Chapter 50 - Donning Armor

The equipment hall resembled a basketball arena, except that two opposite sides of the open space were divided into individual equipment rooms, one per regiment. They weren’t wide, but they were deep and long. Each room held the maneuvering devices on one wall and the dead iron blades on another.

Energy cores were not distributed here.

At this stage, an instructor would issue each recruit’s daily energy core before training. They’d mark it with their personal identifier, use it through the session, then return it afterward. The same core would be reissued the next time.

Han Qingyu had asked around about how long a fully charged energy core was supposed to last during training. Setting aside individual differences, the average came out to about four days.

The answer was simultaneously a little surprising and also disappointing.

Holding his brand-new ninth-generation maneuvering device in both hands, Han Qingyu studied it with something close to reverence. On the upper right corner of the combat case—the veterans’ name for the dark metal source energy cases—flush with the edge, was an engraved serial number: 9-771209.

This was the device’s serial number, and would also serve as his combat number in the Only Witness Legion. Barring the unexpected, this number would stay with him for life. For many, it would even accompany them on their urns.

Han Qingyu walked through the hall, passing a steady stream of male and female soldiers, some already in their new combat uniforms and some still in the previous phase’s training clothes, and headed for the changing room.

On the way, a female soldier with the look of a middle-aged aunt stopped him. “Your hair’s gotten long. Go get it trimmed over there.”

Han Qingyu tugged at his hair, which had been cut just six weeks ago, and sat down in one of the chairs lined up along the wall.

A white cape was thrown over him with a whoosh, then came the buzz of electric clippers.

“I’ve noticed the veterans all seem to wear their hair however they want,” he said, turning his head to make casual conversation.

“They’re veterans,” the girl behind him answered flatly, her expression mechanical.

Placing five fingers on top of his head like a claw, she turned it straight again. Then, she paused, turned it back, and tilted her own head to study him from several angles, then straightened him once more.

“Don’t worry,” she said, voice softening. “A buzz cut looks better on you.”

She seemed to put real care into it. Between the clippers and the brush, the whole thing took about three minutes.

Han Qingyu stood up with his fresh buzz cut and continued toward the changing room.

Along the way, he occasionally passed soldiers wearing eighth-generation devices. They’d stop and take a look at the ninth-generation units in the recruits’ hands, then mutter to each other.

Most comments were complaints that the new devices were ugly and getting worse with every update. At the same time, they mourned the impending retirement of their own eighth-generation devices, which had been their companions for many years. Whenever a new model was issued, veterans always went through this cycle of resentment and rejection before eventually warming up to it.

On the surface, the equipment hall’s security appeared low, but if anything went wrong, swarms of high-level fighters could likely pour out at a moment’s notice. It wouldn’t be surprising if a facility like this had top-tier combatants on guard.

“Hey, Little Qing,” Liu Shiheng and He Tangtang greeted him, already in the changing room when he arrived.

The new dormitory assignments meant He Tangtang had become a roommate.

Both of them had already stripped down to the standard-issue gray boxer briefs. It wasn’t any different from being in the dorm. They were all men. There was nothing to be embarrassed about.

Han Qingyu found his spot, set the device on top of his locker, and changed into his combat uniform.

The blue-gray shirt had a texture like coarse linen. It wasn’t exactly soft, but it was comfortable, and it didn’t restrict movement at all.

There were no buttons on the sleeve cuffs and the front. Or rather, there were, but not the usual kind. They used a type of adhesive clasp that couldn’t be pulled apart by force once fastened. One simply had to push it up or down to open it.

The shirt had an insignia, known as the Starlight insignia. The material of it was soft, save for a single, austere star made of black iron.

The trousers were in a similar color palette, just slightly darker. They also seemed rather narrow compared to Han Qingyu’s usual uniform. Once he pulled them on, though, he found the flexibility, stretch, and comfort were all excellent.

Buckling the brown four-port belt, he tucked his shirt in, then sat down on a bench to put on his boots. Six adhesive straps, pressed tight. Done.

