[Wolf Lord+ | Draft] Arc 1 - Chapter 146 - Primum --- END OF ARC 1 (Patreon)

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Welcome to the draft release of Arc 1 - Chapter 146 - Primum for y'all.

As always, a quick reminder that this chapter is still in the process of being workshopped by me and that this is simply the first-draft.

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Well... This is it, everyone.

The final chapter for TAS' Arc 1.

It is a whopping 22,253 words long, making it BY FAR the longest chapter I've ever written, or released.

It was an absolutely monumental effort to get this one done and I haven't had time to edit or proofread it properly yet, so you'll have to do that for me.

I hope you will enjoy the final moments with the first Arc of The Allbright System and get excited for the second Volume starting in the very next chapter.

I currently have no plans to take any extended breaks, so the first chapter for Volume 2 should be available to all of you fairly quickly; but I will reserve every right for myself to take a break, if I feel like I need it after this chapter has been live for a bit.

Thank you for reading this overly long novel so far; and I hope you will stick with me for the next years to come as well.

The Allbright System still has a long way to go before I consider it complete; and Thea's story is only just beginning.

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is the link to the chapter:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/12H5MsJ6q9BuH6S0Lc-OVk7R1Zf4SdCQYozM9nfe7iPk/edit?usp=sharing

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Arc 1 - Chapter 146 - Primum

“We once more are going to honor the Medics of the Assessment with the Recruit and Assessment-tier Emperor’s Touch awards,” Major Quinn announced as the screen behind her once more turned into a representation of the various medals available for this category.

Alpha Squad settled back into their seats, the earlier joviality fading into a more focused calm. 

Thea followed suit, sinking into her chair with a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief, her gaze locked on the two medals in her hands.

Having two Two-Star Palladium medals felt surreal, downright absurd, as if reality itself had bent to accommodate something that shouldn’t have been possible. 

The weight of the medals—both literal and symbolic—felt heavier than her hands could bear, yet she couldn’t stop staring at the polished silver-hued surfaces. The way the podium lights danced across them made them seem almost alive, their gleam a constant reminder of her accomplishments.

‘This is absolutely crazy,’ she thought, her mind unable to fully grasp the enormity of it. ‘Second best in the entire Assessment for two separate categories? I didn’t even think I’d get anything above maybe a Recruit award, but now I have two…?’

She turned one medal over in her flesh-and-blood hand, running her fingers along the cool, etched surface, while the other rested in her cybernetic palm. The contrast between the two felt oddly poetic—a blend of her old self and the new, standing as proof of her journey.

Yet, the surreal pride in her heart was accompanied by a gnawing unease. 

It felt particularly strange because the feats she had been recognized for didn’t seem all that impressive to her.

The Eyes In The Sky medal weighed heavily on her thoughts, the sense of unearned glory clouding what should have been her moment of triumph. 

‘It was just a coincidence,’ she told herself again, the rationalization becoming a mantra. ‘I spotted some tire tracks, nothing more. If that truck hadn’t been loaded with experimental tech, it wouldn’t have meant anything. It could have just been a troop transporter, and no one would’ve cared.’

She exhaled softly, the sour taste of undeserved praise lingering. 

While she couldn’t deny that her instincts had led them to that pivotal moment, the idea that her success hinged on sheer luck made her uncomfortable. 

How could she reconcile the accolades with the reality she believed?

Her thoughts turned to Desmond’s earlier achievement. 

Despite his impressive display of controlling three drones at once—something she still couldn’t imagine doing herself—he’d only received a Gold medal. 

It didn’t seem fair, and the imbalance gnawed at her.

The second medal, the one she had just been awarded, felt slightly less misplaced in her hands. At least with this one, she could point to some actual effort and execution on her part. 

Taking out the Anti-Armour Cannons alongside Lucas had been one of the most adrenaline-fueled moments of the entire assessment for her. Drawing the combined ire of an entire defensive installation like the Wall wasn’t something just anyone could claim.

But as the initial rush of that memory faded, the doubt crept back in.

Shooting the Anti-Armour Cannons hadn’t exactly been a masterclass in skill, either. 

Almost anyone could have done what she had, provided they had access to the Caliburn and her [Detect Weak Spots] Ability. It wasn’t as though she had to make a difficult shot or perform any kind of advanced tactics. 

It was simply point, click, and let the Caliburn’s overwhelming power do the rest.

She glanced down at the medals again, their polished surfaces gleaming in the dim light of the hall. She was undoubtedly happy to have them, but they didn’t feel earned. 

They felt more like strange consolation prizes than anything else.

‘But why would the UHF hand out consolation prizes?’ The thought gnawed at her, refusing to let go. ‘Is it because of my talk with Lumis? Did she pull some strings…?’

The idea festered in her mind like a wound, festering since she had been called up for the first medal. The longer she thought about it, the less sense it made. 

A random lucky guess leading to an Assessment-tier award? 

Especially one as prestigious as the Two-Star Palladium?

‘Lumis did say I’d get extra rewards to circumvent the System’s restrictions...’ Her logical side countered, trying to stitch together some understanding. But even that explanation felt incomplete.

The idea lodged itself like a splinter in her mind, festering the longer she thought about it. Lumis had promised extra rewards to bypass the System’s restrictions, so maybe she had intervened in some way.

‘But then again,’ her logical side argued, ‘if the System was involved in any capacity, it wouldn’t allow favoritism. The System doesn’t bend to whims, not even for the UHF brass. If they could manipulate it, they wouldn’t be desperate enough to recruit from Midworlds in the first place.’

Her train of thought only spiraled further. ‘So, does that mean the System genuinely thought my actions were worthy of these medals? How? It was just luck. I saw some tire tracks and got the Caliburn lined up on a big target. How does that justify this kind of recognition…?’

Her ruminations swirled like a storm, an unrelenting battle between her doubt and the tiny flicker of pride trying to fight through. 

Yet the doubt still loomed larger, its shadow darkening her every thought.

All the while, the ceremony continued undisturbed. 

Major Quinn’s voice was a steady background, presenting one medal after another. 

Thea paid little attention, certain of one thing amidst her doubts—Karania would undoubtedly be called up soon. 

If anyone deserved an Assessment-tier medal, it was her. 

There wasn’t a shred of doubt in Thea’s mind about that.

So she only started paying attention when she heard Major Quinn call out the winner of the Two-Star Platinum medal; who naturally turned out to not be Karania.

Thea glanced at her friend, who, as always, appeared utterly serene, sitting back in her seat with the kind of calm that seemed impossible amidst the tension. 

Karania’s posture was relaxed, her expression composed as always, and her eyes fixed on the stage with the quiet confidence of someone who already knew exactly when her name would be called. 

It was as if doubt itself had never existed in her mind, not even for a moment.

“How do you do it?” Thea asked before she could stop herself, her voice barely above a whisper. She immediately regretted it, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

Karania turned to her, her piercing gaze meeting Thea’s as if she’d been expecting the question all along. 

Thea fumbled, almost wishing she could pull the words back into her mouth.

“Do what? Not freak out about what medal I might get?” Karania replied, her lips curling into that knowing smile she often wore—the one that always made Thea feel like her thoughts weren’t as private as she hoped. “It’s simple: Logic and observation.”

Thea remained quiet, instinctively leaning closer as she braced for the explanation she knew was coming. Karania had a way of breaking down her perspective that always made Thea feel simultaneously in awe and more than just a little inadequate.

“I’ve seen most of the Medics in this Assessment,” Karania began, her voice calm and even. “At least the ones on the eastern front. And I’m better than them. Vastly better.” There was no arrogance in her tone, only an unshakable certainty that came from knowing the truth. 

“I poured everything I had into making sure people made it out alive—often at the cost of myself.”

She raised her cybernetic arm, her mechanical fingers flexing slightly, a silent testament to the sacrifices she had made during the assessment.

“I skipped sleep. I skipped meals. I worked myself to the bone to save every single person I could, wherever I went,” she continued, her voice growing firmer. “And when I felt like I was going to pass out from exhaustion, I simply kept going. Because if I didn’t, people would die. And that’s unacceptable.”

Her tone shifted, growing sharper, more fervent, her eyes gleaming with the intensity of her belief. “Death is a symptom of an untreated condition—a condition that I can fix. And I will. Every time.”

Thea stared, unable to look away as her friend spoke with a conviction so deep it seemed to fill the space around her. 

Karania wasn’t just confident—it was something deeper, a kind of purpose that seemed to define every part of Karania’s being.

She didn’t need reassurance or validation from the UHF or anyone else. 

She knew her worth, knew the impact she’d made, and it radiated from her in a way that left Thea feeling both inspired and humbled.

“Other Medics I saw, broke down, took breaks, decided that a person wasn’t worth their time or energy trying to save—they gave up,” Karania said, her voice low but laced with an intensity that demanded Thea’s full attention. “They lost the fight with themselves as much as they lost the fight with death itself. They were weak. Unworthy of being called Medics. Unworthy of being relied upon in the midst of the only battle that matters: Life and death.”

Thea was enraptured. 

She had never heard her friend speak like this before, so openly passionate, so raw. 

It was as if Karania had peeled back a hidden layer of herself, revealing a side of her that few, if any, had ever seen. It felt like stumbling into a secret room in a familiar house, something you never even knew existed.

“That’s observation,” Karania continued, her tone steady but filled with fervor. “Logic, then, dictates that the person who does better than these so-called Medics will be placed higher in the rankings. I’ve seen the majority of Medics on the eastern front. I’ve met Medics from the western front earlier in the assessment as well. None of them stood out. They were Medics when it was convenient—when they had the energy to spare, when the odds were easy enough to make it an obvious win.”

There was a rare sharpness in her voice, an undercurrent of disgust that Thea had never heard before. Karania rarely spoke ill of anyone, especially others in the same role as herself, but now, her disdain for what she considered mediocrity among her peers was unmistakable.

“There were a few, of course, who understood the true calling. A few who fought longer, harder, and further than others. But in the end? They all gave up. So, logic dictates that the one who does not give up, who fights harder, longer, without breaking, will win.”

Karania’s eyes locked onto Thea’s, her gaze intense, unyielding and raw. It was impossible to look away, as if her words held Thea captive in a spell she didn’t want to escape.

“And I never give up, Thea,” Karania said, her voice dropping slightly, almost a whisper, but carrying the weight of a solemn vow. “Death is the ultimate enemy. The thing that hunts us all without pause, without rest, without tiring. If you, as a Medic, cannot match its relentlessness, then who are you to claim you can beat it? I never give up. 

“I saved people from the kind of brinks that others wouldn’t believe. I sacrificed my own flesh and blood to give even the furthest-gone the most miniscule of a chance. I worked day and night, without rest, without a break, to save those who could be saved. And those who couldn’t?” 

She paused, her voice hardening. “I still fought for them. Because death fights for them too, every single time.”

Her cybernetic hand flexed slightly, the light catching the metal as if emphasizing her point.

“I don’t fear death. I loathe it. Death steals from us—our futures, our potential, the infinite possibilities of change. It is the thief that cuts short humanity’s greatest gift: The ability to grow. To evolve. To be. Death is not some passive inevitability. It is an active predator. And like any predator, it, too, can be hunted.”

Thea’s breath caught. 

Karania’s words now carried a weight that was almost overwhelming, her conviction like a veritable force of nature.

“Death is the ultimate enemy, Thea. And I don’t just keep it at bay. I will defeat it. I will destroy its very existence in our reality. I will hunt it down, like it hunted us for time immemorial, without rest, without respite, until every last person has been saved and death becomes nothing but a distant memory.”

Her voice rose slightly, an edge of righteous defiance sharpening her words. “Death itself will learn to fear. Because I will not let it claim what it wants. Death itself will learn to fear because I will not rest, like so many others. Death itself will learn to fear because I don’t care if it chooses someone to die—I will fight it every step of the way, no matter what.”

She leaned forward slightly, her piercing gaze locking with Thea’s once again, as if daring her to disagree.

“Logic dictates that the one who refuses to give up will win. So I will win. Death itself will learn to fear me, Thea. Because I am a Medic, and death is nothing but a symptom that requires treatment.”

Thea could only stare, speechless, as her friend got up from her chair, calm once more, as if she hadn’t just declared war on the very concept of mortality itself.

In the same moment, Major Quinn’s commanding voice echoed through the hall, clear and resolute: “And with the utmost pleasure, respect, and genuine pride, I present the Two-Star Crysium Emperor’s Touch Medal to our very own Karania Faulkner, from Sovereign Alpha!”

The hall erupted. 

Cheers, screams, and applause crashed through the air like a tidal wave, the sheer force of it vibrating through the floor and walls, threatening to tear the Sovereign apart at the very seams. 

Yet, Thea barely registered it. 

The cacophony seemed distant, muffled beneath the weight of her own thoughts as her eyes remained locked on Karania’s back. She had watched as her friend moved with purpose, already halfway to the stage before Major Quinn had even finished announcing her name. 

‘She knew,’ Thea thought, a mix of awe and disbelief swirling within her. ‘She knew this was hers from the very beginning.’

As the roaring cheers continued, Thea felt a strange sense of quiet envelop her. 

The overwhelming pride she felt for Karania mingled with a deeper sense of humility. 

For all her own doubts, victories, and struggles, Karania’s unflinching determination and belief in her own cause stood as a blinding reminder of the heights one could reach when driven by an unrelenting purpose. It was almost overwhelming, the sheer force of her friend’s clarity and conviction, and it left Thea grappling with a question she had managed to avoid until now.

‘What… is my purpose?’

Her friend’s composure hadn’t wavered for even a moment under the weight of the spotlight, and as Major Quinn extended the medal, the pride in her voice mirrored the room’s thunderous approval. 

Thea found herself clapping, even cheering with the rest of the squad, her face breaking into a wide grin despite the storm raging within. But her thoughts refused to settle.

‘What exactly is my purpose? My drive? My goal?’

She glanced down at her hands, the medals still nestled in her lap. ‘I am not Karania, fighting death itself for the very concept of mortality. I’m not Corvus, leading squads, armies, and Factions into battles that will define the future. I’m not even like Isabella, plowing through anyone in her path just to prove her right to exist… So who am I?’

The question gnawed at her, threatening to consume her. She tried to peel back the layers of her life, searching for something that had always been there, something that defined her. 

Her mind drifted to the cold, wet streets of Lumiosia’s Undercity. 

The endless shadows. The hunger. The broken glass. 

