As they were walking inside the large doors, the young plebes followed Wonwoo into a vast arena that was larger than the eyes could see. Soonyoung's jaw hung open as his eyes glazed over the obstacle course in front of him – ditches to leap across, a handful of rock walls and ladders they'd be climbing over, sand pits to do whatever sand pits are used for, waters pits to swim through, and many more. Twisting and turning through the rest of the fake-grass covered course were regular running tracks. There were more like stairs, ropes, open platforms too. An intense amount of light lit up the room, almost blinding the plebes as they transitioned from the dimly lit facility and into the fake outdoors. Up high were giant stadium like lights that were so strong, the light shing down from them stung the plebes' arms like actual summer sun rays. The whole arena looked as if it were covered by a giant bubble dome; and looking to his left, that's what it more or less looked like. Around him, he could see the other rooms the other groups had entered; they were identical arenas.

Even from where he was standing, Soonyoung could see Seokmin standing off to the side with two girls; one he recognized as Louie Jones from the Bu Wing and Seohee. That was Hwanmyeong's group. Soonyoung detested the group he was put in with the exception of Yoora and Chan. Everyone else wore insignias of the Choi and Zhang Wings, deeming them unfit to befriend. Not like he didn't want to be friends with them or anything, but they didn't seem that keen into making friends with him if anything. That could only mean that the group on the left was being mentored by Seungcheol. In Seungcheol's group, he could only see recognize one person, and that was Choi Hansol of the Hong Wing. He remembered seeing Yoora talking with him earlier that morning.

Oddly enough, after about a few minutes the landscape began to transform in front of his eyes. The running tracks morphed into dirt roads, and heavy ropes that hung from the ceiling turned into trees. As with the ground, the sky did it's fair share of shifting too. The white lights had morphed into one big sun in the sky, and the dome had become an endless, cloudless blue sky. Soonyoung could no longer see the other groups either. The plebes marveled at the new area as oohs and ahhs escaped their lips. But Wonwoo just had to rain on their parade in saying, “Plebes, your neural processors have control of your brain now. That means the computer has direct control over the signals from your optical nerve,”

There were some who wore confused expressions, but Soonyoung had skimmed over his manual enough times to know exactly what was going on. His brain was spinning out a false image. The soft breezes he was feeling, the sounds of birds and wild animals – they were all just illusions. But for what reason? He had no idea. Scuffing his boot experimentally on the grass, the crisp aroma of nature wafted up his nose as he let out a contented sigh, “So none of this is real,”

“Oh no, the arena is definitely real,” Wonwoo heard Soonyoung, “Basically the only reason why we program your processors to change the landscape is so that you guys won't feel like you're just working out. Knowing you guys, you'd probably think you have better things to do with your lives...which you don't, but you think you do,”

Wonwoo was the only one who laughed at his dry joke, but he didn't even seem the least bit bothered. Once he was done, a serious look immediately replaced his carefree one. Clearing his throat, he ordered the plebes to disperse and start stretching while they still could. The part where he said “while you still can” caught Soonyoung's attention as he watched Wonwoo walk off in the other direction and disappear into the landscape as if he were just dissolving in thin air. Soonyoung raised his eyebrows curiously as he pulled his arm back behind him into a stretch. Another plebe who he had seen standing alone earlier shyly approached them, asking if he could join. The boy wasn't much shorter than Soonyoung was; if anything they must have been the same height. Soonyoung's processor spun out information at breakneck speed: Rank 6 Kestrel Plebe Shin Dongjin. Thirteen years old. Location unknown. 2010's Chemlete of the Year. On the top of his profile, Soonyoung noticed the Zhang Wing mark.

“Video gaming? That's cool,” Dongjin commented, still reading Soonyoung's profile, “No specialties? That's odd. Why are you here then?”

“Uh it's a...typo?” Soonyoung's voice rose a few notes at the very end, sounding rather unsure of his answer (which Dongjin seemed to believe anyway).

“You know, there's news going around that there's someone who can rewrite profiles,” Dongjin kept his voice low as he raised his hands above his head, placing one hand on his elbow and pulling to the right. When Soonyoung kept silent, that signaled Dongjin to continue explaining, “I'm not sure how true this is, but there were five plebes from last year who passed inspections and went up a rank because they had their profiles tweaked,”

Soonyoung nodded and thought about what Dongjin had just relayed to him. If it was true, then they must have had reason to, right? The Kestrel Program was a rigorous program no doubt, but was it really that hard to achieve a rank promotion? If so, who was the mastermind behind the profile tweaking? And how had they not gotten caught yet? The facility was full of the worlds' geniuses. There was no way this person hadn't gotten in trouble yet. Well, whatever. Whether that person was caught or not was not his problem. Next to him, Chan was crouching on the ground with his heels lifted up as he stretched his ankles, “So what exactly are we waiting for?” he said out loud to no one in particular.