He stepped outside. He Tangtang and Liu Shiheng had been waiting at the door, and together they headed for the training ground.

Meanwhile, each regiment had mostly finished distributing their devices. Most of the equipment officers were female, and with their free time, they started getting to know each other and chatting.

As a male soldier, Wen Jifei stuck out among them.

The female soldiers eyed him, some openly, some from their periphery. There was curiosity, and occasionally even a hint of condescension. That guy probably couldn’t make it on the battlefield, but he could at least go to the Order Legion. Why did he end up as an equipment officer?

Wen Jifei sat silently at his station, staring down at the personal test result card in his hand. The corner of his mouth twitched in a bitter smile.

Then, slipping the card into his breast pocket, he stood up, closed the door to Equipment Room 425, and set off for his device maintenance class.

Expressionless, eyes straight ahead, he walked past the female soldiers at an unhurried pace.

The card was just a bit long for his pocket, and a sliver peeked out from the top. A sharp-eyed female soldier glanced at it, froze, then quickly tried to glimpse it again. The top third of a letter was visible above the pocket’s edge.

Oh my God. That’s an A!

The Azure Coalition’s test result cards for recruits were specially printed, since they would be tied to many things going forward, such as medical dosages. The letter A was rendered in a vivid ocean blue, with a unique texture pattern embedded in the character itself. It was impossible for an ordinary person to forge.

One bold female soldier, then a second, deliberately walked past him and stole a closer look.

“Oh my God! It’s real.”

As Wen Jifei stepped out of the equipment hall and disappeared from view, the female soldiers huddled together and went wild. They didn’t know about the existence of Dice.

In their eyes, this was an A-rank recruit choosing to serve as an equipment officer, and a male soldier at that.

Maybe he has a special mission, which is why he’s so mysterious and low-key. Or maybe he has some untold, twisted backstory that caused him to become cold, jaded, and brooding.

The mystery of it all was incredibly attractive. This was the foundation that would help the “Plague Chicken Dynasty” gradually reign over the equipment hall.

***

The regiment lead advisor had once told them that the recruits would only see the true flag of the Azure Coalition after they started their next level of training.

That flag now flew on a modest flagpole before Han Qingyu.

The rectangular banner was sliced diagonally from lower left to upper right, dividing it into two triangles.

The upper triangle had an azure blue background, with a simple yet abstract design of lines that split below and joined above. At first glance, it resembled a pair of crossed blades, but on closer inspection, it could also be read as clasped hands, guarding the expanse of blue beneath.

The lower triangle bore no symbol at all. It was filled with a single color.

This one had a red lower triangle, but Han Qingyu supposed that this portion would carry different colors in different countries.

He had just learned the salute that Lao Jian had once shown him, fist pressed over the heart. Perhaps because he lacked the visceral understanding to go with it, the gesture felt slightly awkward.

Still, with so many people doing it together, all compelled to roar the words in unison, there was an undeniable surge of something in the air. “For all who still draw breath, we fight with no retreat, our bodies shielding the sky.”

They had already received their energy cores. Their devices lay on the ground beside their feet.

Head Instructor Qi Shantong stood on the large command platform and said, “Sit down.”

“Sit down?” Despite their surprise, the recruits, halfway through their training cycle, were disciplined enough to obey immediately, lowering themselves in unison in their brand-new combat uniforms.

“The Armoring Ceremony will now begin,” Qi Shantong announced.

Under the guidance of each regiment’s instructors and assistant instructors, the recruits put on their devices while seated, fastening each connector one by one.

“Aren’t we supposed to connect the heart first, and then the other points, like the kidneys?” Han Qingyu asked Mira, who was serving as an assistant instructor for this session. “I saw Captain Lao Jian put his on once before...”

Oh God, why did he specifically mention the kidneys to me? Kidneys...[1] Mira’s thoughts raced.

1. In traditional Chinese medicine, the health of one’s kidneys is thought to be tied to one’s fertility. ☜