Aaron awoke to the soft creak of timber and the distant call of morning bells. The ceiling above him was plain, aged stone, and for a brief moment, he couldn't remember where he was or what he had dreamed.
"Morning already?" he murmured, his voice still caught between sleep and waking.
He sat up from the cot and stretched, muscles sore in places he hadn't noticed yesterday. Golden rays filtered through the narrow window slits. A new day had begun.
His first day as a Kshatriya.
His gaze drifted toward the uniform hanging neatly behind the door, a symbol of what he had become.
The Kshatriya uniform was equal parts ceremonial and functional. A long, armored coat with reinforced plating along the shoulders and chest, tailored to allow mobility without sacrificing protection. Each warrior was allowed to personalize their attire, choosing colors and accents as a reflection of their ideals or origins. Aaron's coat was a deep charcoal gray, trimmed with silver at the cuffs and collar. A dark crimson sash was wrapped around the waist, marking his initiation rank. On the back of the coat, stitched with faint luminescent thread, was the emblem of Avalon: a blade wrapped in thorned vines.
He ran his fingers across the fabric, grounding himself with the texture.
Then it returned to him, yesterday's events. The sword. The stone. The ritual.
He had drawn it. He had been chosen.
After that, the bald man had appeared. Stern. Scarred. Speaking with the weight of command. Gordon. The Grandmaster. He had given Aaron a brief tour, handed him the uniform, and told him to rest.
He put on the new uniform. The fabric was still stiff, carrying the faint scent of metal and storage dust, but it fit him well. Aaron stood before the small mirror hanging on the stone wall, eyeing his reflection.
"Hmm. I didn't know I was this handsome," he muttered, raising an eyebrow.
A voice interrupted from the doorway. "Oh? Complimenting yourself? That's the first sign of madness, you know."
Aaron turned. Standing at the threshold was a young man with sun-kissed skin and a cocky grin that looked permanently etched on his face. His hair stood up in wild tufts, and his eyes sparkled with the kind of confidence that could be either charming or insufferable. He wore a deep navy variation of the standard uniform, adorned with silver buttons and a sky-blue neck sash. His chest was half-exposed, and he carried himself like someone who knew exactly how good he looked.
"Yo. Name's Corgius. Like you, I don't have a last name—commoner blood," he said, stepping inside as if they'd been friends for years.
"My name's Aaron. Nice to meet you. Are you an apprentice as well, oh rude man who doesn't knock before entering?"Aaron smiled as he approached, his voice laced with polite sarcasm.
Corgius laughed heartily, unfazed. "Ahahaha! Fair enough, I'll take that. My bad. I was just curious about who ended up in the room next to mine. And yeah, I'm an apprentice too."
With the casual confidence of someone who never learned personal space, Corgius threw an arm over Aaron's shoulders like they were old drinking buddies. His breath smelled faintly of apples, and the leather of his uniform creaked as he leaned in.
"There's talk. Among the senior initiates. That we'll be leaving the castle grounds today—for field instruction."
Aaron's brows furrowed."Already? I thought the first days were reserved for orientation and doctrine."
"They are," Corgius replied. "But the Grandmaster's known to be… unpredictable. Some say he believes real worthiness is proven only in the field. No amount of rituals or lectures will matter out there—where the Enders roam."
Aaron turned slightly toward the window, eyes drifting toward the towering Walls in the distances. It stood like a silent god, separating the last vestiges of humanity from the chaos beyond.
They, Aaron and Corgius dashed through the narrow corridor, boots slamming against stone, and burst into the central plaza, lungs heaving, breaths ragged.
A short boy with wavy black hair raised an eyebrow as they arrived. His arms were crossed, and his expression oozed disdain."Huh? What's with those two? Don't tell me they're apprentices too."
"Ah, finally. You made it."A warm voice greeted them. It came from a young man with chestnut brown hair tied into a neat ponytail. He gave them a relieved smile.
Not far from him stood a girl with long crimson hair, loose and flowing with the morning wind. She didn't look up. Her face was strikingly beautiful—but devoid of expression, her attention buried in the pages of a worn, leather-bound book.
Aaron scanned the small group, frowning."...Is this really all of us?" he asked, voice low. "This doesn't even look like a squad."
The ponytailed boy chuckled softly."Yeah… not many of us made it past the Rite."He glanced at the others, lowering his voice."You were there. You saw it. One by one, they stepped forward—and the sword refused them. No light. No pull. Just silence."He looked at his own hand for a moment."Those who weren't chosen… never even had the chance to fight."