‘Heroics? A noble goal? Some grand, righteous purpose?’

The answer came to her immediately. 

‘No. No, that’s not it.’

She didn’t need to think long or hard about it. 

It had always been there, woven into the very fabric of her being, hammered into her by every hard lesson the universe had ever thrown at her. It even mirrored James’ first-ever Golden Rule.

‘Survival.’

And with survival came a single, undeniable truth.

‘To survive, you need to be the best. There is no other way.’

The memory of hiding in the dank ruins of the Undercity flashed in her mind. Of trying to bargain her way out of danger. Of fighting with every ounce of strength she had. 

All of it had failed, at one time or another—because she hadn’t been the best.

She hadn’t been the best at hiding, so she was found.
She hadn’t been the best at negotiating, so she was betrayed.
She hadn’t been the best at fighting, so she was injured and robbed.

It wasn’t enough to try, to simply scrape by. 

Survival belonged to those who excelled—beyond question, beyond doubt—at whatever it was they chose to do.

As she watched Karania descend the podium’s steps, the blue-tinted medal gleaming under the harsh lights of the hall, a strange clarity settled over Thea. It felt cold, but also freeing, like a fog had lifted to reveal a single, undeniable path.

‘Being the best. That is my purpose.’

The thought crystallized in her mind, clear and sharp as glass. 

It wasn’t heroic or noble. It wasn’t grand or righteous. 

But it was the truth.

Thea blinked, her thoughts scattering as Karania abruptly appeared in front of her, concern etched across her face. “You okay, Thea?”

It took Thea a moment to process the question, her vision feeling strangely off as if a faint violet-hued filter had been cast over her eyes. She rubbed at them instinctively, realizing it was likely from staring too long into the harsh lights of the podium without blinking.

“I… Yeah,” Thea replied, her voice faltering slightly as she tried to pull herself fully back to the present. “Just… zoned out for a second. Sorry about that.”

Karania studied her for a moment, her sharp gaze seeming to dissect Thea’s words as though searching for deeper meaning. But after a moment, she just gave a light shrug. “Alright, I’ll let you off this time. But only because I’m feeling generous from winning this thing.”

Thea chuckled at that, a genuine smile creeping onto her face as she gestured to the glittering Crysium medal in Karana’s hand. “Speaking of winning, congratulations, Kara. You deserve it more than anyone. Truly. You’re… Incredible.”

“Damn right, I am,” Karania replied with a playful smirk, her hand briefly brushing over the medal as though grounding herself in the reality of it. “But thanks, Thea. Really.”

Thea nodded, her smile softening. 

For all her friend’s confidence, there was something genuine in the way Karania carried herself right now—like the weight of the recognition meant more than she let on originally.

Then, out of nowhere, a memory hit Thea like a bolt of lightning. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at Karania. “Wait a second… Did you fucking time that? You know, the speech—ending it right before your name got called, so you could do a cool walk-off?”

Karania’s smirk widened into a full grin, and she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice conspiratorially. 

“Please, Thea. You really think I’d be capable of that and be extra enough to actually do it?” 

She punctuated the sentence with a sly wink before leaning back into her chair, her expression unreadable.

Thea opened her mouth to ask for clarification, but Karania had already shifted her attention back to the stage, leaving her hanging.

Frustrated but amused, Thea shook her head and let her gaze wander around the hall, trying to piece together how much of the ceremony she had missed while lost in her thoughts. 

It didn’t take long to realize that Alpha Squad had already returned to their seats, their previous celebration replaced by their usual focused demeanor. Her eyes darted toward the podium, where Major Quinn was already halfway through introducing the Recruit Awards for the Stellar Republic Reaper category.

‘What the fuck…? Was I really out for that long?’

Thea’s mind reeled as she tried to piece together the gap in her memory. 

From the moment Karania had started to walk down the podium steps to when she’d asked Thea if she was okay, at least two or three minutes had passed—minutes she couldn’t account for at all.

She could still feel the echo of clarity from earlier, though, a sharp and undeniable recognition of something she’d once known instinctively as a child but had allowed to fade over time.

‘To be the best… To survive.’

The two medals in her hands suddenly felt heavier, their weight pressing down on her in a way that was both sobering and empowering. It was as if her earlier doubts had dissipated, leaving behind a raw, unfiltered truth.

‘Anyone could have found that truck; but it wasn’t anyone—it was me,’ Thea thought, her gaze locking onto the Eyes In The Sky medal. 

She shifted her focus to the Surgical Strike medal, and another thought crystallized with striking clarity: ‘I only had the Caliburn because I fucking owned the shooting range trial and aced the Cube Trial for the Tech-Up Voucher. I only had [Detect Weak Spots] because I earned a Gold-rank Accomplishment. Those weren’t handed to me; they were earned. They were parts of me, parts of what made that situation possible. It wasn’t just luck—it was me, being better prepared than anyone else at that moment.’

Thea’s lips quirked into a small, determined smile. 

Luck had always been a factor in every video game she’d ever played—whether it was a perfectly timed drop that she capitalized on, an enemy’s misstep she exploited, or an improbable series of events aligning just right to get her ahead. 

But would she ever have claimed that topping the leaderboards was purely luck?

Of course not.

Winning was always an intersection of preparation, skill, and luck. 

It was about being ready to seize the opportunities when they came, about turning those slim chances into defining moments. 

Only those who managed to capitalize on those moments made it to the top.

‘So why would this be any different?’

The thought settled over her like a revelation, sinking deep into her chest and spreading through her like a long-awaited truth. 

The medals in her hands weren’t trophies of random chance—they were proof that she’d been ready when it mattered most. Proof that she’d been the best when it counted and had managed to capitalize on the moment, when others could not.

‘So why wouldn’t I be proud of them?’

Thea’s grip on the medals tightened as a surge of confidence bubbled up inside her. Before she could think twice, the words escaped her mouth: “I’m getting a medal for this one.”

Karania’s head snapped toward her, eyebrows raised in abject surprise. “What?”

“Two-Star Platinum or Palladium,” Thea clarified, her voice steady and sure in a way that even surprised her. “Probably Platinum.”

Her gaze locked with Karania’s, and for a brief moment, neither of them said anything. Then, Karania broke into a beaming smile, so bright and genuine it made Thea’s heart skip a beat. 

Without warning, Karania wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug.

“I knew you’d come around,” Karania said warmly, her voice filled with pride. “Just remember, this is only the first step. It’ll still be tough, but you just made the hardest one. I’m so proud of you, Thea.”

Thea froze, overwhelmed by both the sudden physical contact and the unexpected warmth of Karania’s words. “Wait—I didn’t mean it like that, I was just—” she stammered, attempting to backpedal, but Karania’s surprisingly strong grip kept her firmly in place.

Before Thea could figure out how to respond, the sound of Major Quinn’s voice cut through the moment like the chime ringing at the end of a round in AoC; stopping the game dead in its tracks.

“For the Two-Star Platinum Stellar Republic Reaper Award, I once more welcome Thea McKay from our very own Sovereign Alpha to the stage!”

The familiar grip of anxiety wrapped around Thea’s chest immediately, tightening with each word. But this time, it didn’t consume her entirely. There was something else—a counterbalance, a fire that surged through her veins, pushing her forward.

She rose from her seat, leaving behind Karania and the rest of Alpha Squad, and began her walk to the podium. For once, Karania didn’t have to nudge her, to get her to move. 

Her steps felt heavy regardless and the closer she got to the podium, the more aware she became of the countless eyes boring into her. It became harder and harder to breathe, the air seeming thicker with every step, but the competitive part of her refused to yield.

‘This is yours. You’ve earned it. Just go and take it.’

By the time she reached Major Quinn, who greeted her with her usual air of unshakable confidence, Thea was focusing all her effort on steadying her breathing.

‘You can do this,’ she told herself, gripping tightly onto the fiery determination in her chest. ‘This is your award. You’ve earned it through blood, sweat, and tears. You’re the best, so accept it like the Marine you are. Everyone else is just a number on a livestream. None of them are as good as you, anyway.’

Behind her, the screen flickered with the recordings, playing a series of clips from her most precise and deadly moments during the assessment. 

It had begun with the initial ambush on day one, where her well-placed shots had picked out the true Integrated Soldiers from among the Stellar Republic’s Unintegrated ranks. 

The footage moved seamlessly to the assault on the artillery station, showing her clean, calculated eliminations that opened the path for Alpha Squad. 

A brief flash of her forest showdown followed—though short, it was no less impressive—before finally transitioning to the firefights in the compound’s chaos, where her sniper rifle seemed to operate like an extension of herself, every target falling without wasted shots or effort.

As the recording ended, Major Quinn stepped fully toward her, offering her hand once more. 

There was no added boost of confidence from an Ability this time—Thea didn’t require it.

“Congratulations once again, Recruit McKay,” Major Quinn announced, her voice carrying over the silent, captivated hall. “The UHF hereby awards you the Two-Star Platinum medal for the Stellar Republic Reaper Award. Alongside this medal, you will receive 6,000 Credits, a 60% Sales Voucher for any equipment aboard the Sovereign, and a Skill Voucher.” She paused for effect, her words deliberate and precise as always. “Additionally, I have been informed by the Sovereign that you have once again met a point threshold for this category, which warrants another Skill Voucher on top of the standard reward. This is starting to become a bit of a repeating experience, is it not?”

She only caught fragments of her own rewards, her heart pounding so hard in her chest that it nearly drowned out Major Quinn’s words. She extended her hand, shaking the Major’s with as firm a grip as she could muster, before accepting the medal.

The cool, weighted metal rested in her hand, providing a strange sort of comfort that she couldn’t quite put into words. Free from obligation, Thea turned and began her descent from the podium.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, trying to meet the gazes of her fellow Recruits as she walked back toward Alpha Squad, but the oppressive weight of their stares forced her to look away after a few pairs. 

She couldn’t quite manage the calm demeanor she’d hoped for yet; the fire in her veins wasn’t quite enough to overpower the anxiety threatening to spill over.

But even with her faltering confidence, one fact stood tall in her mind: She had done it. 

Another medal. And not just any medal—another Two-Star, another Assessment Award.

By now, she was the most decorated Recruit in the entire hall by far. 

And unless Tiberius Soren somehow swept the remaining categories, that wouldn’t change. 

Rachel Masters had already received two medals in the last three categories, meaning that even if she aced the last remaining one, Thea would still be winning out.

Thea’s thoughts were cut off as she returned to her seat and was met with a cacophony of congratulations from Alpha Squad.

“Three fucking Two-Star Medals, Thea? Really?” Isabella’s voice rang out, half incredulous, half impressed. “You’re making the rest of us look like fucking amateurs!”

Corvus gave her a rare, genuine grin. “Keep this up, and I might start worrying about my job. What’s the point of a Squad Leader if the Scout does all the work anyway? Well done, Thea. Truly.”

Desmond nodded, his thumbs raised in mock surrender. “I guess we’re all just going to continue living in your shadow now, huh? Congrats again, seriously.”

Lucas offered her a proud smile and a reserved, “Another well-earned one, Thea,” although it was clear that he was ecstatic, just from the way he was positioned at the edge of his seat.

Finally, Karania turned to her, extending her hand with an encouraging smile. 

Without hesitation, Thea took it, the warmth and firmness of the gesture grounding her as her nerves from yet another trip to the podium began to flutter uncontrollably.

“You’re doing amazing, Thea,” Karania said, squeezing her hand slightly. Her voice was low enough for only Thea to hear, a personal moment amid the surrounding noise. “Facing this head-on like that? I’m really proud of you. It’s not easy, I know.”

Thea smiled faintly, her grip tightening slightly on Karania’s hand as she found a small measure of calm in her friend’s words.

“But,” Karania added, tilting her head slightly in curiosity, “I have to say, I’m surprised at how quickly you’re improving. Has something changed?”

Thea blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. 

She hesitated, unsure how to put her feelings into words. 

Something had, of course, changed—of that much, she was certain. 

The clarity she’d found earlier about her purpose, the recognition of her accomplishments being more than just luck… but how could she explain that without sounding strange?

“I guess…” Thea started, her voice uncertain as she tried to articulate the swirling thoughts in her mind. “I guess I’m just… Trying to emulate you. Your confidence, I mean. I figure, if I can fake it like you do, maybe it’ll start feeling real eventually.”

Karania raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering across her face. “Fake it, huh? You think I’m faking it?”

“Yes. No… Well, not exactly,” Thea backpedaled, flushing slightly. “Just… You always seem so sure of yourself. Like nothing can shake you. I’m trying to channel some of that. Does that make sense…?”

“Yes. It does. Somewhat, at least.” Karania smiled again, her expression softening. “Whatever it is that you’re doing, it’s working. So keep at it, Thea. You’re proving to everyone here—and most importantly, yourself—that you deserve every bit of this.”

Thea nodded, her chest tightening with a mix of gratitude and warmth. 

Her gaze shifted back to the podium, where Major Quinn was already transitioning to the final set of awards for this category, her commanding presence a constant rhythm that guided the entire hall.

With Karania’s words still echoing in her mind, Thea felt the fire in her veins burn a little brighter, dissolving the lingering threads of anxiety she’d carried from her earlier trips to the stage.

‘Three Two-Star medals…’ The thought settled over her with an almost surreal weight. ‘What other Recruit could possibly claim that? It’s proof that I’m doing my part, right…?’

She let her cybernetic fingers toy with the medals in her hand, the smooth, polished surfaces catching and refracting the stage lights into faint glimmers. Their weight wasn’t just physical—it carried tangible proof of her worth, her contributions, her victories.

Thea couldn’t help but savor the satisfaction coursing through her. ‘Proof that I matter. Proof that I got things done that made a difference…’

The moment of quiet pride nearly ended in disaster when her hand fumbled slightly, almost dropping the medals as Major Quinn’s voice suddenly rang out once more, her tone carrying an unmistakable note of emphasis.

“And now, for the fourth time today… Thea McKay. You know her, you’ve heard me say it plenty, but regulations demand it—from our very own Sovereign Alpha! Please welcome her back to the podium again!”

Thea froze, her mind struggling to catch up.

‘Fourth? Fourth?’

Her head snapped toward Karania, whose expression betrayed a mix of humor and exasperation as she raised an eyebrow. It was the silent challenge Thea hadn’t realized she needed: “Where did all that confidence go?”

