The school's gates creaked as they gave way to the approaching vehicle. It resembled a miniature limousine, its sleek black frame reinforced with titanium-alloy plating that shimmered under the sun.
*Chhh!* The car hissed to a stop in the outer courtyard, its engine powering down with a low hum. The moment the door opened, a wave of pressure crashed into Drake and the school guards, forcing them to stagger. Even Principal Shelby tensed, her knuckles whitening as she fought to remain upright.
The driver stepped out.
Sir Duron was a mountain of a man, his all-black military uniform tailored to emphasize his broad shoulders and the twin daggers strapped to his thighs. His face was scarred—three claw-like marks raked from his temple to his jaw—and his eyes were the pale gold of a predator. When he smiled, it didn't reach them.
"Good day, Principal," he said, his voice like gravel.
Principal Shelby nodded, her throat tight. This man has fought beyond the Safe Zone, she realized. His aura was thick with the stench of old blood, the telltale mark of battle.
Sir Duron extended a gloved hand, holding out an identity card stamped with the Arachis crest. "Your asset has been retrieved," he said, glancing at Drake. "Authorization?"
Shelby's jaw clenched. "Processed and approved."
Duron smirked. "Good. We depart immediately."
Drake opened his mouth to protest, but the man's glare silenced him. "No questions. In the car."
-------
[Outskirts of Iron Vale city]
The vehicle's interior was cold and sterile, the seats upholstered in beast-leather that prickled against Drake's skin. Through the tinted windows, he watched the ruins of an old city blur past.
"This sector was abandoned after a Category-4 rift breach," Duron said, noting Drake's gaze. "The ground is still poisoned. Look closer."
Drake pressed his forehead to the glass. Beneath the crumbling skyscrapers, bioluminescent fungi pulsed in the shadows, their glow an eerie blue. Mutated carrion birds with too many eyes roosted in the skeletons of ancient billboards.
"Its all failing," Duron muttered. "Everyone can see. But the Alliance won't admit it."
Drake's fingers brushed the wrapped sword beside him. "Why tell me this?"
Duron's golden eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. "Because Arachis isn't a school. It's a testing ground. You're either strong… or devoured."
The Iron haven Terminal loomed ahead, its steel arches etched with warnings: *"ALL PASSENGERS SUBJECT TO ENERGY SCANS."
Duron shoved a card and a train ticket into Drake's hand. "Platform 9. The Iron Meadow leaves in five, don't miss it."
"Also, show this card to a man wearing the Arachis crest on the other side he will take care of you." He added.
Drake hesitated. "What's waiting for me at Arachis?"
Duron leaned in, his breath reeking of mint. "Strength! If your strong enough to wield it." With that, he slammed the door shut, the car peeling away in a swirl of ionized exhaust.
Alone on the platform, Drake tightened his grip on the sword. The train's horn wailed, a sound like a dying beast, as it screeched to a stop before him. Its cars were riveted steel, their windows barred. The doors hissed open, revealing a conductor in a gas mask.
"Name and clearance," the man spoke in a monotonous tone.
Drake swallowed. "Drake Jagger. Bound for Arachis."
The conductor's mask lenses glowed red as he scanned the ticket. "Welcome to the Iron Meadow." he said, stepping aside.
The doors sealed behind Drake with a final click.