On the fourth day, the passengers lean on the side of the N.S. Coaster as the sounds of Crashwaters are heard. Danzo stands away from the group, watching the coast as they approach it. On his journey, he eventually came to enjoy the constant tilting of the ship and the clear skies. As land draws near, he observes the coast of Potorough; he sees dark clouds not far off, casting a large shadow over the land.

  Eventually, they see a military port, awaiting recruits and supplies, standing alone on the coast. The ship's horn blares in a unique sequence, probably to signal they are friendly. Even though most of the world is fighting the monsters, there are still some regions that aren’t above stealing resources and information from one another. Once the horn stops blaring, the doors to enter the port open, as if welcoming the ship.

  As they approach the port, Danzo can hear the others become more excited, while he, on the other hand, feels slightly unsettled, aware of their reputation. Beside the doors, he sees they are much larger up close, big enough to allow entry for ships ten times the N.S. Coaster's size. Deep scratches mark the exterior of the steel-plated doors, either from ships rashly passing through or the port trying to stop something from entering.

  The doors close behind them, causing the ship to stop rocking altogether. Numerous ships are docked in the port, ranging from small transports to heavy carriers. Looking closely, Danzo recognises some of them from the beach. The ships outclass the N.S. Coaster in numerous ways– they are newer, faster, and more durable. It explains why the other divisions were able to arrive sooner– why his group is an afterthought.

  Once the ship is docked, Danzo picks up his bags and joins the line of aspiring Slayers. Everyone in the line chats excitedly, but he stays focused. The captain doesn’t bother greeting them as they step on the port.

  Looking around, Danzo takes in the activity: personnel hurry in every direction, carrying munitions and supplies, loading and offloading without pause. Large equipment is moving around, either damaged or new. The plain grey that coats the port is matched by a smell that can only be described as gasoline and gunpowder, edged with hints of sea breeze.

  Before they are deployed, it is procedure for them and their belongings to be screened, ensuring no contraband or dangerous items are brought in. Walking to the screening rooms, they pass a few soldiers who didn’t hide their disgusted or disapproving looks; none of the reactions were positive.

  Upon entering the screening room, several officers wait to inspect their bags. They stand behind sturdy metal tables, wearing neat olive uniforms with their name tags attached. The officer assigned to Danzo has a serious look on his face. His short blond hair is complemented by his emerald eyes. From the lack of greeting, his serious expression is not just for appearances.

  The screening officers dig through their bags haphazardly. While searching Danzo’s medicine bag, his screening officer pauses for a moment. He takes a paper from it and tells the officer beside him to watch him before going into another room. The officers remain serious while the rest exchange amused looks.

  The others pass through without issue. Fortunately for Gilroy and his group, they were able to finish the drinks before they arrived. While Danzo waits, they are sent to a room next door to begin their induction. A few moments later, his screening officer returns and asks him, “Before you arrived, you were the apprentice of Dr. Vito Howell, correct?”

  Danzo straightens his posture. “Correct.”

  The officer raises an eyebrow, rereads the note, then returns it to Danzo, “This is a signed 27-12 FL form, also known as a Fleeting Lifeline form. It is a document that declares someone is fit for the R&S division, but chooses to be in another division. Do you understand the implications of this?”

  Danzo looks at the form for a couple of seconds; He forgot he placed it there before leaving. Looking at the officer, he replies, “I do; it means that if there is a shortage, I may be forced to move to the Sustenance division. Besides that, I also get special privileges in the medical center and have access to medical resources, within reason.”

  The officer raises his eyebrows in surprise and replies, “Almost. You will need to log the items you take before and after, providing valid reasons. If you overstep, you will have two warnings before your privileges are revoked.”

  Before Danzo can speak, the officer continues. “Once you leave this room, you will also have to undergo the induction for R&S personnel alongside the Slayers' induction. In addition, throughout your service, while you are outside the R&S division, you will have to fulfill mandatory hours in the division to maintain your FL license.”

  After the explanation, Danzo nods his head.

  The officer writes on a document and instructs, “After collecting your belongings, please head to the room behind you. You will undergo a lengthier induction compared to your comrades. In addition, you will be required to sign additional documents.”

  Following the officer's instructions, Danzo heads to the induction room. It is a simple room with rows of chairs facing a desk and a projector. Seeing as no one else is there, he takes a front row seat. While he waits for the training officer to arrive, he reads some of the educational posters. He is surprised to find one by a comic hero that Maria showed him when they were younger. Maria… I wonder how she is doing? When I get back home, what will she do, what will she expect? I wouldn’t mind speaking to her. Will she want kids? I remember she talked about that. That sounds horrible.

  Before his mind can wander further, a man enters the room and places a stack of documents on the desk. The man is slightly taller than Danzo and, from the medals on his uniform, appears to be more experienced than his comrades.

  The man gives a polite smile before beginning the induction. The next hour and a half pass slowly as Danzo sits through the R&S induction. Although most of it is familiar to him, the only thing he learnt is that he is responsible for aiding civilians, especially with FL privileges. Upon preparing the course for the Slayers, Danzo can visibly see the excitement leave the training officer’s face. The induction for the Slayers is rushed and finishes in less than ten minutes, to his surprise. The officer then had Danzo sign some additional forms, and they sent him to a personnel processing area to issue his identification card.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Upon entering the room, he walks to a booth and meets a bored-looking employee. The depressed man looks at him and asks, “Name and Surname?”

  “Danzo Yamamoto,” Danzo answers.

  “Date of birth?”

  “The 7th of Styrill, 329”

  “Division for application.”

  “Slayers.”