Thea’s chest tightened, but the fire in her veins surged again, fanning the embers of her resolve. 

She pushed herself up from her chair, steady this time, and strode toward the podium.

This walk felt easier—smoother even than the last. 

The weight of the medals in her hand seemed to ground her with every step. 

The stares of her fellow Recruits, still sharp and heavy, barely slowed her down anymore.

As she ascended the podium stairs, her heartbeat pounded in her ears, loud but no longer overwhelming. Standing side-by-side with Major Quinn, Thea could focus for the first time, her thoughts clear as she turned her attention to the recordings playing behind them.

‘Forward Leadership? Why would I win something here, but not Corvus?’ Thea’s mind spun as she tried to piece together the reasoning. 

She was confident that she had worked her proverbial ass off during the Nova Tertius infiltration, but the thought of Corvus not receiving recognition in this category gnawed at her.

‘What would Karania say in this situation?’ She mused, her thoughts briefly turning to her ever-logical friend. ‘Right. She’d probably say something about criteria and how Corvus’ actions didn’t fit neatly into this specific category. Or how he had simply not been able to perform together with the rest of the squad, due to the way the Assessment went for us… But that’s such bullshit…’

The recording behind her continued to play, but her focus waned as her internal frustrations mounted. 

It felt wrong to be the one standing here, clutching the One-Star Gold medal, when she knew she wasn’t the best Squad Leader amongst the Recruits at the very least—she wasn’t even the best in Alpha Squad; no matter what the UHF’s medals here were trying to say. 

Corvus had been the one orchestrating the most critical moments of their Assessment; had made sure the squad worked together and that they had whatever they required, whenever they required it from the very start. 

Yet here she was, being awarded recognition while Corvus, the quintessential, text-book leader, had to make do with the MVM medal he had received earlier.

It left a bitter taste in her mouth.

‘This just doesn’t feel right…’

But even as the doubt crept in, another part of her—a part that had been growing louder with every medal won—began to push back. ‘There’s nothing you can do about it, Thea. Once again, you’ve made the best out of a shitty situation.’

She remembered the chaos of those moments, the crushing weight of responsibility when Corvus had left her in charge. 

She had to lead Alpha Squad through the treacherous terrain of the industrial sector, the relentless pressure of navigating through the civilian areas without being caught; and against the impossible odds of facing down the Psyker Duo. 

Yet, somehow, despite the odds, she had managed to put them in a position to succeed.

‘This is your dues; don’t cheapen them by complaining about Corvus’ situation. He didn’t get lucky enough—wasn’t prepared enough to take advantage of the situation he was thrust into. Simple as that.’

The thought jarred her, leaving her feeling uncomfortable. 

To frame Corvus in that light, after everything he had done for her, felt… wrong.

But the voice inside of her, now strong enough to truly fight against her self-doubt in equal measure, refused to back down. ‘This isn’t about Corvus right now. This is about you. You took the reins when it mattered, made the calls, and got results. That’s what matters.’

By the time the recordings ended and Major Quinn turned to address her directly, Thea forced herself to focus, the conflicting emotions still swirling within her but tempered by a growing sense of pride.

‘That’s right… I might not have been the best Squad Leader; I might never be… but I was the best that had been available. And that’s why I’m here. That’s why I deserve this Medal…!’

Once more shaking Major Quinn’s hand, Thea accepted the One-Star Gold Medal and its corresponding rewards: 4,500 Credits, a 50% Sales Voucher, and yet another Skill Voucher. 

The weight of the medal in her hand felt lighter this time—not because it meant any less to her, but because she was slowly becoming accustomed to the idea of earning these accolades. It felt right, downright expected, to hold them all in her hand like this.

With steady steps, she descended the podium. 

The oppressive heat of so many eyes on her still crawled up her neck and into her cheeks, but it didn’t shake her footing anymore. She no longer felt the compulsion to rush back to the safety of Alpha Squad’s seats. 

Instead, her strides remained deliberate, her posture firm.

Her eyes met those of the watching crowd more easily now, a quiet defiance simmering beneath her gaze. Once, twice, thrice—she stared back, challenging anyone who might question her right to be there. She wasn’t keeping count anymore, only moving forward.

By the time she reached her row, the exertion caught up with her. 

Her head drooped slightly just as she slipped into the seat beside the rest of her squad, the effort of holding herself steady finally demanding its toll.

Before she could dwell on her exhaustion—or worse, the possibility of meeting Corvus’ gaze and finding resentment there—she was suddenly pulled into a crushing bear-hug.

“Fantastic fucking work, Thea,” Corvus said, his voice warm and full of genuine pride right next to her ear. She froze, too stunned to respond. “I never doubted your capabilities as a secondary squad leader even for a second—and neither did the UHF, as is clearly apparent. Well done. Thank you for taking care of the squad while I was indisposed, Thea.”

When he finally released her, Thea blinked up at him, her mind still trying to catch up to the unexpected moment of praise; having instead expected enviousness, maybe even full-on resentment. 

Corvus stepped back slightly, his sly smile growing wider as he added, “Next time around, I’ll be taking that Medal though, alright? No more Forward Leadership Awards for you, as long as I’m around!”

Thea couldn’t help but crack a grin at his playful challenge, the tension in her chest easing markedly. Once again, she realized just how completely she had misjudged Corvus’ likely reaction.

“You’ll have to actually be around to do your job for once, then,” she shot back, her voice steadier and laced with humor than she had thought possible moments before.

Corvus mimed getting shot in the chest, stumbling backwards with exaggerated drama before slumping into his chair, chuckling all the while. His over-the-top antics earned a round of laughter from the rest of the squad, cutting through any lingering formality.

Alpha Squad didn’t hesitate to pile on their congratulations once more, short and to the point, but no less genuine for it. By now, the initial novelty of somebody winning awards, especially Thea, had long worn off, replaced by a growing, matter-of-fact pride in her accomplishments.

“So,” Karania began with a familiar smugness, sliding into her usual seat beside Thea and seamlessly offering her hand for Thea to latch onto and recharge, “you want to tell me something?”

Thea raised an eyebrow, having no real idea where this was going.

“Maybe something along the lines of: ‘I’m sorry, Kara, for doubting your genius. You were completely right, and I behaved like a petulant child, whining and worrying for no reason that I wasn’t going to win anything.’ Or,” Karania continued, her grin widening, “should I wait until you add the last two Medals to your collection before I can expect an apology?”

Thea rolled her eyes, though a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She could feel the warmth from Kara’s hand, steadying her nerves as she leaned back in her seat.

“Fiiiiine,” she muttered, half-jokingly. “I’m sorry for doubting you, oh great and allmighty. You’re clearly some kind of psychic genius who can see the future, or even more likely, probably manipulate the very fabric of the universe itself to make me win Awards.”

“Damn straight,” Karania said with a wink, clearly reveling in the moment.

Thea chuckled, shaking her head as the banter between her and Karania slowly fizzled out, replaced by a companionable silence. She leaned back in her seat, still clutching her medals, the cool weight of them grounding her in the present. 

Major Quinn meanwhile, ever the efficient one, transitioned seamlessly to the second-to-last category of the awards.

“Now, we come to the Ace Squad Awards,” Major Quinn announced, her tone laced with anticipation. 

Thea felt her squad tense around her, even Corvus straightening slightly in his seat. 

This was one of the big ones.

Alpha Squad hadn’t earned one during the Sovereign Awards, so they were bound to be called up for either one of the Recruit or Assessment Awards—there was no doubt in anybody’s mind inside the squad that they had earned one; Thea didn’t even need to ask.

Time seemed to blur as Major Quinn began listing off the lower-tier awards, each announcement punctuated by polite applause and ripples of excitement among the assembled Recruits.

None of the Sovereign’s squads were called for any of the Recruit Awards—not a surprise, except for the complete absence of Sovereign Alpha’s own name. The best squads outside of Alpha Squad, however, like Beta Squad itself, had already claimed their share of the spotlight in this category, but the omission of Sovereign Alpha only added to the tension simmering in the hall.

As Major Quinn transitioned into the Assessment Awards, the atmosphere grew electric.

The Two-Star Platinum went to a squad aboard the Hegemony of Dusk, their victory earning a respectable amount of applause. 

The Two-Star Palladium followed, awarded to a team on the Ascendant of Flames, their victory met with mostly murmurs and whispers; accompanied by a bit of polite applause.

By this point, the anticipation in the room was almost unbearable. 

The murmurs swelled, defying even Major Quinn’s typically commanding presence. It was as if everyone knew what—or rather, who—was coming next, though the idea seemed ludicrous.

A Recruit Squad winning a Two-Star Crysium Award was practically unheard of.

Yet despite the improbability, even Thea couldn’t shake the certainty settling over her like a quiet storm.

Between the six of them, Sovereign Alpha had amassed a truly unreal collection of medals, and their actions during the assessment had gone far beyond what could be expected of even an Alpha Squad.

Not to mention; this category wasn’t even about completing predefined objectives or following strict orders, something Sovereign Alpha had only been somewhat-successful at—instead, it was about creating a seismic shift, a game-changing event that turned the tide of the battlefield.

And Sovereign Alpha had done exactly that.

It was almost like the category had been specifically created for their circumstances, having been unable to complete their first Major Objective due to the presence of the Psyker Duo and the enemy Ace as well. 

Thea’s grip tightened on her medals as Major Quinn’s voice rang out over the restless crowd, commanding silence at last. 

“And now,” the Major began, her voice cutting through the silence with a triumphant edge, “for the Two-Star Crysium Award in the Ace Squad category, I present to you the singular squad that performed the most surprising, unlikely and improbable upset in the entire Assessment…” 

She dragged it out for a few long, agonising seconds, before breaking into a big, toothy smile and announcing with a level of cherubic enjoyment that was thoroughly unlike the Major, “It is, naturally, none other than our very own Sovereign Alpha!”

The announcement hit the room like a thunderclap.

It was as though the entire hall had collectively forgotten how to breathe for those tense few  seconds, the silence hanging precariously in the air before it finally shattered under the weight of the crowd’s reaction like a sheet of ice being forcibly smashed onto the ground.

Cheers erupted like a tidal wave, rolling through the assembly with a ferocity that completely dwarfed any previous response. Applause thundered from every corner of the hall, punctuated by astonished gasps and disbelieving murmurs. 

Recruits leapt to their feet, some clapping wildly, others shouting Sovereign Alpha’s name or cheering specific squad members or their nicknames that had been circulating amongst the Recruits since the end of the assessment.

Thea’s brain struggled to keep up, her Perception’s filters utterly failing to try and keep out the symphony of chaos around them, her heart pounding as the realization slowly sunk in.

‘The Two-Star Crysium. The highest award possible. We just won that…’

She glanced around, catching glimpses of the mixed reactions among the crowd.

Some Recruits wore broad, genuine smiles, their applause filled with admiration for what Sovereign Alpha had achieved. Others seemed stunned into immobility, their expressions a similar mix of disbelief that Thea herself felt, and begrudging respect. 

Thea’s eyes darted towards Rachel Masters, seated just a single row back. Masters clapped, but there was a sharpness to it, her eyes fixed on Sovereign Alpha with an intensity that Thea couldn’t quite place.

But the subtle tension in her posture betrayed at least some of her feelings and Thea couldn’t help but crack a predatory grin in her direction, earning herself a murderous glare. 

‘That’s fucking right, you bitch. This is what a real squad looks like,’ she thought as she turned back towards the rest of Alpha Squad, barely in time to see them start their way up towards the Podium.

Corvus, with a broad grin on his face, that even his stoic self couldn’t hide, led the squad’s movement. He gestured for the squad to rise with a steadying hand, his calm, authoritative presence grounding them in the face of the overwhelming response.

“Come on,” he said, his tone positively suffused with pride. “This is our moment. Let’s fucking own it.”

Thea found herself standing almost on autopilot, her grip on her medals tightening as she tried to ground herself amidst the storm of emotions swirling inside her. 

Lucas gave her a reassuring nod as he gave Desmond a hand, Isabella flashed her a grin that practically radiated “We showed ‘em, didn’t we?” and Karania squeezed her shoulder gently, her ever-calm smile carrying more warmth than words could.

The squad moved as one, making their way towards the podium under the weight of countless eyes.

Thea felt the energy in the hall shift, a palpable wave of awe and respect washing over the crowd as Sovereign Alpha ascended the stage together. 

The lights above cast a sharp brilliance, illuminating them as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder. 

The thunderous applause didn’t waver, but amidst the clamor, Thea’s sharp ears picked up fragments of muttered disbelief:

“Unbelievable.”

“Holy shit… They actually fucking did it…”

“A Recruit Squad actually won… Our Recruit Squad.”

Major Quinn extended her arms in a welcoming gesture, her smile wider than Thea had ever seen, and her voice carried effortlessly over the crowd as she addressed them. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, let us witness the impossible.”

She gestured toward the massive screen behind them, which flickered to life with the recordings of Sovereign Alpha’s harrowing encounter at the Control Station in Nova Tertius.

The footage began with their initial frantic attempts to respond to the ambush that had trapped them in a crumbling civilian building. The screen showed their growing confusion as their tactics unraveled under the influence of the Stellar Republic Psyker Duo.

Thea flinched at the vivid replay, her muscles tensing as memories of the chaos resurfaced. 

The screen displayed the disorienting effects of the Psykers’ Powers: Auditory hallucinations that made orders impossible to trust, the subsequent, complete breakdown in verbal communication, and the eerie precision of echolocation attacks that turned their every movement into a deathtrap.

“Psykers,” Major Quinn’s voice narrated, “are one of the—if not the—most unpredictable and dangerous enemies a Marine can face. Their capabilities are rarely covered in pre-assessment training, as Recruitment Drives are often too closely aligned with new Assessments. Entire classes—multiple classes—are dedicated to understanding how to fight them. Yet, for most Marines, this information remains theoretical. The average Marine at Tier 1 or below rarely, if ever, encounters a Psyker during their entire career.”

She let that information ruminate for just a second, enough time for the Recruits in the hall to take in the information, but not enough for them to lose focus and start whispering to each other.

“For our Sovereign Alpha, however, this encounter was far from theoretical,” Major Quinn continued. “Meeting even one Psyker is an extraordinary challenge. Statistically, the chances of a Squad of Marines at Tier 1 or below surviving such an encounter, even with prior training, is a mere 3%. Without that training, the odds plummet to below 0.02%. Facing two simultaneously? The difficulty increases exponentially.”

