0.5 The Training

The recruits were herded into a bleak, a hundred men and women from various types of races, flocked to a concrete room that looked more like a dilapidated gym than a military training facility. There were no instructors in sight—just a battered screen mounted on the wall, flickering to life with static.

"All recruits, find a seat and await further instructions," a voice urged, "All recruits, find a seat and await—"

Funnily, Lem, Isamu, Daphnis, Selena, and Saba sat down in front of the large screen. They had gotten used to each other already and, to none's surprise, they did not want to make more friends. The room darkened, and the television flickered to life. Bold, flashing text appeared on the screen: “The Ultimate Battle for Survival: ISA vs. UDR!” followed by a deep, dramatic voiceover.

“Welcome to the frontlines, brave warriors of the Independent Resistance Alliance! You’re about to embark on a journey where only the strong survive, where every breath could be your last, and where the fate of the multiverse hangs in the balance!”

The screen cut to scenes of destruction—cities ablaze, demons rampaging through streets, and terrified civilians running for their lives. “This is the terror unleashed by the United Demon Realms, the UDR, a coalition of the darkest, most powerful demon lords in existence. Their goal? Total domination of the great branching of worlds. And it all started right here on Earth—the most notorious spawning ground of pesky heroes.”

The footage shifted to show various heroes—knights, mages, and adventurers—emerging from glowing portals, battling demons in strange, fantastical landscapes. “For centuries, Earth has been a breeding ground for those who would rise against the forces of evil, transported, reincarnated, or summoned to distant worlds to foil the plans of the UDR. But the demons have had enough!”

The screen flashed to a terrifying image of the Paramount Demon King, Gorgoroth I, standing amidst a sea of fire. “Gorgoroth I, the Paramount Demon King, has united all demon lords of the great reality that is the Cosmic Tree, all in a single cause: to crush all resistance and end what they see as a vicious cycle for them!"

The image then switched to show the ISA logo, glowing with light. “Enter the Independent Resistance Alliance, humanity’s last hope. A diverse band of fighters from across existence, determined to push back against the UDR and save all worlds from eternal darkness. But the odds are stacked against us, and only the bravest—or the craziest—will survive the coming storm.”

The screen showed quick shots of ISA soldiers in battle, wielding pristine white plasma rifles—which appealed to Isamu for some reason—something akin to pistols, and energy blades. “These are your weapons, your lifeline in the war against the darkness. But weapons alone won’t save you. You’ll need cunning, courage, and the will to fight, even when all hope seems lost.”

The video ended with a fiery explosion, the ISA logo shining brightly in the center. The voiceover concluded, “The time has come to choose your fate. Will you stand and fight, or will you fall like so many before you? Hell has broken loose, Hell is coming. And they will not show mercy.”

The screen cut to a black background, and the white lights above ignited, blinding many inside.

"All recruits, please step into the door to continue your training," said the voice over the speakers. A door to their side opened, and everyone present reflexively began to move towards it.

The recruits were shuffled into the armory, a stark contrast to the shabby training room. Here, everything was sleek, polished, and gleaming with deadly intent. Racks of weapons lined the walls, each one more intimidating than the last. The room hummed with a low, electric energy, as if the very air was charged with anticipation.

A no-nonsense sergeant stepped forward. He motioned to a set of racks where sleek, emerald armor hung. "Now, before you go charging into battle like the fools you are, you’re going to suit up in the Bertilak-Aquilles body armor—we call it affectionately... the Green Armor. This isn’t your average bulletproof vest. This armor is specially designed for resistance fighters, offering protection against fire and blood magic, it is made from the very exotic material of hyperweave, and it will also protect you from all kinds of weather. But don't get cocky—it’s not invincible. The focus here is on mobility and comfort during combat, so while it’ll take a hit, you can’t rely on it to make you a walking tank."

"It looks tough but not overly bulky," Selena said, "Nice to see they're taking into account mobility."

Isamu and Lem looked at the dark elf reviewing the armor like some sort of market product.

The sergeant continued, "This armor is your second skin out there. It’ll keep you alive long enough to do your job, but you’ll still need to move, dodge, and fight like your life depends on it—because it does. Now gear up and get ready to face the demons. No one’s coming to save you."

