[January 2019 | 4 Years Ago] — United States Barracks, Tier 4
The barracks sprawled wide, dotted with small camphouses, vehicle garages, and massive training grounds. Outside, a group of young recruits stood guard under the cold night air.
"990… 991… 992…"
A younger Amoah grunted through diamond push-ups, wearing a black tank top and jeans. Sweat rolled from his hair to the floor. His muscles trembled, but he refused to stop.
"1000!"
He dropped into a sitting position, catching his breath.
Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!
He frowned. "Who could it be at this hour?"
A quick glance at his watch—7:55 p.m.
He opened the door, and the next thing he knew, he was sent flying backward onto the ground.
A young woman with blonde hair and pale blue eyes stood at the doorway. She wore a white combat shirt and black jeans.
"What was that for?" Amoah groaned, rubbing his cheek.
"For making me wait," she replied flatly.
He sighed, trying to relax and avoid any commotion, as if anyone might suspect something between them. "So why are you here?"
"There's a meeting at headquarters. It's compulsory this time," she stated.
"Sure. Wait for me here. I'll be right back." He stretched deliberately in front of her, clearly trying to get on her nerves.
I'm going to make you late today, Lyra. I swear.
She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, staring him down.
Amoah left the main hall and went to his room to change.
Minutes turned to an hour. She checked her watch—9:00 p.m.
While she waited in the main hall, Amoah was busy playing a war game in his bedroom.
"So he's trying to play games with me, huh? Fine then…" she chuckled. "Jugo," she called.
Her smartwatch projected a small bot.
"Yes, Master?"
"Electrocute Amoah."
"Huh? That's dangerous! Are you sure you want to do that to your friend?"
"Yes," she said coldly. "I'm sure."
"Okay. Punishment will be initiated in three, two, one."
A loud scream shattered the silence.
Moments later, Amoah stumbled out of his room, still twitching slightly. He was now dressed in his black jeans, tank top, and hoodie.
"And I thought you were changing," Lyra smirked, grabbing his wrist. "Let's go."
They rushed through the cold night to a lousy tavern, its lights flickering through cracked windows. Lyra pushed open the door—inside, a group of teenagers were partying like lunatics.
Amoah froze. "What am I looking at?"
Lyra grinned and wrapped her arm around his shoulders.
"Well, it's Party Night. Since this is our last year in the barracks, and you've been a training nerd who's never shown up for one, I figured it's time. Plus, it's my first quest as a bestie—so you don't get to refuse."
"Heh? Who told you we're best friends?" he shrugged, trying to leave, but her grip was stiff.
"It is what it is," she said bluntly, dragging him in.
"Guys! Look who's here!"
"Heyyy!" everyone shouted, surprised but cheerful.
Hours passed. By dawn, the crowd sat in a circle outside the tavern by a bonfire, each holding a large cup of juice and chicken.
Amoah bit a chunk of his meat like the others.
I guess this Night Party Day isn't bad after all.
"I, Jason Thomas, promise on myself and my friendship to pass the Knight Test and become a Knight!" declared a tall, confident teen with gray hair.
Everyone cheered—except Amoah, confused.
He leaned toward Lyra. "What's with all the promising? I saw Jason, Rock, and Ema do it."
"It's a tradition," Lyra explained. "Three years ago, the seniors created it. Everyone swore this oath under the bonfire on Party Night to become a Knight. Only three groups out of ten failed that year, and luckily for them, they had a chance to restart and pass."
Jason turned to him. "Your turn, Amoah."
All eyes locked on him.
Here goes nothing.
"I, Nkansah Agyemang Amoah…"
He paused as a wave of thoughts struck him—memories flashing like broken film.
He's the perfect candidate, a voice whispered in his mind. But he'll need more than effort and miraculous luck to be accepted by the Knight Judges. Even then, success isn't guaranteed.
Lyra snapped her fingers, jolting him back to reality.
"I'm sorry," Amoah muttered, then spoke firmly, "I, Nkansah Agyemang Amoah, promise in the name of friendship—and to those who trust me—that I will become a Knight everyone will be proud of!"
"Yeah!" They cheered, cups clashing.
Clang!
***
Two Days Later
1,000 cadets stood at the center of a vast digital landscape—black combat uniforms, masks, and weapons gleaming under a bright sky.
Lyra wielded a massive futuristic battle axe. Jason, the squad leader, stood barehanded. Amoah carried two long staffs on his back and one in his grip. Others held plasma blasters ready.
"The first trial begins now," announced a deep, synthetic voice. "Survive four days against the monsters in this virtual world. Each kill earns one point. And to each group you need about one thousand points with more than twenty points contribution per candidate to pass.This mission becomes more grueling the longer it lasts. One mistake could cost your life and chance."
"You will be teleported in 30 seconds."
Silence swept through the ranks.
PUF!
The first hundred cadets vanished. One by one, each squad followed until only Jason's group remained.
QLING!
Their smartwatches flashed:
[Transportation complete. Welcome to Ghost City—the home of the undead.]
They appeared atop a cliff overlooking a ruined metropolis shrouded in storm clouds. Lightning split the sky as the city groaned beneath it.
Jason's voice cut through the thunder. "Listen up! At the entrance, we split into four units. One takes the west, one the east, one goes straight, and the last defends the gate. We've trained seven years for this—no hesitation, no retreat. We pass this trial, or we die trying. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!" they roared in unison.
Jason led the charge. After a long descent, the squad reached the outskirts of Ghost City, ready to face the darkness ahead.
The four groups were assembled, with Amoah leading Squad One, Lyra leading Squad Two, Roz's bulk filling the room, his pale skin stretched over powerful muscles. A jagged scar marked his left eye, and the enormous hammer in his grip seemed almost an extension of his arm. And finally, Jason's crew.
"Hey, Amoah. You are by far the strongest here. You are forbidden from dying early, or we won't pass. You get it?" Jason instructed as he and Squad Four departed.
"Got it," Amoah answered, looking at his squad. Their eyes met with unspoken resolve.
"Good luck, nerd," Lyra teased as she and her squad left.
"Don't die, little A," Roz said, leaving with his squad too.
"Sure."
Amoah sighed. A nerd given the job of leading a squad was not right to him, but he had no choice.
"Look sharp, guys. We've trained for this moment. And I'm sure we will be…" he paused and realized that he was the one to guard the entry.
He looked around, but all the other squads were already gone.
"Hey! That was not what we agreed on!" he grunted.