Major Quinn paused once again, letting the gravity of her words and the statistics presented settle over the room before delivering the verdict:

“It is no exaggeration to say that for a fresh Recruit Squad—Alpha or otherwise—this scenario represents a practically guaranteed death sentence. And yet, against every conceivable odd, our Sovereign Alpha prevailed. Without prior knowledge. Without preparation. Without backup. They stood, adapted, and overcame. This victory is a clear showing of not only their training and talent but to their sheer, unyielding resolve and ability to rise to the challenge when it truly matters most. Without any further talking on my part, pay close attention to this master-class of small-scale warfare; it will undoubtedly be studied in future classes and included in future tests,” Major Quinn declared, her tone brimming with pride and even a hint of something unexpected—reverence.

The screen shifted, cutting to Sovereign Alpha’s desperate, chaotic improvisation in the face of overwhelming odds.

The footage slowed to show Thea shoving Lucas out of the way just before an air-implosion detonated, the concussive force ripping a chunk out of the grav-locked Stalwart atop the stairs’ landing. 

The screen then captured Desmond in his last moments before another implosion tore through him a mere moment before he could follow Thea’s desperately gesticulated attempts to tell him to dodge, as his body was brutally split apart. Karania was at his side in an instant, her arms already working to stabilize him despite the abruptness of the moment.

The camera shifted to Isabella, her massive rotary gun spinning furiously as she prepared to unleash destruction at the behest of the Psykers’ manipulation. 

The recording slowed further as the next pivotal moments played out.

Thea, bleeding profusely and with only one arm remaining after another air-implosion, gestured furiously toward the rest of the squad, rallying them for an all-out assault. 

Her command wasn’t elegant—it was raw, instinctive, and left much to interpretation—but it conveyed a single, desperate message: Use the shield. Explode the floor. End this. 

Trusting in Karania’s genius to decipher the specifics, Thea turned and stumbled toward the window, the Icicle clutched tightly in her last remaining hand.

The footage sped up, showcasing the remnants of Sovereign Alpha—Isabella, Lucas, and Karania—executing Thea’s improvised plan. They blasted their way through one floor after another, the structure groaning under the onslaught, the Stalwart cracking and breaking apart underneath them, until they reached the same level as the Psyker Duo.

As the apartments’ doors exploded outward, the recording slowed again. 

Lucas and Karania opened fire from one side, grenades and precise bursts of bullets ricocheting off walls and killing Stellar Republic Soldiers and Clones where they stood, while Isabella surged out from the other, her rotary gun discarded in favor of her devastating melee strikes. 

The screen captured the ensuing chaos in vivid detail:

Lucas’s massive form was lifted and flung through the air like a ragdoll as one of the Psykers unleashed a Psychic Scream, the force smashing him into the wall with a sickening crunch. 

Karania, caught in the fringes of the attack, crumpled to the ground as her armor caved in almost entirely on one side, her helmet cracked and buckled-in under the immense pressure.

Yet, even as her squad fell around her, Isabella was relentless. 

Wielding her Decimator with both hands, she tore through the Psykers’ protective squad with rabid abandon. Each enemy she faced left her with a new injury, yet she pressed on.

The recording focused on a grenade that Lucas had fired just before the Psychic Scream had hit him; thrown off-course and landed just below Isabella and the rest of the enemies. 

The explosion rocked the corridor, scattering shrapnel and disorienting the last of the enemy guards. Using the blast as a catalyst, Isabella activated her [Kinetic Redirection] Ability, unleashing a cleaving attack that felled the final line of defenders with a single devastating sweep, cutting the last remaining enemies in half at the waist.

The camera zoomed in on the Psyker Duo, now exposed. 

One turned toward the hallway, but before they could react, the footage slowed to a near stop, capturing a pinhole opening in the window behind them.

The Icicle’s deadly projectile pierced the glass from the outside, traveling with unerring precision. The screen showed the bullet boring straight through the first Psyker’s head in artistic slow-motion, the shard’s explosion inside the enemy’s head captured in all its gorey-glory, dropping them instantly.

The recording sped up again to show a one-armed Thea, bloodied, battered, and beyond exhausted, crashing through the shattered window. 

With an almost eerie calm, she raised the Icicle once more and fired the final shot, executing the second Psyker with cold, calculated efficiency at point-blank range.

The hall was utterly silent for a beat as the footage faded. 

Major Quinn’s voice, heavy with pride and awe, broke said stillness:

“It is downright unheard of for a fresh Recruit Squad to defeat a single Psyker that catches them off guard. For them to defeat a trained Duo of Psykers under such conditions? It is quite literally unprecedented.”

Thea felt a shiver run down her spine as the recording played out the final moments of the battle, the screen freezing on an image of a thoroughly battered and beaten version of herself.

For a moment, the hall remained silent, even after Major Quinn’s words; the Recruits still taking in the scenes they had just witnessed. She glanced at Corvus, who gave her a nod of approval, and then at the rest of her squad, who were clearly affected by seeing that desperate struggle once again; their faces tense and serious as they stared up at the screen.

The silence didn’t last long. 

A moment later, the hall erupted into an uproarious wave of applause, cheers, and shouts that rivaled the earlier celebration when Sovereign Alpha had first been announced as the winners.

Recruits stood, their hands slamming together with renewed energy, and others leaned into the aisles to cheer more directly toward the stage. 

Shouts of “Alpha Squad!” and individual names like “Isabella!” and “Corvus!” mixed with whistles and hollers. Even the more reserved sections of the crowd joined in with nods and polite claps, a rare acknowledgment of sheer, undeniable accomplishment.

Major Quinn raised her arms, signaling for calm, and the crowd obeyed—albeit slower than usual, their excitement taking longer to simmer down. As the hall finally quieted enough for her voice to carry, Major Quinn’s smile broadened.

“And now,” she began, her voice infused with pride, “it is my distinct honor to present the Two-Star Crysium Ace Squad medals to each member of Sovereign Alpha.”

She gestured to the podium beside her, where an attendant brought forward a sleek display case, housing the glowing, light-blue medals that seemed to radiate a sense of cosmic importance.

“As you may already know, this Medal represents the pinnacle of squad-based achievement, rewarding not only individual skill but also cohesion, ingenuity, and sheer grit. However, the rewards, naturally, don’t stop there.” Major Quinn turned to the crowd.

“Alongside this medal, Sovereign Alpha will receive a squad-wide reward of 30,000 Sovereign-Store Credits, usable exclusively for squad purchases aboard the Sovereign’s many facilities. While the System does not allow shared accounts, this is the best solution the UHF has devised to reward a collective victory at this scale without breaking its rules.”

She paused as murmurs rippled through the crowd, the enormity of the reward dawning on them.

“Additionally,” Major Quinn continued, her tone steady but carrying a clear undercurrent of pride, “the squad will receive six Skill Vouchers, to be distributed as they see fit amongst themselves.”

Thea’s eyebrows arched in surprise at the mention of the Skill Vouchers. Six was a substantial number for a single squad to receive at once—although, with her already considerable collection of seven of them, the magnitude didn’t fully land for her. 

Still, she understood the significance, especially for her squadmates.

Her gaze drifted toward them, taking in their varied reactions. 

Isabella’s eyes widened, the rare display of shock on her typically brash face saying more than words ever could. Next to her, Desmond leaned forward slightly in his chair, his lips moving as he mouthed, “What the fuck?” 

Even Karania tilted her head slightly, a flicker of intrigue crossing her features before she gave Thea a knowing glance—one that clearly said, “Well, we earned this, didn’t we?”

“And lastly,” Major Quinn said, her smile shifting into something more personal and genuine, “as a personal reward from myself, as the leader of this Recruitment Drive and the Proprietor of the Kuigon Star-Sector, each member of Sovereign Alpha will be granted a claim to any non-owned celestial object within the Kuigon Star-Sector. This includes stars, planets, moons, or any other space-bound body of your choosing. These claims will remain reserved for you until such a time as you retire from the UHF Marines, whereupon they will become fully yours to own.”

The hall fell into stunned silence. 

The weight of the last reward hit like an artillery shell, and Thea could feel the ripple of disbelief passing through the crowd.

Corvus, always the composed one, finally broke character with a wide-eyed blink, his usually stoic expression giving way to unguarded surprise.

“Did she just… offer us a fucking planet?” Isabella muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Not just planets,” Desmond said, his tone laden with equal parts disbelief and awe. “Fucking stars too.”

Lucas glanced at Thea, his brows furrowed in stunned bewilderment. “I… I don’t... Do we… Can she even do that? How does this even work…?”

Even Karania—usually unshakable, her sharp mind often eerily predicting future outcomes with unsettling precision—sat frozen, her mouth slightly agape, eyes wide as if she were trying to process an impossible equation. For someone who always seemed to have an answer, seeing her so visibly stunned was enough to make Thea’s head spin even more.

Thea, still gripping the medals in her hand, felt their weight pressing against her palm, grounding her in the moment. But any sense of stability ended there. 

Words, thoughts—anything resembling coherent reasoning—evaded her entirely.

Her mind tried to race, but every attempt at forming a logical conclusion hit an insurmountable wall of disbelief. 

The idea of being given a celestial object—a planet, a moon, a star, something that only governments and the most powerful entities in the galaxy usually laid claim to—was so far beyond anything she’d ever considered possible that it felt like her brain refused to process it.

‘A celestial object…? Me?’ she thought, the words circling endlessly but finding no anchor. 

It was a reward so far removed from anything remotely reasonable that her mind buckled under the sheer weight of its absurdity. Thea glanced toward Corvus, who, for once, looked just as stunned as the rest of them, his stoic composure cracked by an incredulous smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“This can’t be real,” she murmured softly, the words barely audible even to herself.

Major Quinn’s voice cut through the stunned murmurs of the audience and the incredulous whispers of Alpha Squad. “The achievements of Sovereign Alpha are, without question, deserving of these rewards. They have not only set a new example for what a Recruit Squad can accomplish but have done so under circumstances that would break even the most seasoned Marines. Let this be a reminder to all of you—your potential knows no bounds.”

The applause started hesitantly, a few scattered claps punctuating the stunned silence that hung in the air like a held breath. Then, as realization spread through the crowd, the sound swelled, building momentum until it became a roaring wave of cheers and celebration.

Thea, however, was barely aware of it. 

The thunderous noise faded into the background as her mind remained stuck on the sheer absurdity of the reward. 

A star. A planet. A celestial object. 

The words echoed over and over, each iteration feeling no closer to reality than the last. 

How could someone like her—someone who grew up fighting for scraps in the underbelly of Lumiosia’s Undercity—be given something so incomprehensibly vast?

She stared blankly ahead, clutching her medals tightly, their weight a constant reminder of the bizarrely surreal circumstances she now found herself in. 

It wasn’t until Major Quinn stepped in front of her, her imposing presence commanding Thea’s attention, that she snapped back to reality.

Major Quinn extended her hand, the familiar blue-hued Crysium Medal in the other. 

For the fifth time today, Thea found herself standing as the center of attention in the hall, her nerves jittering as the Major leaned in slightly, her voice low enough to be heard only by Thea.

“I told you, you should get used to being up here, didn’t I?” Major Quinn whispered, her tone carrying a hint of amusement, punctuated by her now-familiar wink.

Thea blinked, momentarily startled by the casualness of her words amidst the formality of the ceremony. 

Before she could even think of a response, the Major’s attention shifted seamlessly to Karania, leaving Thea standing there, the medal now cool and solid in her hand.

Thea stared at the medal in her hand, its blue-hued brilliance catching the overhead lights. 

For a moment, she couldn’t move, the applause and cheers from the crowd blending into an indistinct roar.

Slowly, she stepped back, following her squad as they began their descent from the podium. Her legs felt heavy, her movements mechanical, as if her body was still catching up with the reality of what had just happened.

They filed back to their seats together, but the usual air of camaraderie was absent. 

No jokes from Isabella, no quiet reassurances from Karania, not even the subtle, grounding presence of Corvus’ leadership. They were all lost in their thoughts, their minds reeling from the enormity of what had been offered. 

The UHF’s rewards—Credits, Skill Vouchers, and the satisfaction of achievement—felt tangible, practical. But Major Quinn’s personal reward? A celestial object?

Thea turned the idea over in her mind, trying to grasp its implications. 

‘A star, a planet, or a moon…‘

What was she even supposed to do with something like that? 

It wasn’t like she could just pack up and move there after retirement. 

Most celestial objects weren’t habitable—no atmosphere, no terraforming, nothing. Even a planet was essentially a barren rock without extensive, and likely incredibly expensive, work. 

And a star? That was an even more absurd concept. 

What did it even mean to own a star?

Despite the endless questions, one undeniable truth kept cutting through the chaos of her thoughts: It was still one of the coolest fucking things anyone could ever own.

They reached their seats, the weight of the medals in her hands now matched by the weight in her chest. The cheers from the other Recruits grew louder as they passed, congratulations and shouted names echoing around them. 

Yet Alpha Squad barely noticed. 

Each member was caught in their own head, struggling to process the enormity of it all.

Thea noticed it particularly with Corvus. 

Normally, he would stop to acknowledge the congratulations or offer a polite nod, but he simply kept walking, his expression a mix of astonishment and disbelief. He even ended up sitting down before her, something that rarely happened in this kind of circumstance, his usual social graces seemingly absent as he stared blankly at the floor.

By the time Thea lowered herself into her chair, the noise around them felt like it belonged to a different world. 

She glanced at her squadmates—Isabella, slack-jawed and still shaking her head with a massive grin on her face; Desmond, muttering quietly to himself; Lucas, absently stroking the blue-hued Medal; and Karania, her wide-eyed expression betraying just how deeply the announcement had rattled even her.

‘This is utterly fucking insane,’ Thea thought, looking down at her own medals. The UHF’s rewards were one thing, but this… This felt like something out of a dream.

Major Quinn reclaimed control over the hall with a commanding raise of her hand, her presence cutting through the din of cheers and applause like a knife. 

The energy in the room dimmed to a low murmur, and soon, silence fell once again. 

Thea shook herself from her thoughts, snapping her focus back to the podium as the Major began speaking.

“And now,” Major Quinn declared, her voice carrying an air of finality, “we come to the last and perhaps most anticipated category of the evening: the Most Valuable Marine Recruit and Assessment Awards.”

The mention of the MVM awards sent a renewed ripple through the crowd. 

