Donning Armor

The equipment hall was a structure resembling a basketball arena, except that both flanks of the central open space were partitioned into relatively separate equipment rooms—one for each regiment. They were not wide, but long and deep, with three-dimensional apparatuses and dead iron straight swords placed along the walls on either side. Source energy blocks were not issued here. At this stage, the source energy blocks that recruits needed daily could only be collected from instructors before training began, marked with personal identifiers, and collected again once training ended, to be returned for continued use in the next session. Just how long could a fully charged source energy block last during training? Han Qingyu had asked around; smoothing out individual differences, the average came to about four days. This answer left him somewhat surprised and disappointed. Holding the brand-new Generation 9 three-dimensional apparatus he had just received in both hands, Han Qingyu looked down carefully with a sense of reverence. In the upper right corner of the war box—which was what veterans called that "dull-colored metal source energy box"—flush with the edge, was the engraved serial number: 9-771209. This was the equipment serial number, and it would also serve as his combat designation in the Sole Witness Legion. Barring any accidents, this number would accompany him for the rest of his life—and for many, would even stay with them on their urns. He passed through the hall, walking past a steady stream of male and female soldiers who had already changed into combat fatigues or were still wearing training uniforms from the previous phase, making his way toward the changing rooms. Along the way, an older, aunt-like female soldier standing by the edge of the floor called out to stop him. "Your hair's too long. Go over there and get it trimmed again." Han Qingyu reached up and tugged at the hair he had cut just a month and a half ago... and sat down on a row of chairs at the edge of the floor. A white cape snapped open and draped over him, followed by the buzz of electric clippers. "It seems to me the veterans have pretty casual hairstyles," he asked casually, turning his head slightly. "They're veterans." Behind him, a young woman with a mechanical expression spoke coldly. Splaying five fingers over his crown, she straightened his tilted head, paused, turned it back, tilted her own head to inspect him carefully for a few moments, straightened him again, and said a bit more gently, "Don't worry. You look better with a crew cut." The girl had evidently put her heart into it; buzzing and brushing, the haircut was done in about three minutes. Sporting his crew cut, Han Qingyu stood up and continued toward the changing room. Along the way, besides recruits, soldiers wearing Generation 8 gear occasionally walked past. They would pause to look at the Generation 9 apparatuses in the recruits' hands and exchange a few remarks. Most of their comments were dismissive, calling them ugly or complaining that every revision got worse, all while aching over their own Gen-8 gear slated for recall—an old partner that had accompanied them for years... Generally, whenever new gear was issued, veterans went through this exact cycle: from disdain and rejection to eventual acceptance and fondness. On the surface, the security force guarding the equipment grounds seemed somewhat sparse. But thinking about it closely, if an attack ever truly occurred, swarms of top experts would probably surge out at any moment... In a place like this, having peak combatants keeping watch was by no means out of the question. "You're here, Qingzi?" When Han Qingyu arrived, Liu Shiheng and He Tangtang were already in the changing room. Dorms had been reassigned, and He Tangtang had become their roommate as well. Both had already stripped down to the grey boxer briefs issued by the coalition forces. This was really no different from the dorm; they were all men, so there was nothing to feel awkward about. Han Qingyu found his spot, set the apparatus on the locker for the moment, and began changing into his combat uniform. The grey-blue shirt had a texture somewhat like coarse linen. It couldn't be called soft, but it was very comfortable, and moving his body felt completely unrestricted. There were no buttons on the cuffs or the front—or rather, there were fasteners, but not conventional buttons; instead, it used a type of hook-and-loop closure that couldn't easily be pulled apart directly once sealed, requiring an upward or downward peeling motion. The shirt had shoulder boards, said to be called the Star Insignia. It was soft overall, except for the plain star forged from black iron. The trousers were largely of the same tone, though slightly darker. Compared to Han Qingyu's usual clothing habits, they seemed a bit snug, but once put on, he discovered their toughness, elasticity, and comfort