The Ranger Association frequently refers trainees to individuals in schools, colleges, or other educational institutions.
In this new era, all learning environments for children are known as schools. For example, Tyson's school provides education from nursery levels to advanced studies, including degrees and doctorates.
The government implemented the changes to shift people's focus from study to survival, ensuring everyone would adhere to the norm while maintaining easy control over future generations.
The trainees were distinct from ordinary people. Unlike their civilian counterparts, they operated under a unique system that afforded them specific liberties, such as the choice to attend classes or not, provided they adhered to their rigorous training regimens.
After all, their primary focus wasn't grades or essays—it was survival, strength, and readiness for the battles.
When they joined the Ranger Association, trainees already wrote their future: a lifelong commitment to serve, fight, and defend.
They need not worry about career choices or uncertain paths; their purpose has been etched into their very being. However, that clarity came at a cost—endless drills, combat simulations, and the burden of knowing that their lives were tools for the survival of humanity.
Ordinary people, conversely, lacked such certainty. While trainees prepared to become humanity's shield, civilians hurried to secure their futures in a world on the brink of extinction.
They worked tirelessly to rise above the shadow of their fate. Although they envied the futures of the trainees around them, few would be willing to trade their freedom for the burden of the Rangers.
Tyson was different from the other trainees because he was admired and envied. He was unique, though not in the way most would expect.
Tyson had the rare distinction of being the disciple of the strongest person in Elria—Edward Rogers, the head of the renowned Rogers family and a man whose name alone inspired awe.
Edward's power was measured at 74 power points on the tournament's scale. Few could even dream of reaching, let alone surpassing, this standard.
Tyson's relationship with the Rogers family was complicated. Edward had taken him under his wing as his adopted son, which spoke of his potential. Nevertheless, this acceptance did not extend to the rest of the family, such as Alex.
Alex Rogers, Edward's exceptional son, who refused to recognize Tyson as his brother.
Alex was a warrior with extraordinary skills, destined to dominate the battlefield. His talent, paired with an unrelenting drive, made him a genius among geniuses.
For Tyson, this dynamic was both a blessing and a curse. Training alongside Alex felt like chasing the wind—always just out of reach. While Alex flourished easily, Tyson frequently found it challenging to keep up.
This rivalry within the Rogers family significantly overshadows Tyson's life. He wasn't merely fighting to prove himself as a trainee; he was striving for his place in a legacy that appeared to have no room for him.
"He's tired. Let him sleep—" Nancy tried to stop Emily, who was inching closer to shout in Tyson's ear.
"Emily!"
But it was too late. Emily laughed as Tyson jolted awake, nearly falling out of his chair.
"Ugh," Tyson groaned, rubbing his eyes.
"What's your problem?"
"Class has ended," Emily said amid giggles. "It's time to head for your ranger training, or have you forgotten that your life revolves around that?"
Tyson sighed heavily, stretching as his muscles protested from the previous day's fight alongside his brother Alex—also known as the Red Ranger.
Nancy gave him a concerned glance. "Are you alright? You seem like you've been run over by a truck."
"He'll be fine!" Emily said with a playful grin. "He's practically used to it by now. Besides, he still owes me Alex's autograph."
Nancy rolled her eyes dramatically. "You're impossible."
Tyson sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Seriously? Can you leave me out of the 'Alex fan club' for once?"
"Never!" Emily giggled as she nudged him playfully. "I'm getting that autograph this way or that"
Nancy shook her head as she smiled.
As the three exited, the two girls exchanged goodbyes and parted ways. He was navigating the lively streets of Elria, a dynamic city alive with nearly five million inhabitants.
The city's dominating concrete walls surrounded it, resembling five-story buildings in height. Walking, he heard a cacophony of sound: pedestrians chatting, blaring horns, and distant city life murmuring.
He glanced at the advanced electronic devices placed on walls, their presence evident to the eyes of citizens.
These devices bristled with heavy guns and laser cannons, their formidable appearance constantly reminding the city of its unwavering commitment to defense.
Every city prioritized the safety of their citizens, and Elria was no exception. Their underground bunkers, designed to withstand even the most destructive events, were crucial to its defensive strategy. These shelters were built with walls thick enough to withstand a nuclear attack and stocked with supplies suited to their capacity, ensuring long-term survival.