Aaron remained silent. He remembered it all too well. The weight in the air, the silence that followed every failed attempt, the broken voices of those who walked away empty-handed.
Even his friend, Garren.
The short boy stepped forward, puffing out his chest as if trying to make up for his height with attitude. His uniform, though the same as the others, was adorned with a small pin that bore his family crest—clearly something he'd placed there himself. He jabbed a finger toward Aaron and Corgius, wearing a smirk far too large for his face.
"Hey, you two. Listen up," he said, his voice shrill with self-importance. "I'm Henry Exersia. I have a family name. You know what that means, don't you?"
His grin widened like a wolf baring its teeth.
"These two over here—yeah, him and her—are nobles too. Which means you two? You're beneath us. Starting today, you'll be our servants. On missions, off missions, while eating, sleeping, bathing—whenever I say. Got that? Ahaha!"
Aaron blinked slowly. The tension that built in his jaw made his words come out dry and flat.
"...Am I allowed to hit this guy?"
"I was just about to ask the same," Corgius replied, his voice low and calm as he rolled his shoulders. He cracked his knuckles deliberately—once, then twice—just enough to make Henry flinch ever so slightly.
Without hesitation, the two began stepping forward, their footfalls in sync, like two predators circling something they didn't find particularly challenging.
The boy with the ponytail—slightly taller than the rest, with a gentler presence—threw himself between them, arms wide like a human barrier.
"H-hey! Easy! Don't start a fight here," he said, his eyes darting nervously between both sides. "And don't drag us into your nonsense, Henry!"
He looked over his shoulder, searching for support.
"Yumi Akiyama! A little help here?!"
But the girl sitting on the bench didn't even flinch. Her long crimson hair drifted slightly with the breeze, catching the early light. Her eyes stayed fixed on the book in her hands, fingers gracefully flipping to the next page. Her expression was distant, unbothered, as though the noise around her was happening in another world.
"Handle it yourself, Dante Quartinez," she said flatly. "I'm not interested in your petty quarrels."
Even her voice seemed to glide above the drama, untouched by it.
Aaron sighed and lowered his fists. Seeing that, Corgius also relaxed and stopped cracking his knuckles.
"I'll ignore that idiot," Aaron muttered, brushing off the tension like dust from his shoulder. "So... the short one is Henry. You're Dante. And the bookworm over there must be Yumi."
Dante let out a breath of relief, clearly grateful that things hadn't escalated further.
"R-right. I'm glad you're still thinking rationally. Not all nobles are like Henry, so... please don't lump us in with him."
"I'm Aaron. Commoner," he said, simply.
"Corgius. Also a proud commoner," the other added with a playful grin.
At that moment, Yumi quietly closed her book. Without a word, she rose to her feet and stood upright like a soldier, placing her hand firmly over her forehead in a sharp salute.
The others turned, puzzled by her sudden formality—until they saw what had caught her attention.
A tall figure stood at the edge of the plaza, sunlight gleaming off his bald head like a polished mirror. His presence was commanding, almost divine, as if the air around him had grown heavier with his arrival.
There was no mistaking it.
That glinting head belonged to none other than Grandmaster Gordon.
Everyone immediately snapped into formation, standing shoulder to shoulder and copying Yumi's salute in a panic.
"W-when did he get here?" Aaron whispered, heart pounding.
"I didn't even sense him..." Dante muttered back.
"This old man's on a whole different level," Corgius said under his breath, trying to stand straighter.
"Are you three seriously telling me you don't know who that is?" Henry hissed, all traces of arrogance gone from his voice. "He's the strongest man in the Kshatriya! He's trained to move like a damn assassin!"
"Quiet!" came Gordon's voice, sharp and deep like a hammer striking steel.
And just like that, even the wind seemed to stop.
Gordon exhaled, then raised his voice with the force of a war horn.
"From this day forward, you are Kshatriya—those who will carry the peace of mankind upon their shoulders."
His gaze shifted sharply toward Henry.
"Here, commoners and nobles are treated as equals. Rank and blood mean nothing beyond these walls."
He then turned his eyes to Yumi.
"You will have no time to indulge in leisure or hide behind your hobbies. This is not a place for distractions."
His piercing eyes landed on Aaron next.
"You will have no room to doubt your choices. No space to hesitate."
A hush fell over the plaza.
"But know this," he continued, voice lowering, gaining weight, "the fate of mankind rests on your shoulders. Even if you die... you will die with honor."
