The huge guard shoved Daniel forcefully more causing him to stumble forward directly into the center of the area.
The heavy metal door slammed shut behind him; the sound of locks clicking into place didn't reverberate like death—rather it felt like the start of something darker.
He had escaped one nightmare just to find himself amidst turmoil.
The tight corridor opened into a chamber where echoes ricocheted off the walls saturated with the smell of metal, wet skin and an unfamiliar pungent scent, similar to dried blood that he couldn't immediately identify.
The location was once a plant and now its high ceiling features metal beams as well, as catwalks extending throughout.
Dim illumination from lamps cast flickering shadows on the ground transforming the people navigating the area into spectral forms—reminiscent of scenes, from a shadowy nightmare.
This place? Vanguard Academy.
Daniel clutched the section of his waistband—his money had vanished instantly.
At last he had turned into a student, one of ten teams thrown into this environment.
He had heard Silas's stories—, about the academy managed by a figure named Stannis Vorthal. It wasn't much. It represented the final opportunity humans had to resist.
Vorthal instructed that batch of students by himself.
Certain individuals upon encountering the horrors, within those portals chose to remain. Spreading across the globe establishing academies of their own.
They had a goal. Instruct regular individuals then guide them through the gateway so they became powerful enough to face what followed.
Primarily so we might be able to defend ourselves when the aliens invade and reclaim our planet from those scoundrels!
An alternative form of learning began immediately—there were no speeches or friendly introductions. Rather quiet and activity established the atmosphere from the beginning.
The first month and a half hit like a storm - total chaos from day one.
Time slipped by in tents where instructors—men worn down by previous conflicts—conducted lessons on various monster categories, such, as the large horned Brutes that devastated his village or the swift insect-like Raiders scuttling amid ancient ruins.
They acquired understanding, about plants learned techniques to produce sudden flashes of luminous defense and confronted the frightening mechanics involved in the functioning of portals.
The workout aimed to push them past their limits.
Daily physical training seemed like torture—pushing them past exhaustion until they collapsed, only to be hauled up again.
Daniel remained separate, from the throng immersed in his reflections. As those nearby hummed with vitality each pursuing their ambitions—his eyes remained fixed forward. Undeterred by clamor or spectacle—he advanced as if solely focused on a goal.
Certain people, energized by enduring the chaos of this world sought dominance. Not out of concern, for stability but to grasp the reins rather than receive punishment.
A few people their gaze with desire murmured quietly about riches lying beyond the boundary – items you could seize if you were brave enough. Others talked softly about relics concealed there available for the taking, with some courage.
Daniel was indifferent, to all of that. What fueled him was a fierce unwavering fire. Pursue the creature adorned with horned crowns who had taken Chloe then shatter the chains confining his mother.
He lacked much that motivated him. That far-off demeanor distinguished him in some way. Quiet constantly observing,. Utterly earnest, during practice.
The first genuine difficulty appeared following two weeks.
The group of students moved into the circular area a broad ring carved into the earth where past exams had etched deep impressions into the dirt.
Above on a trail this woman appeared.
This was Elara Rostova, the trainer. She had succeeded in passing the first group.
Her voice emerged from a concealed device—sharp, like metal slicing through the atmosphere devoid of heat.
"Check out what's around " she said, her voice cutting through the murmurs.
Observe the countenances of your rivals. Prior, to the onslaught you were informed that every life holds value. You learned to show kindness to exhibit empathy. That realm has perished. Its regulations lie in ruins.
She walked down the trail each step producing a noise, from her shoes.
In this realm a single law prevails: the survive while the feeble perish. Kindness is an illness. Doubt is a verdict of death. Today we start to rid you of each.
Her gaze scanned the crowd of individuals. "You have ten minutes. Locate three others you have faith in. Create a team of four. Anyone who remains ungrouped when time expires will be removed."
She paused, letting the last syllable linger, in the air. "Your countdown starts. Ten minutes starting now."
Terror struck fiercely. Individuals surged ahead rushing amid shouts that ripped through the atmosphere.
Daniel felt his heart race, in his chest—no fear, intense concentration. Than terror there was simply calm and deliberate strategizing.
He avoided the men or those who boasted incessantly. Influence mattered more, than strength.
He understood that the strongest weapon anyone possessed wasn't a sword. It was the drive that propelled them ahead. Scanning through the chaos he continued searching seeking that spark.
He noticed her a petite fierce woman with keen eyes moving swiftly. She'd take down anyone approaching delivering strikes to their arms or legs rather than reckless blows. Her actions were precise, without any flair. Every hit was intentional as if she had practiced it times before.
He moved nearer, to her remaining crouched. Neither loud nor quiet—simply steady—he said to her "We must stay united.".
She glanced at him briefly. Caught that expression on his face. Then gave a brief firm nod. That was when he learned her name: Sophie.
Then he glanced at a muscular man – muscles firm, abs carved like rock – a guy who could've led a gang yet stood rigid fists clenched, jaw locked. His face? Pure desire, unmistakable.
He sought no conflict— a chance.
Daniel and Sophie approached him simultaneously.
"Let's go " Daniel urged. Ragnar looked at them eyed the chaos, beside him – then simply sank into silence.
Sixty seconds remained, but they were still one individual short.
Daniel noticed the boy—, around sixteen—crouched near the bricks trembling as if confronted by a phantom. One second slipped by. Then another. The boy remained motionless.
