Five months later, the third level of the Amazonian base hummed with an entirely different kind of energy. The raw, desperate struggle of the early days had given way to a symphony of disciplined effort. The first batch of 300 recruits were now two weeks away from completing their initial six months of training.
Their drills were no longer clumsy attempts but fluid, precise movements. On the sprawling obstacle courses, bodies once wracked with fatigue now vaulted, swung, and sprinted with a relentless grace. In the firing ranges, the crack of coilguns and the hiss of plasma blasts had become a steady rhythm, each shot finding its mark with unnerving accuracy. What was once grueling punishment was now a competitive dance, a healthy rivalry between brothers forged in the crucible of conditioning. They moved as one, a cohesive unit, their movements mirroring each other with unspoken understanding.
