The air in Sector 7 was never truly warm; it felt perpetually frozen, as if death itself had seeped into the very molecules of the oxygen.

  Rows of cadets, marked with cold metal labels, stood rigid beneath the shadow of ancient buildings that loomed like giant coffins. Before them, the dormitory lobby yawned wide—a predator’s maw ready to swallow the last remnants of their humanity.

  "Listen up, you dregs! This is your home now. Get inside and fall in line by unit!" Varkas barked. His raspy voice echoed, bouncing off the stark concrete walls.

  Two massive steel doors slid open with a heavy hydraulic hiss. One by one, they marched inside in a forced, rhythmic stride. Unit 001 moved first with robotic precision, followed by the others, until it was Unit 009’s turn, led by Zilla.

  Flickering neon lights greeted them with a lazy, dying glow. Zilla (015) led with a wary gaze, guiding her small group toward the entrance of Dormitory Block B. Behind her, Amae (021) walked with knees trembling violently. Meyra (012), right on his heels, shoved the boy’s shoulder roughly.

  "Watch your step, you idiot!" she hissed, her voice low and laced with suppressed emotion. Behind them, Subject 018 and 009 remained silent, the rear guards of a unit now fully swallowed by the shadows of the Block B corridor.

  The hallway was a labyrinth of horror. White ceramic tiles were laid out rigidly like a giant chessboard, while the concrete walls were stained with blackened blood—silent murals of lives that had collapsed there before.

  “I... I want to get out of here,” Amae’s mind screamed.

  He froze. The walls seemed to close in, crushing his chest until he could barely breathe.

  CRACK!

  He flinched. A whip lashed through the air right in front of him, leaving a thin fracture on the pristine white tiles.

  "Who told you to stop?" Varkas’s voice was more predatory than the sound of his whip. Zilla quickly grabbed Amae’s trembling hand.

  "Line up!" Varkas commanded.

  The cadets formed a long, stiff line—pawns ready to be sacrificed on that grand chessboard. Varkas paced slowly, his combat boots striking the floor with an arrogant, echoing thud.

  "Rule one: watch the lights on your wristbands and room doors. Red means assembly. Blue means mess hall. Green is the only time you are permitted to rest your worthless bodies."

  He stopped directly in front of Subject 018, who was nearly hyperventilating. Varkas leaned in, his massive silhouette engulfing the girl’s small frame.

  "Rule two: silence is absolute..." he whispered into her face.

  Subject 009, standing at the end of the line, felt the air pressure shift. His hand, hidden by his side, slowly clenched into a fist. Something was pulsing in his veins.

  "No outside possessions! If you dare break this rule, prepare for consequences that will make you regret being born. And the final, most important rule..."

  He stopped before the sweating Amae. Varkas grinned—a terrifying, predatory sneer. "One fails, all pay! If one of you acts out, the entire unit takes the hit. Understood?!"

  "UNDERSTOOD!" Amae blurted out instinctively.

  "And who told you to be loud?" Varkas asked, raising his whip.

  Silence fell instantly. The whip coiled through the air like a writhing serpent. Amae was helpless, standing paralyzed, waiting for death to claim him. Zilla and Meyra held their breath, their eyes darting toward Amae.

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  Suddenly, a shadow blurred.

  CRACK!

  Subject 009 caught the lashing whip with his bare hand. The corridor froze. Every eye was fixed on him. The silence was so heavy that the faint whirring of the cables in Varkas’s cybernetic arm became audible.

  "You..." Varkas growled, his voice cracking between fury and confusion.

  The boy did not let go. Fresh blood dripped from his palm where the whip's thorns bit into his skin, but his eyes... those blue eyes didn't even blink. Varkas recoiled, his cyborg eye twitching wildly as he stared into the deep, ocean-blue glow of Subject 009’s gaze. It was as if an old wound had suddenly reopened.

  "Those eyes..." his lips trembled, the words barely a breath.

  "Unit 009! I’ll see you on the field tomorrow!" Varkas hissed, sheathing his whip as he struggled to hide the tremor in his hands.

  Meyra’s jaw tightened, her gaze sharp on Subject 009. Zilla caught the muffled hiss under Meyra’s breath.

  "Get to your units!" Varkas roared again, shattering the silence.

  In an instant, Units 001 through 010 were lined up before their respective rooms. They stood facing the cold steel that would be their new cells.

  "Enter and rest. Prepare yourselves for tomorrow, you dregs! Try not to die on your first day!"

  With the command, the steel doors along the hallway slid open in unison, creating an orchestra of deafening metal. In this place, gender and age were irrelevant variables. Peterumman had erased their humanity.

  ***

  Inside the cramped, musty Room 09 B, the tension finally snapped. The neon light turned green—resting time.

  "Green means we rest," Zilla said, her voice steady under the sickly glow.

  "There are only two bunk beds and one single bed... how do we do this?" Amae asked softly.

  "Wait! What are you doing, Nine?" Meyra snapped as the boy walked straight to the single bed and lay down. "You’re going to get us in trouble!"

