Thea felt her consciousness snap back into place in the middle of a locker room.
As she looked around, she immediately recognised the matte grey and dim red colour scheme stamped across nearly everything in sight.
From the large lockers lining the walls, to the metal benches in the centre of the room, and even the bare rockcrete walls themselves, everything followed the UHF’s familiar palette.
‘Wow. They really don’t mess around with the branding in here, huh?’ She thought, taking a moment to steady herself and get her bearings.
Before she could do anything else, however, a light-blue message screen appeared in the centre of her vision.
As soon as she focused on it, it expanded into a dense block of text.
[Welcome, Private Thea, to the UHF Deep-Dive Simulation Challenge #6,473!]
[You have been granted temporary access to the UHF lockers in this room in order to adjust your equipment. Please note that your selected weapon from the tutorial has already been placed inside one of the lockers.]
[This Challenge consists of a live-combat engagement on an outpost planet designated “Rog’An Prime,” located within the Cygnus Rift star cluster. You will be deployed to a UHF temporary fortification near the front lines and tasked with holding the position until relief arrives.]
[These reinforcements are scheduled to arrive ten hours after mission start. The mission timer will begin once you pass through the door on the opposite side of the locker room.]
[Primary Mission Objective: Survive.]
[Secondary mission objectives may appear throughout the Challenge. Be advised that the primary objective takes absolutepriority. Regardless of secondary objectives completed, the Challenge will be considered failed if the primary objective is not met.]
[Your commanding officer for this Challenge is Captain Eirik Sable. Unlike standard UHF operations, you will report directly to them and will not be assigned to a squad. You are, however, encouraged to support other UHF personnel whenever possible.]
[Challenge scores will only be revealed upon exiting the Deep-Dive Simulation. No feedback will be provided regarding whether individual actions positively or negatively affect your score. The only guidance offered is as follows: Act in a manner that reflects the spirit of the UHF.]
[This concludes the mission briefing. You are now cleared to begin the Challenge at your discretion.]
[May the Emperor’s light guide you, Private Thea.]
After reading through the briefing, Thea started putting a plan together as she walked toward the nearest locker.
‘First things first. Inventory.I need to know exactly what I’m working with here…’
‘Second, report to the Captain as soon as I arrive. He’ll definitely know more than the blue message just now... He has to, right…? Things like enemies, terrain, what to expect—this is the stuff the Old Man always said would keep you alive, so surely the Captain will provide…’
At the very least, she needed to know who—or what—she was even going to be fighting.
‘No mention about any of that at all. That’s really bad… Would be nice to know if this is even against other humans in the first place. The talk about fortification hints at that a little bit, sure—but assuming won’t save me if I’m wrong. Could be beasts. Could be something somehow even worse…’
With no solid intel to work with, all she could really do was trust that her gear would be enough.
‘And lastly, positions.’
With a DMR, medium to long range was where she’d shine—something the Old Man had drilled into her through countless, long lectures about weapons and their ideal engagement distances.
‘That also means fallback positions. Places I know I can retreat to safely before things go bad. No scrambling to find areas at the last second when everything’s already falling apart.’
She wasn’t about to get cornered because she failed to plan ahead like that.
‘The Old Man would tear me apart if I went out like that…’
After the years of lengthy lessons and countless hours of hard training in the undercity—and more than a few trips into the marshlands beyond Lumiosia’s outskirts—there was no excuse for messing up something this basic.
She opened the locker in front of her and was met with a familiar sight.
An inventory screen appeared in her vision, almost identical to the ones from the arcade games she’d grown up playing. It listed her current gear as “Civilian Clothing,” along with a long list of items stored inside the locker.
Three types of combat armour immediately caught her eye: “Light-type Scout,” “Medium-type Support,” and “Heavy-type Defender” UHF Armours.
‘There’s no way those are the real names,’ she scoffed internally. ‘This is just the sim dumbing it down, surely. No serious manufacturer would call their armour something this generic.’
She didn’t hesitate and selected the “Light-type Scout Armour.”
“Mobility matters, Missy,” the Old Man’s voice echoed in her head. “Especially when your preferred ranges distinctly do not include close-quarters.”
With her focus on medium to long range, she needed to be able to fall back fast if the line broke. Anything heavier would slow her down too much, make repositioning harder, and risk getting her caught in an unfavourable range mid-retreat.