Aaron's fists tightened at his sides. He wanted—no, ached—to object. To challenge those words. To demand why their lives sounded so disposable, as if they were tools. Weapons with just enough breath to bleed. But he bit his lip hard and said nothing. Not yet.
Gordon raised a hand.
"With this, I declare you officially Kshatriya. However, your initiation is far from over."
He snapped his fingers.
At once, several armored personnel emerged from the castle gates, pushing trolleys covered with dark cloth. As the covers were removed, glimmers of polished metal greeted their eyes—swords, spears, pistols, curved daggers, greatswords, gauntlets, even rifles. Each weapon gleamed faintly under the morning sun, as if hungering for blood.
"These," Gordon announced, "are your weapons. Each one forged from Thanatium—humanity's only hope of killing the Enders."
He stepped forward, arms behind his back.
"You may choose one. If you believe yourself capable of dual wielding, you may choose a pair. But once chosen, it is yours until death. Use it wisely. Respect it. For it is not just steel—it is your oath."
The Kshatriya initiates stared at the weapons, some in awe, some in hesitation.
Aaron's heart beat faster. The weight of everything was slowly beginning to settle—like iron shackles clamping down on his destiny.
And beyond that weapon rack... lay the path outside the walls.
[DAY 1— KSHATRIYA INITIATION]
The wheels of the open-topped carriage creaked over the hardened dirt path, kicking up plumes of dust beneath the hooves of the horses. The land beyond the walls was strangely quiet—no birds, no wind, just the steady rhythm of travel and the distant echo of forgotten time.
Aaron held the reins, his sword sheathed at his side, gloved hands steady as he guided the horses forward. In his lap lay a yellowed map, creased and annotated in dark ink by Grandmaster Gordon himself. A bold X had been marked just south of an ancient overpass, it's their destination.
"The initiation lasts for two days," Gordon's voice still echoed in Aaron's mind. "You must survive outside the wall until then. At the location marked on this map, you'll find an old Kshatriya outpost. Use it as shelter. As base. Enders are everywhere. It'd serve you well to slay at least one and bring back its corpse."
The memory left a bitter taste in Aaron's mouth.
Behind him sat the others.
Corgius lounged at the back, legs swinging off the edge of the carriage. His gauntlets gleamed with a bluish hue, Thanatium plating shaped into segmented armor along his fists and forearms. He occasionally flexed his fingers, testing the weight, grinning like a boy with a new toy.
Yumi sat near the center, her pistols holstered neatly at her hips. Sleek and elegant, with sigil-like carvings etched across the chambers. She stared ahead with her usual quiet detachment, lips unreadable, red hair billowing in the wind like a blood-red banner.
Henry, meanwhile, clutched his long-handled spear with both hands, knuckles white. He hadn't spoken since the weapons were handed out. The way he held his weapon tip pointed away from himself, betrayed his fear of close combat. Every bump in the road made him flinch.
Dante rode a second horse, a short distance ahead, serving as a forward scout. His greatsword rested on his back like a cross-shaped burden.
The scenery around them had begun to change.
The road began to change.
Gradually, the dry earth under the horses' hooves gave way to something harder, rougher. Pebbles, then cracks. Then the rhythmic thud of wheels against worn asphalt.
They were now passing through the outer remnants of what once had been a bustling metropolis. Broken roads and scorched traffic signs. Rusted-over lamp posts. Crumbled parking structures overtaken by vines and thorny growth. Glassless skyscrapers stood like the skeletons of titans, windows shattered, facades blackened by fire. Moss had begun to crawl up their steel bones. Some buildings leaned precariously, ready to fall with the next quake or storm.
Nature had reclaimed what civilization once owned, but not fully. The city felt... suspended. Not alive. Not dead. Just abandoned, like a graveyard with no gravestones.
Aaron slowly pulled the horses to a stop atop a ridge that overlooked the desolate expanse ahead.
They all turned silent.
Below them stretched the ruins of a once-proud city. The skyline of forgotten progress rose like jagged teeth against the pale blue sky. Even from here, they could see rusted monorail tracks curling through the air like broken spines, and entire highways collapsed into the riverbeds below.
No signs of life.
No sounds.
No Enders yet, but the silence was heavy.
Aaron squinted toward the horizon.
"…So, this is the world beyond the walls," he whispered.
No one answered.
They were too busy staring, too busy realizing that, for the first time in their lives, they were no longer protected. No longer inside history's last sanctuary.
This is the world before the Enders came.