  Subject 009 glanced at his bloodied arm. He didn't answer, simply closing his eyes as if Meyra’s anger were nothing more than a mosquito’s buzz. Meyra stepped forward. "You think you’re special? Varkas is going to skin us alive tomorrow because of your 'heroic' stunt!"

  "Wait... Meyra...! He—" Amae stammered, trying to defend him.

  "Shut up! This happened because you talked back to that scrap heap!" Meyra barked, silencing him.

  Meyra lunged to grab Subject 009’s shoulder, but Zilla intercepted her with lightning speed, pinning Meyra’s arm and muffling her mouth. Meyra went to protest, but she stopped dead.

  Thump... Thump... Thump...

  Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway—the rhythm of a patrolling predator. The steps slowed, then stopped right in front of their steel door. Zilla pressed a finger to her lips: Not a sound.

  The air grew thin, as if an invisible hand were squeezing their throats. They stood like statues, holding their breath. A few agonizing seconds passed before the footsteps receded and vanished at the end of the hall. The tension locking their shoulders finally broke.

  They exhaled in unison, desperate to refill their lungs.

  "Watch your voice, Mey! Look at the boy's hand—it's bleeding! He only did it to protect Amae!" Zilla whispered.

  Meyra went silent, staring at the red stains smearing the white sheets where 009 lay.

  "I’ll treat it later," Zilla said, squeezing Meyra’s shoulder to calm her. "Since you’ve settled down, I’ll assign the tasks so we can survive this room together. For now, the beds. Since Amae and Nine are the only boys, you two have to yield."

  "Fine... Amae, you take the top bunk!" Zilla whispered.

  She glanced sharply at the other bunk. "When Nine wakes up, you both stay on top. I’ll take the single bed to keep an eye on everyone!"

  Amae nodded silently, not daring to argue. Meanwhile, Subject 009 remained motionless, as if Meyra’s threats were merely wind.

  ***

  He drifted. Behind his eyelids, he saw an expanse of blue water and a sky of sand. He stood there, every movement triggering ripples that grew into waves.

  “Where is this?” his mind whispered. A grain of light-sand fell into his palm. Suddenly, a fragment of memory flashed: A woman kneeling, chanting a cool, green healing spell over his skin.

  "The ant doesn't hate you. It just doesn't know you. It bit you because you accidentally broke its home... Nugia."

  He bolted awake, his breath ragged. "Nugia?" he muttered.

  ***

  Silence blanketed the room. Meyra, who had just stepped out of the washroom with wet hair, stared at him. "Your name... Nugia? A decent name. Fits your face," she said curtly, turning away.

  "You’re awake, Nine? You remembered your name?" Zilla asked softly. She sat on the edge of the bed, stroking the hair of 018, who had also just recalled her name.

  "This is Reyna," Zilla continued, nodding toward the girl. "She remembered her name too. She’s shy, but she’s a good girl." Reyna (018) kept her head down, her fingers twitching at the hem of her uniform.

  Across the room, Amae was already fast asleep, snoring loudly. "Take my bag, Varkas!" he muttered in his sleep.

  Meyra and Zilla shared a spontaneous look. A faint smile flickered—the first genuine smile in that cursed place. But the mood shifted as Meyra approached Nugia.

  "Sorry!" Meyra blurted out. "Sorry for what?" Nugia asked without looking at her, focused only on his bandaged hand.

  Meyra froze. She stepped closer, still wrapped only in a towel. "Sorry for yelling at you!" she screamed, her face flushed red.

  Zilla went to scold her for the noise, but she froze as Meyra’s towel slipped.

  Her pale, unblemished, and naked body stood exposed before Nugia’s eyes. Nugia simply stared, his gaze hollow as Meyra stood there in a desperate, ego-driven attempt to provoke some reaction from him. Meyra’s face burned.

  THWACK!

  A punch landed square on Nugia’s jaw. Meyra threw it with all her remaining strength and exploding shame. Nugia tumbled to the side, fresh blood seeping from his lip.

  "You... you damn dreg! Why didn't you close your eyes?! Why were you looking at me like I’m just a piece of meat?!" Meyra screamed, caught between rage and tears.

  Zilla moved like a flash, wrapping Meyra back in the towel. "Enough, Meyra! Get into your bed, now!"

  Meyra disappeared behind her bunk's curtains to dress. Silence returned. Nugia stood up slowly, wiping the blood from his lip with a slight tremor.

  "I didn't see you as meat," Nugia’s voice broke the silence, flat and cold as ice. "I was just counting. You have five scars on your body. Where did you get them?" he asked innocently.

  Meyra went silent, hiding under her blankets, letting the terrifyingly innocent question hang in the air. Zilla approached, dabbing Nugia’s wound with a damp cloth. "Rest, Nugia. Tomorrow is the field. Out there, they don't clean the blood off the floor."

  Nugia lay back down. Amidst Amae’s snoring, his mind was restless, haunted by the earlier events and the unanswered dream.

  Outside the dormitory door, Varkas trembled as he gripped his cybernetic arm. "A Witch’s eyes..." he whispered, his voice carried away by the wind.