Chapter continuation: Fern's Forest Code
Green Division: Survival Orientation Begins
The early luxlight scattered in shimmering beams across the dewy canopy. A fine mist lingered low to the ground as insects chirped in layered harmony. This was no fabricated zone or artificial environment. This was real forest—alive, ancient, unpredictable.
And the Green Division stood in the middle of it, looking like lost campers.
Dozens of fresh recruits, young men and women of various races—beastkin, humans, demi-hybrids—shifted uncertainly on the forest floor. Most wore patched clothes and urban boots not meant for trail terrain. A few had already tripped over roots or sunk ankle-deep in moss-covered muck.
At the center of it all, arms crossed and brow furrowed, stood Fern.
She didn't shout. She didn't need to. Her presence radiated with the quiet force of someone who belonged here—who was shaped by the woods themselves.
> "Alright. Listen up," Fern said calmly, her voice firm. "This is not a simulation. This is not your mother's backyard garden. This is the wild woodland. It breathes. It fights. It does not forgive carelessness."
A squirrel darted across the branches above. One of the recruits flinched. Fern didn't even blink.
She walked slowly among them as she continued.
> "Rule one: nothing here is harmless. That includes the flowers. Some are medicinal. Some will stop your lungs in five minutes. If you don't know the plant—don't touch it."
She stopped beside a tall boy poking a blue-caped mushroom.
> "Like this. One nibble? You'll wake up blind. Maybe."
The boy yanked his hand back like it was on fire.
Fern moved on, her green-tinged cloak swaying behind her. Her dark green boots stepped lightly over root and stone.
> "Rule two: no yelling. No unnecessary noise. The animals here hear everything. Sound carries. And there are predators who don't mind a meal with shoes."
Someone whispered, "Even humans?"
Fern turned slowly, meeting the speaker's gaze.
> "Especially humans."
Silence fell across the clearing.
Fern raised her hand and let out a quiet chirp—then a rustle in the brush, and a large, gentle-eyed forest deer stepped out, sniffing the air around her.
> "The forest doesn't just shelter danger," Fern said. "It offers help. But only if you treat it with respect."
She gestured to the deer, who lingered for a moment before vanishing into the thicket.
> "We'll be learning edible roots, water purification from moss, tree compass reading, and shelter construction. You'll make fire without magic. You'll survive the way nature intended."
A few groans came from the back. Fern raised an eyebrow.
> "Complaining? Good. That means you're human. But listen closely…"
She pointed to the horizon—where clouds brewed darkly beyond the distant ridge.
> "Storms are coming. Not just in the sky, but out there in the world. If you can't handle this forest, you won't last in what's coming next."
Her green Vita shimmered briefly around her hands, causing nearby leaves to curl toward her as if responding to an old friend. She glanced over her shoulder at the gathering of rookies.
> "But if you learn to listen—to nature, to each other—this forest will make you stronger than any city ever could."
With that, she turned to a grove deeper inside the woods.
> "Let's begin. Green Team—move out."
One by one, they followed, stepping carefully now. The forest was no longer just trees to them. It was a challenge. A test.
And under Fern's watchful guidance, they would either thrive…
Or be sent back to camp humbled by bark, root, and rain.
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[ "Zack and Nico: The Rematch" or "The First Night in the Wildlands"]
Chapter continuation: Night Watch – Zack and Nico
The forest at night felt like a different world. Where once there were birdsong and beams of sun filtering through leaves, there was now only darkness—thick and oppressive—stitched together by the whisper of wind through distant branches.
A cold breeze brushed over the treetops. The occasional rustle of an animal in the brush was met with stillness and silence from two figures sitting beneath a knotted pine.
Zack leaned against the trunk, eyes half-lidded, arms folded. He looked like he could sleep sitting up. His black-and-white gloves reflected faint starlight, and the silver dagger tucked at his hip gleamed faintly when the moonlight caught it. His long coat swayed slightly as wind brushed past.
Nico, on the other hand, was a bundle of kinetic tension. Orange-haired, tail flicking, eyes scanning the treeline. His fox-like ears twitched with every noise. He wasn't nervous—just alert. Eager. He gripped the hilt of his blade with one hand, sitting cross-legged, resting his chin on his knee.
Neither of them spoke for a long while.
> "You always this quiet?" Nico finally asked, voice low but not mocking.
Zack exhaled a short breath, almost a laugh.
> "Only when I'm babysitting hyperactive foxes."
Nico grinned and flicked a twig toward him.
> "Tch. And here I thought I was the charming one."
Still no answer. Just the sound of branches swaying above.
The tension wasn't heavy, just... unspoken. The kind that lingers between people who fought together, who didn't quite know if they were friends yet—but weren't strangers anymore either.
Suddenly, a faint rustling in the bush.
Nico was on his feet in an instant, blade drawn with a smooth hiss.
Zack, still leaning against the tree, only turned his head lazily toward the sound.
The rustling grew louder—branches crunching underfoot, someone approaching fast.
Nico stepped forward, sword raised.
> "Who's there?"
A figure stumbled out from the brush, holding a glowing object.
> "Woah, woah, don't stab me—just filming!"
Rowin Gale, dressed in his usual windbreaker and orange scarf, blinked into the light. A compact camera hovered beside his shoulder, its lens clicking softly.
Nico rolled his eyes and sheathed his sword.
> "Rowin?! You sneak up on us for content?! You could've lost your head!"
Rowin held up his hands defensively, grinning.
> "C'mon, man. The viewers love the night watch drama. I needed some night aesthetic shots. Mood, you know?"
Zack's voice was quiet but carried.
> "Try getting yourself killed somewhere off camera next time."
> "Love you too, Zack," Rowin smirked.
Nico sighed and slumped back down onto the grass.
> "You're lucky I recognized your hair before swinging."
Rowin adjusted his camera drone, letting it hover above the clearing.
> "Lucky? Nah. I knew you'd hesitate. You're a softie inside."
Zack looked at Rowin, then at Nico.
> "...He's not wrong."
> "Oh my God, both of you," Nico muttered, tail flicking with irritation.
The night settled again. Rowin sat beside them, fiddling with the drone's settings. A subtle warmth grew from the quiet, like the flicker of a campfire that didn't need actual flames.
No enemies. No monsters. No combat—just young warriors watching over a growing movement. The kind of silence that lets you breathe.
And for once, that was enough.
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