Frozen Flame of Dawn

He paused and scanned the line again, locking eyes with a few of them. "you're the wall that holds when our assault teams need to fall back, give them time to regroup. You hold the enemy back when things get chaotic and reinforce the line. Without you, everything falls apart."

The orange-banded soldiers exchanged slower, more solemn looks. Their job wasn't the most glamorous. But it was the most important when things went wrong—and they all knew it.

Aiden then turned to the final group, which stood in a tight formation toward the rear. Unlike the others, they wore one of two bands—green or gold. Their numbers were smaller, but their presence was no less significant.

"These last two squads," Aiden said, "you are our backbone."

He gestured to the group with green bands, each marked with the coiling symbol of an azure dragon.

"You are the Auxiliary Unit. Most of you were chosen because of your elemental affinity—wood, water—traits aligned with healing, regeneration, or reinforcement."

He nodded toward a soldier who stood with a calm expression, hands loosely resting by her sides, her green band secured tightly over her forearm.

"Your support is not just auxiliary—you're active agents in the battlefield. You stabilize our wounded, amplify our strength, and enhance our endurance. You may not be leading the charge, but you'll be the reason they come back alive."

A few subtle nods followed, some even closing their eyes briefly like a silent vow.

Then Aiden's gaze shifted to the gold bands—the most important unit of all. Each band shimmered slightly beneath the sunlight, a striking vermilion bird embroidered across it in mid-flight.

"And you," he said, his voice quieting slightly. "You're our Support Division."

He gave them a moment, letting the words land with the weight they deserved. "You're our eyes and ears—our intelligence and flexibility. You'll protect the civilians, scout enemy movements, identify threats before they reach us. But when things get bad—and they will—you'll be where the breach is widest. Whether it's plugging a gap in defense, striking down a threat from behind, or shielding the healers, you do what needs to be done."

He paused, then added, "You're our wild card. Attack, defense, or support—you shift where we need you most."

A beat of silence followed.

"These roles—these colors—they're not a ranking system," he continued, voice steady. "They're not here to measure who's stronger or more capable. They're interdependent. Because you all know what happens when one part of a system fails."

He looked across the assembled units, meeting eyes, reading their reactions.

"No matter what color you wear—no matter which sacred beast represents your squad—you are essential. You break one link, the whole chain snaps. The best systems in the world don't function without every single piece playing its part."

He let the words breathe, watching how they landed.

The weight of his voice settled heavily, but not unkindly. It was grounding, clarifying.

A few nodded. Some shifted, more upright now. Others just stood a bit more solid in their boots, the weight of their armor feeling like something earned—not just worn.

"If any of you have questions about your assignments," Aiden offered, "this is the time to speak."

There was a pause. A few glanced at each other. But no one stepped forward.

He nodded once, slowly, then continued.

"Let me assure you—every assignment was made after thoroughly evaluating your skills, your field records, your awakened abilities—before and after the surge. Even your personal preferences were taken into account."

He glanced toward the support and auxiliary squads.

"I know many of you requested assault assignments but have been placed in defense, support, or auxiliary. And I get it. Everyone wants to be on the front line, swinging first." He gave a small, knowing smile. "But let me be clear—those placements aren't permanent. You're not locked in. These are your starting positions, not your final destinations."

He gestured lightly toward the formation.

"Our current numbers are small. We currently got 800 assigned to assault, 400 in defense, 200 in support, and only 100 in auxiliary. That's not ideal, but it's what we have for now. We're running on a 2:1 ratio between offense and defense—standard formation doctrine. But auxiliary and support? We weren't able to complete their quota as they're even more specialized."

His eyes settled on the golden-banded unit for a moment.

"Support squad isn't just backup. You're expected to be adaptable in every field—capable of defense, healing, intelligence, even front-line work when needed. You don't follow the other squads—you stabilize them. Which means your responsibilities are heavier than most."

Again, silence. But this time, it was solid. Resolved.

Aiden scanned the crowd and, seeing no hands raised, turned slightly and nodded toward Sophie, who stood just off to the side. She stepped forward and handed him a small notepad board—crisp, folded neatly placed—The leadership sheet.

