CHAPTER 6: THE TRAINING
The door crashed open before dawn.
John's eyes snapped wide, startled but still heavy with sleep. Around him, the others stirred, following his gaze.
A half-masked figure stood in the doorway — tall, armored, his presence sharp enough to cut the silence. His eyes scanned the children with cold precision before his voice rang out, harsh and unyielding.
"Your training begins today. From now on, you are no longer children. You are tools... and we will sharpen you until nothing remains but usefulness."
The words hung in the air like a blade.
The group exchanged glances, fear, exhaustion, uncertainty, all clear in their eyes but none spoke.
John forced himself upright, his jaw tight. The others followed his lead, reluctant but carrying a faint spark of determination.
One's gaze lingered on them one last time.
"Good. Now follow me."
He turned sharply, his steps echoing against the stone as he led them down the hall. The group of twelve fell into line, their footsteps uneven, silence pressing heavy around them.
After a long march, they reached the clearing they had seen before. But now the stage was gone. Other groups had already gathered; some trembling and whispering prayers, some hollow-eyed and broken, and a few standing with grim determination etched into their faces.
One, stepped aside, merging seamlessly into the procession of other masked overseers.
John's eyes swept the clearing, taking in the reactions of the different squads. His chest tightened as he saw fear, hope, despair, all colliding in the same space.
Then the ground trembled. A low rumble spread beneath their feet, growing stronger until dust shook loose from the walls. The children gasped, clutching at one another as the earth itself seemed to shift.
From the center of the clearing, the stage began to rise, stone grinding against stone, pale light spilling upward as if the ground itself was birthing it. Slowly, inexorably, it ascended until it reached its final height, looming above them like a judgment throne.
The rumble faded, leaving only silence. Every eye turned toward the platform, waiting for what would come next.
After a moment, a group of figures materialized on the platform, their arrival so sudden it seemed as though the air itself had bent to their will.
Nico muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing.
"I swear, these people find new ways to be dramatic every time."
John gave him a flat look.
"You do know We've only seen them twice, right?."
Nico closed his eyes, sighing.
"…I stand corrected."
Their whispering faded as the man at the center, Lord Roan, swept his gaze across the chamber. His voice rang out, calm but absolute, cutting through the murmurs like a blade.
"As I said yesterday… today, you begin your training."
The words carried a weight that pressed down on every child present. Silence fell, heavy and suffocating, as the platform's pale glow seemed to intensify, casting long shadows across the clearing.
Lord Roan's voice rolled on, steady and merciless.
"First, you will be given a mark— a seal that will bind you to the Obsidian Covenant. You may choose to refuse the mark, but know this: the alternative is death."
A shiver passed through the crowd. Some children lowered their heads, others clenched their fists, and a few were almost on the verge of crying.
He raised a hand, silencing even the faintest murmur.
"Once marked, you will be sent to your mentors. Each is a specialist — masters in their field. They will break you, shape you, and sharpen you until you are fit to serve. Do not mistake them for teachers. They are executioners of weakness."
The words hung in the air like iron chains.
Nico leaned closer to John, muttering, "Executioners? Yeah, that sounds comforting."
John didn't look at him, his jaw tight. "Focus."
Lord Roan's gaze swept across the chamber, his eyes cold and unyielding.
"Your new life begins now. Step forward when your name is called. From this moment on… You belong to us."
The platform's glow intensified, casting long shadows that stretched across the clearing. One by one, masked figures stepped forward, each carrying a blackened brand that pulsed faintly with light. The air grew heavier, charged with dread.
The names were called one by one. Each child stepped forward under the pale glow of the platform, their faces tight with fear. Some screamed as the brand seared into their flesh, collapsing to their knees. Others flinched, biting back cries, while a few stood rigid, determined to endure in silence. The chamber filled with the hiss of burning flesh and the heavy stench of smoke.
John's stomach tightened as he watched. Nico muttered, "That is going to hurt."
Then came the moment.
"John Blackwell."
The sound of his name cut through the silence like a blade. John froze, his breath catching. 'That's my name. The same as back on earth. How is that possible? How do they know? Wait, how do they know all our names?'
