It's been three weeks since we officially became a part of the 1st legion, and these last three weeks have been… rough. As we were put through basic training, it did not take long before news of my promotion reached the other recruits. My father, in his infinite wisdom, decided that it would be better for me to keep my surname hidden. Yet all of my fellow recruits knew the only reason I had been promoted to captain was due to nepotism. They started doing everything in their power to make my life miserable. The other officers allowed all of it under the frame of friendly competition. They would do anything from attempting to trip me during our morning runs to constantly challenging me to duels. After the second week, they quickly realized that fighting me was not the smartest choice.
Having grown tired of the constant fighting, I began to stop holding back. Even the medical staff became fed up with me. As I stopped just short of crippling them. My squad had been intentionally separated from me so that I would face all these challenges alone. But through all of that, I still tried to find out who sabotaged my final test. After three weeks of searching, everything pointed to the church. The why still eluded me, but for now, that was of little consequence. My breathing was even; the only sign that I had just finished a run was the light sheen of sweat on my forehead. As always, I was at the forefront of my group.
The recruits behind me were far less composed. Heavy breathing and uneven footsteps echoed across the training grounds as several struggled to keep pace. A few shot me looks filled with poorly concealed resentment. Others avoided my gaze entirely. I paid them no mind; hatred born from weakness was not worth acknowledging.
"Pick up the pace!" one of the drill instructors barked from the sidelines. His voice cracked like a whip across the field. "If you can still breathe, you can still run!"
A groan rippled through the group, but no one dared to slow down. As we rounded the final stretch, I allowed my breathing to remain steady, conserving just enough energy to maintain my lead without drawing unnecessary attention. There was no point in humiliating them further. Not yet atleast. The moment we crossed the finish line, several recruits collapsed to their knees, gasping for air. I came to a controlled stop, my posture straight as I exhaled slowly.
"Five minutes," the instructor called out. "Then we move to sparring."
From the corner of my eye, I noticed a group of recruits gathering. Their attention was not subtle. One of them stepped forward, a tall man with broad shoulders and a scar running across his jaw. I recognized him; he was one of the more persistent ones.
"Captain," he said, the title laced with mockery.
I turned to face him fully. "Yes?"
A few of the surrounding recruits began to form a loose circle. Even the instructors said nothing, choosing instead to observe.
"I want another duel," he said. "Unless the captain is too tired to defend his position."
A faint murmur spread through the crowd.
Predictable as always. I did not answer immediately, opting to observe him, letting the silence stretch.
"You've already lost twice," I said evenly. "What do you hope to gain from a third attempt?"
His jaw tightened. "This time will be different."
"Will it now?" I raised my eyebrow at his statement in mock surprise
A few chuckles broke out, quickly silenced under his glare. For a brief moment, silence settled between us. Then I sighed. "Very well."
We took our positions in the center of the training yard. Wooden practice weapons were tossed our way. I caught mine without looking, testing the weight in my hand. Lighter than my nodachi yet still within acceptable limits. But it would suffice. The instructor raised his hand.
"Begin." The second he gave the command, I was already in motion.
My opponent lashed out first. His blade came down in a heavy vertical strike, relying on strength rather than precision. I stepped to the side, letting the blow pass harmlessly before tapping his wrist with the flat of my weapon.
Giving him a warning that he ignored. Of course he did. Fools are always too blind to see the truth right infront of them.
The second strike came faster, angled toward my shoulder. I parried cleanly, redirecting the force before stepping into his guard. A quick twist of my wrist sent his weapon off-line.
Creating an opening for me to capitalize on. My blade stopped just short of his throat. The tip of the wooden blade hovered there for a single breath. Silence fell across the yard. I saw the resentment in his eyes before he pulled back.
"You're overcommitting," I said calmly. "You rely too much on strength. Against someone weaker, it works. Against someone stronger…" I lowered the weapon slightly. "It becomes a liability."
His face flushed with anger.
"I'm not done."
"No," I disagreed. "You are." With a flick of my wrist, the wooden training sword struck his elbow, breaking it evenly. His scream of pain caused some of the recruits to shiver as their wide eyes watched me walk away with calm composure.
I just turned away, completely ignoring his presence as I walked back to my position. As the circle dispersed, I could feel the shift. It was subtle, but it was there.
The resentment had not disappeared. But something else had joined it. Fear. The thought brought a smile to my face.
"Not bad, boy. Mercy will only end with a sword in your back. Remember that." There was more emotion in his voice than I had ever heard before, causing me to commit his words to memory.
The instructors pushed us hard during the sparring sessions. As always, I came out on top; my skill and experience were far too high a mountain for them to climb. Afterward, we were ushered to a simple lunch of gruel with a piece of stale bread. But to my surprise, there was a break in the monotony of our training as we were led to the very arena where we did our trials. All four training groups were present, standing in orderly lines in perfect posture with real weapons at our sides. Feeling the familiar weight of my nodachi lifted an unknown weight from my shoulders.
None other than 1st Sergeant Maine stepped onto the podium, looking exactly the same as the day of the trials. His eyes traveled across the various recruits with a measuring gaze. "For the past three weeks, we have given you a taste of military life. But today marks a change that you will either rise above or cause you to be left behind." Some of the recruits shifted their weight in nervousness at his words. But the sergeant did not care as he continued to speak. "The standard of the legions has always remained that every soldier stands at the second stage. So that is what we will fix today. That's right, boys and girls, today you will be challenging a stage two shard." Fear-filled murmurs passed through the crowd at his words. "Everyone on the path of kings make an orderly line to my left."
I, along with about six other recruits, stepped into the new line awaiting further orders. To my surprise, the longsword wielder I had faced in my first duel of the trials stood infront of me. Accompanying us was the first man to pass the trial of fire. His tall frame stood in perfect military posture. His blond hair was cut into a short buzz cut. His piercing blue eyes were focused exclusively on the 1st Sergeant. Everything about him screamed of a legacy. He was probably shaped into a soldier since he first started walking. A sense of weariness overcame me as I watched him from the back. My instincts warned me that he was dangerous.
Although my fellow recruits were intriguing, my mind returned to what I knew of the different stages. Stage 1 warriors unlocked the ability to use magic as well as aura. Besides that, nothing much changed; they were still indistinguishable from normal people. Stage 2 is where your body gets strengthened to inhuman levels. Greater strength, speed, and endurance. Stage 2 is considered the true start for any warrior. Stage 3 was known as the refinement stage. Your body and core get purified. For the body, that meant that all imperfections are removed; this is the stage where you begin to look angelic. But for the core, that meant that your energy truly becomes your own. It will follow your commands and intentions almost on instinct. You barely have to think before your energy responds.
For elves, the third stage was known as rebirth. The elven race is descended from the great pheonix so when they reach the third stage, elves regain their wings. Little was known of the next two stages, but it is unanimously accepted that these are the stages where you become a demigod. If rumors are to be believed, both my parents have reached the fourth stage.