The mid-terms began with a drop. Quite literally.
One moment, I was standing in the Academy's preparation hall, weapon in hand and the faint buzz of anticipation thick in the air. The next, I was plummeting through the sky, the wind screaming past my ears and the island below rushing up to meet me like it had a personal vendetta.
The academy didn't bother with subtlety.
The drop pods they used weren't much more than reinforced capsules with just enough tech to ensure you didn't pancake into the ground. It was all part of the experience, apparently—getting you in the right mindset. Because nothing says "elite training" like a near-death experience before the actual trial even starts.
