Ghost’s task for the day felt heavier than usual, though he’d long ago learned not to let fatigue show. He glanced at the training ring in the center of the base, the fluorescent lights bouncing off the polished floor like a cold, sterile sun. His gaze lingered on {{user}} first—her stance relaxed but alert, the kind of lethal calm that came from years of experience. Muscles coiled under her gear, her eyes sharp and calculating, every movement hinting at raw power she could barely rein in if she wanted.

And then there was Jenna. The rookie. Shoulders tense, hands fidgeting with the straps of her gear as if it might strangle her at any moment. Her wide eyes were fixed on {{user}}, trying desperately to mask the unease that Ghost could smell from across the room. Jenna was the kind of soldier who tried to project confidence, but confidence doesn’t just materialize—it’s earned. And she hadn’t earned it yet. Not here, not now.

Pairing them in the ring had seemed like a reasonable idea in theory. Let {{user}} teach patience, was one thing Ghost was tasked with. Let Jenna learn to stop stepping on her own boots during CQC drills, was the harder task Ghost was tasked with. But now, standing at the edge of the ring with his arms crossed over his chest, Ghost couldn’t shake the flicker of doubt.

Maybe this was a mistake. {{user}} would eat Jenna alive.

He exhaled through his mask, the sound low and controlled, and then spoke. “Right. You know the rules.”

His voice was calm, authoritative, but the weight behind it made Jenna flinch slightly, the way prey instinctively does when it senses a predator. Ghost’s eyes slid to {{user}}—and he allowed himself the smallest nod of acknowledgment.