Two weeks.
That was all it took.
The doctors had been surprised—but not alarmed. Their bodies were young, conditioned, and already accustomed to punishment. Broken bones mended. Internal injuries stabilized. Bruises faded into pale scars that would soon disappear beneath uniforms.
By the fourteenth day, all seven of them were cleared for active duty.
Akira rolled his shoulders inside the training hall, testing his range of motion. No pain. No stiffness. His urumi lay coiled neatly at his side, its flexible steel responding smoothly when he lifted it.
"Man," Ren said, stretching both arms overhead, joints popping loudly, "I swear that bed rest almost killed me."
Kaito adjusted his glasses, scanning through his tablet. "Medically speaking, boredom is not fatal."
"Yet," Ren shot back drastically.
Ayla sighed quietly, tucking a stray strand of silver hair behind her ear. "You're very dramatic about minor discomfort."
"Minor?" Ren laughed, rolling his eyes. "My muscles literally screamed at me for fourteen days. Minor my foot."
Before Akira could respond, a chime echoed through the base. The summons arrived with surgical efficiency.
Viran Varanasi stood waiting in the command room, hands clasped behind his back. The atmosphere was businesslike—no tension, no urgency, just routine authority.
"You've all been medically cleared," he said. "Effective immediately, your rookie squad is reinstated."
Ren grinned. "Knew it."
Akira remained focused.
"However," Viran continued, "there has been a structural issue."
That got their attention.
"Akirawa is currently absent from duty."
A pause.
"Absent?" Ren asked. "Like… vacation?"
Viran's expression didn't change.
"He left without authorization."
Silence.
"Because his departure was unofficial," Viran said evenly, "no elite agent was assigned as a replacement."
Akira absorbed that quietly.
"Therefore," Viran added, "your squad will be supervised by."
The doors slid open. Lights dimmed. Smoke curled along the floor. Six silhouettes stepped forward in perfect formation.
Heavy boots struck the ground in unison.
A deep voice rang out—
"We are Senior Squad Se—"
"Wait, wait, wait—whose turn was it to say the cool line?!"
The formation collapsed instantly.
"What do you mean you forgot?!" one snapped.
"I thought YOU were saying it!" the other shot back.
Ren blinked. "…Are these guys serious?"
The man in front rubbed his temples. "Alright. Reset. RESET."
He cleared his throat, stance straightening, voice low and commanding.
"Ryou Kanzaki," he said finally. "Captain of this squad."
The others snapped to attention.
A woman with short red hair smirked. "Misaki."
A tall man resting a long rifle on his shoulder gave a curt nod. "Jin."
A calm woman adjusted her gloves. "Fumika."
The last two struck a dramatic pose.
"Recon."
"And Flank," they said in near-perfect unison.
Ren muttered under his breath, "…Okay, now they're officially terrifying."
Ryou's gaze swept across Akira's team. No humor. No smiles. Just piercing focus.
"You rookies think you know danger," he said, voice sharp, deliberate. "But out there…" He gestured vaguely toward the city visible through the command room windows. "…the manifested monsters don't care about your schedules. They don't wait for your perfect timing. They kill, indiscriminately, instantly."
Misaki stepped forward. "We're here to make sure you survive. But survival isn't luck—it's discipline, strategy, and ruthlessness when it counts."
Fumika's eyes narrowed. "There's no room for mistakes."
Ryou's lips curved faintly. "Consider this your first real lesson. We won't hold your hand, we won't slow down for your comfort. Keep up—or you won't make it."
Ren swallowed, then straightened his back. "…Understood."
Akira nodded, gripping the urumi tighter.
"Until Akirawa returns. Senior Squad will accompany and supervise your deployments."
Ryou's gaze softened ever so slightly. "Good. Let's move. Time to protect people—and learn what that really takes."
END OF CHAPTER 1