Chapter 15
Getting settled (2)
"Hey."
"Hey!"
"Hey!!"
IAM's eyes snap open, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looks around in confusion and spots Ryan at the entrance of the tent, beckoning him out with an impatient wave.
Taking a deep breath, IAM swings his legs over the bunk and steps down.
"What's up?" he mutters, groggy as he exits the tent. He immediately notices Ryan—fresh clothes, clean skin, hair still damp from a recent shower.
Sniffing instinctively, IAM narrows his eyes. Ryan casually gestures toward a nearby cube-like building.
"Showers," he says.
IAM frowns. "How'd you even know where it was?"
Ryan avoids eye contact. "I asked around… you know, getting to know people."
IAM studies him, his dark brown eyes—almost black—quietly searching. Ryan pretends not to notice.
Clearing his throat, IAM nods and makes his way inside the shower block. The interior is bare and utilitarian: rows of overhead metal spouts that blast out ice-cold water, no curtains, no dividers. The water hits like needles, but it wakes him up fast.
Ten minutes later, he emerges dripping and chilled. Ryan hands him a folded bundle of clean clothes with a smile.
The steel cube was one IAM had seen from a distance earlier—its cold, metallic surface standing out starkly against the dusty landscape. Now, as they approached it, the red flag fluttering atop gave it an ominous edge, especially compared to the bigger tents nearby that bore similar flags—but they had an "H" in the center, marking higher privilege.
As they approach, they find Regina waiting at the entrance, arms crossed, her gaze cold.
"IAM," she snaps, "I said three hours—not the whole fucking night. You slept like a brick. I had to delay, and trust me, I didn't want to. If Ryan hadn't insisted on doing this together, claiming you two were friends or whatever…"
Her tone cuts deep.
"Wait… this is the next day?" IAM's face twists in disbelief.
Regina crosses her arms, clearly unimpressed. "Yeah, genius. This isn't a damn vacation spot, it's The Hold."
IAM opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. His head was foggy, and the weight of embarrassment was heavier than any excuse he could come up with.
Ryan steps in smoothly, a relaxed smile on his face. "He was drained. Probably nerves. I figured it'd be better for him to hit the ground running at full strength instead of wobbling around half-awake."
Regina raises an eyebrow but says nothing. After a long pause, she sighs. "Whatever. You're both already behind. Get in there before I change my mind."
She jerks her thumb toward the steel cube's heavy door, stepping aside.
IAM swallows his shame and enters first. Ryan follows, throwing him a wink. "Relax, brick-sleeper. We're just getting started."
The air inside the cube is sterile and cold, smelling faintly of metal and dust. A long hallway stretches ahead, lit by strips of harsh white light along the ceiling. IAM's nerves begin to spike again.
"What was this place?" IAM whispered, voice barely audible.
Regina's brown eyes locked onto him, cold and unyielding. "This is the Hub. It's where you get your gear, weapons, uniforms, mission intel, and food."
IAM's gaze swept across the vast interior of the Hub—a colossal steel cube that felt like a fortress carved out of cold metal. The walls, floor, and ceiling gleamed dull silver under harsh, white fluorescent lights that hummed incessantly, casting long shadows that danced as soldiers moved about. The air smelled sharply of cold steel, oil, and something faintly acrid—like burnt electronics mixed with the sterile scent of disinfectant.
The space stretched endlessly in every direction, a labyrinth of catwalks and staircases suspended above wide corridors below. Pipes and cables snaked along the walls and ceiling, occasionally pulsing with faint blue light, giving the impression the entire cube was alive with hidden power. Doors, all thick steel with reinforced frames, bore symbols etched in black: crossed swords, a shield, a plate and cutlery, and others IAM didn't recognize yet. Each door hissed softly as it sealed behind soldiers or slid open ahead of them.
Soldiers moved with mechanical precision—faces set in stoic determination, voices reduced to whispered commands or silence. Their black hoodies seemed to absorb the harsh lighting, blending into the steel-gray backdrop. Some bore shining stars on their badges, others had none, marking the thin line between rank and raw recruit.