He forced his legs forward, each step heavy with doubt. The masked figure pressed the brand against his skin. Agony flared white-hot, but John clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out. He staggered back, breath ragged. Nico offered a shaky grin.
"Guess that makes you official."
John's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. The question in his mind, burning hotter than the mark itself.
After a while, John's group and all the other children finished receiving their marks. The chamber smelled of scorched flesh, the silence broken only by ragged breathing.
Then Lord Roan's voice echoed, steady and merciless:
"Now that you have the mark, you will receive your group names. You will keep your individual names… until you prove yourselves worthy."
One by one, supervisors stepped forward, each stopping before their assigned group. Eyes with no emotion in them, their presence suffocating.
One. Their supervisor stood before them, his voice clipped, cold, and final.
"From this day forward, you are the Ashen Blade Squad. That is your name. You will be judged as one, punished as one, and rewarded as one. But death will not always come as one — it is up to you to ensure that none among you falls."
After saying his piece, the supervisor turned and walked away. The others followed, stepping onto the rising platform. With a rumbling sound, the platform began to descend, carrying them out of sight and leaving the children alone in the wide, echoing chamber.
Silence pressed in.
A group of confused faces and No instructions.
Then, heavy footsteps approached.
A giant of a man emerged from the far corridor, towering over anyone John had ever seen.
John's throat tightened.
"Is… is there a giant race you didn't tell me about?" john whispered, clearly intimidated.
Nico swallowed, eyes wide. "Well, not one I know of, but… talk about executioners. I bet that one does it for a living."
John wanted to rebuke him, tell him to shut up, stop making it worse... but Nico wasn't wrong. One look at the man's size made the thought disturbingly believable.
The giant stepped forward, shadows bending around him. His presence alone made the children straighten instinctively.
He spoke.
"My name…is Rauk."
The sound rumbled out of him like distant thunder. None of the children dared to breathe.
Rauk's eyes swept across them, slow and deliberate, as if weighing their souls one by one. There was no warmth in that gaze—only calculation, expectation… and disappointment.
"Hm."
He exhaled heavily through his nose.
"Small..."
He took another step closer. Someone in the back stiffened.
"...Weak..."
His gaze narrowed.
"...Pathetic."
John felt his group shift slightly behind him, as if trying to hide but knowing it was useless.
Rauk straightened, his massive shoulders blocking half the light in the chamber.
"But you have been given to me," he said. The words vibrated through the air. "to be shaped. Molded, Broken and Remade."
His eyes hardened. "I am your first mentor. I will remake your bodies until they no longer resemble weakness. You will train until you beg for death, and I will forge you into something somewhat acceptable."
He jerked his head toward the long corridor he had emerged from.
"Follow me."
No one moved at first, not because they refused but because fear pinned them in place.
Rauk slowly turned his head back toward them.
"That was not a suggestion."
The air seemed to thicken. John swallowed, forcing air into his lungs. His legs finally obeyed, stepping forward. His group followed close behind. The other groups, as well, though hesitant and terrified, also fell in line.
As they approached the corridor, a cold draft swept out from the darkness ahead. Gem-like orbs flickered along the stone walls, lighting the way deeper into the facility.
Rauk led them without looking back.
Every step echoed like a countdown.
John didn't know where they were going. None of them did.
But something told him that whatever waited ahead…
…would be worse than anything they'd survived before.
After what felt like an eternity, they finally arrived.
The corridor opened into a cavernous hall carved from dark stone. Cool blue magic-orbs floated along the walls, casting shifting light that made every shadow breathe and crawl.
Rauk stopped in the center.
"Form up."
The children froze for a second until Malric muttered under his breath, "Move, idiots," and pushed forward. That broke the hesitation. John and his squad took their place. The other groups followed, shaky but trying to look composed.
Nico kept close to John, eyes wide. Amara's jaw was clenched so tightly it shook.
Elowen hugged her arms, forcing herself steady.
Thalia stared at the floor, whispering that they were all going to die. Thomas was sweating already, though they hadn't started.
Nyara drifted at the edge, whispering something no one could hear. Sylas's vines curled tight around his arms, twitching as if they felt the tension too.
The twins, Orion and Lucian, shoved each other lightly even now, muttering about who would last longer. Liora looked …the same as always.