Thea could feel the shift in the atmosphere, tension crackling as Recruits sat forward in their seats, hanging onto every word. 

Alpha Squad was no exception. 

She glanced around at her squadmates, each of them visibly stiffening with anticipation. 

Thea’s thoughts turned to Lucas. 

‘He needs this,’ she thought. ‘If he wins one, he’s safe. He won’t have to deal with Rachel and whatever nonsense challenge she’ll throw his way.’

Thea clenched her fists, the small mountain of medals in her hands cool and grounding. She silently pleaded for his name to be called, the unspoken hope shared by the rest of Alpha Squad as well.

Major Quinn began listing off the Recruit-level medals, her tone crisp and formal. 

The first went to a Marine from the Empyrean. 

The second followed swiftly after, awarded to someone aboard the Hegemon. 

The third and final Recruit medal was handed to a Marine from the Ascendant.

Thea’s heart sank as reality crashed down. 

Lucas’ name hadn’t been called, and now the chances of him avoiding a challenge from Rachel were now nonexistent. She turned her head toward him, catching the faintest flicker of frustration in his otherwise composed demeanor. 

‘He knows what’s coming,’ she thought grimly.

It wasn’t just Lucas that had her unsettled, however. 

Thea realized with a jolt that Sovereign Alpha, despite their dominance across the ceremony, had only earned a single MVM medal throughout the entire Assessment. 

‘How is that possible?’ she thought, stunned. 

They had cleaned up in almost every other category. 

This was supposed to be the ultimate recognition of individual merit, the category that most accurately reflected their best efforts and achievements. And yet…

Her thoughts were interrupted by Karania’s eyes locking onto hers. 

Thea recognized the look instantly—it was a “Just wait and see.” 

Karania’s knowing expression carried no trace of worry or doubt, the same ever-present, quiet confidence radiating from her.

Thea’s brow furrowed as realization dawned. 

‘Of course,’ she thought. ‘Karania must think she’ll get one for her work as a Medic. And why wouldn’t she?’

It made perfect sense. 

After all, Karania’s performance during the Assessment had been nothing short of extraordinary. The recordings the UHF had at their disposal were bound to be able to truly showcase her genius-level capabilities, and if anyone deserved an MVM medal, it was her.

Thea leaned back in her chair, her heart still heavy with the knowledge of Lucas’ looming challenge, but she held onto the faint hope that Karania’s instincts would prove correct. 

‘If nothing else, at least one of us deserves a win here,’ Thea thought, her gaze snapping back to the stage as Major Quinn prepared to announce the next set of winners.

The Two-Star Platinum Medal went to a Corporal from Kaon Squad aboard the Empyrean of Light, and Thea felt her anticipation tighten further.

Then, as if on cue, Major Quinn’s rapid-fire cadence slowed, her deliberate pause enough to signal to the hall that something significant was coming. 

The room quieted, anticipation gathering in everyone’s eyes.

“Now… getting to the Two-Star Palladium Medal,” Major Quinn began, her voice rich with intrigue, “I must admit, I was extraordinarily surprised to see the name and ship attached to this award, despite the already downright ludicrous amount of awards that have gone into directions I had not even begun to anticipate correctly.”

She paused, letting the tension build, her gaze sweeping across the sea of Recruits.

“You see, a first Assessment is just that: An initial evaluation of your potential. While undoubtedly important and potentially defining for the first years of your careers, the UHF does not actually expect any of you Recruits to perform extraordinary feats or obliterate established statistics in your first outing.”

A ripple of murmured agreement spread through the hall, only to quiet again as Major Quinn’s eyes came to rest on Alpha Squad. 

Her smile widened ever so slightly, and Thea felt her pulse quicken.

“But then again,” the Major continued, “there has also never been an Alpha Squad with such a high initial PV in the history of the UHF. So perhaps we shouldn’t be too surprised to welcome, yet again, one of Sovereign Alpha’s own to the stage. Please, give a thunderous round of applause for the statistically greatest Recruit Medic the UHF has ever had the pleasure of calling their own: Karania Faulkner, recipient of the Two-Star Palladium MVM Medal!”

The hall erupted into cheers and applause, and Thea joined in without hesitation. 

She had already braced herself for Karania’s name to be called and was unsurprised to see her friend rising from her seat before the Major had even finished the announcement. 

Karania’s confidence and poise were, as always, utterly unshakable, and her calm stride toward the podium only reinforced that impression.

“Let’s go, Kara! Fuck yeah~!” Thea screamed, her voice cutting through the roar of the crowd. 

Genuine happiness surged through her, mingled with unbridled awe and pride.

To Thea, Karania wasn’t just a brilliant medic—she was a true force of nature. 

Her sheer excellence radiated from her like a beacon at all times, elevating everyone around her. It wasn’t just that Karania excelled at everything she did; it was that she did so with an unrelenting purpose that inspired those around her. 

Thea couldn’t help but feel humbled—and lucky—to count someone like her as a close friend.

Watching her ascend the podium, Thea’s thoughts were crystal clear on the matter. 

‘The UHF doesn’t just need someone like her—they’re blessed to have her.’

Karania wasn’t just an outlier in Thea’s mind; she was a phenomenon—the kind of person who came around maybe once in a millennium, if that. 

And Thea, standing in the same squad as her, felt her own path forward illuminated by the sheer brilliance of Karania’s existence.

It wasn’t just that Karania excelled—it was that she downright redefined what was considered possible, dragging everyone around her into the gravitational pull of her unwavering determination.

If anyone else had uttered the words Karania had spoken earlier in the ceremony—unilaterally declaring war on the very concept of mortality—Thea would have dismissed them as insane, arrogant, or joking. 

But Karania? The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, not for a single fraction of a second.

With Karania, the impossible didn’t feel impossible at all. 

Her ambitions might have sounded straight up absurd when spoken out loud, but Thea believed, deep in her bones, that Karania would find a way to make them work. 

Whether through sheer willpower, unmatched intellect, or some entirely new, unimaginable means, Karania Faulkner would find a way to make death itself quake at her name. 

That wasn’t a hope—it was a fact, etched into Thea’s very Soul the moment her friend had made her declaration.

The road ahead for Kara was undoubtedly long, unfathomably complex, and impossibly demanding, but Thea had already decided she would be there. No matter how draining the journey, she would stand beside her, witnessing every step of her dream’s evolution. 

More than that, she would help however she could, supporting her friend’s mission to bend the very fabric of reality to her will.

Because that was who Karania was—she wasn’t just a dreamer. She was a realist, through and through. So, if she said that death would end, then in Thea’s mind, death’s days were numbered. 

It wasn’t bravado or empty ambition; it was simply fact.

Greeting Karania with a grin so wide it almost hurt, Thea leaned back slightly, letting the rest of Alpha Squad rush to congratulate their friend first. 

There was no urgency in Thea’s mind—she sat right next to Karania, after all. They had all the time in the world to talk later, and Thea knew that when the initial flood of congratulations subsided, she’d have her moment to express just how proud she was.

Karania accepted each nod, pat on the back, and playful comment with her usual grace, her calm demeanor tinged with a faint smile that told Thea she wasn’t entirely unaffected by the outpouring of support. She might have seemed unshakable, but even someone as exceptional as Karania could feel the weight of her squad’s admiration.

When Karania finally turned toward her, Thea didn’t hesitate, leaning in for a tight hug, her grin as wide as ever. "Guess it’s hard being the greatest medic the UHF has ever seen, huh?" she teased, her voice light but filled with genuine admiration.

Karania chuckled, her tone laced with amusement as she retaliated by lightly prodding Thea’s sides, tickling just enough to force her to squirm. "Not as hard as being the squad’s resident overachiever, I’d imagine. What’s it now? Five medals? Six?"

“Like you don’t know the exact number,” Thea shot back, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the warmth in her voice. She couldn’t exactly argue—Karania was right. 

It was almost comical to think of herself as anything other than an overachiever at this point, what with the growing collection of medals clutched in her hands. 

The combined weight of them felt almost as surreal as the accolades they represented.

As Thea moved to sit back down, Karania held out her hand with an exaggerated, expectant look. Her expression was so over-the-top that Thea couldn’t help but laugh, the tension of the moment dissipating further.

“Right, of course,” Thea muttered with a grin, taking Karania’s hand without hesitation.

Before Thea could fully process what was happening, Karania abruptly yanked her forward with surprising strength, pulling Thea off balance. Her body turned awkwardly as Karania switched positions with her, leaving Thea stumbling slightly to catch her footing.

“What the—?!” she yelped, her voice rising in confusion. A panicked thought shot through her mind—’Don’t yell! Don’t get Psychically-slapped by Major Quinn!’—and she barely managed to cut herself off before her voice carried across the hall.

Karania, as composed as ever, smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. 

"It’s your turn now," she said cryptically, brushing a nonexistent speck of dust off her shoulder. "I was just the appetizer."

Thea blinked, confusion painting her features. 

“What… What does that even mean?” she asked, her voice edging toward frustration.

Karania didn’t answer. 

Instead, she gave Thea a long, knowing look—the kind that spoke volumes without saying anything concrete—and then calmly sat back down in her chair, crossing one leg over the other with a smug expression.

Thea exhaled sharply, muttering under her breath as she tried to sit back down herself, but before she could, Karania stretched out her hand and gently but firmly pushed her away. 

"Nope," she said, her voice lilting with amusement. "I told you, it’s your turn. You really should get going." 

Her smirk widened, practically daring Thea to figure it out.

Frustration bubbled to the surface. 

"Kara, what the fuck are you—?" Thea started, but the words died in her throat as Major Quinn’s commanding voice rang out, cutting through the din of the hall.

“Now,” Major Quinn began, her tone carrying an almost playful gravitas, “if Karania Faulkner’s award is an outlier, then I really don’t know what to call this one; yet the brass will simply have to find a name for it, since it is reality.”

Thea froze, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes froze at Karania’s. 

Her friend’s smile simply grew wider every moment.

“Anybody with a rough understanding of how the MVM Award is judged,” Major Quinn continued, her voice resonating with authority, “should know what I am about to say by now, but I will spell it out for everyone else in the hall as well: For the first time in UHF history, a Recruit hasn't just won the Two-Star Palladium MVM Medal, but another Marine, from the very same ship and drive, has also won the Two-Star Crysium MVM Medal. A statistically almost impossible happenstance, yet we are privileged enough to bear witness to it.”

Thea’s mind reeled as the horrifying realisation crashed down on her. 

‘No way. No fucking way. That’s not fucking possible. I couldn’t…!’

“Without further ado,” Major Quinn announced, a genuine smile spreading across her face, “let us all welcome back to the stage for one final award; considered the Most Valuable Marine in the entire Assessment: Thea McKay, from our very own Alpha Squad.”

The room erupted in ear-splitting applause and cheers, but Thea barely heard it. 

Her gaze still frozen on Karania, who was now leaning back in her chair, arms crossed, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "Told you," she mouthed, before pushing Thea away from the seats towards the podium with her feet.

The room’s applause was deafening, but to Thea, it was nothing but a muffled roar, like the sound of distant waves crashing against the shore. Her legs carried her forward almost on instinct, her steps mechanical as her mind struggled to process what was happening.

‘The Most Valuable Marine.’ 

The words felt alien. Impossible. 

How could she—how had she—beaten every single other Marine in the Assessment?

Her mind wrestled with the question, trying and failing to justify it.

‘It can’t be right. There were others. Marines with more experience, more knowledge. Hell, even Kara should’ve been the one to get this, not me.’

But the competitive side of her wasn’t having any of it. ‘Why not you? You worked your ass off. They didn’t just hand this to you—you fucking earned it. This is the UHF, a meritocracy through and through, as even Karania keeps reminding you. So why wouldn’t it be you? You’re carrying a mountain of Medals with you, right now, that prove the very logic that Major Quinn pointed out earlier as well: If it wasn’t you, then who the fuck else would it have been?’

With every step, her doubts were met with defiance. 

The competitive blood inside of her veins was practically on fire, burning away any and all cracks in her resolve. 

If the UHF brass had chosen her, it wasn’t by accident. 

They had watched everything, judged everything—and she, yet, she had still come out on top. So why wouldn’t she accept this outcome? It was the only logical one left.

Even the usual suffocating anxiety from being the focus of thousands of eyes didn’t settle in. 

She felt… numb. 

The shock had dulled every other sensation, leaving her moving as if through a fog. She was aware of the applause, of the way her name had begun to ripple through some parts of the crowd, but none of it felt real. 

Her steps were steady, almost detached, as she ascended the podium once more.

Major Quinn greeted her with a genuine-looking smile, her presence as commanding as ever. 

In her hand was the blue-hued Crysium Medal, shimmering under the lights. Thea’s gaze flicked from the medal to the Major’s face, searching for any sign that this was some sort of elaborate joke.

But all she saw was pride—and something else. 

Respect.

Behind them, the screen came alive with recordings of her most defining moments in the Assessment.

The footage began with the first ambush, Thea infiltrating alongside Arrow Squad on the opening day, her sniper rifle firing with unerring precision, each shot resulting in a dead Stellar Republic Soldier, regardless of the situation she had found herself in. 

Then came the massacre in the forest. 

A nightmarishly injured version of herself, one she could barely even remember, hunted down a squad of fully Integrated Soldiers with brutal efficiency, making use of her armour’s camouflage, her Nanobot Swarm’s auditory features to confuse them and sheer, raw willpower to continue moving despite the severe wounds she had clearly already sustained.

The scene shifted to the eastern front, where she had destroyed the Anti-Armour Cannons atop the Wall alongside Lucas. The recording lingered on after the double-shot that took out two of them in the span of a single second; their massive explosions in the distance a sight to behold.

And then came the service tunnels. 

Thea’s chest tightened as she watched herself in the footage, her face pale from exertion, eyes wide yet laser-focused.

The recording captured the exact moment she had abandoned all hesitation, placing her full trust in her Psychic Powers and [Sensory Overdrive]. 

It showed her stepping out from behind Lucas’ shield, Gram raised, firing in what appeared to be erratic and random directions. 

Each shot, however, found its mark with unerring precision—cutting down enemies hidden behind cover, disrupting their formations, and neutralizing their most dangerous threats before they even had a chance to act.

Her movements were almost impossible to follow. 

She weaved through the chaos like a specter, sidestepping bullets, lasers, and even shrapnel with a preternatural grace. 