Every footstep echoed sharply against the metal, bouncing off walls and floor in a hollow, rhythmic beat that filled the cavernous space. Occasionally, the low rumble of machinery thrummed through the floor, a reminder that the entire cube was a self-contained fortress, isolated from the world outside.
IAM swallowed hard, nerves tightening his throat as the reality of war pressed down on him like the cold steel walls surrounding them. Deadline creatures. Missions. Death. It all felt too vast, too immediate.
Regina led the way through the maze-like corridors, her steps sure and measured as they navigated narrow catwalks suspended over maintenance shafts and crossed winding staircases that seemed to spiral infinitely upward and downward.
At last, they reached the far end of the cube. Regina stopped before a pair of heavy metal double doors, their surface cold and unyielding. The emblem of a crossed spanner and sword was etched deep into the steel.
"I was supposed to do this with a big group of recruits," she said, voice softer now, "but being early has its perks—you two get personal guidance."
She gestured toward the soldiers passing by—silent, focused, their movements a blur of practiced efficiency.
She pressed a glowing blue panel beside the door. A hiss pierced the silence as the doors slid open smoothly, revealing the armory beyond.
The inside of the armory was clean—unnaturally so. Everything gleamed under sterile white lights, with not a speck of dust or weapon in sight. It felt less like a forge and more like a high-end lab. No racks, no crates of gear. Just that slick black counter stretching across the room like a surgical line in a clean room.
Behind it stood a man—tallish, wiry, with skin the warm brown of sun-baked clay. His gold-rimmed glasses flashed under the light, and a mop of unkempt hair made him look perpetually in motion, even when still. He wore the same standard black hoodie as everyone else, except his bore two stars on the chest—the only other two-star IAM had seen so far.
"Oh, hello, hello," the man chirped, his tone dripping with sarcastic cheer. "Only the 578th person today needing a new weapon or some desperate repair job. Right on schedule—wait, wait, hold up... are these the canon fo— I mean, new recruits?" His grey eyes lit up with a playful gleam as he leaned forward. "Fucking hell. You two must really want to die."
IAM blinked, not sure if he should laugh or run.
"You fix all those weapons?" Ryan asked, glancing at the blank walls as if a secret arsenal might pop out.
Raj tilted his head with mock confusion. "No, no, of course not. I just stare at them and hope they fix themselves. Meditation and positive vibes, you know?" He grinned. "C'mon, man. With a Path of Mechanic at Experienced level, this is the least I can do."
"Name's Raj, by the way." He spoke fast—machine-gun fast—but his energy was contagious, cutting through the cold tension that filled most of the Hold like it was butter. Just being around him felt like catching your breath after holding it too long.
Then he snapped his fingers, and like magic, a panel in the wall hissed open. A thin, sleek scanner slid out, humming softly as it glided over IAM and Ryan from head to toe in one smooth pass.
Raj nodded at the readout. "Got your sizes. Gimme a sec."
He ducked behind the counter and returned with two neatly packed bundles, plopping them down in front of them with a solid thunk.
"Oh, and—what Mech do you guys want?"
"Mech?" IAM echoed.
"Yeah," Raj said, rolling his wrist casually. "It's a weapon that enhances your path techniques—helps concentrate and channel your abilities more efficiently. Super useful for Novice and Experienced level folks like yourselves, who've still got mana control like a leaking bucket. You probably won't need one when you hit Master or higher, but even then, the right Mech can evolve with you... assuming you can afford the high-tier stuff."
He glanced at the plain black packages in front of them and shrugged. "Which you can't. So, low-quality ones it is. But hey—it's something, riiight?"
Ryan didn't hesitate. "A sword." after all there was no other weapon that signify justice better.
Raj's brows lifted approvingly. "Classic. Respect."
He turned to IAM. "And you?"
IAM smirked, a familiar glint in his eye. "I don't suppose you guys got something called a gun? It's this metal device that can sh—"
Raj raised a hand. "Oh. A blickey? No problem, bro."
IAM blinked. "Wait. What?"
Raj was already ducking behind the counter again, chuckling to himself. IAM stood frozen, stunned.
This world just kept surprising him.