After that brutal drill, none of the freshborns were in any condition to move. Abunar's muscles felt like lead, each step a monumental effort. He sat on the cold training ground—a vast, echoing chamber in Halsper Institute where every inch of space was designed to push them to their limits—and mused,
"What a memorable first day."
Around him, several freshborns had already passed out from the strain. Staff in dark uniforms moved swiftly, checking vital signs and administering emergency care with a practiced efficiency that spoke of a system honed by decades of conflict. The drill had been intense, not only testing their bodies but also forcing them to confront the harsh realities of their war-torn world.
Abunar took deep breaths as he looked upward, his eyes tracing the intricate patterns etched into the ceiling—a mosaic of ancient symbols and modern tech, designed to inspire resilience.
"This place is terrible, isn't it?" a tired voice muttered beside him.
He turned to see a fellow trainee—a lean, brown-haired freshborn whose face was streaked with sweat and fatigue. Despite the exhaustion, Abunar noted there was no malice in the way the man regarded him—just raw weariness. In his mind, Abunar thought, 'This guy doesn't look like trouble.'
"Yeah, I'll tell you," Abunar replied with a weary sigh as he stretched his stiff limbs.
"I can't believe we're going through all this on our first day," the brown-haired trainee continued, rubbing his forehead. "I mean, I barely have any memories. The moment I came out of the Peravo, I was thrust straight into this hellish training. My body feels like butter."
Abunar muttered, "Yeah, I wonder if all the trainers are going to be like this." His voice was low and resigned—a quiet acknowledgment that every session would be as grueling as the first.
With effort, he scrambled to his feet, his legs trembling under the weight of fatigue. He went over to help the brown-haired trainee up. "This is going to be a long six months, isn't it?" he said, offering a hand.
"Yeah," the trainee replied, accepting his help.
"Let's head to Sector Zero," Abunar said with a small, tired smile.
"Yep, I'm totally drained," the trainee agreed.
Sector Zero—the vibrant, yet rigorously maintained living quarters for the freshborns—stood as their sanctuary within Halsper Institute. Far from being a cold, unfeeling cell, Sector Zero was designed to be a true home. Its walls, painted in uplifting colors and adorned with murals depicting heroic struggles and hopeful futures, provided a stark contrast to the harsh, relentless training halls. Here, soft ambient lights and comfortable furnishings helped soothe the pain and exhaustion of the day, fostering a sense of belonging and unity among the trainees.
As Abunar and his companion made their way through the winding corridors of Sector Zero, their conversation drifted to the mundane details of their new lives—a brief respite from the constant barrage of physical and mental challenges.
"I'm in room 349," said the brown-haired guy as they passed a corridor lined with glowing room numbers. "What about you?"
"Room 300. Looks like we're on the same floor," Abunar replied.
"Not bad, huh? Name's Vasco, by the way," the trainee said with a tired grin.
"Oh, I'm Abunar," he answered, nodding.
"Well, see you around, Abunar," Vasco replied before turning toward his own room.
Vasco was the first person Abunar had truly talked to since arriving at Halsper Institute—a small connection amid the overwhelming chaos. They had barely had a chance to observe their surroundings before the relentless drills drained every ounce of energy from them.
The trainers had been merciless, not because they lacked care, but because they understood the necessity of pushing the freshborns to their limits. Every movement, every drop of sweat, was a step toward survival. As soon as the institute confirmed the last freshborn's arrival, the trainers had descended—strict, demanding, and exacting in their methods—to ensure that every child adapted quickly to the rigors of their new existence.
Abunar eventually reached his assigned dormitory within Sector Zero. The room, though modest, was surprisingly warm and inviting compared to the harsh training halls. Vibrant colors adorned the walls, and bunk beds arranged in neat rows added a personal touch to each space. The dorm was designed not only for rest and recovery but also to stimulate the young minds, reminding them that even in the midst of war, hope and creativity could flourish.
The space, though small, was designed with vibrant colors and creative touches meant to foster a sense of belonging—a first true home for these young warriors. Still, the energy was low after the day's torturous drills.
The room was shared by ten freshborns. He had only met two of his roommates so far, as it was their first day and some hadn't even unpacked yet. As soon as the institute confirmed the last freshborn's arrival, the trainers had descended to begin the relentless regimen, claiming it was for the children's own benefit—to force them to adapt to their rapidly changing bodies.
For someone who had barely learned to run, this training was brutal. The trainer showed no pity, his methods as harsh as they were necessary, leaving no room for weakness.
Abunar was assigned the top bunk. Without hesitation, he clambered up and collapsed onto his bed, too exhausted to even wash himself. He knew that these six months would be a grueling journey focused primarily on body development—pushing him to surpass the natural limits of human strength.
As he lay there, the memories of the day's training—the harsh drills, the relentless pressure, the bittersweet camaraderie—mingled with a deep, silent resolve. He closed his eyes, aware that every drop of sweat and every moment of pain was a step towards becoming the warrior his people needed to survive in a harsh, unforgiving world.