The morning exam continued after Traveler left, and all the cadets had their chance to showcase their skills before the two judges and Major-General Tatelov. Hours passed before the session concluded, followed by a brief respite for the injured from the tournament. Afterward, we were loaded onto a massive aircraft carrier, accompanied by Major-General Tatelov and the instructors, embarking on a journey through the sky.
As soon as the craft ascended, the cadets rushed to the windows, eager to see the world below. But despite my seat being right next to one, I found myself alone. Maybe it was because of what had happened in the knighthood tournament, but I was left undisturbed, allowing me to take in the view without being swarmed.
Above the sea of clouds, which I had only ever admired from below, the sight was mesmerizing. It felt as though I were gazing upon a landscape made of soft, fluffy snow, the clouds shifting into random shapes—one even resembling a chicken, oddly enough.
Yet, not all was serene. The weight of my actions in the tournament lingered. I wasn't one to lash out in anger, but I had done it for Traveler's honour—he had been mocked and belittled, and I had acted on emotion. Still, the regret gnawed at me. It was done, though. Too late for second thoughts. That's what I kept telling myself.
The fear in their eyes—the ones I had struck—was something I couldn't shake. It wasn't the simple detest or malice I had encountered before. It was something deeper.
A memory surfaced suddenly, like a ripple in my mind, as if Traveler himself was speaking directly to me:
"You want to know how to handle your emotions?"
He had said, his words clear, but his tone not harsh. "They're a natural part of your human half, Firefly. To control that part of yourself would be to deny it, to make your artificial half your whole."
I remembered asking, "Could you say that in a way a child would understand?"
He had responded with a soft sigh, tapping a rock lightly against my head. "Emotions are a gift. When you're on death's door one day, your emotions, your memories, and desperation will be all that you have left. Don't suppress them. Work with them, and let them teach you about yourself. There will be times when you won't understand your emotions after acting on them, and that's okay. In fact, that's good. Your heart will always clash with your mind. It's up to you to make the best of both worlds."
Thinking back on those words, I still couldn't fully grasp their meaning. Traveler had said much more to explain, but maybe, just maybe, I was starting to understand now. "In the end, it's up to me to decide who I am. Was that what you meant, Traveler?" I whispered to myself.
The plane ride continued for another hour before we finally landed. Exiting the aircraft, the cadets from Fallen Moon facility lined up in disciplined rows, following the instructors without question toward the sprawling military complex.
As we marched through the base, I observed the infantrymen—serious, focused, and steadfast in their duties. The base was a fortress in its own right, surrounded by anti-aircraft guns and guarded by an entire army. Ahead, nine airships stood parked, identical to the one we had arrived in—turtle-like in design, each with four thrusters. They looked freshly landed.
Passing through a large gate, Major-General Tatelov led us along the facility's perimeter, where the sights of our future were on display. Sparks flew in the air, and the sound of metal being hammered into shape filled the atmosphere. We stopped to witness the construction of a knight—already towering at twenty feet tall, its wire-covered body was slowly being encased in black-painted steel. Workers meticulously attached each piece, layer by layer, until the mechanical body was nearly complete. The final result was an imposing silver mech, glowing faintly with red light from its thrusters and visor.
We could only watch in awe as the production line continued its work. It took an army of engineers to craft just one of these machines, but we understood—it wasn't just a machine; it was the future. Our future.
We continued our march, the marvel of engineering fuelling our excitement as we made our way to the heart of the facility. Down a long corridor, whispers of awe spread through the cadets.
"Did you see that?"
"Those were real knights!"
"Soon, we'll have our own!"
Part of me wanted to join their excitement, but I knew better than to force myself into a conversation where I didn't quite belong. My own thrill would be fleeting, as would theirs.
At the end of the corridor, Major-General Tatelov led the 178 cadets into a hall, where we joined the smaller groups from other facilities. The disparity between our numbers and theirs was stark. While our line seemed endless, the others barely filled their rows, some with no more than fifty cadets.
As we took our places, I noticed Major-General Tatelov whispering something to Sam and the second-ranking cadet before he turned away, heading toward a group of men and a woman standing at the front of the stage.
We fell into line as the rest of the cadets did, the silence of the hall settling over us. A heavy tension filled the air as the men on stage exchanged greetings, some shaking hands, others offering polite nods. Among them was one man with a tiara symbol, who seemed pleased by the sheer number of cadets present.
Finally, the leader of the gathering stepped up to the microphone—a tall, imposing figure with a voice that boomed through the hall.
"Greetings, pilot cadets! I am Marshal Haslein, the shield of the Empire's future defenders while you are still in your formative years. If you haven't figured it out yet, it is I who should be thanked for ensuring that our enemies have not interrupted your training!"
His voice was gravely, yet commanding, drawing our full attention.
"Over the past three years, I have watched with pride as you've made progress, while the brave men and women of this base have kept you safe. Today, I'm glad to present to you the final key to your growth. Once you receive it, you will spend the next four years perfecting your skills with it."
He motioned to the side, and Dr Medea stepped forward. She adjusted her glasses, her expression cool and detached as she addressed us. "Thank you, Haslein," she said. "Simply put, linking with a knight is the final step in becoming a verified pilot. But it's not as simple as it sounds. Knights are controlled by an AI program that evaluates your aptitudes—combat effectiveness, personality, charisma, and more—searching for its ideal operator. If the knight rejects you, there's a 10% chance your brain will be fried."
The cadets gasped. Fear rippled through the hall, but Dr Medea's voice cut through it, calm and unflinching.
"If you survive a rejection, you'll be allowed three more attempts with different knights. Fail all three, and you will be sent to the special infantry forces for retraining. To link with a knight, you simply grip its offered hand. After that, you will undergo a mental linkage test on the interface pad. Do not let go until the knight either accepts or rejects you. If you do, the process will be interrupted, and the risk of electrocution increases."
She paused, turning to Marshal Haslein. "Is there anything I've missed?"
"No," came his low growl, barely audible over the speakers.
Dr Medea sighed, clearly not impressed. "Now, on to the truly interesting part. Thirty of you will be selected at random for the Constellation Program, where you will attempt to link with the most advanced and ancient knight models—the Constellation Knights. You may choose to sign up, but be warned: the success rate is... a mere 1%."
A chill ran through the hall, and no one moved.
As expected, Dr Medea sighed again. "As I thought. But there's one cadet who has already been signed up for this program. Cadet number nine-zero-three from Fallen Moon facility. Please come up to the stage."
Gasps filled the room as my heart pounded in my chest. I could hear their whispers, their questions about why I had been chosen when no one else had. I had known about this, of course—Traveler had warned me months ago. He had given me the choice to run, but I hadn't. Back then, it was arrogance that kept me from fleeing, but now, fear was sinking deep into my bones.
Stepping forward, my heart thundering in my ears, I walked slowly toward the stage. Each step felt like an eternity as my fellow cadets looked on, their gazes filled with curiosity and trepidation.
When I reached the stage, I stood behind Dr Medea, awaiting whatever came next.
Just as the silence began to settle again, two voices rang out. "I volunteer!"
I turned, shocked, to see Samuel and Zero both with their hands raised, each equally surprised by the other's sudden decision.
I couldn't fathom why they would volunteer for such a dangerous program. But Dr Medea had no qualms. "Bravo, boys. Come up to the stage. The lottery will begin shortly."