It's Thursday, the classroom was filled with the soft hum of pencils scratching and the occasional beep of auto-check scanners as the Division 2 written assessment wrapped up.
Araka leaned back in her chair, stretching her fingers. Her answers were solid—she felt confident, actually—but as she glanced at her paper again…
"…Ah."
She had written 'Peni Araka' in the subject code line.
"Oops."
Across the room, Jun let out a small sigh from behind his sheet, already guessing what happened.
Once the last paper was submitted, Huashin stood at the front of the room, arms crossed but a satisfied look on her face.
"Well," she said. "I expected at least one person to blank on the SAIR history part, but you all surprised me."
Tenka gave Araka a big thumbs-up from across the room. "See? Told you you'd ace it!"
Huashin tapped her tablet and turned toward the center screen.
"As promised, since everyone passed—yes, even with some minor placement errors—"
Araka smiled awkwardly.
"—you're now cleared for the SAIR Central Division 2 basic equipment orientation."
The lights dimmed. The screen shifted to a glowing projection of a large training complex layout—walls etched with luminous tracking lines, sensor towers in the corners, and embedded resonance fields projected like a digital haze.
"Welcome to Training Ground Delta," Huashin announced. "Some of you may remember it from the entrance simulation. What you saw here in Bakju complex was only a fraction of that facility in Niangkee."
She tapped again.
New images filled the screen—AR-integrated obstacle courses, target dummies laced with light-reactive plates, and full-body VR projection pods, their interiors glowing faintly with Matake-neutral tuning.
"This isn't just physical training. It's predictive engagement modeling. You'll learn weapons and skills here, yes—but not just how to use them, but to choose them to match your skill sets depending on the scenario ."
Araka sat up straighter. That might apply to her.
Okuri, upon hearing this, raised his hand: "Instructor Huashin, are we going from desk to battlefield? That was very different from the quiz review material."
"Desk to, what I would call, a field classroom," Huashin corrected. "You're still civilians—just one to be trained to stand close enough to the fire without getting burned."
There was a murmur of nervous excitement.
"And that's why," Huashin continued, "I will give you a tour of our training facility inside our complex, to let you have a real idea of us, Division 2, being the main training division for SAIR Central.
The group, under the guidance of Huashin, now traversed inside the extensive complex of SAIR Central Division 2. After walking through a long corridor leading to the the central block of the main wing, the group stood in front of a pressured door.
"Welcome to SAIR Central Bakju Training Campus."
The training center, divided into multiple rooms, hummed with the faint noise of Matake sensors and the simulation console, as the walls adjusted to simulation mode—blue hex-lights flickering along the ceiling. Meanwhile, the interns clustered around the weapon display case. Inside were trays lined with shock batons, drone-synced emitters, compact shield units, and—tucked neatly in a velvet-lined slot—a small, unassuming black rod no longer than a penlight.
Araka tilted her head slightly: "…Instructor Huashin?"
She turned. "Yes?"
Araka hesitated a second, then asked, "I remembered during the entrance exam… there's a young agent called Marinda. They said she was a 'sorcerer.' Is that… a real classification in SAIR?"
Huashin didn't answer right away.
Jun glanced over. "That doesn't sound very 'equipment-based.' We're using resonant tools and physical systems. What kind of classification is that?"
Tenka added, "Yeah, isn't 'sorcery' like spellbooks and magical girls?"
"I mean, that's what many thought too when they heard someone is from a shrine," Huashin stepped over to the weapons box, opened the panel, and without a word, she picked up the rod.
The room quieted.
She held it in her right hand, and as she moved her thumb along the side to a bottom, and the wand expanded, with a round tip.
"This," she said, "is my primary weapon. It's not a blade or a gun."
She tapped the nearby table gently with the end of the rod.
The lights dimmed for just a second—and the floor ripples. Not holographically. Physically. Like the air had become fluid for a heartbeat.
"I am," Huashin said calmly, "a registered SAIR sorcerer-class operator."
The group blinked.
Tenka's mouth opened. "Wait—what? I didn't know that was even a thing! Like… like actual sorcery?!"
Huashin gave a faint smile. "Not how it looks in movies, no. There's no chanting or coloured explosions. But Matake-aligned agents with internal resonance can train to direct energy through a dedicated pathway. In simpler terms? Spells."
