The last few spoonfuls of soup scraped from the bottom of Victor's bowl as he finished the meal. It wasn't satisfying, but it was enough. Around him, the other boys were doing the
same, some gulping theirs down, others picking at it like they were trying to delay the inevitable.
Jeffrey stood at the far end of the hall, arms crossed and eyes like cold steel.
"Time's up," he barked. "Rats, get moving. Back to your holes."
A low grumble passed through the group, but no one argued.
Victor stood and followed the flow of bodies through a different set of doors. As they stepped through, he blinked at what greeted him.
The hallway opened into a stone corridor lined with rows of iron-barred cells. The place was dimly lit by wall-mounted torches, casting long shadows along the rough floor.
Each cell was small—tightenough to make someone claustrophobic—with only a single metal bunk bed and a toilet tucked into the far corner.
Victor blinked. The toilet looked... modern.
A plain porcelain bowl with a working flush system. No medieval wooden bench or pit in sight.
"Okay," he whispered to himself.
"Wasn't expecting that."
Jeffrey's voice cut through his thoughts.
"These are your new living quarters," he called out. "When you're not training, bleeding, or dying, this is where you sleep. Two rats per cell. Pick a partner. Move it."
There was a quiet shuffle as the boys started pairing off, some calling out to each other, others moving purely by instinct.
Victor didn't hesitate.
He spotted Caelum walking toward a cell at the far end and fell in behind him.
Caelum said nothing. He opened the gate, stepped inside, and climbed onto the lower bunk without a glance.
Victor sighed and pulled himself up to the top bunk, not without effort. His limbs still ached from yesterday, but not nearly as much.
Once settled, he stared at the ceiling.
No one spoke.
Everyone was tired. Bruised. Quiet.
Victor closed his eyes.
He wasn't going to get much out of Caelum tonight anyway. He could feel it—walls up, mind focused, emotions locked down.
That was fine.
He was tired too.
Besides, cracking humans was what he did best, it would just take some time.
Sleep took him faster than he expected.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sound of metal slamming against metal jolted Victor awake.
His eyes opened slowly. The pounding in his head from yesterday was gone, replaced by a dull throb of soreness.
A guard stood at the bars, banging a club against the iron.
"Up! You've got ten seconds to stand, or I drag you by your ankles!"
Victor groaned and rolled out of the top bunk, landing with a soft thud.
He looked around the cell, still half-asleep. Caelum was already up and slipping on his boots.
The guard pointed to the hallway. "Training grounds. Move."
Victor started to follow, but the guard stuck a hand out.
"Not you. You're going with him."
He gestured behind him to another man in similar armor, standing with arms crossed.
"Jeffrey wants you. Training, apparently."
Victor blinked. "Training? Alone?"
The guard didn't respond. He just motioned again.
Victor glanced once at Caelum, who gave him the briefest look before disappearing with the others.
A flicker of uncertainty rose in Victor's chest.
The Genesis System hadn't made a sound since yesterday. No notifications. No runes dancing before his eyes. Nothing.
Had it gone dormant?
"Alright," Victor muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's go."
As he stepped into the hall, the silence between him and the guard pressed in like a weight. The man didn't speak, didn't glance at him, just walked. It gave Victor too much time to think—about yesterday, about the quest, about his discussion with Caelum
He wasn't like the other boys. None of this was just survival instinct. Caelum had been trained before.
Victor felt uneasy. He needed to learn fast if he was going to keep up—or survive at all.
As they turned a corner, they passed by a group of older boys, dressed in rougher uniforms, their faces lined with scars and sharp glares. One of them muttered something under his breath.
Victor didn't catch it, but the laughter that followed felt like a knife under the ribs.
He kept his head down and followed the guard.
They passed through two more turns and descended a narrow staircase made of stone, worn smooth in the middle from years of use.
System, you awake in there? he thought.
Still nothing.
---
They moved through another passage
Victor followed the silent guard down winding steps until they reached a large metal door. The guard opened it and gave him a small shove inside.
The space beyond looked like a miniature training ground. Dirt floors. Dummies made of wood and straw.
Weapon racks with dull blades. Everything reeked of sweat and steel.
And in the center stood Jeffrey, arms folded, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth.
Victor's gut twisted.
So this was it.
His first day of training.
His first real step in this new life.
He took a breath.
It's my first day of this training...
"Welcome to your first day of hell, rat," Jeffrey said, cutting into his thoughts with a grin that promised pain.