While the research staff gathered in the briefing room, the test subjects were left waiting in the main hall—the same place where Leopold had once delivered his speech.

  The air was thick and still, carrying the faint scent of metal, cleaning agents, and the coldness of whats to come. Every breath seemed to echo in the sterile quiet, every exhale louder than it should have been. The gray walls stretched bare and seamless, their smooth surfaces reflecting the pale white light that flickered from above. The hum of the ventilation system was steady and soft, but it didn’t calm anyone; it only made the silence feel heavier.

  Dozens of children filled the room, yet it felt lifeless. They sat apart from one another, scattered like misplaced furniture. No one spoke. Some stared at the floor, others traced invisible patterns on their sleeves or rubbed their palms together as if trying to remember what warmth felt like. A few quietly wept, their faces turned away.

  Vierna sat near the back, her fingers fidgeting on her knees. The room wasn’t cold, but it might as well have been. Every sound—the faint tapping of shoes, the buzz of a broken light—made her chest tighten a little more.

  Then she noticed it. She and Lina were the only ones sitting close to each other. Everyone else kept their distance, as though the simple act of proximity had become foreign.

  Lina sat with her back straight, her hands resting neatly on her lap. And she was smiling. It wasn’t broad or mocking, just a faint, quiet curve of her lips, steady and strange in a place like this. The kind of smile that didn’t belong here, where fear had hollowed out every other face.

  Vierna didn’t know what to make of it. Maybe Lina was pretending to be brave. Maybe she was used to this. Or maybe it meant something else entirely.

  Whatever it was, it unsettled her. Because in that colorless room full of fear, Lina’s calm didn’t make her seem stronger—it made her seem unreachable.

  She gathered her courage to ask, “Has this ever happened before?”

  “Nope,” Lina replied, placing both hands behind her head.

  “Shouldn’t they put us somewhere safe? I mean, we’re their test subjects, right?”

  “Hahaha, that’s not how the Arkmarschall does things, my little scribe,” Lina said, completely calm. “While this never happened before, there are drill sessions we do here. Some are shooting practice, others are just logistics—moving crates and setting up equipment. Honestly, I have no idea why they make us go through all that when most of us are going to be drooling in the next season due to ‘unforeseeable circumstances.’”

  “Wait… that means there’s a possibility we’d be sent out there? I mean, what’s even happening now?” Vierna asked.

  “Maybe it’s the Imperium shitheads attacking Einhartturm. I don’t know. Like I said, this never happened before.”

  “But what if it is an attack? And we’re sent out there? I mean, maybe you got trained for that, but I’ve never even held a gun.”

  “Haha, don’t worry too much, Vierna. Everything will work out fine.”

  Hearing Lina’s response only deepened her confusion. How could a girl be this calm about something that should terrify everyone? A possible battle—on her second day here. Sometimes Vierna wondered if she was cursed. Worse, if they were sent to the front, she wouldn’t be able to do anything. As far as she could remember, she had never even fired a gun. And her past before the orphanage was blurry at best. Even if she could shoot, if the enemy really was the Imperium… could she even survive that?

  The thought sent a chill through her. Her knuckles tightened, and sweat began to form on her forehead.

  Lina’s eyelids drooped, her posture loosening as she leaned back against the wall. A soft sigh escaped her lips, long and slow—the sound of someone surrendering to exhaustion rather than sleep. “I’m going to sleep,” she murmured. “Wake me up after all this waiting is over.”

  “Are you crazy? How can you sleep in—”

  “Sssst… nap time,” Lina muttered, cutting her off without opening her eyes.

  Without anything to do, Vierna looked around her. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, she could finally see the others clearly—the rest of the “subjects.”

  Some still looked almost human. Their alterations were subtle enough that, at a glance, they could have passed for ordinary people: faint lines of grafted skin running down their arms, a metallic glint beneath the flesh at their necks, or faintly glowing veins where blood should have flowed. One girl’s pupils shimmered faintly, changing color with every blink. Another boy’s fingers twitched in unnatural rhythm, the joints clicking softly as if gears were hidden beneath the skin.

  But others… others didn’t even resemble people anymore.