  The man does not react to his choice, a surprising breath of fresh air for him

  “Please place your identification, home address, details of next of kin, medical documentation, and financial statements on the table. While I process that, please make your way to the photographer on your right for your identification card photo.” Danzo sees another tired-looking man waiting by the camera.

  Leaving his documents as instructed, he stands in front of the camera, blankly staring at it. In a literal flash, the camera takes his picture. Returning to the man by the booth, he takes several minutes before returning Danzo’s documents and handing him his identification card.

  “The door behind you will take you to your convoy. You will be stationed, alongside the other Slayers, at their only base, The Roost station in the Curve motherbase.”

  Gathering his belongings, he walks out the door and steps out into the convoy area. There, he finds the rest of his group impatiently waiting for him. Danzo steps on the transport truck, sitting by Gusto, who saved him a seat. Once all the passengers are on board, they drive off.

  The others are excitedly talking while being transported, discussing the towns they will see and the women who live there. Danzo watches the moving landscape. The fresh smell of country air isn’t new to him, but it is welcome after several days of fish and ocean air. They drive through large empty fields, untouched by humans outside of the dirt road.

  I should come back here sometime, it's a nice place to clear my head.

  A military jet roars overhead toward the port, its engines blasting warm air toward the ground. Danzo follows it with his eyes – dark clouds loom where it came from; It’s as if it is escaping them. Before they reach the clouds, the truck sharply turns to the right.

  Gusto stands up to get a better view over the hills, struggling to maintain balance. He places his arm on Danzo’s shoulders as he tells him, “Guess that is going to be our home for the next couple of months!”

  Following Gusto’s lead. Danzo stands up and looks in the same direction. At first, he can’t see anything, but after a couple of seconds, Danzo sees a large military operation. It is surrounded by a thick steel-plated wall standing above a large pit; soldiers are posted on top of the wall. Squinting his eyes, in the far corner of the base lies an airstrip. The origin of the jet they saw earlier.

  Arriving at the gate, they are stopped by the guardsmen. Danzo leans over to get a better look at them. Their uniforms are blue with white stripes, the signature of soldiers from the Fracture division. The driver hands some documents to one of the soldiers, and they give a disapproving side-eye before clearing the Slayers for entry.

  The car slowly drives through the encampment, making its way to the Roost. Numerous soldiers and personnel are running around, carrying wounded soldiers or military items. Danzo looks at a group of soldiers doing military drills, while some are preparing to deploy.

  This war has been ongoing for a decade, maybe longer. As the war dragged on, the soldiers slowly lost ground, barely having a hold over the continent itself. With the rate at which the monsters are growing, the military can’t afford to train recruits and send veterans in. Once you arrive, you train both in base and on the field, no time to rest. He watches the tents while they pass, and between the gaps, he can see soldiers either speaking, smoking, arguing, or even crying. Privacy is a luxury here.

  The car has been going on for some time now, even passing through the airstrip field. While getting a closer look at the military’s extensive artillery fascinates him, he can’t shake the worry of their destination, unsure why they are going so far. They pass another empty field, a small operation in the far corner of the base.

  Upon reaching it, the car slows down, and everyone is instructed to disembark. Taking his bags and hopping off the truck, Danzo looks around the encampment. Compared to the main area, the area is empty, just some people walking around in untidy uniforms. The tents are poorly kept, dirty, and not properly nailed to the ground– the cloth walls are at the mercy of the wind. At the end lies a large building made of grey bricks and a red roof. Danzo catches a faint scent of alcohol, polluting the fresh air passing through.

  A man approaches them with a grin and greets, “Ah, some fresh blood. Welcome!” He wears his uniform casually. From the black-and-white pattern, he’s a Slayer. His black, slicked-back hair is complemented by a dirty grin. He’s neither overweight nor athletic; he carries himself with careless confidence, the kind that comes from incompetence. “My name is Sterling, and I, the commander of the Slayers, wish to personally greet you all!”

  Commander?!

  “Commander?!” Danzo blurts out before he can stop himself.

  “Hey, you’re too loud,” Gusto warns him with a concerned expression.

  Fortunately, none of them heard him as they were busy speaking to the commander. “Before we get to know each other a bit better, there are some things I need to clear up. Firstly, there are no trials for becoming a Slayer; being here is enough to qualify. In addition, you are welcome to stay in any of the tents behind you.” He points to the tents behind him, “But we have plenty of room to spare in the command center, also known as The Tower.” He points to the large building at the end. “There is no strict schedule. Just treat each other with fairness and your superiors with respect, and we can have a good time. That’s all. Questions?”

  Zeke’s hand shoots up, and the commander gestures for him to go ahead. Nervously, he asks, “Will we be deployed on the field?”

  Everyone, except for Gusto and Danzo, stares at him before erupting into laughter. With a wide grin, Sterling answers, “Heh, you are a funny one. You will do great here.” He throws his arm over Zeke’s shoulders and walks with him and Gilroy’s group to the large building.

  Danzo picks up his bags and walks to one of the tents. Opening the door to the furthest tent from the building, a disgusting stench shoots through as it introduces the room's state of utter disrepair. The foundations are weak, allowing air to flow in from the bottom. The room is littered with random junk and trash. The beds are damp, and the shelves are filthy.

  Taking a deep breath, Danzo places his luggage inside and begins cleaning up. Before he can start, Gusto pokes his head through the room. Danzo glances at him, then goes back to lifting a discarded box.

  “Is it fine if we bunk together?” Gusto asks.

  Holding the box, Danzo replies, “It’s fine with me, but wouldn’t you be more comfortable in the command center?”

  Gusto sets his luggage down and says, “No, this is better. I think I’d start to change if I stayed there — and not in a good way.”

  “Fair enough,” Danzo says as he stops by the door. “If we are going to share, help me repair the tent.”