The training hall was one of the biggest rooms in the camp so far. Giant spans of wall with wide distances between them — you almost couldn't see the far end unless you genuinely squinted for it. The ceiling architecture was a technical, maze-like structure that caught the brutal overhead lighting at every possible angle and sent it back down without mercy.
We'd all walked in there sheepishly — all fifty of us from F-Division — mostly expecting something that matched the word 'training room.' Weapons. Equipment. A dojo at the very minimum. Something that announced itself.