As she selected the armour, she let out a startled squeak when it suddenly began to manifest right in front of her inside the locker.
She stared in fascination as it practically printed itself out of thin air in a few seconds, the previously mostly empty locker—aside from the weapon placed there after the tutorial—now holding a sleek, matte-grey suit of armour.
‘That’s so fucking cool…’
She picked it up and immediately stumbled a step, caught off guard by the sheer heft of it.
Even the Light-type Scout Armour was surprisingly heavy.
‘So that’s why the Old Man was always on my case about morning workouts,’ she thought. ‘If this is “light,” I really don’t want to know what the heavy stuff feels like…’
She quickly started putting it on.
The light armour was a sleek, streamlined suit that hugged her body like a second skin.
Armour plates covered all the spots that clearly mattered—the chest, ribs, arms, legs, and even the shoulders—without getting in the way.
The chest and back plates were reinforced with sharp, angular ridges that gave the armour a slightly aggressive look while also adding extra protection against projectile impacts. The shoulder pads were small and streamlined, leaving her arms completely unobstructed.
It was made from some kind of advanced synthetic material she had never seen before.
Despite the number of plates however, it felt manageable to wear and flexible, letting her move surprisingly freely. It was likely thanks to the plates not being solid slabs either, but instead being segmented in a way that clearly favored mobility over raw protective values.
The helmet was a smooth, featureless dome, with a faint blue glow coming from the visor.
According to the description, it offered enhanced vision, including basic thermal imaging and a heads-up display with tactical and health information.
A wave of giddy excitement washed over her as she stepped away from the locker to test it out.
‘This is the coolest damn thing I’ve ever seen!’
She ran through a few of the physical exercises she’d been doing since childhood.
The armour didn’t restrict her movements at all—in fact, it subtly helped, giving her slight boosts in strength and manoeuvrability as she moved.
‘Fuck me… I need one of these after this challenge.’ She paused at the thought, then snorted internally. ‘Yeah, right… Like I could ever fucking afford it. This thing probably costs more than the entire undercity combined.’
After testing and moving around in the armour for roughly ten minutes, she finally stepped back up to the locker.
She slung her chosen laser-type Mjollnir over her shoulder, secured a backup pistol—the HX-12 “Slicer,” a standard-issue UHF sidearm—into the holster at her hip, and loaded a pile of frontline gear into the large backpack provided.
The equipment included a reinforced durasteel trench shovel, a plasteel combat knife that looked very similar to the one the Old Man had given her years ago, around a dozen empty synth-fibre bags meant for quickly assembling sandbags, and three days’ worth of rations in the form of nutrient packs and vacuum-sealed liquid bags.
All of it materialised directly inside the locker, but unlike Selene’s earlier appearance, the items didn’t just pop into existence fully formed.
Instead, they emerged in a strange, printer-like way, building themselves from the bottom up, albeit faster than any printer she had ever seen.
‘Kind of reminds me of the 3D printers Thomas keeps back in the arcade—always handy for printing replacement parts when we can get away with it…’
Stepping away from the locker, she drew the HX-12 from the holster on her left hip and gave it a careful look.
The pistol had a slim, aerodynamic shape that curved inward at the centre, forming a comfortable grip. Its exterior was mostly black with silver accents, giving it a clean, professional look—far higher quality than she’d expected from a “standard-issue” sidearm.
The weapon’s most notable feature was the long, thin serrated blade running along the top of the barrel, earning it the nickname “Slicer.”
The blade was clearly meant for close-quarters fighting, letting the user strike and cut at enemies when things got far too close for comfort. It was razor-sharp and made from some kind of durable alloy she didn’t recognise, but according to the manufacturer’s description, it could handle heavy wear without issue.
‘UHF gear really is just way too cool…’ she thought, holding the Mjollnir and the HX-12 side by side for a moment, one in each hand.
She returned to the locker one last time to make sure she hadn’t missed anything and that all the issued equipment was properly equipped.
She also gave everything a quick check for any obvious faults.
‘Just because the sim hands it to you doesn’t mean it’s perfect… Might be part of the test to confirm that everything’s operational. You never know.’
Finding no issues however, she holstered the HX-12 again and let the Mjollnir hang loosely from its shoulder strap before walking toward the golden door of light on the far side of the room.
“Alright, enough messing around. It’s game-time!” Thea declared loudly into the empty locker room with a savage grin on her face, before stepping through the door of light, beginning the UHF’s challenge.
Dozens of armed and armoured UHF Marines moved about, just as Thea materialised near a corner inside what appeared to be a large storage bunker.
She paused and looked around, trying to get her bearings.
Her boots rested on compacted red-brown dirt.
The air carried the sharp bite of burning ozone from repeated laser fire, mixed with the heavier smells of metal, gunpowder, and oil.
Large, cuboid, durasteel-reinforced crates were stacked almost to the ceiling, while dozens of open containers filled with ammunition and ordnance were lined up beside five wide openings in the wall that led outside.
The walls themselves looked hastily assembled, made from prefabricated rockcrete slabs holding up a durasteel-reinforced dome roughly seven to eight metres above her head. The supply room she stood in was about twice that square, most of it taken up by tightly packed stacks of crates reaching all the way up to the ceiling.
Once she had a rough sense of the space, she quickly checked her gear, confirming that nothing had gone missing during transport.
Her eyes flicked to the top-right corner of her vision.
[Primary Mission Objective – SURVIVE: 09:59:15]
In the bottom-right corner, a small humanoid outline showed her hands, arms, legs, torso, and head all marked in green, with a bright “100%” beneath it.
‘Full health. Good,’ she noted.
The armour was evidently feeding her real-time status updates.
A new marker appeared on her HUD—a small golden arrow pointing toward one of the doorways.
Beneath it, a simple label read: “Captain Eirik Sable.”
‘He prolly got the news I’m here and figured I’d need directions. Smart… Cause I really do,’ she thought, falling in behind the marker as she moved through the narrow tunnels of the outpost.
The tunnels had clearly been dug straight out of the planet’s red-brown soil. They were uneven, and bits of dirt fell from the ceiling at random as she moved through them.
‘This feels way too real,’ she thought absently.
She could even taste the dust when it got into her mouth.
A few minutes later, she reached an opening that led into what looked like a temporary command centre.
A large portable metal table stood in the middle, surrounded by roughly a dozen uniformed men and women locked in heated discussions about things that were undoubtedly above her pay grade—if she even got paid at all for any of this, which she kind of doubted.
As she tried to step inside, a large, burly man blocked her path.
He wore a massive, Heavy-type—if Thea had to guess—armour and a large, unwieldy-looking shotgun rested in his hands, pointed at the floor.
“This is the command centre. Unless you’re authorised to be here, you must leave immediately,” a mechanical voice said from behind the man’s helmet.
Thea flinched slightly at the unexpected voice, then straightened.
‘Alright. Rules and manners,’ she reminded herself, falling back on the Old Man’s lessons.
“Sir, my name is Private Thea. I am here to report to Captain Eirik Sable. I have been informed that he is currently present in this room. If I am not permitted to enter, please inform the Captain that I have arrived for briefing, Sir,” she said, finishing with the UHF salute—right fist to her chest, back straight.
“They love rules. And they love respect,” the Old Man’s voice echoed in her head. “Too much respect has never gotten anyone court martialed.”
When the towering man—easily over two metres tall and just as wide, at a rough estimate—relaxed his shoulders slightly, she knew she’d played it right.
“Ah… I see. Stand by,” the mechanical voice replied. “I will confirm with Captain Sable.”
The giant turned and lumbered deeper into the room.
As she waited, a thought crept in uninvited, ‘This guy doesn’t even need the shotgun.He could crush me with one hand.’
Nobody she had seen so far inside the challenge had been anywhere near her comparatively small size, and she was considered downright freakishly tall for the undercity.
‘Just what in the void do they feed these people here…?’
Barely a minute later, the giant returned with another man walking beside him.
As the newcomer stepped around the armoured figure to face her, Thea instinctively focused, sizing him up to try and get a read on exactly who she was dealing with.
Captain Eirik Sable stood tall at roughly one metre and eighty-eight centimetres, with broad shoulders and a solid, muscular build that spoke of years of training and real combat.
His short, dark hair was slicked back neatly, highlighting sharp, angular features in his clean-shaven face that bore a few visible scars.
His piercing blue eyes fixed on her in-turn with open, assessing interest.
He wore a standard UHF captain’s uniform, crafted from high-quality, durable materials meant to survive combat while still looking presentable—almost regal in design.
