Bab 32: 32;C66!
The vast expanse of the landing zone stretched as far as the eye could see, bathed in the eerie glow of floodlights mounted on towering steel poles. The sky above was still dark, a smattering of stars barely visible through the thick haze of Earth's broken atmosphere. The hum of machinery and distant murmurs of conversation filled the air as the last of the space pods hissed open, their hydraulic systems releasing jets of white vapor.
One by one, the occupants of the pods stepped out into the open. There were men some appearing no older than teenagers, while others bore the signs of age etched into their faces—wrinkles, graying hair, and hardened expressions. The humanic formlings, despite their varying ages and backgrounds, shared a distinct aura. Their eyes glimmered faintly in the dark, irises glowing with otherworldly hues that marked them as something no longer entirely human. Intricate black tattoos snaked along their arms and necks, shifting and gleaming subtly with each movement.
The atmosphere among them was chaotic. Some were muttering to themselves, nervously glancing around the desolate terrain, while others spoke loudly, trying to find familiar faces in the sea of strangers. A few stood quietly, their expressions unreadable as they took in the alien world that Earth had become.
Suddenly, a sharp, thunderous noise reverberated through the air.
A burst of energy surged from the far end of the field, slamming into a nearby steel wall with an explosive roar. The sound snapped everyone's attention to the source—a figure leaping onto the top of the wall with inhuman speed and precision. The crowd collectively turned, their voices falling silent as they watched the man standing high above them.
General Elias Montgomery.
The floodlights shifted to illuminate him fully, casting long shadows behind him. His broad frame was clad in a combat-ready uniform, and his face was a chiseled mask of authority. His silver hair shimmered in the light, and his piercing green eyes scanned the crowd below, filled with intensity. He raised a hand, and a crackling burst of energy rippled from his palm—a visible reminder of the power he now wielded as a humanic formling.
Elias's voice boomed across the field, amplified by speakers mounted on nearby structures.
"Gentlemen! Welcome to Hell!"
The crowd erupted into murmurs, but Elias's glare silenced them instantly.
"From this moment on, you have one mission and one mission alone: annihilate any Formling you see or hear. No hesitation. No second chances."
He turned sharply, pointing to the left, where a grotesque insect formling had emerged from the shadows. Its body was a hideous amalgamation of chitin and flesh, its mandibles clicking menacingly as it skittered closer. Without hesitation, Elias extended his arm, and a brilliant blast of energy shot from his palm, striking the creature square in the chest.
The formling didn't just fall—it evaporated into ash, leaving behind a smoking crater where it had stood.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as the soldiers stared at the spot where the creature had been. For many, it was the first time they had witnessed such raw power. Elias turned back to the crowd, his expression cold and unyielding.
"No mercy!" he barked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
He began pacing along the wall, his movements fluid and deliberate.
"You have one month. One month is all it will take to teach you how to survive on this planet—and how to dominate it. While you're here, it doesn't matter who you were or what your name is. Those days are over. From now on, you go by the name given to you by this camp. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, sir!" the crowd roared, their voices a unified chorus of obedience.
Elias nodded, his sharp gaze sweeping over them. "Now line up! It's time you found your identity."
The massive gates of the camp groaned open, revealing a sprawling interior bristling with activity. Rows of barracks stood in neat formation, each one a sturdy structure of steel and concrete. Beyond them, training fields stretched into the distance, dotted with obstacle courses, sparring arenas, and firing ranges. The air buzzed with energy, a mix of tension and anticipation as the new recruits shuffled forward in long lines.
At the entrance, a team of soldiers stood behind metal desks, each equipped with a small terminal. The recruits approached one by one, handing over the identification cards they had been issued aboard the ARC-247 station. The soldiers worked methodically, scanning each card and handing out badges engraved with new code names.
"Move it along!" one of the soldiers barked, his tone sharp and impatient.
The line inched forward, recruits murmuring to one another as they received their new identities. Some glanced down at their badges with confusion or frustration, while others accepted them with quiet resignation.
When it was finally Leo's turn, he stepped forward, his movements calm but purposeful. The soldier at the desk barely looked up, extending a hand.
"ID card," he said curtly.
Leo reached into his pocket and produced the card he had carried since leaving the ARC. The soldier took it and scanned it into the terminal. The screen lit up with a flurry of information—Leo's name, age, genetic profile, and a detailed list of his abilities. The soldier raised an eyebrow, impressed but not surprised.
After a moment, the machine beeped, and a badge emerged from a slot on the desk. The soldier picked it up and handed it to Leo.
"C66," he said, his tone neutral. "From now on, that's your name. Welcome to the team."
Leo took the badge, his fingers curling around the cold metal. The engraving was simple yet striking: C66. He stared at it for a moment before nodding and stepping through the gate.
The camp was alive with activity as the recruits settled in. Barracks were quickly assigned, and groups began forming as people introduced themselves, trying to find some sense of camaraderie in the unfamiliar environment.
Leo, however, remained quiet, keeping to himself as he moved through the bustling crowd. His thoughts were focused, his mind replaying the general's words over and over.
"No mercy."
It wasn't just a command—it was a philosophy, one that resonated deeply within him.
As he walked toward his assigned barracks, he tightened his grip on the badge in his hand. His serpentine eyes flickered briefly, glowing with an inner fire before returning to their human form. The tattoos on his arms shimmered faintly, a silent reminder of the power that now coursed through him.
For Leo, the mission was clear. He didn't care about the code name or the camp's rules. He had only one goal—to annihilate every Formling that crossed his path.
The war had begun, and he intended to be at the center of it.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone