foundation

As morning light crept through the window, Sergeant Solemn sat up slowly, his movements deliberate. The cool wall against his back was a comforting presence. He reached for his cigar, taking a long drag as he gazed up at the ceiling. Lost in thought, he let the silence envelop him.

As he dressed, his gaze lingered on the wolf logo on his BDUs, a reminder of the responsibilities he carried. The familiar ritual of preparing for the day usually calmed his mind, but today it felt like a countdown to a looming challenge.

 As he finished his workout, Solemn's eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping the room to ensure everything was in order. He nodded to himself, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips.

Sergeant Solemn's gaze lingered on the photograph on his desk, a fleeting hint of emotion crossing his face. The morning light casting a warm glow on the image seemed to stir something within him. He grabbed his cigar, the familiar weight of it comforting in his hand, and took a slow drag. The sweet, smoky aroma filled the air, transporting him to a different time.

With a fluid motion, he slipped on his black trench coat, the fabric settling around him like a dark shroud. The soft rustle of the material seemed to echo through the room. He settled his cap on his head, the brim casting a shadow over his eyes, and walked out the door.

As he stepped into the morning light, the shadows seemed to stretch out behind him, like dark specters following in his wake. The air was crisp, with a hint of dampness, and the sounds of the disciplined soldiers filled his ears. Solemn's expression transformed into a relaxed, bleak mask, his eyes seeming to bore into the distance.

As Sergeant Solemn stepped outside, the air enveloped him like a thick, heavy blanket. The sounds of jets screaming overhead and gunfire crackling in the distance created a cacophony of chaos. Yet, amidst the turmoil, a sense of discipline and focus prevailed.

Before him, a group of cadets practiced martial arts, their movements swift and precise. The sound of their grunts and the thud of their feet hitting the ground created a rhythmic beat that seemed to match the pounding of Solemn's heart. He watched, his eyes narrowing, as the cadets executed flawless kicks and punches, their faces set in determined expressions.

The scene was a testament to the rigorous training that took place within the squadron's walls. Solemn's gaze swept across the cadets, his mind evaluating their performance, searching for any weaknesses or areas for improvement. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes gleamed with a hint of pride and satisfaction.

Sergeant Solemn's gaze swept across the training area, his eyes lingering on each cadet. He took a deep breath, and his voice thundered through the air, "Move it, this way, you grunts!"

The trees shook, and birds took flight, startled by the sheer force of his voice. The cadets scrambled to respond.

Leroy, already winded, stumbled forward, his hands on his knees. Jester, on the other hand, sprinted into position, standing tall with a hint of a grin. Anita followed, her expression firm and determined, her eyes flashing with a fierce inner light.

Grim hastened to join them, his movements swift and economical. Leech, meanwhile, ambled forward at a sluggish pace, his eyes fixed on some point beyond the horizon. Malevolence, however, moved with a steady, deliberate pace, her gaze locked on Solemn with an unnerving intensity.

Sergeant Solemn surveyed the cadets, his expression unyielding and bleak. The cigar clenched between his teeth seemed to amplify his austere demeanor. His eyes locked onto each cadet, as if sizing them up.

"In position!" he barked.

The cadets snapped into attention, their postures rigid.

Solemn strode up to Leroy, his boots crunching on the ground. "Potential," he said, his voice low and even, as he touched Leroy's chest, where his heart beat. Leroy's expression faltered, confusion etched on his face.

Next, Solemn approached Jester, his eyes narrowing. "Leader," he stated, his hand brushing against Jester's forehead. Jester's grin never wavered, but a flicker of pride danced in his eyes.

Malevolence was Solemn's next stop. "Strength," he said, his hand wrapping around her arm, his fingers digging into her muscle. Malevolence's gaze remained unyielding, her eyes boring into Solemn's.

Solemn moved on to Grim, his voice unwavering. "Duty," he said, his hand clasping Grim's shoulder. Grim's expression turned resolute, his jaw setting.

Finally, Solemn halted before Leech. "Sloth," he said, his tone dripping with disapproval, as he touched Leech's stomach. Leech's eyes dropped, shame coloring his cheeks.