  There was a boy sitting near the far wall, his left arm far too long, the skin stretched thin over mismatched bones. Another figure crouched in the corner, its posture crooked, its limbs jointed wrong—like they had been stitched together from more than one body. Vierna couldn’t even tell if the thing was sleeping or simply waiting for something.

  Across from her sat a girl whose back bulged under her gown, as if something inside was trying to push its way out. The faint rise and fall of that shape beneath her clothes made Vierna’s stomach turn.

  The thought that she might someday end up like them flickered in her mind—but the dread of what was happening now, of what would happen next, was far more immediate. It gnawed at her chest like something alive. Sitting still only made it worse.

  She stood up, needing to move, needing answers. Her eyes swept the room until she spotted someone who still looked—at least on the surface—mostly human.

  Across from where she had been sitting was a girl, fidgeting in fear. Her knees were drawn close, her hands clutched tightly together as if she could crush her own trembling. She kept glancing around, her eyes moving too fast, too erratic, like she was being watched. Her hair was a messy shade of brunette, unevenly cut, and her skin bore faint runic marks that dimly pulsed and faded again—residue from whatever had been done to her.

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  Vierna hesitated, but the silence pressed heavier with every second. She took a cautious step forward.

  “Hi,” she said quietly.

  The girl flinched, her shoulders jerking as if struck by the sound.

  “What?! Who are you?! Did they send you?” she stammered, eyes wide with panic.

  “No… I just—“

  “Get the hell away from me!” she said to Vierna.

  Realizing that she wouldn’t tell her anything, Vierna changed her strategy.

  “I wasn’t supposed to say this, but you are right, I am here to test you.”

  The girl’s gaze darted over her face, scanning her expression, her uniform, the way she stood.

  “You’re lying,” she whispered, her voice thin but sharp. “You’re too young to be one of them. You can’t be an examiner.”

  Vierna raised her brows slightly. “All right then,” she said, turning as if to leave.

  “Wait—wait! I’m sorry, miss!” the girl blurted out, her panic bleeding through forced politeness. “I didn’t mean it! Please, don’t send me to the front again, I’ll do better this time, I swear! Please…”

  She tried to steady her breath, but the words came out trembling, as if they had been waiting too long to escape. Her eyes darted around, never settling, refusing to meet Vierna’s.

  Vierna stopped halfway and glanced back. It seemed this girl hadn’t been in the classroom before—either that, or paranoia had already hollowed her mind so deeply that she couldn’t tell one test subject from another.

  She walked back and sat down in front of her.

  “You said again. That means this kind of thing has happened before?”

  “Miss… are you trying to inspect my memory?” The girl’s laugh was thin and nervous. “My memory is good, heh… heh… I can still remember what I ate last—”

  “It would do you good if you just answer the question.”

  “Ahhh, yes, miss, I’m sorry…” she said quickly, words tumbling over one another. “Around three years ago… there was a horde of mana beasts that came here. The senior mages were sent to the front along with the Aschezug division to stop them. The junior mages were used as skirmishers to bait the main herd…”

  Her voice grew faster, more strained, as if she were forcing her thoughts to line up properly.

  “We, the test subjects, we were sent to help the seniors and juni—ah, I mean the Aschezug! Sorry, miss, my bad, my bad!”

  Before Vierna could react, the girl hit herself across the face. The slap echoed faintly, followed by her shallow, frantic breathing. It wasn’t a sharp punishment, more like a reflex, the act of someone long conditioned to correct herself before anyone else could.

  Vierna froze. Something inside her twisted painfully. What had this girl gone through? She couldn’t have been much older than her, yet her eyes were hollow, darting like a trapped animal’s.

  “They also used mages to change the terrain,” the girl continued quickly, forcing her words out in uneven bursts. “Heh… they said we couldn’t wait for the horde to reach the wall, that if we did, the corpses would pile up higher and higher. Some mana beasts would get below the piles, eat their fellow beasts’ corpses, and evolve… That’s why they sent us beyond the wall… beyond…”

  Her laughter broke off into a shaky exhale. The words “beyond the wall” lingered in the air like a curse.

