"On the line, Batch 1939! Weapons ready!"
Darius's voice snapped through the air like a whip. The squad stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the dusty training field, the scent of gunpowder already lingering from the morning's earlier drills. Crates of rifles, pistols, and explosive gear sat waiting, guarded by a pair of instructors who looked like they'd bite the fingers off anyone who reached for the wrong thing.
"This isn't magic practice," Darius growled, pacing in front of them. "The battlefield doesn't care if you can conjure a hurricane if the enemy puts a bullet in your head first. Today, you learn conventional weapons. Guns. Grenades. Things that go bang when you're too far to swing a sword."
Ranged Weapons Training
The first round was rifles. Clara Brightspar took to the range like she was born for it—every shot punching into the center of the target. She didn't smile, but the smug tilt of her head said enough.
"Show-off," Kael muttered as his own shots went wide.
"Breathe, rookie," Clara called back without looking.
Gilbert handled the rifle with careful precision. His shots weren't perfect, but they landed in respectable clusters. Marina, standing beside him, whispered quiet tips between reloads—steadying his aim with gentle corrections.
Cassian tried to brute-force accuracy by firing faster. The result was a target with more holes in the dirt than in the paper. Darius's glare could've melted steel.
"Draven, if your plan is to scare the dirt to death, it's working."
Finn Vernn was nervous at first, but once Ellior started giving pointers—firm stance, steady breath—his grouping improved. The younger recruit lit up at the praise, and it was clear he'd just found someone to follow.
Grenades were next. Garrick Bloodaxe threw like he fought—overhand, all power. His dummy grenade cleared the target trench and rolled into the instructor's hut. The explosion of curses afterward was almost louder than the simulated blast.
Aira Lockwood, of all people, threw hers underhand with deceptive accuracy, bouncing it neatly into the trench. She didn't even react to the surprised stares.
Ezra and Victor both excelled with the explosives, tossing them in without wasted motion. "Figures the sneaky ones are the scariest," Rey muttered as he reset the pins for the next round.
Hand-to-Hand Combat
By midday, the heat shimmered above the packed dirt sparring ring.
"Pair up," Darius ordered. "You fight until I say stop. This isn't to win—it's to see how fast you fold when the other guy wants you on the ground."
Kael vs. Cassian
Kael danced around with quick footwork, but Cassian's reach and raw power eventually caught him. One sweeping kick sent Kael into the dirt. "Should've brought a breeze to keep me back," Cassian smirked.
"Next time," Kael grunted.
Ellior vs. Ronan
It was a clash of raw strength and controlled speed. Ronan's stone-enhanced strikes shook the ground, but Ellior's lightning bursts kept him just ahead. Darius called it a draw before either gained the upper hand.
Clara vs. Sienna
Sienna used feints like a street brawler, trying to get around Clara's guard, but the sniper's reflexes weren't just for the range—she sidestepped and countered with clean, decisive strikes. In the end, they fought like they're having a catfight until Darius had to intervene. They still laughed at each other saying they looked ugly.
Theo vs. Garrick
A match of titans. The ground shook with every grapple and slam. It ended with both locked in a mutual headlock, too stubborn to let go until Darius broke them apart.
Gilbert vs. Vera
Gilbert had reach and decent footwork… but Vera didn't care. The moment Darius barked "Go," she closed the distance, hooked his arm, and flipped him flat onto his back so fast he barely had time to blink. The air whooshed out of his lungs as he stared at the sky.
"You fight with your magic, huh?" she said, offering a hand. "Without it, you're a feather."
Gilbert took the hand, still coughing. "A feather with dignity… hopefully."
By the end of the day, some natural pairings had formed:
Gilbert often found himself working with Marina—calm, steady, and willing to give advice.
Kael and Cassian had a rivalry brewing, each trying to outdo the other in their specialties.
Ellior naturally pulled Finn under his wing.
Garrick and Theo became "the wall," both tanky and aggressive.
Vera, somehow, ended up partnered with Gilbert for hand to hand practice—probably because Darius enjoyed watching him get flattened.
Ezra and Victor quietly trained together, their low-voiced discussions about angles and timing making the others uneasy.
By sunset, Batch 1939 was bruised, blistered, and bone-tired. But for the first time, they'd fought, bled, and learned together—not as scattered recruits, but as a squad.