Jun furrowed his brow. "But Instructor Huashin, if people saw this in public—"
"They don't," Huashin cut in. "That's the point. Most Matake sorcery use in SAIR missions is classified, or at least omitting details about what type of Matake field we used. It gets reframed in public reports as explosives, energy weapon fallouts, or malfunctioning drones. Civilians never know the difference."
Sukeo crossed his arms. "Because the alternative sounds insane."
Huashin nodded. "Exactly."
She turned to Araka.
"You may not be trained in this yet. But if your Matake resonance deepens, you'll start to feel the thread. And if that happens, this—" she held up the extended wand again, "—isn't for channeling spells the way fantasy thinks of it. It's for focusing on intentions. Filtering what would otherwise be chaos."
Araka was quiet. She could still feel the echo in the floor.
"And Marinda?" she asked softly.
"She's a field sorcerer, already impressive for her age."
Araka whispered, "So it's real…"
Huashin glanced around the group.
"Just remember—real doesn't mean public. That's why we train here inside the complex."
"But Instructor Huashin," Sukeo raised his hand, "I've never heard of any 'sorcerer' classification in the official SAIR public records," said. "Only heard whispers—some urban myths, stuff on shady websites. The closest thing I ever came across was that rumor about a network of hidden shrines across the federation, supposedly training people with abnormal resonance sensitivity, like something that predated SAIR. Not part of any division."
Huashin didn't answer immediately. Instead, she carefully placed her rod back in the case and turned to face the group fully: "That rumor," she said at last, "isn't wrong."
A pause. Even Sukeo blinked.
"SAIR," she continued, "was built for containment and countermeasure operations. Equipment-based. Protocol-heavy. Clean. But - let me say, after a series of events and changes recently, that model started to fail."
She tapped her chest gently, not for emphasis—but to indicate herself: "People like me weren't trained in an academy, not even an university. I was inducted through what I , with roots in what you'd probably call 'shrine networks.'"
Araka's eyes widened. "So… you're not from one of the classifications on the SAIR field manual?"
"I was laterally brought in. One of the first 'civilian resonance integrations' in Division 2 history. And I wasn't the only one. SAIR made deals—quiet ones—with certain Matake-practicing groups, especially the shrines, to begin training people like me to handle cases that tech couldn't."
Tenka was now fully locked in. "So wait… those temples in the mountains with no electricity, those aren't just tourist spots?"
Huashin smiled faintly. "They're quiet partners. Not public. Not in your travel guides. But they've been watching from a distance. Helping when they sensed the threat. And when the supernatural began slipping out of the veil—"
"They approached the government," Jun finished quietly.
Huashin nodded.
"And SAIR did what federal governments always do. We classified it. We contained it. And we adapted," Huashin said.
Sukeo, tapping his glasses, muttered, "So the Matake field isn't just a scientific phenomenon. It's part of something deeper. Maybe something spiritual, something older than we think."
Araka felt a faint tingle in her fingertips again. The word "Matake" now had meant too many things for her: first being a quirk, then being something that needed to be contained, finally something that related to historical records and suddenly became relevant right now. Is that a blessing or a curse, Araka thought.
Huashin stepped forward again.
"That's why you're all here. Not because you're the best in your classes, nor finished top during the entrance exam, but you're on the borderline - the line where skill and instinct blur, and that's where we fight now."
The group had barely registered what happened.
One moment, Huashin had raised her rod. The next—a resonance shimmer cracked through the air, like metal singing underwater. A pulse of magnetic distortion warped around Huashin, and not long after, a small spark emerged at the tip of the wand.
Then, a beam, emitted from the spark, went straight toward the obstacle dummy. Within seconds, the beam passed clean through the obstacle dummy on the far end of the training field: No burn marks, no kinetic damage.
Just a perfect hole drilled through three armored plates, like the air had decided to phase through the target.
Tenka's jaw dropped. "That was—what?!"
Jun squinted. Sukeo muttered, "It was something else, beyond any tech I've ever seen."
Araka blinked. She felt something—Matake, raw and fast—but it disappeared before her senses could fully grasp it.
Huashin lowered the rod slowly. And then-
"…Ugh—" Her voice slipped. Not the usual cool instructor tone inside the lecture room, but something muttery and faintly dazed. Almost… childishly confused.
"Um… Sukeo?"
Everyone turned.
