Codename Prometheus

A Few Days After the Confrontation…

The academy morning always began the same way—brutally early and without mercy.

At precisely 05:00, the blaring sound of the morning alarm echoed through the barracks, yanking the cadets from whatever half-decent sleep they had managed to get. The room, dimly lit by artificial ceiling panels, erupted into groans, muttered curses, and the sluggish rustling of sheets as the young soldiers dragged themselves out of bed.

Desmond was the first to react. "Alright, you lazy bastards," he muttered as he sat up, rolling his shoulders. "Time to suffer."

From the bunk below him, Aiden groaned. "Didn't we just go to sleep like… five minutes ago?"

"That's what it feels like every morning, dumbass," Vivian replied, already halfway through pulling on her uniform. She stretched, her auburn hair still a mess from sleep, but her eyes were sharp. "Come on, rise and shine."

Jiro was already dressed, as usual. He was the only one in their group who seemed to embrace the brutal schedule without complaint. "Five minutes until assembly," he reminded them, fixing the cuffs of his jacket with military precision. "You know they're going to push us hard today."

Bao, sitting cross-legged on his bed, took his time. His dark, calculating eyes flicked toward the others as he lazily ran a hand through his hair. "They push us hard every day," he said matter-of-factly. "At this point, it's just muscle memory."

"Maybe for you," Aiden grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he forced himself up. "I swear, if they make us do another five-kilometer sprint first thing in the morning, I'm defecting."

"To where? The enemy?" Desmond scoffed, tossing Aiden's boots at him. "Get dressed before the drill instructor busts in here again."

The barracks were filled with the usual chaos as cadets stumbled through their morning routine, some faster than others. The stronger, more physically inclined ones took their time, confident in their ability to make up for lost time. The more disciplined cadets, like Jiro, were always prepared ahead of schedule. And then there was Aiden—who, despite his constant complaining, always managed to be just fast enough to avoid getting punished.

As they stepped out into the courtyard, the crisp morning air hit them like a slap to the face. The sky was still painted in dark hues, the sun barely rising over the horizon. Rows of cadets were already lining up, their boots stamping against the concrete ground in synchronized movements.

"Alright, listen up, maggots!" the instructor's voice boomed over the field. Sergeant Keller was a terrifying figure—broad, scarred, and built like a war machine. His piercing eyes scanned the group like a predator searching for weakness. "If any of you thought today was going to be easy, you're dumber than I thought."

"That's not hard," Aiden muttered under his breath.

Vivian elbowed him.

"Today's routine starts with endurance," Keller continued. "Five kilometers, full gear. I want to see you all moving before I even finish speaking!"

The groans from the cadets were immediate.

"Told you," Aiden sighed as he adjusted his training pack.

Desmond rolled his eyes. "Shut up and run."

The sprint began, and within minutes, the cadets were already splitting into their natural groups. The physically superior ones—like Markus and his pack of brutes—shot ahead, eager to show off their athleticism. Jiro, Bao, and Desmond kept a steady pace, conserving energy while staying ahead of the slower runners. Aiden, as always, hovered somewhere in the middle, just fast enough to avoid drawing the instructor's wrath.

"How are you not out of breath?" Vivian asked Bao as they ran.

Bao, completely calm, barely breathing hard, shrugged. "Breathing control. It's not about running fast. It's about running smart."

"Smart or not, this is bullshit," Aiden wheezed. "Five kilometers before breakfast? What kind of hellish system is this?"

"The military," Jiro said flatly.

By the time they finished their drills, the sun had fully risen, and the cadets poured into the mess hall like a pack of starving wolves. The smell of bland, high-calorie meals filled the room as trays clattered and boots stomped against the floor.

As they sat down at their usual table, Vivian leaned in, smirking. "Alright, so what's the latest rumor about our dear Elias?"

Desmond groaned. "Please, can we not talk about him for once?"

Aiden scoffed. "Impossible. Have you seen the rest of the academy? He's practically a myth at this point."

"I heard he's working on some classified weapons project," Jiro said quietly, adjusting his glasses.

"Yeah, no shit," Vivian replied. "But the real question is, how much does he actually know? I mean, no one gets that kind of access without being important."

Bao sipped his tea, watching the conversation unfold. "If the higher-ups are protecting him, there's a reason."

Desmond sighed, stabbing his food with his fork. "I just don't get it. He was just another cadet like us. Then boom, now he's untouchable."

"He's either a genius, or he's playing a game we don't understand," Bao said simply.

Aiden grinned. "Well, either way, one thing's for sure—he's made some serious enemies."

Vivian raised an eyebrow. "You mean Markus and his meatheads?"

"Exactly."

As if summoned, Markus and his crew entered the mess hall, their heavy boots making an unnecessary amount of noise. Markus' gaze immediately found their table, and a smirk curled across his lips.

"Well, if it isn't the think tank," he sneered as he approached.

"Markus," Desmond greeted dryly. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I was just wondering," Markus drawled, "how it feels to spend all day thinking while real men are out there proving themselves."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You 'real men' haven't won a single tactical exercise since training started."

Markus' face darkened, but before he could respond, Bao cut in. "You're wasting your time, Markus. If you're looking for a fight, save it for the field."

Markus' eyes narrowed. He wasn't used to being dismissed so easily. After a long moment, he scoffed. "Whatever. Enjoy your books while the rest of us actually do something."

As he walked away, Aiden exhaled dramatically. "God, he's like a walking cliché."

Vivian snickered. "One that's losing his patience. He's been getting more aggressive lately."

"Because he knows he's being left behind," Jiro said simply.

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