The second day of training dawned with a bleak, overcast sky. A chill wind swept across the training grounds, biting through the uniforms of the assembled Halcyon elites. Despite their fatigue from the previous day, they stood at attention, their faces set with a mix of determination and trepidation.

Team Unknown arrived with the same quiet intensity as before. Ember's gaze swept over the Halcyon soldiers, his expression unreadable behind his mask. Without preamble, he addressed the group.

"Yesterday was a test of your basic capabilities," he said, his voice carrying across the field. "Today, we push you beyond your limits."

A murmur rippled through the Halcyon ranks, quickly silenced as Ember gestured toward the obstacle course looming behind him.

"Your first task is simple," he continued. "Complete the course in under fifteen minutes. Fail, and you'll run it again."

One of the Halcyon soldiers glanced at the sprawling course—a twisted maze of high walls, rope climbs, mud pits, and barbed wire crawls. "Is that even possible?" he whispered to his comrade.

"Was that a question?" Ember snapped, his eyes locking onto the soldier. The man stiffened, shaking his head.

"Then get moving," Ember ordered.

The Halcyon elites sprinted toward the starting line. The first obstacle was a series of towering walls, slick with morning dew. Soldiers scrambled up, muscles straining as they fought for grip.

Bo watched from a distance, his arms crossed. "Use your legs more," he called out to a struggling soldier. "You're wasting energy pulling with just your arms."

The soldier grunted, adjusting his technique. He managed to haul himself over, landing hard on the other side. But the moment of triumph was short-lived as he faced the next challenge: a mud pit strewn with tangled nets.

As the soldiers waded into the waist-deep mud, the suction threatened to pull off their boots. One stumbled, nearly submerged, before his teammate grabbed his arm.

"Keep moving!" Fon barked. "Every second counts."

The nets overhead were weighted, sagging dangerously close to the mud. Soldiers had to hunch low, each step a battle against the clinging muck and the oppressive weight above.

By the time they reached the rope climbs, their limbs were shaking. The ropes were frayed, swinging precariously over a pit of jagged rocks. A few soldiers hesitated, glancing down.

"Don't look down," Riggs advised coolly, appearing beside them as if from nowhere. "Fear won't keep you alive—action will."

One soldier took a deep breath, grabbing the rope. Hand over hand, he climbed, teeth gritted against the strain. Halfway up, his grip faltered.

"You let go, you fail," Val said from below, his tone devoid of sympathy. "And you start over."

The soldier's eyes met Val's mask. With a surge of determination, he tightened his grip and continued upward.

After the obstacle course, the soldiers were given a brief respite—just enough time to catch their breaths before the next ordeal.

Ember led them to an open field dotted with heavy sandbags and weighted sleds. "Strength and endurance go hand in hand," he declared. "Pair up and get to work."

The exercises were brutal: flipping heavy tires end over end, dragging sleds loaded with sandbags, carrying weighted logs across uneven terrain.

Sweat poured down faces, muscles burned, and blisters formed beneath gloves. A pair of soldiers stumbled under the weight of a log, dropping it onto the ground with a thud.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"Pick it up!" Bo shouted, striding over. "In the field, dropping your load can mean the difference between life and death—for you and your team."

They struggled to lift it again, grunting with effort.

Nearby, Val observed a group struggling with the sleds. "Lean into it," he instructed. "Use your body weight to your advantage."

One soldier glared at him. "Easy for you to say," he muttered under his breath.

Val's eyes flashed. "Excuse me?"

The soldier paled. "Nothing, sir."

"Good. Now move."

The afternoon brought hand-to-hand combat drills. Team Unknown demonstrated techniques that emphasized efficiency and lethality.

Fon stood before a group, demonstrating a takedown. "Speed isn't enough," he explained. "You need precision."

He motioned for a volunteer. A Halcyon soldier stepped forward hesitantly. In a blur of motion, Fon had him on the ground, pinned.

"See?" Fon released him, helping him back up. "Your turn."

