Miko’s rapid sprint prompted the others to accelerate, their legs pumping harder as they tried to keep up. Kie and Tee quickly assumed the lead, leaving Zod and Saeda—who was barely managing to stay upright—struggling at the back.

  The mountain path twisted and narrowed, forcing them to adjust their strides as the incline steepened, the rocky terrain threatening to throw off their balance.

  Tee tore her gaze away from Miko to glare at the back of Kie’s head, anger boiling within her even before she reached his side. The moment she started to move ahead, Kie caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye and instinctively increased his pace, determined not to be outdone. Their movements quickly fell into an unspoken rhythm, neither willing to yield, their strides keeping them side by side.

  Talking was unthinkable at that moment. Preserving energy was paramount; the summit still loomed far above, and every ounce of stamina mattered. Tee’s breaths came in short, sharp bursts, echoing in her ears alongside the rhythmic pounding of Kie’s footsteps. A chuckle from him suddenly penetrated her focus, light and mischievous, threading itself into the cadence of her own labored breathing. She glanced at him sidelong, catching his wide grin, though the source of his amusement remained a mystery.

  Her eyes flicked to a large scar beneath his rolled-up sleeve, high on his shoulder. The sight hit her with an almost physical force, a wave of repulsion that made her look away, fighting the nausea that threatened to rise.

  She tried to refocus on the path ahead, yet her gaze kept darting back to him, drawn to the intricate web of scars scattered across his body, hidden beneath layers of clothing. She couldn’t see his legs, but intuition whispered they bore marks as well.

  She had never noticed the scars on other parts of his body before; he was usually covered up. The sheer number of them was bizarre, almost unnatural. Was it a skin condition? Only someone with a dangerous past, like a serial killer, would carry so many. Or perhaps he truly had spent nine years in the Mid-Guard, as he claimed. The uncertainty gnawed at her, leaving her mind swirling with possibilities.

  Suddenly, her left foot snagged on an unseen obstacle. Time seemed to slow as she flailed, her body careening forward before crashing violently onto her palms. She had narrowly avoided a face-first collision with the ground.

  "Uh!" she grunted, her body sliding awkwardly as she vanished from Kie’s side. He immediately halted, turning back to see her sprawled on the rough path behind him.

  “Hey, you alright?” he asked, lifting a hand to help her up.

  Just then, Zod sprinted past, laughing. “Oh oh, Grandma has fallen and can’t get up.”

  Kie bit his lip, suppressing a chuckle as Tee felt a flush of embarrassment rise to her cheeks. Her eyes caught the further scars along his hand, and instinctively she hesitated before taking it. When she finally accepted his grip, he quickly withdrew, as if aware of her scrutiny, leaving no room for thanks. The silence between them stretched as they ran side by side, tension unspoken but palpable.

  Neither pushed to outrun Zod; it was clear he was racing only against himself. Saeda remained at the back, indifferent to placement, focused solely on maintaining her pace.

  At the mountain’s summit, Tee and Kie were taken aback to see Miko and the Commander waiting by a small table laden with refreshments. Miko perched on a rock, seemingly as if she had been waiting for hours.

  “Finally, something to eat,” Tee said, approaching the table, only to be met with disappointment: cut fruit and water.

  Kie noticed her dismay and offered a pragmatic comment. “Something’s better than nothing,” he said, shoving a piece of fruit into his mouth, averting his gaze.

  Soon, Zod and Saeda arrived, breathless, collapsing onto their knees without taking in the view. Their chests heaved as they tried to recover, oblivious to the surrounding landscape.

  The Commander spoke, his tone measured but firm. “What you’ve done so far is warm-up. You’ll be able to do it all in approximately an hour.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The five teens froze. An hour? Madness. The earlier mention of wielding and lifting the colossal sword resurfaced in Tee’s mind. Clearly, the Commander had impossibly high expectations.

  Dismissed for the day, they returned to the living complex through a newly summoned vortex. Their muscles ached, soreness spreading like wildfire with every step.

  Walking through the kitchen, limp and sore, Saeda remarked, “Luckily there was some leftover food and ready-made snacks to eat.”

  They glimpsed the pile of dirty dishes from breakfast, the accumulation from the past few days.

