- Oliver -
Suddenly, everything went black.
When Oliver finally regained consciousness, he found himself lying flat on a narrow bunk. The steady hum of the fortress's life support systems filled the air, a constant reminder of their subterranean location.
"Ah! Finally awake, are we?" a voice comnted wryly. "It's normal—the General doesn't take kindly to being opposed."
Oliver groaned softly, his head throbbing where he'd been struck. The pain was sharp, a reminder of the General's overwhelming strength. He didn't recognize who was speaking, but there was a hint of camaraderie in the tone. Raising a hand to his temple, he winced and struggled to sit up.
The room bore a stark resemblance to the dormitories he'd known at the Academy: spartan accommodations with a simple bed, a thin mattress that did little to soften the rigid fra, and that persistent musty odor that seed ingrained into the very walls. However, unlike the crowded quarters of his past, this space housed only him and one other person.
Across from him, stretched out on an identical bunk, was Darius. His tall fra barely fit the confines of the bed, his feet almost hanging over the edge. Despite the cramped conditions, he appeared relaxed, arms folded behind his head as he regarded Oliver with a faint smile.
"You might want to get so more rest," Darius suggested. "Tomorrow, our training truly begins. It'll be your first ti climbing the Silo—you'll need every bit of stamina you've got."
Oliver didn't fully comprehend his surroundings; his body was weary, and his head throbbed. It didn't take much persuasion for him to decide to return to sleep.
Just before slipping back into unconsciousness, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. ‘The General is freakishly strong. I'm still far from their level.’
He had no idea how long he'd slept when sudden, piercing alarms jolted him awake.
"What the hell is that?" he muttered to himself, squinting against the brightness.
"It's the start of the day," Darius's voice ca from the other side of the room. Oliver turned to see his roommate sitting up on his bunk, pulling on his boots. "Since there's no sun inside the fortress, we begin the day with an alarm."
"What a nightmare," Oliver grumbled, swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and quickly began dressing in his uniform.
"Better get moving," Darius advised. "They don't take kindly to tardiness around here."
Together, they stepped out into the corridor, joining the flow of personnel heading toward the ss hall. As they walked, Oliver couldn't help but notice the stark differences from his days at the Academy. Here, there were no distinctions between battalions or ranks—no emblems denoting status or specialty. Everyone wore the sa uniforms, slept in identical quarters, ate the sa food, and endured the sa grueling training regin.
Even so, Oliver couldn't believe that they were the sa. "If ranks or nobility aren't what sets them apart, there must be sothing else that does." He couldn't help but think that way.
As they moved through its labyrinthine passages, Oliver's eyes road over every detail, trying to absorb as much as possible about his new environnt.
Reaching the central hub of the base, Oliver's gaze was drawn upward, and his breath caught in his throat. An enormous spiral staircase ascended skyward, its steps seeming to stretch into infinity. The sheer scale of it was both awe-inspiring and daunting.
"That's... quite a climb," Oliver remarked.
Darius noticed his wide-eyed stare and offered a knowing smirk. "There are thirty floors. We're on the thirtieth level below ground," he explained. "All the training takes place between levels one and two. The rest are filled with more ss halls, offices, dormitories—you na it."
"Why are we stationed all the way down here?" Oliver asked, frowning. "Wouldn't it make more sense to be closer to the training levels?"
Darius chuckled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Oh, it would be easier, sure. But you'll soon see why they've put us here."
Oliver didn't press the issue any further; there were still many other things to learn. As he and Darius made their way down the corridor, a soft voice piped up behind them.
"Excuse ," soone said, slipping past them toward one of the dormitory rooms.
Oliver turned to see who had spoken, and his eyes widened in surprise. It was a girl who couldn't have been more than nine years old. She moved with purpose, clutching a data sheet to her chest, her uniform neatly pressed but unmistakably small.
"W-what?!" Oliver stamred, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
"What's up?" Darius asked, noticing Oliver's bewildered expression.
"That girl," Oliver said, pointing after the child who had already disappeared into a room. "Is she supposed to be here?"
"Who? Oh!" Darius glanced back. "Ah, she's late."
"No, I an—she's so young!" Oliver exclaid. "Surely she shouldn't be here."
Darius raised an eyebrow. "Age only matters at the Academy and the Five Divisions," he explained casually. "The Sixth Division doesn't care about age. From the mont we're chosen by a Unique Crystal, our training begins."
