She made us run around a massive track for what must’ve been hours.

After the first thirty minutes, each and every single one of us had already vomited our breakfasts.

After the first hour, a few were beginning to show signs of physical exhaustion.

But, we couldn’t stop.

We weren’t allowed to.

One of the Neophytes, Troy Francese, fell on his hands and knees, panting and shaking and vomiting water. I wanted to stop and help him and so did Olga, but Lady Khutulun was upon him before either of us could pull him up to his feet.

“Ah, the weakest link finally breaks,” She said, chuckling.

Troy fell to the ground, panting hard, covered in sweat; bits of snot, drool, and vomit still clung to his face. And tears streamed from his eyes. We saw it, quite clearly, that he tried again and again to push himself up. He was afraid – we all were – of the consequences of failure; mercy was not something the Dark Mages seemed to practice. I couldn't even begin to imagine the horrors their mentors forced them to face; Lady Victoria made me cut out someone's liver from their body.

Mercy was but a fleeting and distant concept that did not belong.

And so, he kept trying and trying to stand back up.

But, he couldn’t.

No matter how much he tried, his arms and legs were too weak. His whole body was too weak. The sheer panic he must've felt at Lady Khutulun's approach likely did not help things. “Worry not, Neophyte; you were sent to me so that I may ensure your weakness is severed. It is my mandate to train you to reach the farthest peak of your body’s potential; this weakness that you show me is but an obstacle you shall soon forget. Rejoice, for you shall be the first to learn.”

“Please…..” Troy rasped.

“And yet,” Lady Khutulun snapped her fingers and a scourge whip appeared in her hands. I’d seen it only a few times before, when Japanese soldiers would drag men and women out onto the streets to be punished for some crime or another; they would be held up and their backs whipped, until the skin flayed and tore. We all shuddered, but it was too late. Not one of us had the stomach to help Troy – not even Olga, who had more guts than most. “A punishment is in order.”

We kept on running. But the horrifying sound of what came next was unmistakable.

“The penalty for weakness must be sown into the flesh, so that you may never forget… to ensure you will never regress!” Lady Khutulun raised the scourge into the air as Troy screamed and squirmed and begged for mercy.

When that didn’t work, he turned to us and begged for help. But what could we do? What could any of us do?

Tears and snot and saliva covered his face as Lady Khutulun’s hand blurred and surged down, and the clothes on his back were torn to shreds almost instantly, followed by a thunderous boom, accompanied by a light spray of blood that scattered like mist into the air. Troy's face was a mixture of shock, denial, and horror. His eyes were wide and dreadful.

My breath hitched and my stomach tightened.

The scream that followed was haunting.

I did not look.

I don’t think any of us did.

I don't think any of us had the stomach to do so.

We kept on running.

Troy kept on screaming, begging for her to stop, begging for the one thing that could not and will never be given to him - to any of us - if we failed.

Mercy....

Lady Khutulun did not stop.

The horrifying sound made by her scourge as it broke the air and tore through skin and flesh again and again and again continued for what must’ve been an entire minute, until Troy’s screams turned into whimpers and those whimpers turned into silence. I risked a glance and saw his body, tiny and weak, lying prone on the grass, covered in blood and gashes – so many crimson gashes on his back that it was difficult to see just where his skin actually was. Lady Khutulun bent down, grabbed him by his hair, and tossed him away from the track.

Troy’s unconscious form tumbled and fell as though he was nothing more than a broken doll. His back was torn open, revealing muscles and blood, underneath ravaged and twisted skin. He was breathing – still alive, still crying even as he slept. But the immense pain that wracked his body must’ve forcibly shut away his consciousness.

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I did not want to end up like him.

No one did.

So, I ran as best as I could. We were going in circles. There was no point in going fast. Those who fell would be punished, right? I had to focus on not falling, but also keeping myself running. So, I slowed down and forced my breathing to slow down as well. I took deep and steady inhales with my mouth, before gradually exhaling from my nose. It worked well enough.

Olga, surprisingly, was quick to follow my example as she breathed in deep and gradually stalled. I wanted to ask her if she was fine, but talking would just exhaust me even more than I already was. No, I had to conserve my breaths; the fact that she was still on her feet, running, was indicative enough of her wellbeing.

Besides, Olga was far from the weakest of us, Neophytes.

Maintain a steady, but not exhausting, pace. It was the only way we’d last long enough to survive this new hell.

“This is what happens to those of you who fall!” She roared and struck the open air with her scourge, breaking the air and creating a sound that was akin to a mix of thunder and gunshot. It spurned us all on. The air was rank with fear. Lady Khutulun laughed. There was something twisted about her crimson eyes – more than usual, at least. She was enjoying this. “Weakness will not be tolerated! Keep running!”