Everyone exchanged glances nervously, so much that the sergeant's eyebrow raised in confusion, "Pardon me, kids, excuse the shit out of my god damn elvish, but wasn't I clear?"

"Sir!" exclaimed a girl in the back, "There are boys and girls in the room!"

The sergeant's hands rested on the table in front of him, "Is that so?" He smiled and let out a deep laugh, "I'm sorry kids, sometimes I forget I'm the only adult here, 'tis okay now, I'll leave, you have 5 minutes."

As soon as he exited the room, an uproar of screams made the Earth tremble. Everyone let out a scream as the girls began hitting the boys preemptively. Then, like some sort of sinister joke, two secret gates opened behind the recruits, and two icons appeared above barely lit, one of a guy and another of a girl.

The girls tucked their clothes and fixed their hair from the earlier frenzy as if nothing happened, while a very bruised group of men reluctantly entered their changing room in silence.

Lem rubbed his shoulder as he had received a hit from Saba's very sturdy hand, it felt like being hit by a metal bat or something, "Dammit, I hope I don't lose my arm for this, isn't she like an emotionless robot? I feel like she's after me and we've barely met."

"Oi Lem," Isamu called, "Look at this, the sergeant said it's meant to protect us, but it feels as thin as a shirt."

Lem felt the fabric and sighed, "Come on, bro, let's get this over with."

Everyone got out of the changing room during the allotted time, and the sergeant—who sure as hell was not done yet—grinned at them with the malice of a prankster. 

He held up a rifle that immediately grabbed everyone's attention. "This," he announced, "is the YUSHA Rifle, your primary weapon. It's a select-fire piece, capable of semi-automatic and fully automatic fire. It doesn’t just spit out bullets; it fires intermediate rifle cartridges charged with liquified plasma of light essence. What does that mean for you? It means when you hit something, it stays hit. The magazine holds enough plasma for about thirty shots, so make ‘em count. Each one of you will carry ten magazines."

"It does what?" Isamu asked, puzzled.

"It fires a lot of lasers, goes pew pew pew," Lem said with a smile.

"Ah, old Lem is back, I thought I lost you back in the Tram..."

"Make sure you don't lose me in the fight, by the looks of it, you'll have plenty of fun with that one and you'll probably need extra ammo."

Isamu grinned and turned back to the sergeant.

The sergeant waved his hand and the recruits began to grab the YUSHA Rifles, and the recruits took them with a mix of awe and apprehension. The rifles were surprisingly lightweight, but the hum of power within was unmistakable. Lem glanced over Isamu and noticed his best friend instantly loaded the magazine and managed to charge the weapon, which hummed a very futuristic charge sound. Lem's eyes examined carefully how he had done it, but still stumbled to do it as naturally as Isamu.

"Next," the sergeant continued, pulling out a large, imposing pistol, "is the SHITE Magnum. It’s your sidearm. Packs a punch like a pissed-off rhino. Same light essence plasma as the YUSHA, but in a smaller, more personal package. When you're out of YUSHA rounds or just need something to blow a demon’s head off up close, this is your go-to."

The recruits exchanged uneasy looks as they received the SHITE Magnums. The weight in their hands felt substantial as if holding a small cannon.

Finally, the sergeant reached behind him and pulled out what looked like the hilt of a sword—except there was no blade. "And this," he said with a grim smile, "is the KEN-blade. Looks like a toy, doesn’t it? Until you activate it." He pressed a button, and a blade of green energy shot out, glowing fiercely. "This isn’t just any energy sword. The blade’s intensity is tied directly to your passion, your will to fight. The angrier, more determined you are, the more powerful this thing gets. So, if you ever find yourself in a tight spot, let your emotions do the talking."

The recruits, now armed to the teeth, looked at each other with a mixture of fear and excitement. The weapons felt like overkill but one thing was clear—they were no longer civilians. The sergeant’s voice cut through their thoughts.