Solemn stepped back, his eyes sweeping across the cadets. "Do you all know why you're here, at this very moment?" He paused, his gaze lingering on each face. "Your main goal is to reach the Ethereal Plains. To strengthen yourselves for your own causes."

He gestured to the wolf logo on his uniform. "I chose this symbol because, as your leader, I'm nothing without the pack. And the pack is nothing without me."

Grim's eyes widened, and Solemn's expression turned solemn. "Have strength in each other. Today, I'll teach you the basics of your new world, your new illusion."

He began to pace, his boots crunching on the ground. "In this world, ranks are everything. Morbid is the lowest rank – that's where everyone starts. Grey is the second-lowest, followed by Yellow, Green, and Purple. Red is the fourth-highest rank, and then there's Catastrophic. The top ranks are Anomaly and Behemoth.

Solemn's eyes locked onto the cadets. "Your goal is to reach the Ethereal Plains. But to get there, you must first navigate the Ethereal Games. That's where you'll prove yourselves, and earn your place among the ranks.

Solemn shed his trench coat, revealing his chiseled physique. "It's time to train," he declared, his eyes gleaming with intensity. "You'll all come at me once."

Leroy charged forward first, unleashing a flurry of boxing combinations. Solemn stepped back into his MMA fighting stance and delivered a devastating knee to Leroy's solar plexus. Leroy crumpled to the ground, vomiting as he struggled to catch his breath.

Malevolence approached Solemn in her kickboxing stance, throwing a jab-cross combination and finishing with a back-spinning kick. Solemn dodged the kick with ease, grabbing Malevolence's leg and swinging her around before sending her crashing to the ground.

Grim sprang into action, swiftly sidestepping Solemn's throw. He snatched up a handful of sand and flung it at Solemn's face. Solemn stood firm, eyes open and unblinking, as Grim launched a hook. Solemn caught Grim's face and slammed him onto the sand-covered ground, sending shockwaves through the air.

With Grim neutralized, Solemn sprinted toward Anita and Leech. He seized both cadets and slammed them to the ground with incredible force.

Solemn's voice thundered, "Everyone, get the fuck up! What the fuck was this move? Now, move, cadets! Position!"

He glared at them, his eyes blazing. "Our motto is: I am the one who makes the moment. There is no right time; the right time is now. Remember, I said: for every second you waste, it's a slap in the face – to God!"

Solemn's voice dropped to a growl. "Get on your knees and give me 500 push-ups. I don't care. Then go home. I'll wait."

The cadets scrambled to obey, dropping to their knees and starting the push-ups. Leroy struggled, his arms shaking with exhaustion.

As the cadets finished their push-ups, they rushed to help Leroy complete the remaining reps. With a final burst of energy, they finished the exercise together.

Leroy's face lit up with a smile. "Thank you, everyone."

Jester headed to his barracks room, muttering, "I didn't do it for you, Leroy."

Grim, Leech, and Malevolence walked past, their expressions unreadable. Anita fell into step beside Jester.

"Hey, our rooms are next to each other," she said. "Let's walk together."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow, Anita and Leroy made their way to the barracks. Anita supported Leroy, helping him navigate the path.

"The view is nice, isn't it?" Anita asked, gazing out at the breathtaking landscape.

Leroy nodded, smiling weakly. "It is."

They entered the barracks, where the loud hum of fans filled the air. The room was quiet, with an eerie stillness.

Anita led Leroy to her quarters, saying, "Here we are. Why don't you come in and have a drink? I know we're both exhausted."

Anita settled Leroy onto a chair, then sat down beside him. Leroy's eyes widened as he took in the modern, feminine decor.

"Wow, it's nice in here," Leroy said, noticing the various masks adorning the walls. "What's with all the masks?"

Anita shrugged. "I don't know; it's just a hobby of mine. What's yours?"

Leroy yawned, his exhaustion evident. "I'm a bit tired. I'll head out for the night. I'll see you later."

Anita smiled. "Okay, sweet dreams."

Leroy echoed, "Okay," and walked out of Anita's quarters, entering his own barracks room. He collapsed onto the bed, drifting off to sleep.

Just as he was about to succumb to slumber, a soft, menacing voice whispered, "Sweet dreams, little puppet."