Rauk paced in front of them.
"Look at you," he said, voice thick with contempt. "Barely standing. Barely thinking. Barely breathing."
He stopped suddenly.
"Good."
Nico whispered, "How is that good?"
John elbowed him lightly. "Quiet."
Lucian smirked. "Maybe he is a sadist."
Orion snorted. "Idiot."
Rauk raised a hand.
"That means it will hurt a lot, and you will fail a lot. And believe me, you will fail."
His lips curled.
"First drill: endurance."
Fear rippled through the children like a living thing. Thomas made a small choking noise.
Thalia lost all hope and just looked ahead with dead eyes. Amara silently mouthed something—maybe a curse.
Malric exhaled through his nose, jaw tight.
Nico muttered, "We're dead."
Elowen, eyes closed, whispered, "…may the gods be with us."
Nyara murmured, "Far away… it will feel far away." Sylas's vines tightened so hard it almost looked painful.
John's eyes sharpened, psyching himself up. In contrast, Liora looked a little too calm.
Rauk inhaled deeply.
"Run."
The hall erupted. Feet pounded stone. Magic-orbs flickered with the sudden surge of movement. Breathless shouts and panicked gasps echoed in all directions.
John's lungs burned instantly, but he took the lead, barking, "Keep pace! Don't fall behind!" Nico nearly tripped but grabbed John's shirt to steady himself.
Malric ran steady and strong. Thalia ran like death was chasing her, but faltered quickly.
Elowen kept her gaze forward, breaths sharp but controlled. Amara shook with every step, but she didn't stop.
Thomas was already wheezing, but matched Thalia's stride out of sheer stubbornness. Liora ran with practiced ease.
Nyara's eyes glazed, her voice drifting: "It doesn't hurt if you're not here…"
Sylas gritted his teeth, vines curling tighter with each pounding step.
Lucian shouted, "I'm winning!" Orion snapped back, "You're losing, idiot!"
Minutes felt like hours. John's vision blurred. His chest felt like it would split.
Then someone screamed, a boy in another squad had collapsed completely.
Rauk stopped walking. The squad froze under his stare.
"Reset," he said.
Their faces crumpled.
"Not here. Outside. Full circuit. Twice."
He pointed toward a second door, one that led to a field shrouded in cold night air.
The other squad dragged their unconscious member out the door, sobbing or cursing under their breath.
John's group kept running.
Rauk's voice boomed behind them.
"This is day one. By week's end, half of you will beg for death."
Thomas cursed between gasps. Nico wheezed, "I already am…" Amara shot him a glare: "Shut up and run."
Liora steadied Elowen when she stumbled. Malric pulled John forward when he slowed. Nyara whispered, "It's far away."
Sylas growled, "I can do it!" Lucian and Orion shoved each other mid-stride, both refusing to fall behind.
John pushed himself harder, chest screaming.
Finally... finally... Rauk raised one fist and spoke. "Enough."
The children collapsed where they stood. Some fell to their knees, others onto their backs, limbs twitching with exhaustion.
Nico flopped down, gasping, "My lungs are coming out of my ears…"
Amara punched the ground, furious at herself for gasping too hard. Thalia lay trembling, staring at the ceiling.
Thomas looked ready to vomit. Elowen pressed a hand over her chest, whispering soothing breaths. Malric wiped sweat from his brow and tried to stand straight, but even he shook.
Nyara sat cross-legged, eyes distant, murmuring, "Still far away." Sylas collapsed on his side, vines slack and trembling. Lucian groaned, "I won." Orion barked, "You didn't win anything."
Rauk didn't give them a second.
"Next drill."
Groans rose.
Rauk pointed at a set of weighted stone slabs stacked in the corner.
"Carry. Overhead. Three laps."
"What?!" Nico squeaked.
"Four for you, boy," Rauk replied without looking at him. Nico whimpered.
Rauk continued, "After that, pushups until failure. Then, striking drills. Then reaction tests. If any of you vomit, you clean it with your tongues."
Everyone froze in horror.
Rauk cracked his neck.
"Move."
John's vision swam. His lungs burned. Every breath was a knife.
'He's going to kill us,' he thought.
The Ashen Blade Squadron staggered upright.
And training truly began.