Just as the last word left his mouth, a message appeared in their sight area that read: The incentive to start running. Good luck, plebes. I'll see you in Applied Sims. - K-adet Jeon.

“Okay, but what is that supposed to mean?” Yoora placed her hands on her hips, before she flipped her fringe out of her face, “You know, I have half the mind to run after K-adet Jeon. Like, how can he just ditch us like this? He's neglecting his duties as an instructor! We should repo-”

As Soonyoung raised his knee up to his waist level, he could feel the beat of his heart picking up into a rapid rhythm. The ground began to rumble underneath his boots as the faint sound of welting screams broke the tranquil silence. The young boy raised an eyebrow when his palms began sweating; where was this feeling of terror coming from? Suddenly from the corner of his eye he saw Yoora – who was in the middle of a leg stretch – abruptly shoot up from the ground and break into a sprint into the opposite direction. One by one, the other plebes tailed Yoora, and before he knew it, Soonyoung found his legs take on a mind of their own, breaking into a run. Unaware of what was going on, he shot a glance over his shoulder to see what exactly he was running from.

His eyes widened when he saw what was bringing the loud thundering sounds – a group of angry European warriors in chain mail and clanking metal suits. They sat tall upon lean, black horses whose muscles flexed with every powerful movement they made as they approached the plebes. In their fists shone the steel swords that they help high above their heads. Turning his head back around, he lagged behind the rest of the plebes and caught up with Yoora, Chan and Dongjin. The warriors were gaining on their backs rather quickly. A sword whizzed by his face, and his survival instincts kicked in. His legs were once again in his control, and he picked up the speed, chest heaving at his sudden exertion of energy. The wind ripped against his cheeks, whistling into his ear when he slid down a steep hill.

Once more, that same warrior with the red markings on his suit advanced up to him, taking another chance at Soonyoung, barely missing his hair. Still determined to attack the young boy, the warrior flung the weapon from his grasp, and careened into the grass with a solid thunk a few feet away from Soonyoung. Swerving around it, his legs almost gave out at the sudden turn, making him slightly wobble in his step before picking up again. Then it hit him. He reminded himself that none of this wasn't actually real. He wasn't in any 'danger'. Everything that was happening right now was just an illusion, and there was absolutely nothing to worry about.

Except he immediately discarded that thought when an ear-splitting scream came from behind him. Peering over in time, Soonyoung saw Chan drop to his knees – his blanch face void of any reaction even with a blood stained sword driven through the center of his chest. The swordsman who had slain Soonyoung's ally mercilessly ripped the sword out from Chan's back, letting a blood-curdling cry of victory ring in the air. As human instinct, Soonyoung skidded to a stop as he took refuge behind a large boulder to watch his friend on the ground. Chan's face twisted as he writhed on the grass, clutching his still bleeding chest wound.

“It hurts!” Chan cried out helplessly, inhaling sharply every time he moved a limb, “The pain! Someone help me, please! It hurts!”

Soonyoung's self-assurance vanished into thin air and real fear quickly replaced it; what was going on? Was there something wrong with the simulation? In all his time playing video game simulations, never had he ever experienced actual pain whenever he crashed or was attacked. It just wasn't a thing! Had a bug gotten into the simulation? There was no way the Kestrel Program would kill off plebes during classes! As he watched Chan get stomped over by a robust horse, a hand pulled Soonyoung up to his feet, making him run again. It was Yoora. Yoora glared at him with panic-stricken eyes, “What in the great Ryder's name do you think you're doing? For Mecha Team's sake run faster or end up like Chan!”

By the time he reached the bottom of a red brick wall, that's when the scenery around his began to shift once more, revealing a Chan who was nonchalantly relaxing against the now large stone wall to a castle. Soonyoung collapsed to the ground when he saw how cool Chan was being as he approached the trio. Dongjin raised his sweat covered brows at him, while Yoora just simply stared at him in awe with her ponytail sliding down the back of her head. Chan waved to the rest of the group, and skillfully avoided a sloppy uppercut from Soonyoung, “What the hell, Chan?”

“Whoa dude, calm down!” Chan held his hands up in defense as he took a few steps back from the fuming teenager, “Is that how you treat the resurrected?”

“Would you please explain how in the world you're still alive?” Dongjin bent over, propping his hands on his knees to keep him leveled, “Because the three of us clearly saw you die by the hands of red paint man back there!”

“Long story short, this thing is a simulation. There's no way I could've felt pain from nothing,” Chan let out a hearty laugh. He didn't bother telling them that he was actually scared senseless when the swordsman rammed the sword through his back, and he had let out a scream out of instinct. When he realized everything was harmless though and Soonyoung was completely buying the idea, he figured that maybe it would be entertaining to keep the act going. Besides, the looks on his classmates' faces were priceless.

