Meanwhile, on another end of the field, just after assembly had been dismissed where Dustin stood...
"The Sixth Platoon," Dustin murmured to himself, eyes fixed on the holographic display projected from his AulWris. The interface pointed him toward the Sixth Platoon's sergeant, his name floating just above the ticker. Dustin already knew the personnel mode of the AulWris was far more advanced than the civilian version, but being able to track someone with such precision made him wonder what else the little device that has been with him since birth was capable of.
After briefly locking in his target, he began walking toward the location highlighted by the device.
"Hey Dustin! Brother!!" a tall, dark-haired boy called out, arms wide as he pushed his way through the crowd of cadets.
"No, Thon. No. Not here," Dustin muttered, raising a hand to stop the oncoming hug.
"Oh come on, I still remember how you used to run up to me back home…" Thon whined, frowning playfully.
"You're three years older than probably everyone here. Uphold the Egros name, Thon. Please." Dustin's cheeks tinted with a faint blush. A small smile nearly broke through his stoic expression—and Thon, noticing it, pressed harder.
"Hey Thon, come on. Leave Dustin be. He clearly said no to your advances," another boy said, stepping in.
"Urghh, Belbric! Back-to-back with the mood spoil!" Thon groaned, lightly smacking his own face.
"Mood spoil? Isn't that too harsh?" Belbric replied, a knowing grin forming.
"Yes! You mood spoiler! You did it yesterday too!" Thon grumbled, tiny veins popping on his forehead.
"Well, I couldn't just watch you torment a fellow cadet, could I?" Belbric said, sarcasm thick in his voice.
"Arrg! We're not even privates yet! Screw this—I'm out. Catch you later, Dustin," Thon huffed, storming off in his usual ragged fashion.
"Right then, Dustin. I've got to keep an eye on that one before something explodes," Belbric chuckled, trailing after Thon before halting mid-step like he just remembered something.
"Oh yeah—what platoon are you in?" he turned and asked.
"The Sixth Platoon," Dustin replied as he started walking off again, hoping to end the conversation. Belbric's weird smile didn't help either—it was the same kind of smile that had always creeped Dustin out, even back home. But they were friends, so he let it slide.
"The Sixth, huh? We're in the Eighth. Hopefully we meet again soon," Belbric called as he turned to leave.
Dustin gave a small shrug and kept moving.
Beep!
His AulWris chimed softly—he'd reached his destination.
Looking up, he spotted Sergeant Hansen.
Dustin had heard the rumors. The man was called "The Graveyard" thanks to the number of casualties in his platoons. Add that to the fact he was notoriously lazy, and the image didn't improve. Still, the brass kept him around—because those who survived under Hansen often became the most exceptional soldiers of all.
Since no one else had arrived yet, Dustin took a seat nearby. Hansen was snoring softly, using a book to shade his face. Dustin couldn't understand how anyone could sleep with so much noise around.
It wasn't long before another cadet approached—one with a familiar face.
"Hey there! I'm Balair. Mind if I ask you a question?" the boy said, eyes beaming.
"Yeah, sure. Ask away," Dustin replied, looking up. Something about Balair's deep black pupils caught him off guard for a moment.
"You're in the Sixth Platoon, right?" Balair asked, squinting slightly.
"Yeah, I am. I guess you are too?"
"Yep!" Balair smiled, brushing his fingers through his hair. "So... I wanted to ask a rather unique question."
"And I told you to ask away, didn't I?" Dustin replied, half amused.
"Alright then—where do you gym?" Balair asked bluntly.
Dustin blinked. That... was not the question he was expecting. Not with everything going on. He figured it'd be about their platoon, or their notoriously cursed sergeant. But gym routines?
"Uhh…" Dustin hesitated. "I use a home gym. So no particular chain."
"Then you have to have a personal trainer, right? Just one look at your physique and I was blown away!" Balair exclaimed, suddenly animated.
Was he joking? Dustin wasn't sure. The guy was taller and arguably more muscular. Was this a compliment or some elaborate mockery?
"Um… yeah. I have a personal trainer. Thanks, I guess. What about you? You seem pretty built yourself."
"Oh, I guess you could call my dad a trainer. He's the one who got me into working out," Balair said, pride evident in his voice.
"That's… nice," Dustin offered, not sure what to make of the whirlwind of energy in front of him. Loud? Crazy? Just overly friendly? Either way, talking to Balair was like draining his entire social battery.
"It was—" Dustin began, hoping to end the interaction.
Only for Balair to cut in again. "So what's your workout routine? Like, sets, reps—everything?"
"Ugh…"
A groan came from where Sergeant Hansen lay.
He pulled the book off his face and sat up slightly, his eyes bloodshot.
"Would you shut up already!?" he barked, his death-glare landing squarely on Balair.