlaia reports, standing on a green hill overlooking the ruins of Lazairu, “We can begin our preparations now.”

“Great job, Tevlaia,” Nasition praises from his headquarters in Achien, “Our plan is working far sooner than I anticipated.”

“Well, sooner or later, if we apply enough pressure, we can lure them away from their bastion. We just happened to be lucky this first time round.”

“I'll be leaving everything in this battle to you now. Waiting for the good news!” With that, Nasition ends the call, and Tevlaia now stands alone, her grey cloak flying in the wind.

Well, it's time for a task to complete. “Kerohar, Teritav,” she calls as the faces of her comrades appear on the screen, “Prepare the trap. We have some flying fish to hunt down.”

She looks again at the smoking Lazairu. The small outpost is completely in ruins, bombarded by artillery fire. The weather is cool, a stark contrast to the blazing heat engulfing Lazairu. The garrison, stuck in the structure, had long been annihilated. Without even wasting a single soldier, Lazairu has fallen. Now, with the thousands of soldiers trapped in the flying hunks of metal above, all it takes are a few well-aimed shots at their weak points, and everything would naturally fall in place.

What a pathetic outpost. She descends from her vantage point, walking to deliver yet another massacre.