No. I’ll put it plainly. If we don’t strike their resolve now, our training means nothing. In the decisive instant, a wavering heart kills. Better to lay cards on the table now. Medith ignored the restless sprites below, a field of grass shivering in the wind.

The squad leaders looked down with worry, brows furrowed like stone under rain.

...

Three minutes later, most sprites walked away with cold sweat and heavy steps. Like leaves shaken loose, the rest fell away. About three hundred remained, many from the original Vortex Squad.

Medith raised her longsword and shouted, eyes on faces set like rock. “Tell me loud—who are you?”

“A member of the Vortex Squad!”

“No.” Medith cut them off. “You’re Guardians. Heroes who choose to carry a heavy charge. Now—welcome to the ranks. Our will endures forever. May this world know no slaughter—”

“Oooooh!”

“Our will endures forever. May this world know no slaughter—”

“Medith! Medith! Medith...”

Medith and the women watched them, a relieved smile breaking like dawn.

...

In the depths of the Glimmering Green Forest...

“I’ll be blunt. This mobilization failed. Out of a thousand, only 198 sprites stayed. But it’s fine. I’ll show them what we, a mere 298 sprites, can do.” Medith faced the neatly dressed crowd, white like a flock of cranes.

“Yes!”

They wore white uniforms. Pure-white jackets with matching buttons. A pocket sat above the left breast. Over the heart, a design: a veined green leaf caught by the wind, drifting.

It was Medith’s emblem for the Vortex Squad.

On the backs of the leaders and Medith, a white cape hung to the waist, covering the whole back. On it: a regal Scepter laid across a green leaf; below, rings of rippling water.

It was the symbol of the Queen of Xurenxus City.

For the lower half, long white trousers, unisex.

Many new women grumbled at the pants. They preferred short skirts—pretty and cool like summer shade.

But Medith said, “If you want to get exposed in a close-quarters blood fight, or get grabbed, panic, and die—own the consequences.”

They fell silent at once, stunned like birds at thunder.

“Some of you know me. Many still don’t. So I’ll say it again. I’m Medith Waheit. You call me Captain or Commander. In private, call me what you want. In public and in training, it’s Captain or Commander. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain!” They answered without a hitch, backs straight like spears. Medith nodded, pleased. People with resolve are different; you barely have to spell things out. Looked like she’d save herself effort on another show of authority.

“Melia, Milia, Rita, Lina—step forward!” Her words fell. Four tall-bodied sprites stepped out. Their white jackets couldn’t hide their formidable chests. Yet the cut showed their forms cleanly—less cute or coy, more mature and martial.

“These four are your squad leaders. One more hasn’t returned due to a mission; you’ll learn about her later. In training, they are your officers—your superiors. Each wears a bold cape; no one will miss it.

“First, learn to respect your superiors. Respect your officers.

“Anytime, anywhere—any order, any action—you obey unconditionally. No injecting your own ideas. No defying your superior.

“Under me, defy a superior once, and I’ll break your hand. Twice, and you’re out.

“On the field, I’ll kill that kind of person.

“Remember: on the battlefield, a single second can decide a war.

“We don’t have time for anything else. If anyone breaks the rules below, anyone present can execute them on the spot. I’ll shoulder the fallout.

“Defying battlefield orders. Acting without leave. Concealing intel...”

Medith rattled off a long list of rules, taboos of the field among them. Fear and confusion flickered on faces like shadows under trees, yet they answered firm: “Yes. Etched into our hearts!”

“Levels differ, so today’s first lesson is a stamina test. Run along the barrier’s edge and come back here. Laps unlimited. Run until your stamina and mana are spent. Begin.” As her words fell, they followed their leaders and broke into a run, feet drumming like rain.

...

“No D-rank sprites in this round. 124 C-ranks. 123 B-ranks. Elder Keles provides 50 support fighters. Sister Sais provides one A-rank. They’re all from the city guard. They’ve faced humans, but only small clashes with Mountain Bandit squads. No formal engagements.” Milia finished and handed the report to Medith.

Medith nodded, approving. She had just thought to compile it herself; Milia had already read her mind and lined it up.

“No wonder their adaptability beats yours. They’re far more trained.” Medith laughed and tapped Lina’s head. Lina knew she’d slipped; she blushed and lowered her gaze, quiet as a fawn.

Melia gave a wry smile. “Medith, little sister, look at me. I’m a C-rank sprite leading a squad—isn’t that ill-fitting? Look at Rita and her sister. Each one is strong like a monster...”

“What’s wrong with C-rank? Who said a leader must hit hardest? Big Sis Melia, your battlefield experience dwarfs theirs. You stay calm. You have sharp crisis response, a solid read of the field, and a stubborn will. Those alone put you miles above these two.” Medith tapped the Lita Sisters on the forehead.

“What’s crisis response speed...?” Rita asked, rubbing her smarting forehead.

“Is it how fast you handle unknown threats?” Milia ventured.

Medith nodded. “Right. When crisis hits, most people freeze. You can’t. Decide in a breath and steady those below you. When Big Sis Melia was attacked by a human hunting party, they nailed her to a tree. She couldn’t move. She swallowed the pain and never made a sound. Her first reflex wasn’t herself; it was telling me to run. Not knowing my strength, she judged fast—run, not rescue.”

“I... it was just instinct...” Melia blushed—rare for her—floating a little under praise.

“Instinct is good. It’s your nature. Follow it, and you won’t go far wrong.” Medith looked at the crowd, many sprawled from fatigue, then she called, “Rest.”

“Captain... ha... High Priestess... ha... Phiby reporting...” A female sprite with a flower crown walked up to Medith. She looked tired; her words came in broken breaths.

“Uh? What’s up?” Medith looked at her. Her face wasn’t stunning at first, but the longer you looked, the more it drew you in. Black eyes. Brown hair to the shoulders. About one-sixty tall. Petite frame. A flat chest. Drops of sweat clung to her hair like dew.

“Captain, she’s an A-rank asset personally sent by Sister Sais,” Milia said.

Medith slapped the dust from her trousers. “In that case, let’s talk somewhere else. It’s near dusk anyway. Let everyone rest and eat. We can talk at ease.”