As I sit in the corner of the cafeteria, the clatter of trays echoes like a heartbeat, blending with the low hum of conversations that ebb and flow around me. Upon our arrival, we are granted a day of rest, but since then, our schedule becomes crammed with speeches and training sessions.

They brief us on the laboratory accident at the abandoned facility, whose cause remains unclear. The test subject, designated 307—now ominously called Mortuse, from the Latin for "death"—cannot be subdued by standard bullets. They mention a new type of ammunition filled with chemicals that trigger some unknown reaction. I struggle to grasp the details during that speech; chemistry has never been my strong suit. Luckily, we can choose our department based on our skills, and I eagerly opt for combat training.

I also somewhat gather a group of people for myself—or rather, Evelyn rounds them all up, and I am simply one of them. Thus, the last few days are filled with self-defense and marksmanship training.

"Archer, why the long face?" Leo, one of my fellow trainees, interrupts my thoughts, his brow furrowed with concern. "Maybe he's nervous about our first mission tomorrow; I know I am. Just the thought of heading out and facing those creatures again gives me the creeps." Evelyn chimes in confidently, like a child answering a question in class and thinking they have given the correct answer. “I don’t find them scary… rather fascinating.” Hesitation creeps into my voice as I speak those words: Because who in their right mind would call an enemy—or a living nightmare—fascinating? The next thing I know, I am escorted to the clinic, which wouldn't surprise or anger me.