The heat hit him first.
As Ryan stepped off the commercial flight and onto the cracked tarmac of the Andhra Pradesh airstrip, a heavy, humid wave of air slammed into his skin. It was different from Mumbai — harsher, heavier, almost suffocating. The wide blue sky stretched endlessly above, broken only by the faint green outline of a distant forest.
Beside him, Maggi stood straight and unaffected, as if the climate itself bowed to her iron will. She moved with military precision, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings.
Waiting near an old military-style jeep was a man waving at them — mid-40s, tan skin, lean, wearing rugged field clothes. His salt-and-pepper hair was cropped short, and a scar ran from his right temple to the corner of his jaw. A hard life had etched itself into his face.
"Amit," Maggi said, her voice neutral, striding forward with no hesitation. Ryan followed her lead.
As they approached, Amit offered a brief nod. "Welcome," he said, his voice gravelly and clipped. "Everything's arranged. Your tents are ready at the camp. You can use all the equipment — no restrictions."
Maggi simply nodded, not wasting words.
Without ceremony, Amit gestured toward the jeep. The ride was rough, the old vehicle bouncing along a dirt path that cut through stretches of dry land and dense green forest. Ryan kept silent, watching. This wasn't a training camp; it was a battlefield disguised as preparation.
The camp revealed itself through the trees — a spread of olive-green tents, obstacle courses, shooting ranges, and sparring grounds. It looked temporary but deadly serious, every inch built for endurance and survival.
As they rumbled to a stop, Ryan saw men and women sweating under the punishing sun — sprinting, lifting, grappling in the dirt. They were soldiers in all but name.
Amit jumped down first and led them across the grounds.
"Your tents are here," he said, pointing to two pitched side by side at the edge of the camp. "Get settled. After that, I'll give you the tour. You'll need to know every inch of this place."
His tone left no room for delay.
Without another word, Amit turned and stalked away, barking at a cadet who had stumbled during drills.
Ryan looked at Maggi, expecting at least a few instructions. But she was already moving toward her tent, her expression unreadable.
Just before disappearing inside, she threw a sharp look over her shoulder and spoke:
"One hour. Be ready. We'll discuss your training."
The tent flap swung closed, cutting the conversation short.
Ryan stood there for a moment, the midday sun beating down on him, the noise of the camp swirling around — grunts, shouts, the slap of fists against punching bags.
This was no simulation.
This was survival.
He squared his shoulders, feeling the shift inside him — the part that had been softening slowly under Jane's touch now hardening again for what was to come.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he headed into his tent to prepare.
The real journey had only just begun.
An hour later, Maggi emerged from her tent, her face expressionless as ever. She scanned the surroundings, her gaze landing on Ryan's tent.
No sign of movement.
Her brows narrowed slightly.
Standing outside, she called in a sharp tone, "Ryan. Out."
A muffled reply came from inside, and after a few moments, Ryan stepped out, stretching his arms with a slightly sheepish smile.
Without a word, Maggi turned on her heel and headed toward a nearby wooden table under the shade of a thick tree. Ryan followed, curiosity burning inside him.
He couldn't help but ask as he sat down, "Will I be training with the other cadets?"
Maggi turned her cold eyes toward him.
"No. You will have no contact with them. None. Nor with the instructors here," she said firmly. "Your training will be harder. Much harder. Forget what you saw out there."
Ryan swallowed, feeling the seriousness behind her tone.
Maggi continued, her voice devoid of any softness. "For the next six months, I will only intervene if you're on the brink of death. Otherwise, you fend for yourself."
Ryan blinked at her. "Even if someone attacks us?"
She gave a single nod. "You handle it. Even if the problem was created by you... or me. No interference."
The weight of her words hit him hard. There would be no safety nets here. No easy outs.
She leaned back slightly, studying him. "Mei Lin has already built a solid foundation in you — your stamina, reflexes, basics. That's good enough. Tomorrow... we move straight to handling arms and ammunition."
Ryan's heart picked up speed. Guns. Live combat training.
Maggi fell silent after that, her arms crossed as she stared out at the bustling training grounds.
A few minutes later, Amit returned, motioning for them to follow.
He took them around the camp, pointing out critical areas — the obstacle course, the open sparring arena, the makeshift gym built from old metal, and most importantly, the shooting ranges stretched far into the woods.
Ryan noticed how eyes followed them — or more specifically, followed Maggi.
Even among soldiers trained to look straight ahead, many couldn't help but sneak glances at her. She was stunning in a lethal way, with the kind of body that demanded attention — a toned chest, a tight waist, curves in all the right places. Her confident, icy demeanor only added to her striking appearance.
But one glare from her — cold, sharp, and merciless — had most cadets snapping their heads away immediately, pretending to be busy.
Amit, used to her presence, acted as if he noticed nothing, simply introducing each area in quick, professional tones.
"This is the main shooting range. Targets from fifty to three hundred meters. You'll have access after clearance."
Ryan nodded, absorbing every word.
By the time the tour ended, the sun had dipped closer to the horizon, casting the camp in deep gold and crimson.
Without exchanging more words, Maggi and Ryan returned to their respective tents.
Tomorrow, the real war would begin.