Realm Survival

"There you are" Captain Barrett said after ripping the panels I was hiding behind away. Captain Barret snatched the book I was reading out of my hands. What is this boy? Again, with this book, the captain's voice rising as he grabs me by my shirt collar pulling me to my feet.

Captain Barrett is large well-built man with a warrior's physique. He has tan skin, trimmed light brown hair, and hazel eyes. The captain wore black full plate armor with a skeletal hand holding a decrepit dagger pointed down painted white on the breastplate. The insignia of Wretched Requiem, his mercenary band, my jailers.

How many times do I need to tell you boy, you need to get your head off these books and focus on your sword play.

I averted my gaze and remained silent as the captain berated me. The captain went red in the face as he pulled me closer.

BOY! Look at me when I am speaking to you or do need more time in the box. The box captain Barrett referred to is a metal box that disobedient or cowardly youths get thrown inside to remind them of their place. I have spent more than my fair share of time in the box for disobedience, not letting the punishment get to me nor curb my defiance.

No sir, I say with barely restrained anger in my voice. The captain pushes me away and back hands me. I stumbled into the wall of warehouse 3 where I was hiding, the captain looking at me with disgust.

 Get your gear and get to the training hall one before I drag you and that friend of yours to the box myself. I glared at him hatefully, wanting to punch him. But I could not. Barrett was a captain of Wretched Requiem, and I am just an 18-year-old trainee. Nowhere near able to match his experience or fighting ability.

When I was 8 years old my family had no money. Being the youngest of four children my parents made the choice to sell me to Wretched Requiem to feed my siblings. I never got to say goodbye to them. Lucy is the second youngest born a few years before me. Oliver the quiet and reserved middle child. and Charlotte, the oldest, and more of a parent than our own parents. I barely remember them. Just their faces, as my 8-year-old mind remembers them. 

My parents dragged me to Commander Hudson and sold me for $5000. For 10 years now I have been forced to train as a warrior of Wretched Requiem, being beaten bloodied and bruised, but I refuse to break.

I have been dragged through Miner gates to fight against blood thirsty creatures progressively stronger. The suffering I endure, I use as fuel to grow stronger, push farther. I will survive. I will endure. Nothing will get in my way as long as I live.

 My dream is to one day break free from this band of mercenaries with my best friend and be strong enough to enter Ombra and be the one to finally close that cursed Realm. No matter how many miner Realms I must close or Realm lords I must fight. I will be the one to close it! But until then, I will bide my time and get stronger.

I grabbed my gear from where I tucked it away. My body filled with anger. I took a deep breath to calm myself.

Yes sir, I will do that.

Barrett grunts, letting go of some of his anger. Good, get going brat, and if I catch you slacking off again, I'll beat you black and blue. No matter how skilled a fighter you are.

I make my way to the training hall 1, the biggest of the five training halls we have, where I find Milo Castellanos, the first friend I made when I was brought to the Wretched Requiem compound at 8 years old. Although he is two years older than me, Milo saw someone going through what he went through, and we soon became friends.

 He stands six feet tall. With a lean muscular build that speaks of a life spent navigating the perilous jungles of his homeland. His skin is a rich chestnut brown kissed by the sun. His eyes are a piercing shade of emerald. His hair is a tangle of tight black curls that fall to his broad shoulders often obscuring a face that is both handsome and fiercely determined. A thick beard frames his strong jaw line, lending him an air of wisdom beyond his years.

Hey Milo, I cheerily greet my friend as I approach him. As Milo looks at me, his face drops slightly.

Kael, what did you do this time, he said the accent in his voice as he sees the bruise on my cheek from Barrett's back hand.

I was reading that book I smuggled in, I said with mild annoyance in my voice.

Barrett found me and nearly ripped my head off.

Milo grunts as he looks me up and down to see if there are any other injuries. But all he sees is a five-foot eight man with a powerful and well-built physique. A muscular frame that's stands as a testament to a decade of training and excursions into miner Realms. Hair a dark shade of ebony that falls in tousled waves reaching just above the shoulders. The rebellious locks frame a rounded face with hardened features. A few strands tend to fall across a deep set of steel grey eyes that can pierce through anybody. An olive-toned complexion with a hint of sun kissed bronze. My defiant nature getting both of us in trouble quite often.

Milo sighed; you don't look like you are injured. Just bruised. I told you not to get that book. I told you it would only cause trouble.

I chuckled and shook my head; and I told you that reading about the strategies of others is an effective way to make your own.

You are hopeless, you know that. Now get your off books and lets spar.