Huashin, still standing, had dropped into a slight lean against the weapon case. Her cheeks had the faintest hint of pink, and her eyes looked just a little unfocused.
"Can you grab that orange can from the side fridge? The one with the triangle logo. I—I need that one. Not the—uh—the green thing, that one's gross…"
Sukeo blinked and as he grabbed the can: "You mean the ultra-caffeine blend that smells like battery acid?"
"Yes. Please," Huashin said, while barely keeping herself straight.
As the can was passed to Huashin, she cracked it open, took two long gulps, then exhaled like someone who had just fought a war with their internal battery.
"…Thanks. That's better," Her voice gradually returned to normal as the sugar and chemicals kicked in.
She straightened up again and looked at the class: "That," she said, "is why I don't use that spell unless I have to."
Jun raised an eyebrow. "Does it drain your focus?"
"Drain everything," Huashin muttered. "Basically I just used this wand here to convert my Matake field into an energy beam through activation mechanisms inside the wand. In simple terms: a fireball powered by the energy of my Matake field."
Tenka blinked her eyes and commented: "That sounds energy consuming and even painful."
Huashin nodded. "It is, and while I'm good at it, I'm also exhausted."
She looked over her shoulder, voice now a little more grounded: "I haven't had full rest since the Bakju expressway case happened earlier this week. That's what happens when your're the only sorcerer who also has to do all conventional investigations, paperwork, and teaching at the same time."
Sukeo leaned against the console. "So you default to conventional tactics."
"Exactly. Spells are a last resort, or at least the hidden card. Not just because of the damage it could cause, but also the energy it needs and the cost on the sorcerers."
Araka suddenly remembered Ami's words: how her uncontrolled fields simply overloaded everyone's mind around her, and how she had no idea how her Matake field functioned.
"…I get it now," Araka said softly.
Huashin took another sip, then finally cracked a tired smile.
As Huashin finally sat down on the bench near the field's edge, can of energy drink in hand, Jun stood nearby, arms folded again: "…But Marinda from SAIR-North Division 2," he said, "never mentioned that kind of energy cost."
Huashin gave a tired chuckle, the kind that barely escapes a throat still aching from resonance backlash.
"Well," she said, "Marinda is exceptionally talented. She's not just trained—she's born into it. Her abilities come from one of the highest-recognized shrine lineages: the Kenzan Otanaku clan."
Araka blinked. "Otanaku…?"
Huashin shook her head before the connection was fully drawn.
"No, not everyone carrying the surname Otanaku are sorcerers. Like many clans in Great Chin, they have branches. The Kenzan line, especially the one associated with the shrine network, was known for codifying Matake spell structures centuries ago. They passed down techniques like poetry—refined, internalized, perfect."
Jun narrowed his gaze. "Instructor Huashin, but did you acquire the spell?"
"I wasn't born for it," Huashin replied plainly. "I learned it from training in a shrine, and the shrine's Matake spell doctrine was combat-focused. The results are powerful, yes—but also inefficient. It's why I burn out."
Araka slowly nodded, her voice thoughtful: "So Instructor Huashin, would that mean tuning Matake for direct combat is still experimental, or there will be a dedicated class of operatives under Combat and Rescue Branch."
Huashin pointed at her with the energy drinks "Exactly. It's unstable. Unpredictable. Expensive. Even with the wand, most combat spell applications are either too wild or too draining. If everyone could do what Marinda does, you'd see squadrons of sorcerers. But you don't."
Sukeo muttered, "So even then, it would be buried in PR cover-ups."
Huashin smirked. "Especially then."
Tenka tilted her head. "So if someone like me learned to use Matake… I'd probably pass out before I even finished the first spell?"
Huashin gave a small laugh. "Even if you have the potential just like Araka, you probably blow a hole in the wall and melt your shoes."
Tenka pouted. "That's mean."
"That's exactly what my instructor would say if you asked this question."
The training chamber was silent except for the soft hiss of Matake sensors and the occasional flicker of light from the projection pads. Five reinforced glass cases emerged from the bottom to the center of the room, internally lit, three three with weapons mounted onto the base.
Huashin walked in front of it, tablet in hand, voice calm but serious.
"As for today," she said. "You've earned a break - no training. But I want you to start familiarizing yourselves with what your assigned role will do and what type of tools or weapons you're going to use."
She gestured to the first weapon inside.