The recording slowed to highlight moments where her body bent or twisted seemingly an instant before danger even manifested—a Soldier’s laser painting her form only for her to duck before the trigger was pulled, debris from a grenade flying past her harmlessly as if the blast had already been calculated into her steps.

Every motion was deliberate, every decision executed with such precision that it seemed as though she were operating seconds ahead of reality, her actions dictated by a force beyond mortal comprehension.

The hall seemed to collectively hold its breath as the scenes unfolded in excruciating detail. 

The tension was palpable, every set of eyes glued to the screen, the weight of what they were witnessing sinking in.

Some Recruits leaned forward, whispering in barely audible tones:

“Is she even human? How do you react that fast…?”

“This is fucking unreal… What am I even watching…?”

“I didn’t even know this was possible… She’s a Recruit, like us…?”

Others simply sat in stunned silence, their eyes glued to the screen, mouths slightly agape.

Major Quinn turned to her once more as the recordings came to an end, extending the Medal toward her. “Congratulations, Recruit McKay. The UHF proudly recognizes you as the Most Valuable Marine of this Assessment, awarding you the Two-Star Crysium Medal for your efforts. Your actions have not only shaped the Battlefield as a whole, but also redefined what the UHF thought was possible for a first-year Recruit to achieve. Well done; you’ve truly earned this.”

Thea’s hands trembled slightly as she accepted the Medal, the weight of it grounding her in the surreal moment. 

As she shook Major Quinn’s hand, the roaring applause hit her like a wave, louder and more powerful than anything she had ever heard before. The sheer volume of it seemed to vibrate through her very core, as if the entire hall was amplifying the crowd's energy directly into her chest.

“Alongside the medal,” Major Quinn’s voice carried effortlessly over the cacophony, her tone measured yet proud, “as per usual, there are rewards. For the Two-Star Crysium MVM Medal, you are hereby awarded an additional 8,000 Credits, a 100% Sales Voucher for any piece of equipment inside the Sovereign’s stores, and an Advanced Skill Voucher, usable for any ‘Advanced’-tagged Skill Course inside the System Store.”

Major Quinn finished the announcement by turning to her with a small but unmistakably proud smile, gesturing for Thea to leave the podium. “Well done, Recruit McKay. You’ve earned every bit of this.”

As Thea made her way towards the podium stairs, a strange, unfamiliar calm settled over her. 

The usual anxiety that typically clawed at her chest with every step was conspicuously absent. Instead, she felt the fire inside her, blazing with unrelenting confidence, bolstered by the literal and metaphorical weight of the half-dozen medals she now carried. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t fear that dictated her movements, but something entirely different—purpose.

Each medal in her hands felt like a physical affirmation of her triumph, a tangible reminder of what she had fought so hard to achieve. 

Her steps were sure and deliberate, her back straight, and her chin held high. 

Where she had faltered under the weight of others’ eyes just minutes before, now she met them head-on. Thea could feel the gazes of the Recruits around her—some filled with awe, others with envy. 

And this time, she didn’t shrink beneath their scrutiny. Instead, she challenged them. 

Her fiery stare met theirs, and one by one, they looked away first, unable to hold their ground against her.

The thought raced through her mind, undeniable and electric: ‘I am the best Recruit aboard this ship; if not this entire Drive.’

She had achieved what she had set out to do from the moment she had first stepped onto the Sovereign. Her chest swelled with pride, a rare warmth blooming within her that mixed seamlessly with her hard-earned triumph. 

She was not simply part of the UHF now—she had carved her name into its history, even if she was far from done.

But then, as she reached the first steps of the podium stairs, her gaze caught something—a rare few eyes among the crowd that were not filled with admiration or respect, but with disgust. 

Disdain.

A bone-chilling cold rolled through her, but it wasn’t fear. 

It was something sharper, something that cut through her newfound clarity like an icy blade.

‘After all this? After everything I’ve done…? Everything I’ve proven here on this very stage…? You still look at me like that?’ 

The fire in her chest roared, consuming the cold entirely, leaving only an unshakable, blazing determination in its wake.

Without a second thought, Thea turned on her heel, taking deliberate, quick steps back toward Major Quinn. 

Her medals clinked softly in her hand as she walked, each sound a tiny reminder of her accomplishments. 

She stopped just short of the Major, every eye in the hall locked on her now, the applause having turned into a surprised silence, deafening in its intensity.

Thea drew in a deep, steadying breath as the words formed in her mind, each one fueled by the fire in her chest. She didn’t falter, didn’t question herself as she stepped forward with purpose. 

Her voice, for once utterly clear and unwavering, cracked through the charged silence like a whip.

“Major Quinn,” she began, her tone carrying a sharpness that commanded the room’s attention. “Using my earned rights as the holder of the Two-Star Crysium MVM Medal, I wish to issue a Challenge. While I am already part of Alpha Squad, a winner of an MVM Medal, and thus immune to being challenged, your rules said nothing about a Medal holder issuing a challenge themselves. Is this correct?”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, sending ripples of murmurs through the hall. 

Major Quinn arched a single brow, her expression calm but clearly intrigued by Thea’s bold declaration. 

The other Recruits, their gazes snapping between Thea and Major Quinn, seemed equally stunned, whispers racing through the crowd like wildfire. 

It wasn’t just bold—it was straight up audacious, a direct challenge not merely to a peer but to the very structure of the ceremony itself. Coming from someone who had already achieved the near-impossible, it carried an electric tension that silenced even the faintest murmurs.

“I guess that would be correct, based on the rules I’ve laid out, yes,” Major Quinn replied after a moment, her voice measured but tinged with curiosity. There was a hint of hesitation, as if even she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the situation. “You may issue your Challenge, Recruit McKay.”

The permission was like a spark to kindling. 

The fire in Thea’s veins surged once more, emboldened by the weight of the moment, and she turned sharply to face the gathered assembly. Her eyes swept across the sea of faces, locking onto the thousands of gazes that were now fixed squarely on her.

Thea drew in a deep breath, her voice sharp and deliberate as she began. “Every single one of you has spent the past few hours watching me stand up here again and again. You’ve seen the recordings. You’ve heard Major Quinn herself list the feats I’ve accomplished, the awards I’ve been given. Time after time, I’ve proven myself to the UHF—not just once, but over and over, in every category they’ve deemed worthy of recognition.”

She raised her hands, the medals clinking softly as she held them up for all to see. 

The podium lights caught the shimmering blue hue of the Two-Star Crysium Medals, casting a radiant glow across the room. The weight of them was not a modicum of a burden but purely empowering. 

“These,” she continued, her voice unwavering, “are not just Medals. They’re proof. Proof that I am the best damn Recruit in this hall. That the UHF—a Faction built on merit, on skill, on results—has judged me worthy of them. Every one of these is a testament to what I’ve done, what I’ve fought for, what I’ve bled for, what I’ve died for.”

The room seemed to hold its collective breath, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of the ship’s systems.

“And yet…” Her voice turned colder, sharper, cutting through the air like a blade. “Despite all of that—despite the Medals, the recordings, the recognition—there are still those among you who can’t seem to accept it. Maybe it’s because I’m a Midworlder, born from the dirt and the ashes of a place none of you have ever even heard of or thought about existing in the first place. Maybe it’s because I’m a Cyan, someone you see as less-than-human, simply because I was born from the corpse of my very own mother. Or maybe it’s just because the idea of someone like me being better than you—actually better, with the proof to back it up—burns you to your very core. Maybe it is all of the above.”

She took a step forward, her gaze burning as it swept across the room, meeting face after face. “I know you’re out there. Innerworlders, Coreworlders, maybe even some Midworlders like me, who simply can’t stomach seeing one of their own rise above. You hide it behind your polite applause or your fake fucking smiles, but I can feel it. I can see it in your eyes, in your body language and in the words you whisper to your neighbours. The disbelief. The sheer disdain. The refusal to accept that I deserve to be standing here.”

Thea lowered the medals slightly but didn’t drop her arms, her voice rising with renewed fervor. “This is the UHF. This is a meritocracy. Your bloodlines, your upbringing, your family’s honours—none of that matters here. What matters is skill. Results. And I’ve proven, beyond any doubt, that I belong here. That I belong in Alpha Squad. That I deserve every single one of these Medals. But if you still can’t accept it—if you really think I don’t deserve to be here—then let’s settle it right the fuck now.”

She raised the Two-Star Crysium Medal high, its blue light glinting brilliantly under the podium’s glow. “I am laying down the Two-Star Crysium MVM Medal’s Challenge. To every single person in this hall. To every single Recruit in here, without exception. You think I’m not worthy? You think Alpha Squad doesn’t belong to me? You think a Cyan like me has no place in the UHF? Then step the fuck up. Approach me of your own accord. Ask to be challenged, and I will oblige—without hesitation.”

Thea’s voice was a whip-crack now, every syllable ringing with unyielding defiance. “Put your credits where your fucking mouths are. Prove me wrong, if you can. Because I promise you this: You will experience firsthand why I am the very best this drive has to offer.”

Slowly, her tone shifted, her voice growing quieter, yet losing none of its edge as it carried effortlessly throughout the hall. “During the opening ceremony, right after Integration, Major Quinn showed you firsthand how I reacted to a shot I didn’t expect—I dodged it regardless. I’m offering you the same chance now: A free shot.”

She took a deliberate pause, taking a page out of Major Quinn’s book, the tension in the hall thick enough to cut. 

Her next words were even colder, sharper, delivered with a ferocity that made the temperature in the room feel like it had dropped several degrees. “But know this, in your very bones: This time around, I will know the shot is coming—and I won’t just dodge it.”

With that, she turned back around to Major Quinn and gave her a quick bow, before storming off the podium, into the utterly stunned sea of Recruits below, making her way back towards Alpha Squad’s seats.

Thea's steps felt heavier with every stride off the podium, her mind a whirlwind of emotions as she made her way back through the utterly stunned sea of Recruits. 

The hall was alive with a cacophony of whispers and murmurs, an electrified hum rippling through the crowd as everyone processed what had just occurred. Major Quinn’s authoritative voice rose above the din, her words firm and deliberate as she attempted to restore order.

“Recruits, quiet down. While this was definitely an unexpected development, this ceremony is not yet over,” Major Quinn called out, her tone sharp enough to cut through the chaos. 

It took several moments, but the whispers began to die down, leaving only a subdued buzz of residual astonishment lingering in the air.

Thea reached Alpha Squad’s row, her legs threatening to buckle beneath her. 

She collapsed into her seat, dropping her medals into her lap and burying her head in her hands. The cool metal pressed against her forehead, offering some relief to her burning face, but it did little to quell the storm raging inside her.

‘What the fuck did I just do? What did I even say up there?’ She thought, panic blooming in her chest. Her breathing came shallow and quick, and she forced herself to focus on the rhythmic, grounding chill of the medals against her skin.

Around her, Alpha Squad was utterly silent, the kind of stunned silence that only comes when something entirely beyond comprehension has just unfolded.

Corvus was the first to break it, leaning forward slightly, his brows furrowed in both confusion and reluctant admiration. “Thea,” he started, his voice low, as if unsure how loud he should be. “That… was one hell of a statement.”

Isabella, sitting on Thea’s other side, let out a short, incredulous laugh. 

“Statement? That wasn’t a statement, Corvus; that was a fucking declaration of war!” she said, her tone equal parts amused and stunned. “I mean, what the fuck, Thea? Did you just… Challenge the entire hall? If I had known this was an option, I would’ve tried harder on the MVM Medal thing!”

Karania, as always, seemed more composed, but even her expression was one of mild disbelief. 

“You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?” she said, leaning slightly toward Thea. “That was… bold, to say the least. You realize what you’ve done, don’t you?”

Thea groaned, still pressing the medals against her forehead, and mumbled, “No… Maybe? I don’t know! What the fuck was I thinking?”

Desmond, who had been sitting quietly in a rare moment of speechlessness, finally found his voice. “You weren’t thinking, Thea. That’s the only explanation. But hey, at least it was entertaining as fuck, I guess,” he quipped, though even he sounded a little unsure of how to process what had just happened.

Lucas, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You just put a massive target on your back, you know that, right? But I’ll give you this much—nobody’s going to forget your name anytime soon.”

Thea groaned louder, pushing the Medals harder against her forehead as if she could will herself invisible. “Oh, fuck… What did I even say up there? Why did I do that?”

Karania gently reached out and placed a hand on Thea’s shoulder, her voice softer now. “Because you’ve been fighting to prove you belong here since the moment you arrived. And you just made sure no one in this hall will ever dare question that again.”

Thea peeked through her fingers at Karania, whose expression was one of genuine pride. 

“Or,” Isabella added with a smirk, “they’ll all line up to get their asses handed to them. Either way, it’s going to be fun.”

Thea groaned again, louder this time, as if the weight of her impulsive declaration were a physical thing bearing down on her shoulders.

“Whatever’s going to come of this, you can’t take it back now,” Karania said, her voice calm and measured, though the faintest trace of amusement lingered. 

She continued patting Thea’s back, the gentle gesture doing little to calm the storm of thoughts raging in Thea’s mind. “So let’s just take it one day at a time. And, as Isabella said, if anyone does end up accepting the Challenge? Then you’ll beat their asses anyway. It’s just like you said: You were the best Recruit in this entire hall, so there’s really nothing to worry about, is there?”

“Yeah, sure,” Thea muttered, her voice muffled as she kept her face buried in her hands. “Just the tiny issue of having to face down the entire fucking Drive now…”

Isabella let out a laugh, sharp and unapologetic. “Don’t be so dramatic, girl. Half of them are probably too scared to even think about it. Hell, some of them might even want to line up just to shake your hand instead of fight you. You’ve got them all in a chokehold right now, and you don’t even realize it.”

Before Thea could muster a response, Major Quinn’s authoritative voice sliced through the chatter of the hall like a knife.

“Recruits, settle down. We are now at the final segment of today’s ceremony: The Leaderboards,” she announced, the command in her tone enough to snap the room back to attention. 

Even Alpha Squad’s whispered conversation ceased as they turned their focus toward the stage.

Major Quinn gestured toward the screen behind her, which came alive with a sleek, glowing interface that displayed the words UHF Assessment Leaderboards in bold, sharp letters. 

“The Leaderboards are, in many ways, distinct from the awards we’ve just presented,” she began, her tone shifting to one of practiced explanation. “While the MVM Awards celebrate extraordinary peak performances and highlight Marines who have achieved truly remarkable individual moments, the Leaderboards encompass everything. Every action, every decision, every contribution—no matter how large or small—is calculated into these scores.”

