CHAPTER 27: A START
The doors closed behind them as they entered, leaving the group standing in the vast chamber.
The hall was wide and cold, its ceiling lost in shadow, the pale glow of crystal lanterns casting long silhouettes across the stone. The platform at the center pulsed faintly with runes, steady and unchanging as it always had.
Other squads stood in rigid lines, their faces unreadable, eyes flicking toward John's group as they joined the row. The murmur of voices died quickly, replaced by a silence that pressed down like a physical weight.
John's gaze swept the room, steady but guarded. He had stood here before, seen these walls, felt this silence. It was familiar, yet today it carried a sharper edge—an expectation that could not be ignored.
Then, a sound cut through the stillness. A single, deliberate echo from the platform.
Lord Roan stepped forward, his presence commanding without effort. Silver hair framed his face beneath the pale glow, and his pupil-less eyes cut through the chamber like shards of light. His white and silver regalia shimmered faintly, pristine and severe, every fold carrying the weight of authority.
The squads straightened instinctively, silence tightening around them. Lord Roan's gaze swept across the rows, cold and deliberate, before his voice rang out, resonant as iron striking stone.
"You have endured your first trial. Some of you proved exceptional. Some revealed a ruthless edge. And some…" his eyes fixed on John, the pale glow narrowing with sharp intensity, "…survived by luck alone."
He let the silence breathe, the weight of his words settling over the chamber.
"Your performance has been judged, and scores have been given accordingly, both individually and as a squad. These will define your standing within the Covenant and determine your place in the annual assessment. If you wish to see them, look to the board."
A holographic screen flickered to life at the side of the hall, names and numbers glowing in pale light. Heads turned, whispers stirred, but all fell quiet again when Lord Roan's voice cut through once more.
"For those who stand alone—the last survivors of broken squads—you may choose to join an existing group, or form one with the other strays. You may even choose to remain alone… but word of advice: alone, you will not last. If you do choose to join a team, then only one person per team. Your coming days will continue as they always have before the trial."
His eyes swept the chamber one final time, glowing and unyielding.
"We will meet again at the Awakening. Until then… dismissed."
The words echoed, final and absolute, as Lord Roan turned away, leaving the hall heavy with silence.
Then, almost as one, the squads broke formation, drifting toward the glowing holographic board. Names and numbers shimmered across its surface, cold and precise.
John's eyes caught his own score first—towering, absurdly large compared to the rest, sitting firmly at the very top. A ripple of whispers spread through the squads, disbelief flashing across faces as heads turned toward him. Even he felt a jolt of shock, staring at his score.
For a moment, the hall seemed to tilt around that single revelation. The murmurs grew sharper, some voices incredulous, others edged with envy.
Daren's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he saw the number. Anger flared hot, but before he could spit a word, his gaze slid down the board. The rest of John's squad carried high marks too—solid, undeniable. His fury twisted into frustration, teeth grinding at the sight. He wasn't even second place—Sylas was.
Daren wasn't the only one watching—the scoreboard burned in Bill's eyes as his jaw locked in place.
Sylas glanced at the board once, then turned and started walking back toward the mess hall.
"Hey, where are you going?" Nico called after him.
Without turning, Sylas replied, "You guys finish up. I'll wait at the mess hall—I'm hungry."
Nico just nodded, then turned back to the board.
His eyes found his own score, glowing high among the names, but there was no smile. His hand clenched at his side, knuckles whitening, before he let out a slow breath and turned back to the group.
The others were already staring at John, disbelief etched across their faces.
"What the hell did you do to get that?" Malric demanded, his voice cutting through the murmurs.
John's shoulders sagged, exhaustion plain in his posture. He let out a long, weary sigh.
"…Let's just say… a lot."
Nico shook his head, lips curling into a crooked grin. "I'm pretty sure it's something only a lunatic would do, but fine—let's just go with 'a lot.'"
John let out a chuckle, about to answer Nico, when Orion stepped forward. His movements were stiff, deliberate, each step carrying the weight of hesitation. For a heartbeat, he stood frozen, shoulders tense, before bowing his head.