  “Just warm-up,” Miko groaned, pressing her palms to her face as she collapsed onto the couch. “I’m going to die here.”

  Zod sat beside her, holding a cup of juice. Comfortingly, he said, “Miko, you’ll be fine. It’s just the first day.”

  Tears streaked Miko’s cheeks.

  “Where does it hurt?” he asked, concern threading his tone.

  She lifted her hand, “Everywhere.”

  Zod set his glass of cold water against one of her hands. “I’ll go search if we have any ice-packs,” he added, glancing at Tee, who watched silently from the opposite couch. The memory of his earlier teasing flashed through her mind, but she remained unmoved, waiting.

  The next day, the same “warm-up” regimen was repeated, though it took less time. They moved on to the training room, where the Commander unveiled more sections. Timed treadmills demanded specific speed and duration from each participant, the Commander observing their performance critically.

  Miko’s treadmill emitted an unusual noise, prompting the Commander to reach for the controls, while the others stole glances, captivated. The belt whirred at astonishing speed, her limbs a blur, her red-dyed hair streaking behind her like fire.

  They faced holographic sparring drones, grateful for the cushioned hits that spared them pain when strikes landed. Reaction grid floors flashed in unpredictable sequences, forcing split-second dodges, jumps, or strikes. Hover platforms tested equilibrium, and Miko excelled at mid-air balance, while Tee, Zod, and Kie dominated airborne attacks. Saeda struggled with endurance.

  Semi-solid liquid surface pools induced laughter as they resisted pressure differently with each step, honing balance.

  “I feel like I’m walking on water,” Zod remarked, grinning.

  Impact slabs recorded the force and accuracy of their punches or kicks. Tee thrived here, imagining MG officials as targets. Multi-vector pull towers challenged reflexes with cables tugging unpredictably.

  Inside the cage, they practiced “adult tag,” where the goal was to touch an opponent before being tagged. Tee faced Saeda first.

  Saeda lunged, her hand a blur. Tee pivoted, slipping past, her hair brushing Saeda’s knuckles. The cage echoed with swift movements. Saeda feinted, but Tee’s precision outmaneuvered her. A single tap of Tee’s palm on Saeda’s shoulder ended the round.

  Next, Tee faced Kie. His expression remained serious, red eyes captivating yet intimidating. She raised her fists, aware of his half-glare, silently acknowledging their unspoken tension about the scars she had noticed. They circled, cautious, until Tee evaded a punch effortlessly, their hands brushing lightly—a fleeting, charged moment before the Commander ended it.

  “Next,” he ordered. Tee bristled at losing so quickly.

  “Welcome to the losers gang,” Saeda teased.

  Miko’s speed allowed her to touch both Kie and Zod in a split second, claiming her own small victory.

  The sword station followed: concrete structure, handles revealing wooden swords, which Tee and Kie repeatedly broke. The next day, they faced metal swords against a ten-inch thick pole, each strike leaving their fingers numb despite bandages.

  Saeda, typically doing light cleaning, struggled, while Zod and Miko prepared meals—popcorn, frozen cookies—ignoring the Commander’s lectures about responsibility. Plates and trash piled, the stench growing worse with each passing day.

  Tee abstained from chores, sipping coffee, mentally preparing for the next day’s training.

  “Tee, are you seriously doing this again today?” Saeda snapped, frustration cutting through the room.

  Tee rested one elbow on the table, her hand under her jaw, feigning ignorance.

  “You can’t just make coffee and call it a day, you know. We all need to contribute,” Saeda pressed.

  Standing over her, black eyes sharp, Saeda glared.

  “Yes, there are five forks left,” Zod said, readying utensils and diverting Saeda’s attention.

  The stack of dirty dishes and foul odors caught everyone’s notice. Miko quipped, “I can't wrap my head around how the dishes and utensils aren't all clean after several days.”

  Szdera slammed the fridge shut. “That's because we don’t have any helpers here.”

  Kie entered, placing a mug on the counter. “That doesn’t seem right, considering we're the Sentinels of the planet. Some joke.”

  Saeda added, recalling the Commander’s lecture, “The Commander did mention that we are responsible adults now and should take care of our own chores. Tee and Kie, you guys can handle the dishes.”