Halo: Magicka

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....

Shwing.

Shwing.

Shwing.

One after another parachutes blossomed like steel-grey flowers against the twilight canvas of Onyx's sky. An orderly line of children, their fiery eyes gleaming with determination, descended in perfect formation. The faint hiss of the Falcon Wing Aerial Descent Units slicing through the cold air harmonized with the distant roar of the dropship engines fading into the horizon.

I leaned slightly forward in my harness, craning my neck to observe the descent. Below us, the landing zone was illuminated by the dim glow of scattered floodlights.

On the ground, I caught sight of the instructors—and Kurt. Their expressions were frozen somewhere between disbelief and awe, brows raised and mouths slightly agape as they watched the trainees execute a drop that could have put some seasoned soldiers to shame.

Kurt's arms were crossed, but his posture was rigid, his head tilted upward as he tracked each parachute with sharp precision. Mendez stood beside him, arms akimbo, his stern expression cracking ever so slightly with a flicker of surprise.

This wasn't normal. This wasn't anticipated.

And they knew it.

I allowed myself a small, knowing smile. The spells I'd cast earlier—[Calming Touch] to silence panic, [Heroic Touch] to fortify courage—were still in effect, their golden threads of magic weaving through each child, holding them steady as they fell through the sky.

But it wasn't just magic carrying them. It was willpower, trust, and the unspoken bond we were already beginning to form as a company.

As I felt the sharp tug of my own Falcon Wing system deploying, I braced for impact, the ground rising swiftly to meet me.

This was only day one, and we had already made an impression. Let's see if we can keep this up.

Poom.

We each landed and disengaged the harnesses in time to give the next trainee space to land. Moving away a distance, I glanced back to see Jon unbuckling his harness and nodded before waiting for him.

I let him take the lead, following him back to the area where we were originally standing.

As Jon and I approached the rally point, the other trainees were already beginning to gather, their faces illuminated by the dim light of portable floodlamps scattered across the clearing. The instructors moved between them, barking orders, correcting postures, and ensuring every cadet was accounted for.

Senior Chief Mendez stood at the centre, arms crossed over his broad chest, his sharp gaze scanning the group like a hawk inspecting prey. Kurt stood beside him, hands behind his back, his face unreadable.

Jon and I fell into formation without a word.

"Not bad, cadets," Mendez's voice cut through the crisp night air, sharp and authoritative. "Not good either, but not bad. Some of you landed like professionals. Others… well, let's just say the ground is grateful for your sacrifice."

A few quiet chuckles rippled through the group, though most stayed silent, too intimidated or exhausted to react.

"But you all made it down in one piece, and for tonight, that's enough. Tomorrow, we'll see who has the spine to do it all over again, but better."

He stepped aside, allowing Kurt to take a step forward.

"You're all here because you were chosen," Kurt began, his voice steady, calm, yet filled with undeniable authority, "You were chosen because you have potential because someone saw in you the raw material needed to become something more—something extraordinary. But the potential is worthless without action. Out here, on Onyx, in Camp Currahee you will be broken down and rebuilt—stronger, faster, smarter."

His gaze swept over us, and I felt it linger briefly on Jon. He held his stare, unwavering.

"Now, Get your gear stowed, Instructors, show them to their sleeping arrangements and be ready by oh-five-hundred. You will find your new garments by your designated bed. You will not be seen by me wearing your current clothing again. Understood? Dismissed."

The group broke apart with murmurs and shuffling boots as we moved toward the designated sleeping area.

Jon stayed close to me as we got to our beds.

"You did well today," I said quietly, sitting cross-legged on my bed, "Your landing was solid."

Jon glanced at me and grinned faintly, a rare expression of pride breaking through his normally serious demeanour.

.....

The next morning at 5am,

Bang.

Bang.

"I'VE SEEN MY NAN GET OUT OF BED QUICKER, YOU MAGGOTS, GOD BLESS HER SOUL!" an instructor started yelling as he clanged a metal spoon against a pan loudly.

The sharp metallic clang of the spoon against the pan reverberated through the crisp morning air, jolting everyone awake like an electric shock.

Jon shot upright, his hair sticking out in all directions, eyes wide with a mix of confusion and adrenaline. I was already sitting up, blinking the sleep from my eyes and suppressing a groan as the aches from yesterday's jump settled into my muscles.

"ON YOUR FEET! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!" the instructor barked, stomping his boot hard against the rocky ground.

Around us, cadets scrambled out of their sleeping bags, fumbling with straps and buckles as they rushed to stand at attention. One poor kid tripped over his own feet and faceplanted into the dirt, but the instructor was already moving on, yelling at another group of trainees who weren't moving fast enough.

Jon and I snapped into position, standing shoulder to shoulder, backs straight, chins lifted. As we all got our uniforms on, I glanced at the numbers on my clothing, I was going to look for Kat and other notable characters from the games and stories today. I was B-313.

Looking over at my younger brother I noted the number on his shirt.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I whispered.

B-312.

My brother was Spartan B-312, THE fuckin' Noble Six, the main character you played in Halo: Reach. The only other fucking Hyper-lethal vector other than John-117 aka Master Chief.

How did I not realise it till now? It was a running joke at one point that the nameless main characters in the games were all called some derivative of John.

I'm such an idiot.

"You alright big bro? You're looking at me like I'm some sort of celebrity," my brother looked at me with a weird expression on his face.