The screen shifted, showing a complex grid of names, ships, squads, and numerical rankings being filled one by one. Everyone instinctively leaned forward in their seats, the tension in the hall building once again as everyone waited for the results to populate. 

Major Quinn continued.

“Unlike Medals, which focus on specific achievements with, sometimes, very stringent criteria, the Leaderboards reflect the consistency of all performance throughout the entire Assessment. They include elements that may never show up in a Medal but are no less critical to the success of the UHF’s operations: Every shot fired, every meter traveled, every life saved or lost—it’s all here. The Leaderboards are the truest representation of a Marine’s overall contribution to the Assessment, and the scores represented on them, are what determine your overall ranking as a Marine going into these next few months.”

Thea sat up straighter, her previous anxiety momentarily overshadowed by a growing curiosity. 

This was it—the culmination of everything. 

While the Medals had been a tremendous honor, this was the scoreboard—the ultimate metric of a Marine’s worth in the field, the definitive measure of their contributions and performance throughout the entire Assessment.

Major Quinn’s voice rang out as she elaborated on the rules. “The first six names on the Sovereign-specific Leaderboard will represent those among you who meet the requisite score thresholds to issue Challenges to the current Alpha Squad members ranked below them. For example, if you place second here, you will have the right to Challenge every member of Alpha Squad ranked third and below—excluding, of course, those who have secured immunity through MVM Awards.”

The hall seemed to collectively hold its breath, the weight of her words settling heavily over the gathered Recruits. 

The very structure of Alpha Squad could shift in an instant depending on the results of this board.

Thea exchanged a glance with Corvus, who sat a bit further to her left. 

His expression was as unreadable as ever, but his usual stoicism now carried a sharper edge, a quiet anticipation that mirrored the tension running through every member of their squad. His hand rested on his knee, fingers tapping in a slow, deliberate rhythm, a subtle tell that even he wasn’t entirely immune to the weight of the moment.

Isabella, meanwhile, was bouncing her leg with barely-contained energy, while Desmond and Lucas looked like they were trying to play it cool but failing miserably. 

Karania, as always, appeared serene, though her faint smirk suggested she already had a guess about how this would play out, a quiet confidence radiating from her posture. 

The screen flickered again, and the Leaderboard’s top ranks began to populate one by one, each name accompanied by a ripple of anticipation through the hall.

Major Quinn’s commanding voice carried over the murmurs, giving context to the names and numbers that started appearing in the top-10. 

Her cadence was calm but deliberate, drawing the room’s full attention.

“At rank 10, coming in with a total score of 43,358 points, is Yonbu Langri from Arctic Squad.”

Polite applause filled the room, though no cheers emerged for the name. It seemed Yonbu wasn’t widely known, or perhaps he simply hadn’t made a strong impression on his peers.

“At rank 9, with a total score of 44,091 points, is Desmond Reimart from Alpha Squad.”

The entire Alpha Squad instantly turned toward Desmond, whose eyes immediately shot up to the ceiling as he muttered a resigned, “Fuck.” 

A small chuckle rippled through their ranks, though the reality of his position clearly weighed on all of them—he was going to be easily Challengeable.

“At rank 8, with a total score of 44,816 points, is Lucas Callahan from Alpha Squad.”

Lucas gave a small shrug, seemingly unsurprised by his placement, though his jaw tightened slightly. Desmond turned to him and muttered, “Ah, good. At least I’m not alone.”

“At rank 7, with a total score of 46,318 points, is Isabella Itoku from Alpha Squad.”

Thea felt her chest tighten as the third Alpha Squad name was called, this one catching even Isabella off guard. Isabella’s eyes flickered toward the screen, her usual bravado replaced by a rare moment of uncertainty.

By now, Thea’s earlier confidence had been replaced with a growing sense of panic. 

The dominance Alpha Squad had shown during the medal ceremonies didn’t seem to be translating to an equally dominant performance on the Leaderboard. 

Three of their members were already in positions that made them Challengeable.

“At rank 6, with a total score of 46,403 points, is Jin Shizo from Arctic Squad.”

“Who?” The thought seemed to ripple through Alpha Squad in unison as they exchanged baffled glances. Nobody seemed to know anything about this Marine, much less how he had climbed so high on the board without winning a single medal.

“At rank 5, with a total score of 47,944 points, is Tiberius Soren from Wano Squad.”

‘That guy again…’ she thought, a sentiment echoed in the furrowed brows and frustrated looks of Isabella and Corvus.

“At rank 4, with a total score of 49,112 points, is Corvus Leander Sylarion from Alpha Squad.”

A ripple of nods passed through Alpha Squad, but nobody spoke. It was clear to everyone now: The top three were not going to be dominated by Alpha Squad members.

“At rank 3, with a total score of 52,871 points, is Rachel Veronica Masters from Beta Squad.”

Thea’s stomach churned at the mention of Rachel’s name, a flash of anger threatening to take over. 

She forced herself to breathe, unwilling to miss the next announcement.

“At rank 2, with an astonishing total score of 97,748 points, is Karania Faulkner from Alpha Squad.”

The entire squad’s eyes widened, even Isabella’s usually sharp tongue momentarily silenced. 

The number was staggering. Karania, predictably, offered only a shrug, her smirk growing just slightly as she sat, serene as ever.

‘That’s an absolutely insane score. What the actual fuck…?’ Thea’s mind reeled at the figure, struggling to comprehend it. But then Major Quinn spoke again, her words ringing with finality.

“And finally, at rank 1, which should not surprise anyone in this hall by now, with a truly unbelievable 103,649 points, is Thea McKay from Alpha Squad.”

The hall erupted into applause and cheers, a mixture of awe and disbelief washing over the crowd. Thea sat frozen, staring at her name at the very top of the board. 

It wasn’t just a win. It was a landslide.

As Major Quinn finished speaking, the Leaderboards shifted, morphing into three separate scoreboards displayed side by side. 

The first was the Sovereign-specific Leaderboard she had just presented. 

The other two were labeled Recruit Leaderboard and Assessment Leaderboard, representing rankings for all Recruits and all participants in the Assessment, respectively.

Thea’s eyes were immediately drawn to the Recruit Leaderboard, the competitive fire in her sparking back to life.

‘Did I make it…?’

Her gaze locked onto the first few names, and her chest tightened with excitement.

Recruit Leaderboard
#1 - Thea McKay - 103,649 points - Sovereign Alpha
#2 - Karania Faulkner - 97,748 points - Sovereign Alpha
#3 - Hammr Strong - 67,547 points - Empyrean Alpha
#4 - Kar’al Rodun Imahara - 64,981 points - Ascendant Alpha
#5 - Malea Felsch - 63,311 points - Empyrean Alpha

Her heart skipped a beat as she confirmed her position. ‘Easily first,’ she thought, barely able to suppress the grin tugging at her lips.

Her attention then shifted to the far more daunting Assessment Leaderboard, her eyes scanning for her name. Unlike the Recruit rankings, the competition here spanned Marines of all ranks and experiences, and she expected to barely make an appearance, if at all.

Her stomach twisted with anticipation as she scrolled mentally through the ranks, her excitement building until—there it was.

Assessment Leaderboard
#13 - Thea McKay - 103,649 points - Sovereign Alpha

“Fuck me…” she whispered, her voice barely audible beneath the cacophonous amount of murmurs and talking in the hall. A big grin broke across her face, unrestrained joy and pride flooding through her. 

She had done it. 

Not only had she topped the Recruit Leaderboard, but she had also secured a place in the top 15 of the entire Assessment. 

Thea’s mind raced as she considered the feat. 

These weren’t just Recruits she had outscored; these were seasoned Marines, veterans who had already been through more battles than she could even imagine facing in the next few years. 

Her eyes flicked to the top of the Assessment Leaderboard, already suspecting who held the number one spot. 

And sure enough, there it was:

#1 - Joseph Orin Venn - 121,447 points - Bow Squad

Thea chuckled to herself. 

‘Staff Sergeant Venn getting first isn’t exactly news, now, is it?’ 

The man was practically a legend in the UHF already, despite being merely T1. Practically every single person she had met inside the Assessment had either known about him or had directly interacted with him before and they had all shared the same thoughts: He was an absolute master, when it came to owning Assessments and getting high scores in them.

But then, a new thought struck her. 

‘Where’s Vi?’

Her gaze darted across the ranks, scanning frantically for her friend’s name. It didn’t take long to find it.

#7 - Viladia Cassiopeia Sortal - 116,817 points - Arrow Squad

Thea exhaled, relief and pride mingling as she took in the number. ‘Of course, Viladia’s up there,’ she thought, the grin on her face widening. ‘She’s always been a beast.’

In the next moment, Major Quinn stepped back up to the podium once more, her commanding presence immediately cutting through the lingering murmurs in the hall. 

The screen behind her faded to the UHF emblem, replacing the leaderboards. She raised a hand for silence, and the room complied, the energy simmering down to a quiet hum.

“If I could have just a few more moments of your time,” she began, her voice carrying the same authority that had guided them through the ceremony. “First, let me commend each and every one of you for your performance in this Assessment. Whether you’re walking out of this hall with a Medal, a new rank on the Leaderboard, or just the experience itself—every single one of you has proven that you have what it takes to be here, aboard the Sovereign, part of the UHF.”

Her words were met with a smattering of applause, though the room remained largely quiet, every recruit hanging on her words.

“With the conclusion of the Assessment,” Major Quinn continued, her tone softening slightly, “you’ve all earned a break. As such, I’m officially announcing a full week of downtime for every Recruit aboard the Sovereign.”

The announcement was met with a deafening roar of cheers and applause, easily rivaling the celebration from the Crysium Awards earlier. 

Recruits leapt from their seats, whooping and hollering in relief. 

For a moment, the rigid lines of rank and squad dissolved into a single, unified wave of excitement.

Major Quinn allowed the applause to roll for a moment with a satisfied smile on her face before raising her hand once more, the room slowly settling into an excited buzz.

“Use this time wisely,” she advised, her tone once again steady and firm. “Rest, recharge, and familiarize yourselves with your surroundings. Because once the week is up, the real work begins.”

The screen behind her flickered, now displaying a list of upcoming schedules and classes.

“Following your time off, you will all be required to attend two primary sets of classes; with many more optional ones that will be presented during them as well. The first: System 101. These sessions will be critical in teaching you how to utilize the full extent of the System’s capabilities, from basic and advanced Abilities, over different System-specific mechanics down to the nitty-gritty details of Builds. If you thought your performance in the Assessment was impressive, just wait until you see what you can accomplish once you’ve unlocked the System’s true potential.”

The room buzzed with interest, nods and whispers spreading through the crowd.

“The second set of classes,” Major Quinn continued, “are the General-UHF Classes. These will provide you with an in-depth understanding of how the UHF operates, both aboard the Sovereign and beyond. You’ll learn more about Rank mechanics, mission structures, inter-fleet cooperation, and everything else you’ll need to thrive in the Marine Corps going forward.”

She paused, her gaze sweeping the room as if ensuring every single Recruit was paying attention.

“These next steps are what will truly define your journey in the UHF. Take them seriously. And once again, thank you for your incredible work during the Assessment, for your trust in the UHF, and for your tireless efforts to strive for greatness, no matter the odds. You’ve made us all proud; and most of all: Me.”

Major Quinn took a deep breath, then bowed deeply before the assembled Recruits.

For a moment, there was silence—then the hall erupted into applause once more, the thunderous noise carrying a palpable sense of camaraderie and respect. 

Even the most stoic Recruits couldn’t help but join in, clapping until their palms burned.

Straightening, Major Quinn offered one last nod. “This concludes the ceremony. You are dismissed, Recruits.”

The room was alive with motion as the Recruits began to disperse, conversations sparking up immediately as squads gathered to celebrate, speculate, or simply revel in the week of freedom ahead.

Thea stood and turned toward the rest of Alpha Squad, who were already rising to join her. 

They fell into step together, weaving through the crowd toward the exit, sharing their thoughts, bantering or just sighing in relief that the ceremony was finally over.

As they walked, Thea glanced at the medals clutched in her hands, their weight grounding her even amidst the chaos. 

She looked at her squadmates—Isabella’s grin, Lucas’s stoic demeanour, Desmond’s muttered curses about “more classes,” Karania’s serene confidence—or maybe smugness, and Corvus’s quiet calculating glances—and felt a surge of camaraderie inside her.

This was her new family inside the UHF; one she would defend until her last breath, no matter what.

‘This is only the beginning,’ she thought, her grip tightening on the Medals in her hands. ‘Like the Major said: The real journey starts now.’

—

—

POV: Major Atlas Daxton

Overseeing the rapid Integration of a few thousand Midworlders had undeniably been a penal assignment. 

Of that, Atlas was absolutely certain by now. 

It was the kind of job that no one wanted but someone had to do—a thankless task buried in bureaucracy and bloodshed.

Not only had it been a logistical nightmare to round up Midworlders scattered across random planets in the Kuigon Sector, but then there was the nightmare of transporting them to the nearest viable Battlefield. 

There, he’d been forced to argue with stubborn local commanders to deploy Unintegrated soldiers—a demand they always pushed back on, calling it a waste of resources for one of the UHF brass’s so-called “experiments.” 

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he then had to sit back and watch those same soldiers get slaughtered within days, their deaths just another set of numbers in a report.

“Haa…” Atlas exhaled heavily, his chair creaking as he leaned back to stare at the latest battlefield reports on his display. 

The glowing red figures stared back at him like a taunt.

“6,472 Unintegrated Midworlders deployed and only 43 successfully Integrated…?” he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief and frustration. “This is even worse than usual…”

The weight of those words hung in the air as he leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his desk.

“Are you sure these numbers are right?” he asked sharply, his question directed at the silent scribe who had just delivered the updated reports and spliced them into his datastream.

The scribe, as expected, gave a curt nod in response. 

Mute by design, they weren’t meant to do anything but process and transport data—a precaution implemented by InfoSec to eliminate the risk of verbal leaks. 

Atlas found the practice overly paranoid and, frankly, irritating, but he wasn’t about to argue against the UHF’s most annoying department.

“Fine, fine,” he muttered, waving the scribe away with a dismissive hand as he swiped the screen clean of the grim statistics. 

He needed a distraction—anything to take his mind off the thankless drudgery of this assignment.