A short-hilted training lightsaber, sleek with blue-lined accents. It didn't glow—its blade was inert in standby mode—but it pulsed faintly through the crystal core, housed beneath a solid casing.
"Sinmin A1, older model," Huashin explained. "Used in entrance trials. Reliable. Limited energy extension. Excellent for new melee users."
She turned to Araka.
"You'll be starting with this. Based on your entrance exam metrics, it's the best fit."
Araka stared through the glass, eyes narrowing slightly, "It looked heavier than I expected…"
"You'll adjust."
Next: Okuri's station.
A streamlined crossbow-like weapon, with matte-finish limbs and polished grip. It was tagged: Changfen XAA-5. A training model, but one with refined internal guidance and passive stabilization.
"Okuri," Huashin said, "you'll be testing with this."
He stepped forward, eyes scanning the shape. His lips curled slightly in approval.
"It's clean. No over-complication."
Huashin nodded. "A trusted design. Long-range, excellent for adaptive mobility, no resonance interference. It's not flashy—but deadly consistent."
Okuri nodded once. "It suits me."
Next: Tenka.
She peered over Huashin's shoulder, frowning slightly.
"But… I didn't apply for combat. Why would I need a weapon?"
Huashin didn't blink.
"You won't be carrying one in standard field operations. But you'll be issued support equipment—mostly Matake suppressors and first aid kits, for emergency response. If a situation escalates, you'll be trained to call for reinforcement, not engage."
Tenka sighed in relief. "Good. I don't trust myself with something that can stab."
Next: Jun.
The display platform for his weapon was still blank.
"I haven't assigned yours yet," Huashin said.
Jun raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm switching classification?"
Huashin nodded. "You're no longer pure tech support. That changes everything. If you're leaning frontline, we'll need to custom-fit something—something modular, built for drone control and direct engagement. You'll see it next week."
Finally: Sukeo.
His spot held a compact sidearm, elegantly curved, clearly lightweight. Not designed for aggression—but for last-resort defense.
"Your preliminary assignment," Huashin said, "is the PAK-23, the standard issue of SAIR agents. Capable of firing both conventional ammos and energy rounds. Single-trigger burst, close-range kinetic disruption. Not a true peak federation engineering. but it will keep you alive long enough to think."
Sukeo raised an eyebrow. "So… a pistol for people who hate pistols."
"Exactly."
He smirked faintly. "Good. I hate pistols."
As the students circled the cases, gazing at their would-be tools, Huashin gave a final word: "These are not gifts. They are responsibilities. Once these weapons go live, you are no longer civilians in uniform. You are part of SAIR's perimeter," Huashin finished her sentence in her authoritative tone and let the words hang, then turned to leave.
"That's all for today. Reflect on what you saw. Tomorrow, we train for how not to die with them."
The lights in the training chamber were beginning to dim—transitioning into the soft, bluish standby mode that marked the end of the day's instruction.
Just as Huashin turned to leave the platform, Anawa entered through the side door, clipboard in hand, expression as unreadable as ever. She stopped a few feet away and adjusted her glasses: "By the way, Huashin," she said evenly. "Tomorrow is Friday. Civilian schedule. No internal drills."
Huashin blinked.
"…Oh," she rubbed her temples lightly, muttering, "I… forgot that."
From the side, Tenka leaned closer to Sukeo, voice low and slightly wary.
"…Wait, even Huashin forgot what she said yesterday?"
Sukeo didn't respond at first. His gaze remained on Huashin, who was now double-checking her schedule on her tablet with a slightly twitchy thumb.
Tenka continued in a whisper, "That's not just sleep-deprivation. What if something changed? Like, what if they're going to keep us in the complex longer?"
Sukeo glanced at her. "Maybe."
"Maybe what?" Araka asked.
"Maybe she forgot," Jun said.
Huashin finally looked back up: "Right. Yes. Civilian day tomorrow," she said, a little too quickly. "You're all free to report to your assigned schools and clubs. As planned."
Anawa raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're good?"
"I'm great," Huashin said, popping open a second can of energy drink from her coat pocket. "Definitely haven't been awake for 32 hours straight and talking to training dummies like they're my therapist."
The class just stared.
Tenka gave a faint, forced laugh. "So uh… see you Monday then?"
Huashin raised the can in a mock-toast. "See you Monday. Yeah, of course."