The training hall smelled of sweat, metal, and dust. The fluorescent lights flickered above, casting sharp shadows across the worn concrete floor. I clenched my fists and tried to steady my rapid breathing. Every muscle in my body screamed from the long march down the bunker corridors, but I knew the real challenge was only beginning.
"You want to join the Yellow Zone cleansing team?" The instructor's voice was flat, almost bored, but it carried an unspoken weight. He didn't look at me; his eyes were fixed on the other recruits lining the room.
"Yes," I said, my voice barely audible, but firm enough. "I… I want to join."
"I don't care why," he said, finally glancing at me. His face was sharp, scarred, and unyielding. "Everyone here starts the same way. One week of preparation. After that, if you survive… you'll get your chance. But don't think it will be easy. The Yellow Zone doesn't forgive mistakes."
One week. Seven days. That's all the time I had to prepare for a place where monsters waited in the shadows, where even the Barons avoided unnecessary risks.
The first day was brutal. My arms burned as I lifted weapons heavier than I thought possible. My legs ached after endless sprints across the hall. Each movement had to be precise; each mistake was punished by additional drills. Hours felt like days. Pain became constant. My body wanted to quit, but my mind refused.
I kept thinking about that day ten years ago. The sirens, the screams, the black rain falling from the sky. My parents… gone. And Kyler, the Baron, walking away while their lives slipped through his fingers. The memory gnawed at me, but it also fueled something darker. Anger. Determination. A promise that I would not be helpless ever again.
By the second day, I realized this wasn't just physical. Every maneuver required focus, awareness, and instinct. My senses had to be sharp. The smallest hesitation could mean injury—or worse. I stumbled a few times, and each fall felt like a reminder of my inadequacy, but I picked myself up again. I would endure. I had to endure.
The instructors were relentless. "Faster. Harder. Pay attention!" they shouted. Their voices were constant, echoing in my head long after training ended. My hands were blistered, my shoulders screamed from the weight of the gear, but I refused to let my spirit break.
In the quiet moments between drills, I allowed myself to imagine what awaited outside the bunker. The Yellow Zone… monsters larger than anything in the bunkers' holo-maps, creatures that could tear a man apart in seconds. I swallowed hard. And yet, I felt a spark of excitement. This was the chance to finally leave the bunker. To see the world I had only imagined. To find Kyler.
By the third day, the routines became almost mechanical. We trained with weapons, learned emergency maneuvers, and simulated attacks from small monsters. Every day ended the same: exhaustion, cold showers, and silence broken only by the instructors' footsteps in the hall. Yet, despite the pain, I felt stronger. My body had adapted. My reflexes were sharper. My determination had hardened.
Each night, I went over my memories, replaying the screams of my parents, the chaos of the Tears of the Sky. I couldn't change the past, but maybe, just maybe, I could face the future differently. I would not let fear control me. I would not allow weakness to define me.
By the fifth day, we were preparing for the final phase: simulated Yellow Zone infiltration. The instructors set up obstacle courses, hidden traps, and mock monster encounters. Every mistake was costly. Every decision mattered. I moved carefully, my heart pounding in my chest, imagining that each step could be the difference between survival and death.
By the sixth day, I could feel the change. My body was tired, yes, but my mind was alert. I no longer hesitated. I no longer doubted myself. Fear was still there—it would never fully disappear—but it had become a tool, something to sharpen my instincts rather than hold me back.
And then came the seventh day. The last test before the real mission. Exhaustion clung to me like a second skin, but I didn't care. The instructors watched with stern expressions as we ran through the final drills. Each strike had to be perfect. Every dodge precise. Every sprint calculated. I felt the power in my body growing, the confidence rising.
Finally, the drills ended. I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air, but a small, proud smile crept onto my face. I was ready—or as ready as I could be. The doors of the training hall opened, letting in the harsh light of the bunker corridors. The instructor's voice cut through the quiet:
"Tomorrow," he said, "you leave the bunker. Yellow Zone. First mission. Don't die."
I swallowed hard. The Yellow Zone. A place where monsters roamed freely, where even the strongest could fall. But this was my chance. A chance to leave the bunker, a chance to grow stronger, a chance to finally face Kyler.
I reached into my pocket and touched the glasses my father had given me years ago. They were scratched, worn, but they were mine. A reminder of why I needed to endure.
For the first time in ten years, I felt something I hadn't felt since that day… hope.
Hope that I could survive.
Hope that I could become strong enough.
Hope that I could face the world—and the man—I had hated for so long.
My thoughts were interrupted by the instructor's firm voice.
"Tomorrow, one of the captain's deputies will lead you into battle — Ami."
In the next moment, she entered the room. A wave of pressure hit the hall instantly.
— It's hard to breathe… — muttered one of the guys standing next to me.
Ami's face was calm, almost indifferent. She didn't even glance at the instructor. Her gaze cut through the room, and I realized how small and weak I still was, despite the week of training.
Her voice finally brought us back to reality.
"Rest well. Tomorrow will be a hard day."
Yes. Rest… it had been so long since I had truly rested.