I grinned determinedly as I unsheathed my bastard sword and prepared for a fight. As I stared at Milo, waiting for him to make his move, I could feel the weight of my sword in my hand, the feel of the hilt. Serene, the name I gave my sword after it was forged by Waylen, the blacksmith of Wretched Requiem and the kindest member to boot. Milo used his scimitar Oblique, also forged by Waylen.

In the sunlit courtyard just outside the training hall Milo and I stand facing each other with our swords in hand. The sandy ground and vibrant green trees, creating a picturesque backdrop for our practice. Birds chirp merrily in the nearby trees, adding to the ambiance. The other youths of Wretched Requiem training around us.

Dressed in our armor, we exude an air of excitement as we prepare to engage in sword play. We take a moment to adjust our grip on the swords, our eyes locked onto each other with determination and anticipation.

As we position ourselves opposite each other, our stances demonstrate a mix of focus and agility. With a nod and a shared grin, we begin circling each other, eyes keenly watching for any openings.

The first strike comes swiftly, as Milo lunges forward, scimitar swinging in a graceful arc. I expertly parry the blow, quickly stepping back to evade a counterattack. Our movements are fluid and precise, a captivating ballet of swordplay.

As the action unfolds, our playful banter fills the air along with the sounds of clashing steel.

You're doing well for an old man; I smile at my friend as I tease him.

 Old man? Milo repeats his brow raising. I'm only 20. He replies with feigned offence in his voice. A smile plastered his face.

We exchange quick slashes, blocks, and parries, showcasing our agility and skill. Our laughter echoes through the courtyard adding a joyful energy to our mock battle.

Even though we are challenging each other, there is an unwavering trust and respect between the two of us. We carefully control the strength of our strikes, ensuring that no unnecessary harm befalls one another.

Time seems to stand still as we continue our mock sword fight, our bodies moving with grace and precision. The sun slowly begins to set, casting a warm golden glow, giving our duel an almost magical aura.

Finally, with a final strike and a well-timed swipe, I landed a gentle tap on Milo's shoulder with the flat of my sword, signaling the end of our practice bout.

I got you! My voice filled with joy.

Breathing heavily yet grinning ear to ear, we lower our swords and exchange a playful fist bump, proud of our friendly swordplay session.

Yes, you did, my friend. Well done as always.

You did well too Milo. You almost had me a few times. Your sword play has improved greatly since we fought the rotfangs.

The rotfangs were doglike beasts that were in a perpetual state of decay, due to their affinity for putrefaction. Their claws are coated in a deadly toxin that can melt straight threw armor, and acid spit they can shoot up to thirty yards. Adult rotfangs are a pain to fight, but young rotfangs are easy enough to kill if you have the agility to evade their attacks.

I don't want to think about those wretched things. Milo said with annoyance. One of those toxic beasts ruined my favorite sword strap, forcing me to get a new one.

I admired the new sword strap for a few seconds. It was made of black leather, contrasting the black leather armor with a steel chest plate, vambraces and greaves we wore.

Alright you bastards, gather up.

Commander Hudson, leader of Wretched Requiem stepped onto the balcony of the training hall overlooking the courtyard. Everyone training in the courtyard gathered to hear what the Commander had to say.

There have been some precursory signs of a new realm appearing west of Oakhurst, and we have been hired by the mayor of the town to check its credibility. This mission will be spear headed by Intelligence Specialist Ava, as well as Captain Barrett to keep you ingrates in line.

Everyone groaned. Me especially remembering the earlier interaction I had with Barrett. Will we all be going. A voice from the back asked.

No, Hudson replied. Those chosen will gather in the main hall at 0600 where those selected to go on this mission will be briefed on their objective.

Milo spoke up with his own question. How will we know who is chosen to go on the mission?

Runners will be going through the barracks with a list of the chosen. If you are called, it is because you are the best we got, and we expect you to demonstrate that you are ready to move forward in the ranks, no longer being confined to the small time. For this is the start of your exams. To show us you are true warriors.

A hushed murmur went through the crowd.

The precursory signs. Are they serious? Why send us to another miner Realm for our exams? This was odd. We've been to several miner Realms before. The commander wouldn't send us there unless it was something worth pitting us against.

Mr. Jones. Hudson said my name slowly as he turned his attention to me. The prodigy. You've slain a few Realms Spirits yourself, haven't you?

The Commander was right, I've defeated many Realm Spirits myself. The first Realm spirit I fought was a spirit that was sluggish and uncoordinated. Its fighting style lacked vigor and force. It was the kind of spirit that any rookie could beat. So, for me, defeating it was simple. The second spirit was more challenging though. It was an intermediate spirit I fought when still a rookie. During one of our stints in a miner realm to train our coordination skills and teamwork, some of our less intelligent brothers snuck out during the night to try and infiltrate the spirits liar by themselves. I followed trying to stop them, but they persisted. The fools ended up getting themselves killed within moments leaving me alone to face a very pissed off Realm Spirit.

