The pilot had screamed.
They were arriving.
The roar of the aircraft grew sharper, more anxious. Metallic vibrations echoed under their feet. The fuselage seemed to hold its breath.
Then, a dull thud.
The wheels touched the ground.
A brutal silence swallowed them.
Even the wind outside seemed to freeze.
A synthetic voice echoed in the void — cold, disembodied:
> "Welcome, new recruits. Please follow the blue arrows to be directed to Zone D."
Cyan neon lights flickered on, casting pale glows through the dust.
The ground seemed to pulse beneath their steps.
The crowd began to move, slow and uncertain. Nervous murmurs passed like whispers between shadows.
Alphan didn't move.
He stayed behind with Modigeur, Leira, Leonardo, Émilie… the only faces that didn't feel hostile.
Their eyes were sunken, hollowed. As if the landing hadn't brought them to safety, but into a new kind of nightmare.
And then he saw him.
Hovering in the air, like a fallen angel trapped in reversed gravity, a man descended slowly.
His arms were crossed behind his back.
A black military cape trailed behind him like a sentence.
An insignia glimmered on his shoulder: a silver eagle devouring a feather, stitched into obsidian fabric.
> "I am Colonel Daërn Stahlgeist, commander of Zone D."
His voice belonged to a man who only smiled to intimidate. Each word struck with weight.
His tongue wasn't made for comfort.
His left arm — mechanical — clicked softly with every subtle motion.
His eyes were made of steel. Pale steel. Almost white. Inhuman.
> "You are here because your world is dead.
Ours is dying.
There is only one thing left: our nation.
You are no longer children.
You are weapons in training.
If you refuse to fight, you will die with the civilians."
Gasps. Tightened throats. A tear, somewhere.
Then silence.
Daërn raised one hand.
Silence became absolute.
> "You will fight creatures that even nightmares reject: Phantoms, Demons, Avatars of Evil, Writers of Chaos...
They are not here to conquer.
They are here to write the end."
He paused.
> "To face them, you will have to sacrifice something.
Something precious.
Something irreplaceable.
That is the cost of survival."
Alphan shivered.
Then pain.
A vision.
A fracture of thought. A violent vibration in his skull.
A creature.
Enormous.
Bigger than Earth.
Its flesh was made of intertwined arms — a living fabric of agony.
It had no mouth.
Its eyes were voids — darker than night.
It screamed silently, launching planets like stones, shattering stars by presence alone.
And he — Alphan — stood alone before it.
An open Book in one hand.
Nothing in the other.
He collapsed to his knees.
Panting.
The world returned, slowly, like rising from underwater.
And before him… the Colonel's gaze.
> "Trystan, isn't it?"
His voice sliced the air.
How did he know his real name?
A whisper passed through the ranks.
But no one dared to speak.
> "I've been ordered to watch you."
The cold settled. Not in the air.
In the heart.
In the soul.
The Colonel turned away.
> "Tonight, you'll sleep under the stars.
You don't need comfort.
You need truth."
He addressed them all:
> "Training begins at 4 a.m.
At dawn, you will receive your uniform and serial number.
You will become Rank 2 soldiers."
His gaze swept over the crowd.
One last time.
And then lingered on Alphan.
And in his eyes of metal — for a split second — something flickered.
Not hatred.
Not fear.
Just... certainty.
Something is coming.