The city had a remarkable network of 711 bunkers, yet most of them were under construction. Each conveyed Elria's commitment to providing a sense of security to its citizens.
Extensive areas of newly cultivated farmland stretched outside the city boundaries, employing advanced agricultural technologies to enhance productivity. Elria's wealth was apparent in every sector, including agriculture, technology, and defense. On the other hand, many cities struggled with water shortages, oil and gas supply issues, or gaps in critical infrastructure; Elria thrived as a beacon of progress and stability.
At the city's center, a Ranger Association building could be seen, a tall pyramid-shaped structure that dwarfed everything around it. Its smooth design boasted the latest high-tech inventions: powerful defense mechanisms, robots patrolling its perimeters, and holographic projections flickering with vital information.
A few guards in metal suits stood scanning their surroundings to ensure everything was in order.
Tyson walked through the bustling headquarters, the vicinity alive with activity. Recruits rushed past him, some chatting, others deep in thought, and robots roamed the area, offering passersby food, drinks, and other gadgets.
Before him stood a fountain, dry and still. Holographic projections flickered on its surface, transitioning from renowned global figures to vibrant information boards that displayed current news and updates.
The sky buzzed as advanced spacecraft took off and landed. These ships were wonders of modern technology, able to soar more than ten thousand meters into the air and reach up to five hundred miles per hour—a true testament to Eyria's dominance in defense.
Tyson stood, taking a deep breath; this was a technology that made Elria a prosperous city. He approached the entrance to the headquarters while his mind went back to the task ahead: a regular training session with Alex.
"Hey, champ!" one of the guards greeted. "you look tired? And yeah, I also heard you and Master Alex went up against Blue."
"Yeah," Tyson replied. "We tried to stop him."
The guard chuckled knowingly. "Blue's always been a pain in the backside, huh?" He glanced around as they walked into the building. "Anyway, just a heads-up—the General's here. Good luck, kid."
Tyson froze mid-step. His master had returned from his tour. A wave of dread washed over him as he realized what this meant: the return of grueling, hellish training sessions.
While his master had been away visiting another city, Tyson and Alex had stuck to their routine, maintaining regular but not overly intense training. They'd enjoyed a rare stretch of relative ease with no one to criticize or punish them like the ordinary rangers.
But now, things were about to change. His master was infamous for pushing his students beyond their limits, breaking them down only to strengthen them. Tyson could already feel the weight of the upcoming sessions looming over him like a storm cloud.
"A rogue sighted in area 231. Nearby rangers, please proceed to the location and assist," a clear voice announced over the headquarters' intercom.
The message barely disrupted the bustling atmosphere as rangers nodded in acknowledgment. A few continued their casual chatter, unfazed by the call.
Rogue Rangers—the ones who were chosen by the Meta-bots but refused to use their power for the good of humanity—operated outside the law, abusing their powers for personal gain.
They were the villains of society, committing heinous acts like robbery, murder, and kidnapping without remorse as long as they served their twisted agendas.
Ordinary law enforcement was powerless against such threats. Their resources and training couldn't match those of rogues, leaving the responsibility to the Rangers Association. It was their duty to handle these renegades, to subdue them, and restore peace for the sake of the people.
Tyson glanced around, his mind racing. It was the perfect opportunity to escape while pretending to deal with the rogue. At the very least, it would give him an excuse for missing training the next day. "Duty calls," he muttered, turning on his heel to head outside.
But before he could take a step, he collided with a solid wall of authority—his dear master. Standing right behind him, his master's gaze bore into him like he'd been reading Tyson's mind the whole time.
"Master?" Tyson squeaked, his voice betraying a mix of surprise and dread.
"Hello there, Tyson," his master greeted, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "And where do you think you're heading? Don't worry about those rogues. We've got more than enough personnel here to handle them."
Before Tyson could protest or offer another excuse, his master clamped a firm hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the lift.
"Upstairs. Now,"
Tyson barely had time to groan internally before his master added, with an almost unsettling cheeriness, "We've got a lot to catch up on since I've been away. I've missed training my two sons."
Tyson's stomach sank. Escape had never felt so out of reach.