The sound of shifting bones met the impact of solid flesh. The field of Sector 7, usually filled only with the monotonous thud of running drills, instantly transformed into a symphony of chaos. Yet, amidst the storm of blows, Unit 009 moved like a single, lethal organism.

  Kira (032) struggled to break free from Nugia’s grip, his face paling. "Let go... you damn monster!" he spat, his left hand swinging a punch aimed at Nugia’s temple.

  Nugia didn't flinch. He merely tilted his head—a minimalist movement learned from the Slashing Test. Kira’s fist struck only empty air. With a single shoulder wrench, Nugia twisted Kira’s arm behind his back. Crack! The sound of strained joints made Kira let out a piercing scream, severing the remnants of his arrogance.

  On the other side, Meyra was pure fury. Bagas (023), despite his larger build, was helpless as Meyra executed a brutal throwing technique. Meyra wasn't just hitting; she was venting the rage from the "1 Newton" insult that had mocked her best friend's worth. Every strike of Meyra’s fist against Bagas’s stomach sounded like a sledgehammer hitting steel.

  "The floor, you said?" Meyra grabbed Bagas’s collar, lifting his battered face. "Look at me, 023! In Sector 7, scores are just numbers, but grit is everything. And your grit... isn't even worth 1 Newton!"

  The brawl on the field nearly reached its peak when a large shadow loomed over the helpless Wawa. Heavy, rhythmic footsteps crushed the dust, followed by four figures radiating a sickening aura of superiority.

  Drog (001) stood there. Standing 164 cm tall, he looked like a giant among his peers. His square face and sturdy neck seemed carved from the very concrete of Sector 7 itself. He glared at Nugia with pure hatred—a hatred nurtured by Varkas’s poisonous whispers every night.

  "Look at this... filth trying to be heroes," Drog’s heavy voice cut through the noise. "Nugia, do you think with those blue eyes of yours, you can turn trash into gold?"

  Beside him, the stout Nobo (004) smirked, his thick lips curling as his lecherous eyes scanned Zilla from top to bottom. "Zilla, darling... you’re wasting your energy on this trash unit. Join me, and I’ll show you how a real man fights," Nobo said with disgusting confidence.

  Meanwhile, the athletic Ed (007) couldn't take his eyes off Meyra. In his pocket, he fiddled with a sharpened crystal shard—a "gift" he dreamed would make Meyra fall for him. Jack (041) stood stiffly behind, trying to look narcissistic while teasing Reyna, who only met him with a cold, lethal gaze. Whereas Aan (022), the mysterious one, merely stared at Nugia in silence, as if dissecting the circuits inside Nugia’s head.

  "Stop this at once!" Drog shouted suddenly as he saw Instructor Jean appear at the end of the hallway. However, instead of intervening, Drog deliberately shoved Nugia’s shoulder hard, sending him stumbling. "You’re truly a disgrace to the elite class!" he whispered into Nugia’s ear just before Jean arrived.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "ENOUGH!" Jean’s voice thundered.

  Jean stood tall, indifferent to who started it. "Units 007, 008, and 009... you have disrupted order. Unit 001, thank you, Drog, for trying to stop them."

  Zilla clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. "But Instructor, Drog was the one who—"

  "No excuses!" Jean cut her off coldly. "All three units... duck-walk to the Dining Hall right now! One hand on the shoulder of the person in front of you—do not break the line!"

  Drog smirked thinly at Nugia as they began to move. A foul political victory.

  ***

  After thirty minutes of agonizing duck-walking, Amae’s thigh muscles felt like they were on fire. They arrived at the dining hall drenched in sweat. The atmosphere was silent, save for the clinking of the iron mess tins being distributed.

  "Why is instant ramen so rare during meal rotations? Why must we wait for a special menu?" Amae complained as he toyed with the bland porridge, dry bread, and two sausages.

  "Didn't Sergeant Jean say there would be another evaluation to earn special rations during the Red Light Cycle?" Meyra asked. She slowly sipped the bland porridge, her face contorting at the first swallow.

  Nugia ate without looking up. Zilla watched them one by one, observing Reyna, who was still fuming from the incident on the field.

  "Listen, whatever it is, we will get our reward! For now, focus on your food. Don't complain; it only wastes your time and energy!" Zilla snapped flatly.

  "I’ve finished my food! Am I running, like you said, Zilla?" Nugia asked innocently.

  Zilla smiled. "You could say that, Nugia!"

  "What’s next?" he asked again.

  Before Zilla could answer—"Reyna! Amae! Look at Meyra’s face!"

  Everyone suddenly focused on Meyra, who looked as if she were about to vomit from the bland porridge. Amae and Reyna leaned in, staring at Meyra’s usually fierce face, which had turned pale with a greenish tint around her cheeks. Her mouth was clamped shut, her eyes bulging like a dam about to burst.

  "Mey... you okay?" Amae whispered, his hand hesitant to pat her back for fear of accelerating the "process."

  Meyra swallowed with great effort—the sound echoing in the silence of the dining hall. She took a long breath through her nose, then slammed her mess tin onto the table with a Brak! that made the subjects at the next table flinch.

  "This... is not... food!" Meyra hissed, her voice hoarse. "This is more like engine lubricant mixed with Sector 7 construction dust! How can elite subjects be fed garbage like this?!"

  "But it gives me strength, Mey," Nugia chimed in innocently while casually chewing the last bit of his dry bread.

  Meyra glared at Nugia with a gaze that could melt steel. "What... what are you made of, anyway? Is your tongue broken?!"

  Zilla sighed, pushing her sausage ration toward Meyra’s plate. "Eat this. The protein will help neutralize that bland taste. We need energy. The Red Light Cycle isn't just an evaluation; it’s a full system scan. If you faint from malnutrition, Drog will laugh at our suffering."

  Hearing Drog’s name, Meyra’s jaw tightened. Her appetite was gone, but her hunger for vengeance was far greater. She snatched the sausage and chewed it savagely, as if she were biting Drog’s throat.

  Suddenly, the lights in the dining hall flickered red. Once. Twice.

  A low siren groaned, its vibration felt down to the marrow. The room, once buzzing with the clink of cutlery, went deathly silent. Reyna, who had been daydreaming, immediately grabbed her wrist—the sensor there was flashing red rapidly.

  Cycle 13.00. Daily Assembly.

  However, behind the walls of PETERUMMAN, the siren blared louder, sounding like a delayed scream of death. Bunker 013 was now swarming with Lurkers—soldiers fighting against those fast, agile monsters.

  Inside Bunker 013's main hall, a man stood tall, 190 cm in height, with dark skin. He held only a giant axe larger than his own body.

  "Captain Bear! It’s time to use the emergency protocol. Hundreds of Lurkers are attacking Bunker 013! Orders from Colonel Lion: hold this bunker, and do not let those monsters scale our walls!" reported Diana. She wore sophisticated tactical sunglasses, a bob-cut hairstyle, and a beautifully curved physique.

  Varkas smirked, but his hands, which constantly creaked, signaled that he was hiding something.