M2’s steady footsteps echoed softly as he guided P6 into the heart of the orphanage. The morning sun bathed the training ground in a warm glow, the air filled with the rhythmic sounds of focused discipline.

  P6’s eyes wandered, curiosity mixing with uncertainty as he observed the pupils around him. Each one was engrossed in their own task, seemingly oblivious to his arrival—but he could feel the silent weight of their unspoken observations.

  ?

  P1 was running laps around the training ground, her lithe form moving with precision and grace. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead as she pushed herself harder, her focus unwavering. Though her eyes briefly flickered toward P6 as he entered, she did not stop. She had no time for distractions. Her path was unclear, but her discipline remained unshaken.

  P2 stood near a row of wooden dummies, his strikes landing with brute force. His movements were sharp, fueled by an undercurrent of rage that simmered just beneath the surface. The dull thuds of his fists against the wood echoed across the ground. He didn’t even glance at P6. His mind was elsewhere—focused on growing stronger, on preparing for the day when he would take his revenge.

  P4 perched high in the tree house, his legs dangling lazily as he observed the scene below. His keen eyes noticed the small figure beside M2. A faint flicker of pity crossed his mind as he took in P6’s frail appearance. “Just a child,” he thought, his heart softening for a brief moment before he returned to his quiet contemplation.

  P6, however, took everything in—his gaze absorbing the world around him with a mix of awe and apprehension. There was something captivating about the disciplined chaos of the orphanage, and despite his confusion, a flicker of eagerness stirred within him.

  ?

  As they approached the hut, M2’s pace slowed.

  The assistant stood nearby, her gentle demeanor contrasting with the harshness of the training ground. Her eyes, warm and kind, immediately noticed the fragile boy standing beside M2.

  “Take care of him,” M2 spoke softly, his voice laced with quiet trust. “Help him understand the ways of this place. Make him comfortable… and introduce him to the others.”

  The assistant’s expression softened even more. “Of course,” she replied warmly, her gaze settling on P6 with quiet compassion.

  P6’s attention briefly shifted to P3, who stood nearby, watching the interaction with calm, measured eyes.

  P3, older and wiser than the others, offered a gentle wave—a silent gesture of welcome. His face carried no judgment, no assumptions. Just quiet acceptance.

  P6, however, didn’t wave back. His lips barely curled into a faint smile before he looked away, uncertainty clouding his expression.

  P3 didn’t seem to mind. He simply stood there, a pillar of silent understanding.

  ?

  The assistant knelt down slightly, her voice soothing as she spoke to P6.

  “Come,” she said softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

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  She led him to a small washroom tucked away near the hut. P6 felt the cool water wash away the dirt and blood that clung to him, as though it was cleansing more than just his skin. The assistant handed him fresh clothes—simple, yet comfortable—and he slipped into them without a word.

  “Better now?” she asked gently, her eyes searching for any sign of ease.

  P6 gave a barely perceptible nod.

  ?

  Once he was ready, she guided him toward the training ground.

  As they walked, her voice filled the quiet spaces, offering him a glimpse of the world he had just stepped into.

  “This is where Master 1 and Master 2 train the pupils.” Her tone was patient and warm. “Master 1 focuses on knowledge, spiritual auras, and the ways of weapons. He comes from the village and will be here soon.”

  P6 listened intently, his mind slowly piecing together the fragments of this new reality.

  “Master 2…” her voice softened slightly, “…well, you’ve met him.”

  P6’s eyes briefly glanced toward the training ground where M2 stood, silently observing from a distance.

  “He teaches combat—the way of survival.”

  The assistant’s voice lowered, as if confiding a secret. “You’re safe here. And whatever you choose to do with your life… this is where it begins.”

  ?

  They entered the bunk room next.

  The air was still, carrying the faint scent of aged wood. Six neatly arranged bunk beds filled the room, their sheets tucked with meticulous care.

  P5 lay sprawled across one of the beds, her face half-buried in her pillow.

  The assistant’s smile turned playful as she quietly shook P5’s shoulder.

  “Wake up…” she whispered gently.

  P5 groaned softly, her eyes barely fluttering open before she mumbled incoherently and buried her face deeper into the pillow.

  The assistant’s patience wore thin.

  “I said… WAKE UP!”

  Her voice echoed through the room, jolting P5 upright like a startled cat. “I’M UP! I’M UP!” she yelped, her hair a tangled mess as she blinked around in confusion.

  “It’s almost time for Master 1 to arrive,” the assistant said with a grin, her voice laced with mock sternness.

  “Ugh…” P5 groaned, rubbing her eyes. But the moment her gaze landed on P6, a new expression flashed across her face.

  “Another loser in the squad…” she thought to herself, her mind quick to form an opinion. But she kept her thoughts to herself as she dragged herself out of bed.

  “I’m going,” she muttered under her breath and bolted toward the washroom, her grogginess fading with every hurried step.

  ?

  The assistant turned to P6, her expression once again gentle.

  “You should rest,” she said softly, her voice filled with quiet kindness. “It’s been a long journey.”

  P6 hesitated, his body still tense, but exhaustion weighed heavily on him. As he moved toward one of the empty bunk beds, a tired whisper escaped his lips.

  “Thank you…”

  His voice was barely audible, breaking with emotion.

  The assistant’s smile softened. She gently brushed a hand over his head.

  “Think of us as family now.”

  Her voice was a whisper, but it carried a warmth that filled the empty spaces in P6’s heart.

  As she turned to leave, a single tear rolled down her cheek, trailing toward her chin as she stepped out of the room.

  P6 finally allowed his tired body to sink into the comfort of the bed. His eyelids grew heavy, and for the first time since the massacre… sleep came.