As the recruits began to leave the armory through the next door, the sergeant’s sharp gaze scanned the room. His eyes narrowed as they landed on someone who stood out from the rest. While everyone else was dressed in the standard ISA fatigues, there was one figure who clearly wasn’t. 

"Hey you, pretty girl!" he shouted angrily.

Lem and Isamu glanced over their shoulders like the rest of the group. Saba, standing confidently among the others, was clad in a sleek, full-body purple suit that looked like it had been ripped straight from a sci-fi video game. The suit's metallic sheen caught the dim light, its smooth, form-fitting design a stark contrast to the rugged, practical gear worn by the rest. Isamu and Lem had been so absorbed—and partially aghast—by the overwhelming information that they had missed Saba's appearance apart from her purple hair.

The sergeant’s eyes bore into her, a mixture of disbelief and irritation flashing across his face. He marched over to her, his boots clanking loudly on the metal floor. The other recruits shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension.

“You,” he barked, pointing a gloved finger at Saba. “Why in the seven hells aren’t you dressed like the rest of these recruits? Think you’re too good for ISA standard issue, or are you just lost on your way to a cosplay convention?”

Saba glanced down at her suit, then back at the sergeant with a stoic face, “This?” she asked, gesturing to her outfit, “This is my standard issue. It’s seen more action than your entire armory.”

The sergeant’s expression did not soften, “I don’t care if it’s made of dragon scales and dipped in demon blood, soldier. You’re in ISA territory now, and you’ll suit up like the rest of us or find yourself on latrine duty until the demons decide to come clean us out!”

Saba's suit suddenly gleamed, and a new layer of armor materialized bit by bit. The sergeant was taken aback by the sudden bright light. The suit seemed to come alive, shifting and expanding as if responding to some unseen command. The sleek material rippled and thickened, plates of advanced armor materializing from thin air and locking into place with a satisfying clink. Her once sleek, form-fitting suit transformed into a formidable exoskeleton, bulkier but still astonishingly streamlined. 

The armor now encasing her body was a deep, burnished gold, with crimson highlights that pulsed faintly, echoing the power surging through it. The shoulders were broad and angular, fitted with small, circular emitters that hummed with latent energy. The chest plate, embossed with a faintly glowing emblem, was reinforced and clearly capable of withstanding heavy fire. Her arms and legs were covered in overlapping plates that allowed for both flexibility and protection, while her boots ended in powerful thrusters that hinted at the suit’s hidden capabilities.

Saba flexed her armored fingers on one hand and inspected a big arm cannon with a small smile playing on her lips. “This,” she said, her voice now slightly amplified and resonating with power, “is what I call standard issue.”

The sergeant could only stare, momentarily at a loss for words. 

"Well look at that," Isamu said, his eyes lit up, "She's on a whole different level from us."

"Well, well," the sergeant said, regaining his composure, "let's see what you're capable of, kid. Listen, everyone, from now on you're no longer mere recruits, you're fully-fledged fighters of the Independent Resistance Alliance! Report for duty, go, GO!"

He pulled a lever and the room blinked with a dizzying red light that forced everyone to follow the one door shining with a stable white light. Lem and Isamu rushed outside. 

Lem began to pant as he tried to steel himself, the feeling of battle slowly reaching the depths of his now grim reality—however, the General's devilish smile suddenly pumped him with a surge of determination and his legs gained strength.

Isamu, on the other hand, frowned and went behind his best friend, determined to see the end of this day alive and well. He would protect his friend—his new friends—no matter the cost. He would not fail Mina-chan—no, Raena.

Behind them, Daphnis quick-marched, trying not to be left behind, she whispered to herself, "My queen, I will not fail you!" as she followed her new friends.

Selena's eyes darkened, as if something had clicked inside her, "Let's do this... Let's fricking do this!" her mind shouted.

Saba simply walked behind them, steeled and resolutely, as she checked the variety of ammo she could shoot, her arm cannon's tip transforming into different sets of barrels.

When everyone was gone, the Sergeant reached for a bottle of wine beneath his desk, "Well" he commended himself, "There goes another batch."

He filled a glass with it and raised it towards the door, "To those who will surely die, if not today, perhaps tomorrow, but surely the day after tomorrow."