Kael woke up in high spirits, as if the tension from the day before had turned into pure determination. He got out of his metal bunk in the temporary dormitory, got ready quickly, and put on the standard gray uniform worn by all candidates for the recruitment test. Today, he knew, his life was about to take a new turn.
Stepping outside, he was struck by the sheer size of the building dominating Nareth's central square: a massive, almost colosseum-like structure, merging ancient arena design with futuristic technology. Towering black pillars etched with glowing lines marked the entrance. This was where it would all begin.
All around him, hundreds of young people, all gathered to take the test, waited nervously. Some chatted among themselves, others silently prayed. Kael walked among them, his heart pounding, his eyes fixed on the colossal entrance.
A familiar voice called out to him. "You look less lost than yesterday." Kael turned and saw Ryven Thorne, the man he had met the day before, dressed in black with the distinctive emblem of the Sentinel Wing—a blue eye surrounded by sharp spikes.
"Ryven…" Kael said, a bit relieved.
Ryven gave him a calm smile. "I'm the one in charge of recruiting for the Sentinel Wing. If you pass the trials, you can join us. But I warn you… we only take the best." Without waiting for an answer, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Kael stood frozen for a moment. Joining the Guardians… it sounded like a dream. But a dream balanced on a razor's edge. He took a deep breath and entered the building.
Inside, a vast circular hall opened up, filled with benches where the candidates were taking their seats. Kael found a place near the center. The atmosphere was heavy. Everyone was waiting. Slowly, the silence deepened—as if an invisible presence was pressing down on them.
Then he entered.
A gigantic man with a cold gaze and heavy steps walked into the room. He wore dark armor, marked with an unknown symbol. But it wasn't his gear that terrified the room—it was his aura.
Without speaking, a wave of pressure radiated from him like a shockwave. The air trembled. Benches shook. Dozens of candidates collapsed instantly, breathless and wide-eyed. Kael fell to his knees, teeth clenched. He had never felt such crushing power.
But at the center of the room, four figures remained standing.
Three young women—each with unwavering eyes—and a boy with a calm, almost detached look stood still, completely unaffected by the aura. It was unreal. Struggling for air, Kael stared at them in awe.
The man finally spoke, his voice deep and merciless. "Those who withstood my aura are qualified. They will have the privilege of choosing which corps they wish to join."
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the few still able to breathe.
"As for the rest of you…" He swept his gaze over the room. "You'll undergo a week of training. Those who survive may be considered. Prepare yourselves. The first session begins in one hour. Your first test is over."
He turned and left the room. His name hadn't been given, but in the halls, whispers called him Commander Sareth Kaarn, known as The Breaker of Aspirants.
Kael collapsed fully onto the ground, gasping for breath. He could taste blood in his mouth. Around him, many were still motionless. Others vomited, wept, or babbled incoherently. He had survived… but at what cost?
Minutes later, medics arrived to remove the dead and assist the wounded. Kael stood up with difficulty and, without a word, headed to the cafeteria. His stomach screamed for food, and he knew the next hour would be crucial.
In the cafeteria, survivors ate in silence. Kael took a tray and sat down at a table. He was still trembling. A boy across from him whispered, "That guy… he killed at least forty of us… and he calls that a test?"
Kael nodded. "He didn't even raise a hand. It was just… his presence."
Another added, "Those four who stood their ground… what the hell are they? They didn't even blink."
Kael remained silent. He had never seen such power in a single man. And yet, he knew he had to keep going. There was no turning back now.
Another candidate asked curiously, "You aiming to join the Sentinel Wing too?"
Kael nodded. "Maybe. I haven't decided yet."
A rough voice echoed behind him. "You've got choices, but don't pick the Dreads Corps unless you've got a death wish." Kael turned around. It was the same man who had spoken to him yesterday—the one who told him about the five corps.
"Ryven talked to you?" the man asked.
Kael nodded. "You're the one who said the Sentinel Wing protect the cities, right?"
The man confirmed. "Exactly. Listen up. There are five main corps. The Sentinel Wing—the Guardians—protect the inhabited zones. The Dreads Corps—the Reapers—are the extermination force on the front lines. They go into the infested zones. Few come back."
He went on: "The Iron Bastion—the Sealers—close breaches. They're the ones who install the energy walls. The Umbral Seekers—the Shadows—are elite scouts, operating in darkness, mostly in infiltration. And finally, the Vulture Recovery—the Scavengers—clean up after battles. They collect the remains."
Kael listened carefully, absorbing every word.
"And to get into a corps, we have to pass all the trials?" he asked.
The man nodded. "That's right. Recruitment happens every six months. This is it. You just entered hell."
Kael hesitated, then extended a hand. "I'm Kael Vox."
The man shook it firmly. "Ryven Thorne. And you better survive this week, Kael. We need guys like you."