Letting out a disgusted sound of disapproval, Yoora shoved her way past Chan and started scaling the wall. She was deciding to skip climbing the ropes altogether and took matters into her own hands. The boys, even though Dongjin and Soonyoung felt like they had been cheated, snickered at their friend's frustration as they hoisted themselves up the wall after her. Most of the plebes along with Dongjin were climbing the ropes, while Soonyoung and Chan took a stab at actually climbing the wall. Ultimately they failed though, so they had no choice but to wait for their turn at the ropes. Once they reached the top of the wall, another wall presented itself, this time with ladders at the side. Just in time too, since another set of battle cries were heard from behind them. The Euro warriors weren't giving up the chase.

At the far end of the wall in front of him lined several wooden chests containing all sorts of swords. By the time he reached about five feet away from the chests, Soonyoung's sight area flashed a translucent blue with the words: Commence: Strength Training. Once the blue faded away, a light grey crosshair began hovering in the middle of his sight area, locking onto the swords in front. He figured it was probably his objective to take a sword and fight the warriors behind him. His fingers immediately wrapped themselves around the handle of a sword from the Song Dynasty. He wasn't really sure if it was a sword from that time period, except hey, that's what his processor said. But as soon as the last plebe picked up a sword, the iron gate behind them lifted up, and another chorus of screams came from an army of ancient Korean soldiers.

“Wait, how do we fight these guys if we don't even know how to?” Soonyoung asked worriedly, lifting his sword up from the floor, almost falling from how heavy it was.

“I guess it doesn't matter really,” Dongjin replied calmly as he forced a heavy blow into the head of a Korean foot soldier, “This is strength training after all. Maybe skill doesn't have to count in this. Just the fact that you're lifting it helps,”

Shrugging, Soonyoung hauled the sword over his shoulder and hurled himself towards a Euro warrior, clashing swords with him. Eventually, as he continued to dodge blows from the warrior, it began to feel as if he were lifting weights in a gym; thank God the illusion of him fighting made it seem less labor demanding. With a finishing blow, Soonyoung took a step back from the disintegrating warrior; from the corner of his eye, he spotted Yoora expertly dodged a swing, and spotted Chan getting impaled for the second time. Only this time, rather than putting on a dramatic show, he just lazily fell to the ground to stare up at the sky, and rest his head on his hands. Being the closest to Chan's position, Dongjin ran towards the carnage and threw himself gloriously into a 2v1, fighting for the defense of the castle.

Soon enough, the cannon went off signaling that Calisthenics were finally over. Sweaty and sore, the plebes surrendered their weapons, breathing out sighs of relief as the holograms in front of them disappeared with the rest of the landscape. Soonyoung slid onto the floor with a thud and hunched over his knees, panting to catch his breath. Scattered around the plebes were giant weights with handles where there had once been swords. He could hear footsteps shuffling over to him tiredly, stopping next to him. The next thing he saw was a sweaty Yoora, chest heavy, dabbing at the water droplets running across her hairline weakly, “Damn this class. ing Instructor Jeon just left us alone like that. He didn't even train with us! Why I oughta---”

Soonyoung let out a hearty laugh, “It beats stationary weight lifting, that's for sure,”

“Dear God, that was actual hell,” Seokmin cried out the moment the Jang Wing plebes entered their common room.

Everyone was piling in from their last classes of the day. For Soonyoung, Seokmin and Chan, their last class had been Basics of Operating Systems with their division K-aptain. A seriously pissed Yinzhi had just come from a rigorous period of speed programming with Seunggwan. There were other plebes and rookie K-ombatants that piled into the room, one-by-one whining about how hard classes were this year than last year. Of course,it's to be expected. The program can only get better from here, right? From his position on the cough, Soonyoung pulled up his built-in TV app and flipped through the channels seeing if there was anything interesting. As usual, there wasn't. He caught a glimpse of Jihoon out on another hot call, and a few other big names here and there but they weren't necessarily high-category Weigyeins.

“Dude, that Hwanmyeong chick is no joke. She's seriously got this hate for plebes. During the simulation, she was literally calling us out on our mistakes and stuff!” Seokmin said as he massaged his aching arms, “You know, after Calisthenics, she pulled our group back and told us that our performance was pathetic? This was our first class ever! How can she expect us to be good, let alone know what we're doing?”

“I don't know, I'm just really glad I'm not in your class,” Soonyoung replaied, half-paying attention to what he was saying. His selective hearing only made him hear: Hwanmyeong, hate, and pathetic. That was just about enough to turn him off.

“You gotta admit though, she's pretty hot when she's mad,” a fresh-out of the shower Jihoon entered the front entrance of the room, riling up a chorus of shrieks from the girls around them. When he saw the disgusted looks on Soonyoung, Seokmin and Chan's faces, he let out a loud laugh, “I see Junior Yao isn't the most well liked person again this year,”

Seokmin rolled his eyes at their senior's obvious observation, “Who would? She's like the devil,”

Soonyoung then sat up in his seat, “Correction, that's Wonwoo. He ditched our class!”