Shaking myself out of it, I told him that I was alright just baffled at the numbers. Before long we all filed out into the courtyard of Camp Currahee.

Senior Chief Petty Officer Mendez strolled into view on a platform, his hands clasped behind his back, his presence radiating authority even in the dim pre-dawn light. Kurt followed closely behind, his expression neutral but his sharp eyes taking in every detail.

"Good morning, cadets," Mendez said in a tone that suggested it was anything but. "I hope you all enjoyed your beauty sleep because today… today is going to make yesterday feel like a vacation on Luna. Do you know what today is?"

The group remained silent, save for the faint sound of someone swallowing nervously.

"I asked you a question!" Mendez barked.

"NO, SENIOR CHIEF!" we shouted in unison.

"Today is the day we see who among you has a spine and who's just playing soldier. You're going to run, you're going to climb, you're going to push, and if you're lucky, you'll still be breathing when the sun sets."

He stepped closer, his face twisted into a sly grin, "And don't you worry kiddos. Breakfast is waiting for you… somewhere out there on this godforsaken planet. All you have to do is earn it."

A collective groan swept through the group before being silenced by a sharp glare from Kurt.

"Gear up, cadets," Kurt said calmly, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a knife, "NCOs, get your respective dorms ready for morning training. Fifteen minutes. Anyone late doesn't eat."

The company of us broke into action immediately, scattering like ants. Jon and I exchanged a brief look before diving into our gear.

I worked quickly, checking straps, securing my boots, and making sure everything was in place. My mana reserves had recovered overnight, and I mentally prepared myself to use them sparingly throughout the day. A quick [Calming Touch] on Jon's shoulder ensured his hands stopped trembling as he tightened his boots.

"Thanks," he said under his breath.

"Anytime," I replied.

Ten minutes later, we were back in formation, gear secured and faces set with grim determination.

Mendez paced in front of us, his boots crunching against the gravel. "Congratulations, cadets. You've completed step one of today's misery—getting dressed. Now let's see if you can survive the rest of it."

"NCOs, you will now take your respective dorm groups for morning training. Dismissed," Kurt spoke as he waved us off.

The people that I had shared a room with began gravitating toward the instructor that woke us up this morning.

"Good, you organised yourselves in less than three minutes. Next time, I want you to drop into file within a minute. AM I Understood?" He roared.

"Sir, Yes Sir," We all projected.

"Good, I am Petty Officer Adam Soong, you will refer to me as Sir or Instructor Soong from here on out!" he projected, "Now pair up, form a line of twos and follow me as we go for our morning run, we're doing five laps around the facility."

Soon enough all twenty-four of us were in formation and had begun the morning training.

...

"Fucking hell, that was torturous," I sighed as we'd completed the laps, then immediately transitioned into physical conditioning training—push-ups, sit-ups, burpees, the works. The sharp sting in my muscles was already settling in, but the worst part was the gruelling pace the instructors set. There was no time to catch your breath; the pain and exhaustion became your new normal.

I couldn't even heal up now, I'd have to leave that until the end of the day, otherwise, that would shed an unwanted light on me.

Every pushup felt like a battle with gravity, and every crunch sent a ripple of soreness through my core. Sweat dripped down my face, blurring my vision, but I didn't stop. The idea of stopping, even for a second, felt like an admission of weakness.

Jon grunted beside me, his movements slightly slower than usual, but he kept up. I could tell he was struggling, but that fire in his eyes—just like mine—kept him going. We didn't have the luxury of slowing down.

"Keep those knees off the ground, B-313!" Soong yelled, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Yeah, I heard you, Soong. But there was no time to argue, so I pushed harder, forcing my body to move against the ache in my arms and chest. It was just another hurdle to climb, another test to break us down and rebuild us.

By the time we were finished, I felt like I could barely move, every muscle screaming for rest. Thankfully Soong had relented.

"Line up, cadets," he commanded, his voice cutting through the grunts and groans of exhausted bodies, "You've just earned yourselves breakfast, congratulations."

The words barely registered through my exhaustion. Breakfast? After that hell, the thought of food was more of a distant dream than a reward. But the moment the word "food" reached my brain, my stomach twisted into knots, a gnawing hunger I hadn't even realized I'd been ignoring.

We stumbled into line, our limbs heavy, but the promise of something to eat gave us the strength to stand straight, at least for a few more minutes.

The sound of boots hitting the gravel echoed across the courtyard as we began to move, sluggish but driven. The instructors led us in tight formation, keeping an eye on everyone, and making sure no one tried to slow down or cut corners. The thought of food spurred me on, even if my body begged for rest.

Jon was quiet beside me, his face flushed with exhaustion, but his focus never wavered. I could tell he was still processing everything—the training, the instructors, the constant pressure to push past our limits—but his resolve was stronger than any physical challenge they threw at us.

We arrived at the mess hall, and the smell of hot food hit me like a punch to the gut. My mouth watered as I filed in with the rest of the cadets, heading straight for the chow line.

But just as I reached the front of the line, Soong's voice cut through again.

"Grab your tray, cadets, and get to your seats. I want you all ready to move out in thirty minutes. After that, we'll see if you're still hungry for more."

I nodded quickly, trying to hide the grimace on my face. Thirty minutes? He wasn't kidding about making every moment count.

Jon and I took our food to a corner of the room, trying to find a moment of peace before the next round of training. We didn't speak much, and both of us were too focused on the meal in front of us, but the silence between us was comfortable.