He flipped it open, scanning the names, then raised his head again.

"Alright. Time to assign leaderships." He spoke clearly, letting his voice roll clean across the open air. "For Assault Unit: One captain, four vice-captains. Each vice-captain will command roughly two hundred members under their squad."

He looked to the squad bearing the red band—the emblem of the white tiger stark against their sleeves.. "The captain of the assault unit will be Liam."

There was a slight stir of approval from the squad—Liam, tall and broad-shouldered, didn't smile, but gave a short, confident nod.

Aiden flipped to the next line. "Vice-captains: Blake, Finn, Stella and Aria."

There was a beat of silence.

Then four figures stepped forward—two men, two women—each having the same flicker of surprise in their eyes, but it was gone in a heartbeat and replaced by calm, clean discipline. They moved in sync, lining up behind Liam and saluting at once.

"Assignment confirmed, sir," Stella said first, her tone calm but clear.

While Finn, Aria and Blake echoed similar affirmations in turn.

Aiden nodded back and instructed. "Meet with Liam after this and select your field sub-leaders while submit your structure before departure."

He turned the page and looked toward the squad in orange—the Black Tortoise unit, their bands catching a faint shimmer under the rising sun.

"For Defense Unit, the captain will be… " he paused, just long enough to be a little dramatic, "Tommy."

Tommy, who was standing with arms crossed behind him, let out a half-muttered, theatrical sigh. "Well, there goes my quiet day."

He stepped forward to move toward where the squad members were dramatically. "Guess I should've kept my mouth shut yesterday."

A few restrained chuckles rippled through the lines, barely stifled under formal composure.

Aiden didn't flinch, though his mouth tugged briefly at the corner. "Vice-captains for Defense: Marco, Cole, Sam and June."

Each name earned a sharp response as those called moved to join Tommy, lining up neatly beside him and gave their salutes without missing a beat. Their expressions were composed, but you could tell they were already sizing each other up with mutual respect. Defense was about holding ground—and it looked like the ones chosen had the right backbone for it.

Aiden flipped the final page.

"Auxiliary Unit—Green band, marked with the Azure Dragon." His voice softened slightly here—not in tone, but in tempo as this group was the smallest—but it carried weight.

"Captain: Mira," Aiden announced. "Vice-captains: Camille and Rowan."

Mira stepped forward slowly, her movements smooth, grounded—like someone used to leading in silence rather than command. She didn't salute. Instead, she gave a slow nod, one hand resting over her banded arm.

Camille followed silently, powerful in presence, while Rowan walked with the steadiness of someone who never needed to raise their voice to be heard.

Both of them carried the energy of those who'd be overlooked—until it mattered.

Aiden gave them a slight incline of his head in return, as he glanced at the final lines of the page and then raised his head again.

Everyone knew which unit remained, Support Unit—the golden band with Vermilion Bird marked over it.

The most complex and important role as everyone's eyes sharpened just a little.

"The captain of Support Unit," Aiden said, "will be Yvonne."

A ripple moved through the formation.

Yvonne—stoic, precise, once second-in-command of the old Dragon Unit—stepped forward and acknowledged the role with a simple, respectful nod.

"Vice-captains will be assigned to task-specific divisions," Aiden continued. "Asher—Intelligence lead, Zoe—Communications, Jasper—Stealth, Avery—Assassination, Theo and Dia—Barrier and Boost, respectively."

Seven figures stepped forward—each carrying a different energy.

"Each squad leader and vice-captain will now meet and finalize their sub-leaders—section heads, while support and auxiliary unit leader assign different contact points for comm relays, medics, support anchors. Submit your rosters within the next fifteen minutes. Once that's done, we roll."

He let the words settle.

With that, he handed the clipboard back to Sophie and stepped away, watching as the squads began to disperse into their new leadership clusters—some speaking, some moving silently into formation.

Above them, the sun was now high enough to gleam off the steel of weapons, helmets, and vehicle panels. The flags of their squads—recently stitched, barely worn—fluttered in the wind like they belonged there all along.