 I fought the realm spirit for what felt like hours, getting cut up badly. But my skills in battle would not be out done. Using the Dizzying Dance technique confusing and disorienting the spirit I disarmed the spirit sent him to the afterlife. I took a breath and realized it took me fifteen minutes to defeat the spirit, which surprised me, and filled me with pride.

The training officer was furious upon hearing my report, throwing me in the box for a week and limiting my rations. During my time in the box, my siblings of the Wretched Requiem swarmed me with questions. Curiosity burning, wanting to know what it was like to defeat a strong Realm Spirt. The guards ushered them away from me to carry out my punishment in peace.

Ever since then I've fought many Realm Spirits. I can take on intermediate Realms spirits with ease now and even take on advanced and supreme Realm Spirits with some success.

Yes Commander. I've killed a few of them.

 Well, how about a Realm Lord!

Everyone gasped.

 Realm Lords are on a whole other level than Realm Spirits. Realm Lords are the ultimate authority in their domain, possessing powers that transcend mere mortals. They wield vast magical abilities commanding elemental forces, and summoning creatures from other plains. They often have ornate attire or distinctive symbols of power, such as crowns, or staffs that signify the dominion over their realm. They are often described as unpredictable or capricious, their motivation shrouded in mystery.

Are you saying! Everyone said at the same time.

The signs point to a Linear Realm. Commander Hudson interrupted the crowd.

Everyone in the courtyard started yelling questions over each other. No warrior of Wretched Requiem of my generation has ever been in a Linear Realm.

That is right Hudson yelled, silencing the crowd. Your exam is to investigate the claims that a new Linear Realm is forming. If true, evacuate the area and secure the surroundings. This will assess your effectiveness in the field, and how well you work together.

Using everything we have taught you, failing your job is not an option. Do I make myself clear?

Sir yes sir! The crowd roared, but fear was evident in many eyes.

Dismissed. Get to the mess hall for dinner. Hudson turned and left his perch.

As the crowd dispersed, I could hear those around me talking.

I hope I do not get chosen, a man on my right said. This is ridiculous, A woman ten yards to my left said, why should we have to do this her friend said, let the Realm Raiders take care of it. The Realm Raiders being experts in closing Linear Realms.

Milo shakes me to get my attention. Kael, snap out of it. You need to stay focused. I shake my head and look at Milo. What do you think about this? I cannot help but wonder what is going on. Something is off. This is not normal for an exam.

I know what you mean, Milo agreed. I have a bad feeling that something bad is going to happen.

I nudge my friend as we walk to the mess hall. Don't jinx us. Something bad is going to happen now. I smile at the disapproving look Milo gives me.

You're the one who's going to jinx us. Milo replied

Well, if something bad does happen, we'll both be to blame. A joking tone in my voice

The only thing to worry about now is if we're getting chosen.

We are the two best fighters in our generation. They'd be crazy to pass us up.

Milo looks at me curiously, you sound like you want to be chosen.

I do, I look at him with a smirk. I want to get stronger, improve my skills to the limit. My face becomes sullen. Strong enough to break free.

Milo hums in understanding, those of us forced into this life want the same. To break the chains that bind us. To see the world not as a warrior, but as free men and women. Many of our siblings want this life those, not wanting to leave it.

You were sold as well, weren't you?

Yes, Milo replied seriously. My parents were killed, and I was captured by slavers, stuffed in a cage. I was sold to this lot for a quick profit, Milo gestured around them. Forced to be a warrior.

Are you one of those wanting to leave or stay, I asked curiously

This life is not what I dream of. I want a family, to settle on a ranch raising livestock as well as little ones.

I chuckled; Your kids will give you hell. 

Milo laughed, yes it will be an adventure. I recall you telling me that you don't want kids.

No, kids are an adventure too great for me. My fate lyes somewhere else. Just not here, not with the Wretched Requiem.

As we arrive at the mess hall, we stop at the entrance. As we turn to each other our faces are those of longing.

Our dreams might be different, and our paths might diverge one day. But you will always be my friend, and I will always be there for you, The warmth in my voice evident. 

Milo smiled his usual bright smile as he raised his fist to me, you and me, together to the end. From hell to high water, I'll have your back.

I bumped my fist to his, and I'll always have yours. We went into the mess hall where we saw many others eating dinner. The officers were sitting on a raised platform eating some chicken dish with mashed potatoes wine and desserts. It looked fancy. For us, some steak chunks and vegetables. Nothing fancy, but good enough to give us the nutrition we needed. We got to eat our fill. Leadership didn't like giving us so much food, but we needed quite a lot to become proper warriors.