His fists remained clenched firmly knuckles blanching, with terror widening his eyes – though a glimmer of defiance glowed within them.
"Him " Daniel remarked. Ragnar grunted in response. "The boy? He seems fragile he could likely cause our downfall."
"No " Daniel replied sharply gaze fixed forward.
He's frozen with fear. Still he remains. That's not weakness. It's resolve. They pulled the boy, Bran near just as a blaring horn shattered the silence, within the ring.
Heavy iron doors slammed shut over all exits securing everyone within. That sound? It signified no escape. End of story.
Instructor Rostovas tone came back even chillier, than earlier. "The contest is straightforward. Over the forty-five minutes you will battle. Only those who remain alive will move forward. The guideline is kill or be killed."
Quiet settled over the crowd with individuals beginning to murmur one, by one.
"Oh. One final point " she added, her tone flavored with a mix of mischief and sharpness simultaneously.
Your teams are now connected. If any individual member of your team perishes the whole team gets eliminated. Enjoy.
A short silence lingered in the atmosphere – calm hushed. Then turmoil erupted.
A group of four men close by surged ahead their eyes wild with anger. Still they advanced swiftly propelled by wrath, than terror.
"The kid goes first!" a voice shouted, swinging an iron bar, at Bran.
"Run!" Daniel yelled. Together his team dispersed – resembling birds taking flight from a tree.
Ragnar absorbed the blow head-on his massive body standing as a fortress of strength. As he shouted fiercely the pipe struck his arm—muscle and bone shattering, beneath the force—. Despite that he drove his fist forcefully into the man's gut.
The man collapsed, exhaling a trembling sigh.
Sophie zipped past the two charging, toward her crouching beneath the opening. Her quickness played to her advantage—she used one mans momentum against him causing him to crash heavily onto the floor.
As he turned abruptly stunned she struck his knee with the heel of her boot – a sharp snap echoed.
Daniel faced the man—this individual was swinging a large sword in an awkward circle.
Daniel dropped to the floor right as the blade whistled past overhead. He rolled back leveraging his shoulder to come up. Now balanced, on one knee.
He carried no weapon— his own hands—yet his mind blazed with passion reflecting on his people.
As the man lunged again Daniel sprang up quickly. It wasn't a karate move—just pure fear blended with fury.
He launched himself from the arena wall rotating as he flew through the air.
BOOM!
His heel struck the man's temple while airborne. Consequently he collapsed instantly unconscious.
Bran noticed the man chasing Gregor from the rear shouted as if enraged then charged at him low—quickly taking out his legs.
The moment was tense and hurried—. It granted Ragnar just the right amount of time. Twisting swiftly the big man grabbed the attacker's head and slammed it onto the floor; a rough unpleasant noise came next.
Their initial encounter concluded within seconds. Around the combat zone swirled with turmoil.
Shouts of agony or fury merged with fractures as bones broke while metal grinded against metal close, by.
Groups lacking connections disintegrated rapidly. However some persisted through difficult times as trust gradually developed over time.
Solitary persons who considered themselves invincible became encircled. Were then eliminated.
Daniel's team assembled out of necessity every member worn but prepared. Ragnar absorbed attacks, like a fortress as Sophie delivered precise blows. Bran disrupted strategies enough to throw the situation off balance. Daniel maintained control anticipating moves rationally and unemotionally.
They were caught by a group having no escape route, behind them.
"I've got an idea!" Daniel exclaimed, clutching his side. " Soon as I shift you veer left!"
He surged forward seizing the boss's attention. As the man swung an axe Daniel swiftly dropped down spinning into a wide kick. The action surprised him – feet flicking above the floor. Immediately footing faltered; the assailant faltered to the side. The force completed the job turning tension into mayhem.
The man stumbled, the swing failing to connect. Sophie sprang forward immediately driving a shard of metal deep into his thigh.
He yelled, holding onto his side.
Ragnar surged ahead—like a weapon incarnate—crashing through their ranks. He shattered their formation, swift and fierce.
The forty-five minutes felt like an eternity.
Finally just as Daniel's team had repelled another attack the horn blew again – signaling that time was over.
The confrontation concluded in a way. Stillness fell, occasionally broken by the groans of the wounded or the heavy breathing of the survivors.
Daniel rose. His skin covered with injuries. And surveyed the surroundings.
The floor, within the arena was strewn with bodies.
From the ten thousand children who started that morning only a small number remained. Approximately about 2,500 stayed.
Daniel's team ultimately succeeded. Positioned next, to each injured battered, but alive nonetheless.
He looked at Sophie, Ragnar then Bran – suddenly after five years a feeling surfaced, neither fury nor grief.
The bond ignited abruptly like a blaze formed through mutual peril rather, than mere conversation.
The remainder of the training proved fierce. Filled with novel trials, further defeats. However the slaughter had already eliminated those to keep pace or who clearly weren't suited.
A few remained. These individuals were merciless toughened by experiences.
On the day of graduation Daniel stood among the others—two thousand who had succeeded. His expression was tense. His eyes were piercing like ice.
He was far, from that lethargic child dozing on his mother's couch— a faint trace of a history he barely remembered.
He turned into an instrument molded by pain honed by unyielding determination.
He'd been waiting for the Astral Verge. Yet now, reclaiming his family felt close.