The gesture was sharp, almost ceremonial, but the tremor in his posture betrayed him. The pale glow of the hologram washed over his face, catching the strain in his eyes.
"I… am sorry," Orion said quietly, voice heavy. "Back in the trial, I didn't disengage when I should have. Everything went downhill because of me."
John blinked, taken aback. "Is that why you haven't spoken to me until now? Orion, it wasn't your fault."
But Orion shook his head, eyes trembling. "Lucian didn't lose control. We were in the same fight, the same situation, but I'm always the one who messes things up. We were captured by the bandits because of me, too. Every time, it's me."
Lucian stepped in before John could reply, his hand slapping Orion's back with a sharp crack. "Enough, idiot. Stop tearing yourself apart every time you slip. Mistakes aren't the end—learn and move on," he said firmly, his tone cutting through Orion's guilt.
John gave a faint smile. "You should listen to your brother."
Orion's voice wavered, but he pressed on. "Still… you got hit by an arrow trying to save me."
John waved his hand dismissively. "I'm not dead. That was just a scratch, and the covenant treated me already."
Thomas frowned. "Um… the covenant didn't treat anyone."
John froze, surprise flickering across his face before his expression turned serious. Then where is the wound?
Lucian's voice cut through his reverie. "John?"
John shrugged, forcing a smile. "Forget it, what I'm saying is—I'm fine now, aren't I? So, let's just focus on the future."
Orion reluctantly nodded. John tapped his shoulder, then looked back up at the scoreboard, scanning for a name. His lips curved into a smile when he found it—Adam. The boy's score was surprisingly high, far beyond what John expected. "What do you know… that guy's actually doing good."
He turned from the board, scanning the chamber until his eyes found Adam. The boy sat apart, head bowed low, shoulders hunched. John knew immediately something was wrong.
"Hey guys, I'll be right back. Just wait for me in the mess hall."
Amara stretched, groaning. "Yeah, I was famished anyway."
"Meet you there," Thalia added with a nod.
John's gaze lingered on Adam, his smile fading as he started toward him, the pale glow of the hologram still burning behind his back.
John tried to keep his tone light as he approached. "Hey," he said, almost playful, hoping to ease the tension.
Adam lifted his gaze, eyes reddened, shoulders still hunched. "Oh… hey, John. Haha… happy to see you're alrighty, hahaha..." The laugh was hollow, his weak smile barely holding.
John stopped beside him and sat down. "Glad to see you're good too. I was wondering where you went when that thing was chasing you."
Adam rubbed his nose, that fragile smile still plastered on his face. "What? Who do you think was the one who saved your ass while you were passed out?"
John smiled faintly, but the expression faded as he studied him. "What's wrong?"
Adam's eyes brimmed, his voice dropping low. "Nothing…" But the word broke, and tears slipped free as he whispered, "No… they're all gone. My squad. Every single one of them. They weren't the best, but they were with me when I needed them. They got me through everything, and now… they're dead."
The weight of Adam's grief hung between them, raw and unfiltered. John didn't rush to fill the silence—he let Adam's pain breathe, then placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
"It's going to be okay," John said softly. "I'm not good at this kind of thing, but all I can do is be here for you."
Adam's voice cracked, his tears slipping free. "It's just… it hurts to see them gone. Why put us together if they were only going to send them to their deaths? Why?"
John stayed quiet, steady, letting Adam's words spill out while he offered silent comfort. After a while, Adam rubbed his eyes, embarrassed. "Wow… that was pathetic. Uhm."
John shook his head, his voice calm but firm. "No. It shows you really cared."
Adam gave a weak laugh, wiping his face. "Yeah, nice of you to say that."
John leaned back slightly, his tone soft but steady. "I mean it."
Adam's shoulders eased, just a fraction, the tension slipping as if John's words had carved out space for him to breathe.
John kept his gaze steady, voice low but certain. "So… what are you going to do now?"
Adam turned toward him, eyes still rimmed red. "You mean that thing about joining or forming a team if you're alone?"
John nodded once, serious. "Yeah. You don't have to figure it out on your own. You can join mine if you want."