Oliver absorbed this information with a sinking feeling. "How old were you when you got here?" he asked quietly.
Darius shrugged. "I don't know. I don't have any mories from that ti."
‘Good god,’ Oliver thought, a chill running down his spine. ‘He's spent his whole life here?’
He cleared his throat, trying to shift the conversation. "Uh, how did the evaluation end yesterday?"
Darius smirked slightly. "You did alright. Got knocked out with just a kick. The General only seed satisfied when it was five against one—and even then, we all got our asses handed to us."
"What a monster," Oliver muttered, shaking his head.
"Heh, it's your first ti eting him," Darius said, an amused glint in his eyes. "After a while, you get used to it."
"You've fought him many tis?" Oliver asked.
"Plenty," Darius replied. "I thought this ti I might at least crack a rib or two. If he hadn't taken it so seriously. Tsk." He clicked his tongue in mock frustration.
Oliver tried to picture soone injuring the General but found it difficult. "Has anyone ever managed to hurt him?"
"One of the graduates did in the last bout," Darius said thoughtfully. "He broke one of the instructors' legs."
"Graduate?" Oliver echoed.
"Yeah," Darius confird. "When we complete five years in the Sixth Division, we're retired. Usually, they beco instructors."
"How could soone want to be an instructor here?" Oliver wondered aloud.
Darius shrugged again. "For so of us, it's the only life we know."
They both shared a simple breakfast, reminiscent of the unremarkable als from Oliver's days at the Academy—nutritious but bland, designed solely to fuel them. The ss hall buzzed with subdued conversation, but Oliver's focus was on the day's agenda.
"We're already late," Darius muttered, glancing at his gauntlet.
| 06:00
"Late? But isn't it two hours until classes start?" Oliver replied, puzzled. According to the schedule he'd reviewed, their first session began at 0800.
"Yes, but we still have to get to the classroom," Darius pointed out, finishing his al with swift efficiency.
"Isn't it just a matter of going up?" Oliver asked, his gaze wandering around in search of an elevator or transport tube that would take them to the upper levels.
It was then that realization struck him. In none of the corridors or chambers they'd navigated since arriving had he seen a single lift.
"Wait. You're telling the only way up or down is that staircase?" Oliver said, incredulous, motioning toward the massive spiral staircase at the center of the fortress.
"Exactly," Darius confird, a hint of a grin forming. "That's why we call it the Silo. Each level of the Silo separates the grade of 'product.' The best rise to the top; the rest stay at the bottom."
"But aren't you one of the best? Isn't that why you're on this mission?" Oliver pressed, still grappling with the concept.
"I'm proficient, sure, but I wouldn't say I'm among the elite. Even so, I need to be here with all of you," Darius replied, standing up from the table.
"All of us?" Oliver echoed, lifting his eyes to the towering staircase that spiraled upward through the heart of the fortress. tal steps glead under the lighting, disappearing into the heights above.
Several floors up, he spotted a familiar figure ascending—Kyle. He appeared to be about seven levels ahead but moved sluggishly, each step seemingly more difficult than the last. ‘Already out of breath?’ Oliver thought to himself.
"Well... it won't be pleasant, but it's only thirty floors," Oliver remarked, attempting to sound optimistic as he took his first step onto the staircase. However, sothing felt off almost imdiately. A subtle heaviness settled over him, an inexplicable strain in his muscles.
They began their ascent, climbing step by step. As they reached the twenty-ninth floor, then the twenty-eighth, the sensation intensified. The air seed denser; gravity pulled at him more insistently.
"My body feels... strange," Oliver said, pausing to catch his breath.
"Noticed it already?" Darius replied, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Thought it'd take you a bit longer."
"I've felt this before," Oliver recalled, mories surfacing of intense gravity training at the Academy. "They're increasing the gravity."
"Precisely," Darius confird. "Each floor ramps up the gravity by four percent. By the ti you reach the top, you'll be carrying more then triple your weight."
"That's insane," Oliver muttered, shaking his head. He decided conserving energy was wise; there was still a long way to go.
"I spent nearly five years on the lowest levels, unable to make it to the top," Darius admitted as they climbed.
"What do you an?" Oliver asked, glancing sideways at him.
"The staircases open at 0600 hours sharp," Darius explained. "All training sessions start at 0800. If you don't reach the first floor before classes begin, they consider you unfit to train."
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