were all remarkably high. Pulling on the trousers and fastening the brown four-port belt, Han Qingyu tucked the shirttails into the waistband, then sat on a bench to slip into his ankle boots and tie the laces... He walked out the door, joining He Tangtang and Liu Shiheng who were waiting for him, and set off for the training grounds. At the same time, the distribution of gear across the regiments was basically finished. The equipment officers—predominantly female soldiers—had free time now and began getting acquainted and chatting. Wen Jifei, as a male soldier, stood out awkwardly among them. The female soldiers looked at him, openly or covertly, their eyes carrying curiosity and occasionally even a hint of disdain... That guy probably couldn't go to the battlefield, but at the very least he could have gone to the Order Legion. Why did he come to be an equipment clerk? Amid the clusters of gazes, Wen Jifei sat silently in his seat, looking down at the "Personal Test Result Card" in his hand. At a certain point, the corner of his mouth twitched into a bitter smile. Then he slipped the test card into his breast pocket, stood up, shut the door to Regiment 425's equipment room, and prepared to head to his equipment maintenance class. Expressionless and looking straight ahead, he walked right past the female soldiers at an unhurried, measured pace. It was just that the card in his breast pocket was slightly too tall, its top edge poking out. A sharp-eyed female soldier took a glance, froze, and quickly looked again... at the upper third of the exposed letter... Heavens, that's an A! The test result cards issued to recruits by Azure involved many future matters, such as dosages for medical drugs, so they were specially printed. The Grade A was rendered in a clear sea-blue with a distinct pattern across the character body, making it impossible for ordinary people to counterfeit. One, then two bolder female soldiers deliberately walked past him, taking a closer, discreet look. "Heavens! It's real." As the expressionless Wen Jifei took his final step out of the equipment grounds and his figure disappeared, the female soldiers huddled together and went wild. They had no idea about the existence of the Dice. So: a male recruit with Grade A fusion who became an equipment officer... this... Perhaps he had a special mission, which was why he was so mysterious and low-key. Perhaps he had an untold, turbulent past, which was why he seemed so cold, melancholic, and profound. All of this was alluring. It was the foundation upon which the "Plague Chicken Dynasty's" rule over the equipment grounds was built. ... What the Regimental Chief of Staff had mentioned before—the true banner of the Azure Alliance, which the recruits had never seen at the regimental living quarters or the recruit training base— now fluttered before Han Qingyu's eyes. On a flagpole that wasn't very tall, the rectangular flag was divided abruptly from the lower left to the upper right into two triangles. The upper triangle was entirely azure blue. Its abstract design was simple: separated at the bottom and joined at the top, looking at first glance like crossed twin blades, but on closer inspection, it could also be interpreted as clasped hands standing guard from on high over the expanse of blue below. The lower triangle bore no pattern or insignia, only a field of solid color. For instance, what Han Qingyu saw now was red. Perhaps in different countries, this part bore different colors, he thought. By this time, he had just learned the salute Lao Jian had once performed—fist to the heart. Probably because he still lacked firsthand experience of what it meant, performing it felt slightly awkward. Yet because so many people were doing it together, forced to roar in unison: "For all that breathes, we fight without retreat, our bodies barring the vast sky...", it stirred an inexplicable, fiery passion within him. The source energy blocks had already been collected, and the apparatuses lay on the ground beside each person's feet. Chief Combat Training Instructor Qi Shantong stood on the large commanding podium and said, "Sit." "Sit?" Though caught off guard, the recruits—having already gone through half of their training—promptly sat down in unison, wearing their brand-new combat uniforms. Then, "The Armor-Donning Ceremony officially begins," Qi Shantong announced. Next, guided by the instructors and assistant drill instructors of each regiment, the recruits began putting on their gear and connecting each interface port. "Aren't we supposed to connect to the heart first before hooking up the rest? Like the kidneys, for example," Han Qingyu asked Milla, who was accompanying them this time as an assistant drill instructor. He added by way of explanation, "I watched Captain Lao—Lao Jian—put his on before..." Heavens, why did he have to specifically mention kidneys to me... kidneys. Milla's head was buzzing loudly.