Adam let out a shaky breath, then smirked faintly through the remnants of his grief. "You sure you want to deal with me rambling all day, every day?"
John's laugh broke the heaviness like a crack of light. "Ehh… I'm sure we can fix that."
Adam chuckled, rubbing the last of his tears away with the heel of his hand. "Alright then… guess you're stuck with me."
John leaned back slightly, his smile softer now, but his tone carrying weight. "Come on, let's introduce you to the rest of the squad."
The two of them rose together, the pale glow of the hologram fading behind them as they walked toward the mess hall. The corridor stretched ahead, filled with the muffled hum of voices and the clatter of dishes.
As they walked, Adam smirked to himself. "You know, I really want to see how Sylas acts once I am on the team."
John glanced at him, brow raised. "Sylas? Wait—you know him?"
Adam nodded, grin fading into something more serious. "Yeah. When you were down, I was trying to treat you. He showed up out of nowhere. Scared the hell out of me at first—knocked me around a bit—but then he helped. Used one of his vines to close your wound. He saved your life."
John slowed, his expression shifting. For a moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the distant chatter spilling from the mess hall. Then he let out a faint sigh, a small smile creeping across his face.
"…That guy. So that's how the wound's gone."
Adam chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Yeah. He's actually nice… if you look past all his other flaws.
The two of them pushed open the doors to the mess hall. Warmth and noise washed over them—laughter, clattering plates, voices overlapping in a dozen conversations. John's eyes swept the hall, the faint smile still lingering as he spotted the squad gathered around one of the long tables. Both he and Adam started toward them, weaving through the noise and clatter of the mess hall.
Nico noticed first, his mouth full of food, when he called out, muffled but loud enough to carry. "John! Over here!"
John lifted a hand in greeting, his smile widening. Adam walked beside him, his stride confident but his eyes betraying a flicker of nerves. John leaned toward him, voice low and reassuring. "Relax. They'll be glad to have you."
Adam gave a crooked grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well… let's see how long that lasts once they hear me talk."
John chuckled, shaking his head. "Trust me, you'll fit right in."
As they reached the table, the squad turned to greet them—Nico still chewing, Malric raising a brow, Amara waving them over with a grin.
John gave a small wave, his voice carrying over the chatter. "Hey, guys."
Nico squinted at Adam, still chewing, and pointed with his spoon. "Uh… who's that?"
John rested a hand on Adam's shoulder, his tone steady but warm. "This is Adam. He's joining us."
Adam straightened, forcing confidence into his voice. "Hi, everyone."
Nico's gaze slid over Adam, unimpressed. He set his spoon down, leaning back with arms crossed.
"So… Adam, huh? You really think we're gonna roll out the welcome mat just because John said a word for you?"
He leaned forward suddenly, eyes narrowing, voice dropping sharp.
"This isn't some place you just stroll into. I don't care who vouched for you. If you drag us down, it's not just you who pays—it's all of us."
Adam froze, nerves tightening in his chest. He swallowed hard. "I… I'll do my best."
For a moment, Nico's stare held, sharp and unyielding. Then his lips curled into a grin, and he burst out laughing. "Relax, man. I'm messing with you. Name's Nico. Welcome to the team."
Adam let out a shaky breath, half‑relieved, half‑annoyed. "You… you got me there."
John shook his head, sighing with a faint smile. "What did I say, you will fit right in."
Then John gestured around the table, his tone steady. "Alright, let's do this properly. Adam, meet the squad."
He pointed them out one by one, keeping it simple.
"Nyara. Liora. Elowen. Amara. Malric. Sylias. The twins—Lucian and Orion. Thomas. Thalia. And of course, Nico."
Adam listened, nerves slowly easing as the introductions unfolded, the squad's personalities crashing together like mismatched puzzle pieces that somehow fit.
John guided Adam to sit, the group shifting to make space. The mess hall's noise wrapped around them—laughter, chatter, clattering plates.
John leaned back, watching Adam settle in among them. A faint smile tugged at his lips as the thought crossed his mind:
This… isn't bad.