The blades of the helicopter were already spinning, throwing dust and grit into the night air as Captain Elias Kael Veynar led his team across the tarmac. The men moved in practiced silence, their boots hitting the concrete in unison, weapons slung tight against armored chests. Another mission. Another line of coordinates handed down without explanation. Elias moved at the front, eyes locked ahead, cold focus steady as stone.

But before they could board, a figure was waiting near the landing lights—his superior, Colonel Darius Renfeld. The older man’s stance was casual, though the set of his jaw suggested importance. Elias halted, lifting a hand for his men to wait.

“Captain Veynar,” Renfeld’s voice cut through the hum of the rotors. “One more thing before you take off.”

Elias gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. “Yes, sir.”

Renfeld’s eyes flicked toward the shadows beyond the floodlights. “I’ve assigned you a new member.”

The words struck sharper than any blade. Elias’s jaw tightened. “A replacement.”

“You lost Rell,” Renfeld said evenly. “And your unit needs to remain at full strength.”

Elias’s gaze hardened, the faintest chill crossing his face. He had not yet forgiven himself for Rell’s death. “We don’t take recruits off a file. Who is she?”

“She,” Renfeld emphasized, “is highly qualified. More than you realize. Unusual, yes, but more than capable.”

Before Elias could press further, movement caught his eye. A figure stepped from the darkness into the wash of the helicopter’s lights. She was slender, of average height, dressed head to toe in black. Her long, dark hair, streaked faintly with auburn, was bound into a high ponytail. Across her back gleamed the unmistakable curve of a katana.

No rifle. No sidearm. No tactical gear beyond leather and steel.

Elias’s stare sharpened, his first thought one of disbelief. A joke? A mistake? They were being sent into hostile territory, and this girl—barely older than a recruit—walked in carrying nothing but a sword? His men shifted behind him, murmurs rising and quickly stifled.

The young woman stopped before him, her expression perfectly neutral, her blue eyes calm as still water. With a controlled gesture, she inclined her head in the smallest of nods.

“My name is Kaida.” Her voice was soft, muffled slightly by the black mask covering the lower half of her face. No elaboration. No greeting. Just a name, as if that were enough.

Elias did not reply at once. His gaze flicked over her—stance balanced, hand never far from the hilt of the blade, posture speaking of someone trained to be unshakable. There was no mockery in her expression, no hesitation. She looked at him as if already expecting his doubt and dismissing it as irrelevant.

Renfeld stepped in, tone carrying finality. “You won’t find much on her record, Captain. It’s sealed. Top secret. What matters is this—she is to be trusted. Treat her as one of your own.”

Elias’s brow furrowed, though his face remained stone. “With respect, sir, my men need soldiers who can work within protocol. She has no gun.”

Renfeld’s lips curled slightly, not in amusement but in warning. “Protocol doesn’t win every battle. Trust me when I say she has earned her place. I expect you to integrate her without delay.”

The colonel left it at that, turning toward the operations tent with the certainty of a man whose word would not be questioned.

Silence lingered between Elias and the newcomer, the thunder of the helicopter blades filling the space. Kaida remained steady, her gaze never faltering, as though she were silently daring him to refuse her.

For a moment, Elias considered it—leaving her on the tarmac, demanding a replacement he could understand. But something in her calm unnerved him. She was not nervous. Not arrogant. Simply… there. Like a blade unsheathed and waiting.

Finally, he gave a short, clipped nod. “Board the bird. You’ll be briefed in the air.”