The sun had just begun to rise over the steel-gray horizon of Fort Echelon Depot. A light mist hovered above the ground, giving the massive military complex an almost surreal appearance. The metallic towers of the depot shimmered under the early morning light, casting long shadows over the sprawling training grounds below.
Dray Ballack stood in line alongside dozens of other elite recruits from various unit camps. The air was cold and sharp, filled with the distant clamor of machinery and marching boots. The recruits wore fresh uniforms, all marked with unique identifiers from their previous units. Dray's chest bore the insignia of Unit 47-C, but here at Fort Echelon, past affiliations held little weight.
A sharp whistle pierced the air.
"Form ranks!" a voice barked.
The recruits straightened immediately. From the far end of the field, a tall figure emerged. Broad-shouldered, with a rigid posture and a perfectly trimmed beard, Lieutenant Drahm walked with a confidence that commanded instant attention. His deep-set eyes scanned the group like a laser.
He stopped a few steps in front of them and clasped his hands behind his back.
"Welcome to Fort Echelon Depot," he began, his voice loud and clear. "You were all selected and transferred here because you're not ordinary recruits. You've shown grit, potential, and the kind of raw strength that can be forged into something greater. But understand this—whatever training you received in your previous units? That was child's play."
He took a step forward, eyes locking with Dray's briefly.
"Here, we train warriors. Special forces. Soldiers who can survive the worst hells of the known galaxy. We break you here. Then we build you. You will feel like dying, but you won't. Not unless you break. And if you break... you're already dead."
The group remained silent. The tension in the air thickened.
"This is your final stop. There is no turning back from Fort Echelon. Six months from now, those of you who remain standing will be eligible for advanced deployment. Until then, you obey, you endure, and you evolve."
Lieutenant Drahm motioned for a datapad assistant. A hologram projected from the small device, listing the depot's rules and regulations.
"Let's make this clear," he continued. "There are rules in this depot that you will memorize and follow to the letter."
The list appeared in bold red:
No leaving the depot without authorization.
No contact with civilians or external networks.
Uniforms must be worn at all times.
Fraternization across units is prohibited.
Orders are absolute.
Injury or fatigue is not an excuse to avoid duty.
Infractions will be punished with isolation or hard labor.
Drahm turned his head slowly. "Break one of these, and you'll wish you were never born."
He raised his hand, pointing toward the southern end of the compound where two groups had already been separated.
"Ladies, to the south wing barracks. Boys, east wing. Training will be segregated but evaluated equally. There are no exceptions. Every recruit here will sweat blood."
The groups broke into movement, escorted by drill instructors.
Dray followed the others toward the east wing barracks. The building was large, made of dull steel panels, with high ceilings and rows of stacked bunks. Each bunk had a digital lock, a standard-issued mattress, and a reinforced footlocker. He found an unoccupied bunk and placed his gear down.
A siren blared overhead.
"Training begins in fifteen minutes!"
Dray quickly suited up and joined the others back on the grounds.
Their first task was simple: physical endurance. A three-hour sequence of sprinting, climbing, push-ups, and weighted crawls under scorching heat-emitting panels. The instructors watched with cold expressions, barking corrections and shouting when someone slowed down.
Dray gritted his teeth through each drill. Muscles strained, his breath came in sharp bursts, and the ground beneath his palms burned with simulated heat. But he didn't stop. Not once.
By the end of the session, half the recruits were on the ground, groaning.
Lieutenant Drahm walked among them.
"This is your warm-up. Get used to pain. Get used to being pushed. This is how you survive. Now, hydrate, eat, and report to the sim-hall in one hour."
The cafeteria hall was cold and industrial. Recruits were given ration blocks and nutrient fluids. Dray ate quietly, sitting across from a boy from Unit 22-B. No one said much. Everyone was still recovering from the intensity of the morning.
After the meal, they reported to the sim-hall—a large dome structure filled with holographic projectors and terrain generators. Here, they'd undergo tactical drills, obstacle runs, and battle simulations.
For the next two hours, Dray's group ran through ruined cities, burning jungles, and zero-gravity mazes. Every exercise was designed to test coordination, decision-making, and adaptability.
Dray performed well—not perfect, but focused. He followed orders, moved with instinct, and began adapting to the environment faster than others.
By the end of the day, his uniform was soaked with sweat. His body ached in places he didn't know existed.
Back at the barracks, he collapsed onto his bunk.
System Notification:
—EXP Gained: +10 (Elite Physical Training)
—EXP Gained: +8 (Simulation Completion)
System Interface:
Name: Dray Ballack
Bloodline: Locked (Awakening Trigger Detected)
Race: Human (???)
Level: 6
Class: None
Strength: 7
Agility: 7
Endurance: 3
Vitality: 5
Skills:
• Night Adaptation (Passive)
• Blood Sense (Passive – Incomplete)
• Blood Echo (Tier I)
Inventory:
• Rusted Circuit Knife
• Obsidian Data Chip
• Unknown Crystal (Bound)
System Shop: [Access Granted – Insufficient Permissions for Purchase]
Next Level: 207 EXP
Status: Stable
The lights dimmed. Silence settled over the barracks.
Dray stared up at the metal ceiling above his bunk. He had survived day one. Barely.
And this was just the beginning.
The coming days would only get harder. But he welcomed it. Every drop of sweat, every strain in his muscles, brought him closer to the truth—closer to unlocking the bloodline that stirred inside him.
This was Fort Echelon.
This was war training.
And Dray Ballack was here to conquer it.