The colour scheme followed the UHF’s familiar matte grey with dim crimson trim and silver buttons, though Thea knew from the Old Man’s stories that different units often had small variations in style.
The captain’s uniform consisted of several layers: A form-fitting jumpsuit, a high-collared, double-breasted jacket, and a tactical vest worn on top.
The jacket was the centrepiece of the uniform, decorated with rank insignia and markings. Its high collar protected the neck and could be fastened tightly, while reinforced shoulders and elbows showed it was built to endure combat wear.
The final layer was the tactical vest, designed to carry ammunition, grenades, and communication gear.
‘The Old Man once said that a captain’s uniform is tougher than mid-tier heavy armour,’ Thea recalled with a hint of skepticism.
The idea sounded absolutely absurd to her, especially with both sets of armour in question standing right in front of her—but she didn’t truly try to deny it.
‘He knows a lot more about this than I probably ever will… And that’s not exactly something worth lying over either.’
Just as the Captain reached her, she snapped into another salute, making sure her back was perfectly straight.
“Captain Sable, sir. Private Thea reporting for duty. I have been briefed on the general mission objectives and was instructed to report directly to you. Please don’t hesitate to put me to work. That said, I would appreciate more details on the mission’s specific parameters, if time allows.”
“Ah. Private Thea, yes,” Captain Sable replied. “Welcome to the United Human Federation’s Theta Outpost on this shithole planet’s front lines.”
He returned the salute, then motioned for her to stand at ease.
“I’ll start you off with some errand work. Things are fairly calm right now. Just a few pushes on our far eastern flanks this morning—nothing serious.
“As for mission parameters… I suppose I’ll start from the top.
“We’re on an Emperor-forsaken planet at the edge of UHF influence. Our job is to set up a planetary outpost that can supply multiple UHF platoons as a reroute station.
“Basically, we pacify the local population and secure enough land to bring in constructors to build the damn thing.
“As for the locals, they’re part of the Stellar Republic. No prisoners. No mercy,” he continued, a snarl creeping onto his face. “They’re lunatics. If one of those freaks runs at you, shoot to kill—or get the fuck away as fast as you can. Suicide bombings have been their favourite trick since forever.”
“Roger that, sir. Shoot to kill,” Thea replied with a firm nod.
“Ha! I already like your attitude, Private! Just don’t let me catch you dying out there.”
His expression shifted as another thought struck him.
“Oh—speaking of dying. We’ve got a respawn station set up for UHF use. If you bite it, you’ll come back there. That said,” he added casually, “once things go loud, that station will be overrun with requests in no time. So… don’t rely on it. Keep your head down instead.”
‘Respawn stations… so it really is like a game,’ Thea thought as she processed that. ‘Yeah, no way using that doesn’t tank my score.Last resort only.’
She waited patiently as Captain Sable finished up with a nearby datapad.
When he finally turned and headed toward one of the underground tunnels, she fell in beside him without a word.
The captain explained the assignment as they walked through the narrow tunnels.
“Listen, Private. I’m taking you to one of the west-side outlooks.
“I want you set up there and keeping an eye on things. Based on what little data we’ve managed to pull from our recon drones, I’ve got a feeling the freaks will try something over there sooner rather than later. If they go for a big push, ping me over your comm.”
“Understood, sir,” Thea replied. “I’ll ping you if there’s a major push. Am I correct in assuming that, outside of that, I’m free to act at my own discretion?”
“Always know your exact parameters,” echoed the Old Man’s voice in her head. “That’s how you avoid getting burned for something you didn’t even know was off-limits.”
“Correct, Private,” the Captain said with a short chuckle. “Unless your entire vision is filled with freaks, you’re free to act as you see fit. I’d recommend shooting them, but I’m not here to micromanage every move you make.”
During the roughly ten-minute walk through the tunnels, Thea passed numerous UHF Marines moving through the passages.
Most of them stopped to salute Captain Sable as they went by.
‘Are they all fully simulated… or do they just shut off once I’m far enough away?’ she thought. ‘How deep does this thing even go…?’
She settled on a simple rule, ‘Assume everything is real.’
That was the safest approach.
If she was wrong, there was little downside.
But if she assumed things would vanish or stop behaving realistically—and they didn’t—she’d end up facing situations she wasn’t prepared for.
That wasn’t a risk she was willing to take…