  Vierna watched her closely. The girl’s lips trembled as she spoke, her body swaying slightly, as though she were rehearsing a story she had told herself a hundred times just to stay sane. She wasn’t just remembering; she was performing her memory, clinging to it as proof that she still had value, that she still belonged here, that she wouldn’t be sent back out again.

  Vierna felt her throat tighten. So this is what happens to them. It wasn’t madness, not exactly. It was survival, a desperate attempt to sound useful in a world that discarded anyone who wasn’t.

  But then again, Lina had said this kind of thing had never happened before.

  So maybe the girl wasn’t lying.

  Maybe Lina wasn’t a test subject three years ago.

  “Then… then the levy unit was stationed at the wall along with the civilians… we—”

  “How do you know all of this?” Vierna asked sharply, keeping her tone cold and measured, playing the part of a supervisor now, if only to keep the girl talking.

  “They, they debriefed us, miss,” she said quickly. “After the battle ended. Said that one day, when we get out of this place, it would be useful knowledge for us.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “Of course, of course I believe it, miss. I never doubted it for a second,” the girl replied too quickly, her smile twitching, her pupils trembling like glass about to crack.

  Vierna nodded slowly, pretending to take mental notes. “Back then,” she said, “was it like this too?”

  “No, miss. There were no sirens. We were just gathered by our handlers in a room. They told us what was going on.”

  “Why do you think this time is different?”

  The girl’s gaze darted left and right, searching for an answer that would please her. “Maybe this time there are more mana beasts?”

  Vierna held her stare for a long, quiet moment. That was all she needed to know. It really was a mana beast attack.

  But the knowledge brought no comfort. It sank in her stomach like a stone. She looked at the girl again, trembling and terrified, and the pity she felt twisted into dread. One day, she could become just like her.

  The thought made her sick. But the dread of what was coming felt far closer than whatever might happen to her later. So she pushed the thought down and focused on the present, forcing her mind to worry only about what stood in front of her.

  She could only hope that this time they would not send the test subjects to the front. It was a fragile, foolish hope, but it was all she had left to cling to.

  “Thank you for your cooperation,” Vierna said calmly, imitating the tone of the white-cloaked researchers. “You passed the test. You won’t be sent to the front.”

  It was a lie—one she hoped would bring a sliver of relief to the trembling girl before her.

  “Ahhhh!” The girl’s smile was no longer forced, but one of genuine relief. “Thank you, miss! Thank you!”

  Vierna only nodded, keeping her expression neutral. She turned and walked back to her place beside Lina, praying that the girl would assume she was there to test her as well.

  The fear of being sent to the frontlines crept into her heart like a slow poison. It started as a single thought, barely a whisper, but soon it grew, sinking deeper with every passing second.

  She had never been in combat before. No one at the orphanage had ever taught them how to fight. They had only taught them how to stand straight in front of officers, how to salute properly, how to speak when spoken to. All form, no function. All obedience, no survival.

  Her breathing grew uneven. The words of the trembling girl echoed in her head, looping endlessly. Beyond the wall. She imagined the sound of claws scraping through mud, the smell of blood, the cold emptiness of being sent out there to die. Her fingers dug into her knees.

  She tried to reason with herself. Maybe it wouldn’t happen. Maybe they were safe here. But the more she tried to believe it, the more her body betrayed her. Her hands trembled, her chest tightened. The dim lights flickered against the gray walls, and every shadow looked like a hand reaching out to drag her away.

  Her thoughts spiraled. She imagined being chosen, being pushed out through the gate, hearing the command to advance. She imagined the faces of the white cloaks watching from behind, cold and detached, as they were devoured. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

  Then suddenly, the heavy metal door creaked open.

  A figure stepped in, and she immediately recognized him. Herr Halwen.

  “We’ll be stationed at the supply depot. Follow the staff at once.”

  Hearing that sent a flicker of warmth through Vierna. At least she wouldn’t die on the front line today. Beside her, Lina stirred awake—or maybe she had never truly slept.

  But what caught Vierna off guard was the expression on her face. While everyone else was flickering with relief, Lina’s expression was something she hadn’t expected.

  Frustration.