He opened a new feed, this time pulling up the latest reports from the Sovereign that he had received from Zephyr. 

The Assessment had concluded a little over a day ago, and he was itching to see how things had played out. His eyes darted over the data, scanning for the highlights. 

There was the usual flood of numbers, mission breakdowns, and performance analyses, but a few lines caught his attention and drew a smirk to his face.

Then he reached the Awards and Leaderboards section.

He froze, reading through the names and scores carefully. When the final rankings sank in, he threw his head back and roared with laughter, the sound echoing through his empty office.

“Hahaha! Of fucking course! Yes! This is the fucking best!” His fist slammed down on the desk in front of him, sending a stack of datapads skidding to the edge. His grin stretched from ear to ear. “I knew banking on your pupil was the right choice, old man!”

His hands moved quickly now, swiping the detailed report into a streamlined message. He attached the list of awards and final Leaderboard scores, then added a short, pointed note.

Subject: You Owe Us All A Drink—Or Ten
"Look what your pupil’s gone and done, James. Time to take some responsibility for the monster you’ve created, don’t you think?"

With a satisfied smirk, he pressed the “send” button, only for a glaring red InfoSec warning to pop up on his screen.

ALERT: You are attempting to send UHF-internal documents on an unsecured line. This action constitutes a Court Martialable Offense. Are you sure you wish to proceed?

Atlas rolled his eyes, muttering, “Unsecured my ass. Who gives a fuck…” 

He jabbed the button to override the warning, selecting the ominously worded option: Ignore Warning and Send Anyway.

The message zipped away into the GalacticNet with a soft ping, leaving Atlas staring wistfully out of his office window. The endless expanse of space glittered before him, cold and unyielding, yet somehow comforting in its vastness.

“Your pupil’s making bigger waves than you probably ever imagined, James…” he murmured, his voice low and contemplative. 

A faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

—

—

POV: Runepriest Anrake Vedun

Anrake felt the subtle shift in reality as the Interlocutor’s Void-Drive tore through the delicate fabric of existence, spitting the ship back into real-space after its week-long trek through the endless, formless expanse of the Void.

Official doctrine insisted that the transition was imperceptible, regardless of the ship’s size or make, but Anrake had always known better.

“You can’t simply connect the Void and the Material Universe without creating ripples,” he mused, a quiet chuckle escaping him. The younger engineers—whether specializing in space travel, void manipulation, or the myriad intersections of those disciplines—still had so much to learn about the universe’s deeper truths.

Anrake himself had once believed he understood it all, his confidence as vast as the cosmos. 

But years of humbling experiences had stripped him of that hubris. 

Now, as a Battlefield Psyker of the highest echelon, he had a unique appreciation for just how insignificant even the greatest minds and powers were when faced with the endless unknowns of the Void. 

If anything, his talents had only granted him enough perspective to see the edges of his own ignorance—a sobering revelation that never truly left him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft chime of his room’s comms system, a familiar tone signaling an incoming communication. Without moving a muscle, he extended a strand of his Psychic energy, effortlessly flicking the activation button. 

The physical act of touching anything felt unnecessary for something so trivial; his hands remained massaging his temples, soothing the dull thrum of Void-induced strain.

“Venerable Runepriest,” came the formal and overly tense voice of Captain Sona, “I am calling to inform you that we have successfully exited the Void. We are currently within the Kuigon Star-Sector, en route to quadrant F-574, X-110, to rendezvous with the IGS Sovereign as per your request.”

Anrake sighed audibly, the Captain’s stiff deference grating on him more than it should have. 

No matter how many times he encouraged informality, every interaction seemed cloaked in excessive reverence. Suppressing his irritation, he adopted his usual tone of friendly politeness and replied with a flick of his mental energy.

“Thank you for the update, Captain Sona. Please convey my regards to the bridge crew and the rest of the ship’s staff as well. The journey has been thoroughly relaxing,” he said, his voice smooth and disarming.

Before Sona could respond, he cut the connection with another casual flick of energy, turning his attention back to the glowing data slate before him. 

The latest report had just filtered in through the UHF’s Galaxy-wide Communication System (GCS), its dense lines of text crawling with information that he had been awaiting with far more anticipation than he liked to admit.

His eyes scanned the document, dissecting its contents with a blend of curiosity and professional detachment, though a genuine smile tugged at his lips the moment he saw the sender’s name.

“Zephyr Quinn…” he murmured, the name rolling off his tongue with a fondness tinged by wistful remembrance. It felt like only yesterday that he had mentored the young, sharp-eyed, fiery-tempered “she-daemon” in the ways of a Psyker. 

Yet, time had a way of slipping through his fingers. 

It had been over fifty years since he’d last seen her, and instead of being a fresh, young Recruit, now she was a full-on Major, a commanding force and the Proprietor of an entire Star-Sector.

“You grew up so quickly, didn’t you?” he mused aloud, his chuckle resonating softly in the stillness of his quarters. The thought struck him then, not for the first time, just how ancient he had become. 

The passage of decades no longer carried the same weight to him as it once had, yet seeing how far Zephyr had come brought with it a warm reminder of all that could change in a single lifetime.

He opened the message, reading through its meticulously detailed lines. 

Zephyr had written with her characteristic precision, weaving together a summary of the recent Assessment’s outcomes, the challenges posed by certain Recruits, and, amusingly, an entire section dedicated to her hatred for paperwork—a sentiment Anrake wholeheartedly shared. 

He was convinced by now that, if anything was ever going to cause him to fall to the Call of the Void, it was going to be the never-ending, incessant paperwork that the UHF loved to make him do.

Attached to the message was a comprehensive report, including the list of Awards and the final Leaderboards of the Assessment. Zephyr had specifically flagged these, asking for his evaluation of a certain promising individual.

Since it was her request that had drawn him to the Sovereign in the first place, Anrake didn’t hesitate. He opened the files and began reading, his grin widening with every line. 

Names and achievements scrolled across his screen, painting a vivid picture of the chaos and triumphs of the Sovereign’s Recruits.

“You’ve found me a worthy pupil, then, have you, Zephyr…?” he mused aloud, his grin now fully toothy and predatory. The excitement in his voice was undeniable, a rare break from his usual composure.

Closing the reports, Anrake pivoted to the Sovereign’s crew list. “Very well. It seems I’ll spend more time aboard this ship than I initially planned. Humor Zephyr and leave at the first opportunity? No, I don’t think so. This will require a bit more of my attention, I think...”

A familiar energy coursed through him as he began scanning the roster, a habit he had maintained for centuries. 

He made it a point to know every name aboard any ship he stepped foot on. 

With around four hours left before their arrival, there was ample time to commit each Marine’s and Crew member’s name to memory.

As he worked, a giddy anticipation stirred within him, bubbling up in a way he hadn’t felt in well over a century. Perhaps 150 years. Maybe even 200. He couldn’t even remember.

‘A new, promising pupil… The end of the thousand-year war… And the mysteries of the universe beyond the Bubble, all converging at once. If that isn’t a sign of things to come…’

—

—

PoV: Councillor Seraphina Lumis

Pouring over the desk stacked with datapads, Seraphina struggled to contain her bubbling excitement. Her foot tapped incessantly against the polished floor, a sign of her giddy energy, and a rare grin split her usually composed face.

“This is even better than we could have hoped for!” she exclaimed to the empty room, her voice carrying an almost childlike enthusiasm. 

She kicked her feet lightly, a habit she hadn’t indulged in since her days as a young cadet in the Marines, the datapads in front of her glowing softly with lines of data that felt almost too good to be true.

The results of the recent Assessment were nothing short of cosmic in their implications, but what truly set her heart racing was the performance of her assigned Prime Subject: Thea McKay.

The young recruit hadn’t just met expectations—she had obliterated them, tearing through every benchmark and preconceived notion with the precision of a sniper’s bullet. 

The sheer unpredictability of her rise had left everyone scrambling for explanations, but Seraphina reveled in the chaos of it.

“Every once in a while, the galaxy hands you something like this,” she murmured to herself, running her fingers across the sleek surface of a datapad. “Thea McKay… You’re one hell of an outlier.”

For centuries, the UHF had seen its fair share of remarkable Marines, especially in the last few decades, with the Allbright System accelerating the development of raw talent to unprecedented levels. 

Yet, Thea felt somehow different.

She wasn’t the strongest or the most inherently powerful. 

She wasn’t even the most obvious candidate for stardom or the one that performed the best. 

And yet, Seraphina couldn’t shake the feeling that Thea possessed a quality that transcended raw numbers—a potential that wasn’t quantifiable by any current metric.

“Her upbringing must have been a factor… General Harbinger really knows how to find gems in the rough,” Seraphina mused aloud, her fingers dancing across the datapads as she continued reviewing the girl’s performance.

The numbers alone painted a dazzling picture. 

Thea had smashed her Assessment scores, nearing all-time records for UHF Recruits across the entire faction. What made it even more impressive was that she had done so without prior System training or formal development of her Psychic Powers.

“With the right guidance, she could be a cornerstone in the UHF’s future operations,” Seraphina said, leaning back in her chair. “She’s the kind of Marine we need more of—a force multiplier waiting to be unleashed.”

Yet, not everything about the report was ideal. 

A few anomalies in the data gnawed at the back of her mind.

“Sovereign,” she called into the air, her tone sharpening with purpose, “provide a full analysis of the current status of Prime Subject Thea McKay and any relevant correlating factors.”

The Sovereign’s neutral, precise voice filled the room almost instantly. “Prime Subject Thea McKay has exceeded initial expectations by 43.74%. Prime Subject has exhibited accelerated growth, not previously shown in projections, as a direct result of interactions with Subject Karania Faulkner. Confidence metrics for the Prime Subject have increased by 173.2%, surpassing acceptable variance thresholds. This level of deviation warrants further analysis and additional simulations to determine causation and potential risks. Subject Karania Faulkner’s influence has been flagged as potentially problematic due to its unpredictable nature and direct impact on the Prime Subject’s behavioral growth.”

Seraphina’s brow furrowed as she processed the Sovereign’s assessment. 

She waved her hand, signaling the AI to continue.

“Go on,” she said, her tone a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Subject Karania Faulkner has been classified as an anomaly within the current Recruit cohort. Her predictive capabilities and decision-making processes are outside the expected upper-limit for Recruits of her tier. The correlation between her presence and Prime Subject Thea McKay’s enhanced performance is statistically significant but currently unquantifiable without further longitudinal studies.”

Seraphina leaned forward, resting her chin on her interlocked fingers. “So Karania’s influence is a double-edged sword… interesting.”

“Prime Subject is likely to continue acting outside of expected parameters as long as Subject Karania Faulkner’s involvement is not stopped,” the Sovereign’s monotone voice continued. 

“Calculations show that the Subject’s involvement could lead to massively accelerated growth potential in the Prime Subject. However, this makes any decision regarding intervention difficult to justify without further, extensive simulations. Simulations including Subject Karania Faulkner have proven consistently inconsistent in result, as her unique mental capabilities exceed current simulation parameters. Access to a Prime Data Server is required for accurate simulations involving the Subject.”

Seraphina frowned, her finger tapping anxiously on the datapad.

‘Back to the Apex again…?’ she thought, gnawing lightly at her lower lip. 

‘How am I supposed to justify that to the brass this time?’ 

She had already pushed the boundaries of her authority by granting the Sovereign limited access to the Apex’s Prime Data Servers during the Assessment. 

The Void Daemon incident had provided the perfect cover to mask her decision, but pulling the same trick twice? That wasn’t going to fly.

She let out a slow breath, trying to center herself before addressing the AI again. 

“What are the potential outcomes if we simply… ignore Subject Karania Faulkner’s involvement with the Prime Subject?” she asked, her voice betraying a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Outcomes vary significantly,” the Sovereign replied. “Subject’s disposition toward me remains tentatively hostile. Subject has made several attempts to inform Prime Subject of my existence, though she has not disclosed her full intentions or allegiances. Prime Subject’s calculated and simulated developmental trajectory will deviate drastically if Subject Karania Faulkner is allowed to remain near the Prime Subject for an extended duration.”

The Sovereign paused before delivering the breakdown. “The most likely outcome is a 31.43% probability of moderate accelerated growth. The second most likely outcome is a 28.14% probability of massive accelerated growth. The third most likely outcome is a 16.9% probability of slower growth. The fourth most likely outcome is a 4.7% probability of a schism between the Prime Subject and the UHF, resulting in critical failure of the current objective.”

Seraphina grimaced at the numbers. Her mind whirred, trying to calculate the potential fallout. 

‘Those are not good odds. A more than 20% chance of outright unfavorable or catastrophic results? That’s unacceptable… isn’t it?’

“What percentage of potential growth acceleration are we talking about, Sovereign?” she asked, grasping for more data to help her make sense of the gamble.

“For the first outcome: 61.59% accelerated growth. For the second outcome: 238.41% accelerated growth.”

Seraphina’s eyes widened, her breath catching as she leaned back in her chair. She took a moment to regain her composure, feeling her pulse hammering in her ears.

‘What the fuck? Two hundred thirty-eight percent growth? That can’t be right…’

“Sovereign, run the numbers again on the second outcome,” she ordered sharply.

“Calculations updated. The second outcome now results in 238.58% accelerated growth, reflecting developments in the past 4.7 seconds.”

Seraphina blinked. “It went up by 0.17%… in less than five seconds? Why?”

“Prime Subject and Subject Karania Faulkner are currently conversing,” the Sovereign explained. “The interaction is fostering further emotional bonding. Prime Subject exhibits a strong propensity for forming deep emotional attachments, which has a direct correlation with accelerated growth.”

“Of course…” Seraphina muttered, rubbing her temples. “It’s always about emotions with these damned Recruits. Fuck!”

She exhaled heavily, closing her eyes for a brief moment before opening them, her decision solidifying in her mind. “Sovereign, new orders: Do not interfere with Subject Karania Faulkner until further notice.”

The Sovereign immediately confirmed. “Understood. Orders have been updated.”

Seraphina's lips curled into a wry smile, tinged with both apprehension and excitement, as she leaned back and stared at the ceiling, whispered to herself, “We’re taking the gamble.” 

—

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END OF - THE ALLBRIGHT SYSTEM - VOLUME 1

Thank you for reading; I hope you have enjoyed this journey so far.

The story continues in Volume 2 with Thea’s full first year as part of the UHF Marine Corps.

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