By that point, the other Neophytes had begun to follow Olga’s and my example. We were all slowing down, but we were also maintaining a steady pace as we ran circles.

Lady Khutulun eyed us, the scourge in her hands.

I thought, for sure, someone was about to be whipped again and that someone was probably me, since I started this.

And then, she nodded and smiled, seemingly impressed.

Oh… so we were supposed to be slowing down and not bolting?

And then, it clicked.

The purpose of the activity was for us to find a way to conserve energy while running. It was meant to teach us to last longer by essentially rationing our bodily resources. One way or another, we would fall to exhaustion; there was no escaping that. But, with the right breathing and the right pace, it was possible to prolong the inevitable.

Fortunately, everyone in the group realized the same thing.

And so, we began running at a sedate pace. It was extremely tiring, but manageable. Running at full speed, as we all did in the beginning, was definitely the wrong thing to do.

It went on for another twenty or so minutes, constantly running and running. The dark robes were strangely cool, despite all the movement. I’d expected the thick and black cloth to be uncomfortable and humid, but it wasn’t. Still, my sweat slowly, but surely trickled out of my skin and drenched my robes. My breaths grew more ragged with every passing minute. And, still, we were not told to stop.

Troy was still unconscious, lying in the dirt with Lady Khutulun’s foot pressing down on his scourged back.

I did my best to ignore him and the threat of ending up like him.

It was surprisingly easy to do so when all I could think of was the ceaseless running and planting one foot on the ground and the next.

I glanced at our instructor and noted the growing boredom in her eyes. She looked at us with dark and ponderous eyes.

Lady Khutulun was definitely about to do something.

My eyes widened as a foreboding sensation made its way into my gut.

She looked bored.

And then, her blazing crimson eyes intensified. And her lips widened into a smile, which then turned into a grin.

Oh no.

Suddenly cackling madly, Lady Khutulun raised her hands in the air and began chucking massive balls of flame right at us. “RUN RUN RUN LITTLE CHICKENS HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“This puta is fucking crazy!!” Antonio screamed as a globule of fire surged through the air and exploded on the ground right behind us. The heat that radiated outwards was intense, like a great bonfire in a cold night.

A screeching ball of fire passed above my head, before landing and exploding in the distance, resulting in an eruption of bright red and orange flames that lit up the open field.

Our teacher was trying to kill us.

“They’re all fucking crazy!” I bit back, ducking and weaving as I ran. This reminded me too much of the second trial; the only difference was that there were no corpses for me to hide under.

The next explosion happened right next to the Japanese-looking kid who was running at the very edge of the track – not Kaede – which promptly broke both his legs and sent him flying overhead in a shower of flaming debris, screaming, bleeding and severely burnt. One of his eyeballs popped out of his skull right before he landed beside Troy. The kid screamed and moaned, before Lady Khutulun kicked his face. He stopped moving after that.

I wasn’t sure if he was still alive and I don’t think it mattered.

“Yes, KEEP RUNNING!” Lady Khutulun roared as she cackled madly. “A true battlefield is so much worse! THIS IS BUT A TASTE OF IT! KEEP RUNNING, MY LITTLE PIGLETS! HAHAHHAHA!!”

We started running away from her as fast as we could.

At the very least, there was plenty of open land to run towards. Unfortunately, Lady Khutulun was insane and sent even more balls of fire careening towards us as though the last batch wasn’t and one badly burnt student was not enough. The ground shook as the fireballs exploded everywhere around us. They weren’t aiming for anyone in particular, I noted, and seemed to just be flying at random directions.

Nowhere was safe.

Underneath the blood-red skies, we ran for our lives.

My vision dimmed. My breaths quickened and shallowed. The world seemed but a distant blur. Colors shifted and melded. And the screams of my fellow neophytes were naught but a haze of inaudible sounds. Time itself seemed to slow down as I took one step forward, followed by another and another and another. My legs burned and ached. My muscles screamed and begged for rest. My robes were drenched in sweat. The grass and the soil beneath my feet were soft and made running somewhat easier by absorbing the force of my strides. I glanced at my side; a flash of blonde hair told me Olga was frantically running right beside me.

A shower of flaming globules filled the air, screeching and hissing as they surged faster than we could run.

There was nowhere to hide.

We scattered and fanned out, though I figured it was mostly unintentional as everyone was too panicked and too scared to even think of a plan. Not that there was anything we could do. Our own teacher was throwing literal bombs our way. Most of us could just barely channel our magic in a meaningful way. We couldn’t fight back. And so, what could we do but run?

“Uriel, watch out!” It was Olga’s voice.

“Huh?”

A ball of fire exploded beneath my feet. I screamed as my legs disappeared in a flash of fire and ash and dirt.

And then everything went dark.