The same old grub. Just how I like it. I grabbed a plate and filled it out from the buffet.

I want to try something new. At least once, Milo looked longingly at the meal the officers were eating.

Perhaps we'll get to eat something like that if we get chosen.

Perhaps, but for now we can only dream.

We got our food and went to a table where a few others were already seated. As I sat, I gave a kirt nod to the four already at the table.

Albion, named after the titan because of his enormous size and strength. His torso is a tapestry of muscle, with defined lats and sculpted upper and lower back. His limbs are like tree trunks, massive muscles that speak of incredible strength and endurance. Like his size and despite his intimidating aura his heart is the biggest around. Giving a helping hand where needed.

 Arvan, renowned amongst our generation for his speed. Unlike the traditional muscular figure, his body is lean and toned. Designed for quick and swift movements. His limbs are slender, with lean muscles that hint at his strength without sacrificing flexibility. While he may not be as strong as most, his agility and dexterity are unmatched. Using his rapier he can get past any defense. Arvin is jovial in nature, cracking wise any chance he gets, to the annoyance of the upper echelon.

Amura, a female archer That stands tall and proud, exuding an aura of focus and intense concentration. Her body is lean and lithe, built for agility and precision. Her arms are slender yet defined, showing the muscles necessary to draw back her bowstring with ease. Her hands are steady and skilled, with nimble fingers that effortlessly manipulate her arrows. Her serious, take no flack attitude words off any trouble from others. her skills with a bow she trained from the moment she could hold a bout makes her the most skilled bows women around.

 Lastly, Violet, she is the daughter of intelligence specialist Ava. She exudes an air of intelligence and mental sharpness. She has a lean and agile build, without typical combat roles. Her body is slender with a posture that conveys alertness and attentiveness. Her shoulders relaxed, highlighting her calm demeaner and ability to handle high pressure situations. Violet has an act for intelligence gathering as well, she can tell truth from lies easily, making her an asset for any team.

Hey, you two Albion said cheerily. What do you think about the announcement.

Milo shook his head, throwing us into a linear Realm is something else.

I agree, Violet chipped in, this isn't normal. A normal exam would have proper briefing, more instructors, and be in an advanced miner realm. But those chosen are being thrown into a situation involving the opening of a Linear Realm. I've asked mother but she's been tight lipped about it.

Perhaps one of us will be chosen and they can tell us what happened during the exam. My face betrayed my eagerness to be chosen.

Everyone at the table looked at me with an exasperated look. It was no secret that I wanted to be more than another raider taking on realms. Few shared my enthusiasm about being chosen.

Amura with some excitement agreed with me about being chosen.

This will be a good chance to prove ourselves, Amura said. The miner realms we have been in won't be enough to temper us forever.

Like hell we can't, Arvin replied with some fear in his voice. Why the hell should we have to do this.

Calm yourself Arvin, Milo tried to ease Arvins fear. We might not even get chosen. I reckon there are only a handful of us able to go into a Linear Realm, and fewer that want to go. Milo gave Amura an I a disapproving look, a look a parent might give their child.

What are you looking at us for. It's not like we've been chosen yet, nor are we trying to drag you along if we are. I looked at my plate, not much strength in my words.

Milo sighed. Yeah, but your inclination for getting into trouble tends to drag those around you down as well.

I chuckled, I'll just distance myself from you then. I'd hate to inconvenience the rest of you, sarcasm and annoyance drips from my voice.

He doesn't mean it in a bad way, Violet was trying to stop an argument before it started.

Well, what did he mean then? My tone was accusing.

Kael! Milos' voice was sharp as he stared at me. Your anger is not necessary. We are just trying to make sense of the situation.

I take a deep breath and relax myself, letting go of my annoyance and frustrations. I'm sorry, I just really want to be chosen. Like Amura said, we need more to temper ourselves, but I understand you do not want to go.

This might be beyond our skills, Albion said with some apprehension.

If your skills are lacking, I'm sure you won't be chosen. Amura tried to reassure Albion but her way of speaking with people left people more worried than reassured.

Albions face filled with even for fear and apprehension. A silence washed over the table, we all thought about what was to come. As we silently ate our food, we could hear other tables discussing the exam. Many voicing their concerns and fears about being selected. I looked around to see many faces filled with apprehension, but a few seemed to have felt as I did. Even though I wanted to be one of those selected, I couldn't help but agree with the others. Something wasn't right about this exam.

 Dinner is over, a voice echoed be heard across the mess hall. Buss your trays and report to the barracks. We all got up and shared a knowing look. Albion and Arvins' faces were flushed. Milo and Violets' faces were impassive. Amura and I wore faces of anticipation. We bussed our trays and went off to our barracks to await our fate.