The soldiers paired off, practicing the moves. Grunts and the sounds of bodies hitting the mats filled the air.

Ember walked among them, correcting stances and pointing out weaknesses.

"Your guard is too high," he told one. "Leaves your midsection exposed."

He stopped by another pair where one soldier was clearly overpowering his partner.

"Power isn't everything," Ember remarked. "Try using their momentum against them."

He demonstrated, taking the larger soldier by surprise and flipping him effortlessly.

Riggs focused on defense. "Anticipate your opponent's moves," he advised. "Watch their eyes, their shoulders."

A soldier scoffed. "How am I supposed to watch everything at once?"

"Practice," Riggs replied sharply. "Or get used to losing, and on the battlefield, you either live or die, you choose."

As the day wore on, the mental strain began to show. During a tactical decision-making exercise, one soldier froze, unable to choose between two bad options.

"Clock's ticking," Val said icily.

"I... I don't know," the soldier stammered.

"Indecision kills," Val snapped. "Make a choice, or others will make it for you."

The soldier took a shaky breath and made his call, but the hesitation had cost him.

Ember shook his head. "In battle, hesitation not only endangers you, but your entire team. Trust your training and act."

The last drill of the day was a timed endurance run—five miles with full gear, including weighted vests.

As the Halcyon elites set off, it was clear that exhaustion was taking its toll. Their strides were uneven, breaths ragged.

"Keep your head up," Riggs encouraged one lagging soldier. "Focus on the next step, not the miles ahead."

A mile in, one soldier collapsed, knees hitting the dirt. Fon was beside him in an instant.

"Get up," he ordered.

"I can't," the soldier gasped. "My legs—"

Fon leaned down, his voice dangerously soft. "Do you think the enemy cares about your legs? Get. Up."

Summoning his last reserves, the soldier forced himself upright and continued, Fon matching his pace.

At the finish line, Ember stood waiting, arms crossed. As each soldier crossed, he noted their times.

When the last one stumbled across, he addressed them all.

"Today, you faced yourselves," he said. "Your limits, your doubts. Remember this feeling—the pain, the fatigue. It's a fraction of what real combat will demand."

He paused, letting his words sink in.

"Dismissed."

That evening, the Halcyon soldiers gathered in their quarters, the atmosphere heavy.

"How do they do it?" one murmured. "They push us beyond breaking, but they don't even break a sweat."

"It's like they're machines," another replied.

Commander Elira entered, her gaze sweeping over them. "They're not machines," she said firmly. "They're soldiers who have honed themselves to perfection. And so can you."

She softened slightly. "Rest up. Tomorrow is the final day. Show them what Halcyon is made of."

Back at their own quarters, Team Unknown debriefed, with their masks off.

"They're improving," Fon admitted, leaning back in his chair.

"Some of them have potential," Riggs agreed.

Bo shrugged. "We'll see if they can keep it up tomorrow."

Val remained silent, staring out the window at the darkening sky.

Ember followed his gaze. "Thoughts?"

"They're pushing," Val replied quietly. "But is it enough?"

Ember's eyes narrowed. "We'll find out."

As the Halcyon soldiers settled in for the night, many found sleep elusive. The day's trials replayed in their minds—the moments of weakness, the flashes of insight.

One soldier stared at the ceiling, recalling Val's relentless gaze. "Tomorrow," he whispered to himself. "Tomorrow, I'll be better."

Across the hall, another clenched his fists. "We can't let them think we're weak. Halcyon has a reputation to uphold."

Commander Elira sat alone in her quarters, reviewing the day's footage. She saw the struggles, the corrections, the moments where her soldiers faltered and where they shone.

"We have a long way to go," she murmured. "But we're not done yet."

The second day ended with exhaustion but also a steely determination. The Halcyon elites had been pushed to their limits, but they hadn't broken.

As the first stars appeared in the sky, both teams knew that the final day would be the true test—a culmination of everything learned, every challenge faced.