Alex knew one could not take too many Lord’s seeds at once, maybe not even two. He didn’t see how Vova lit up on fire, but contrary to the bishop and others knew exactly what happened. Of course, he didn’t expect the boy to suddenly combust and burn alive after consuming ‘mere’ dozen or so seeds, but who told him to take that last cookie?

To make Vova the best possible scapegoat, not only Alex had to hide the small boxes under floor planks in Vova’s room, he also had to make Vova overdose on Lord’s seeds. Thus he baked his signature cookies again, but this time one had especially ‘rich filling’. He dropped this specific cookie on the floor after slamming in Vova’s door and knew the guy would pick it up and eat – just like he had done several times before.

Now was important to not follow Vova’s footsteps and pace himself appropriately. Alex kept repeating it to himself over and over again like some kind of mantra, because for the last five days he continued to consume one Lord’s seed every evening and found it hard to resist taking more. He was just like any other creature drawn by a source of energy, except he had at least some control over himself.

During the day he pretended to look worn out and tired, but now not only he didn’t feel any fatigue – because of the abundance of energy from the Lord’s seeds, he easily continued to cultivate the force of nature while marching along with others. Of course, on the outside he didn’t show any signs of awakening of the holy power, but soon others noticed his improvement.

Alex kind of still was a chosen, therefore improvement was expected and no one was surprised. But the condescending looks didn’t stop as he looked quite miserable compared to others. Of course he didn’t care and continued like this until they arrived at the garrison where the most elite troops of the Holy empire were stationed.

The garrison was basically a small fortress-like city – with tall stone walls surrounding it and only one well guarded entrance. Seeing this, Alex sighed understanding he would not be able to leave on his own and the escape had to wait.

Former students and staff from the College of evangelism were brought here for their final training, thus Alex decided to use this time and finally learn some actual combat skills. Of course, he had some prior knowledge of self defense, but he was a child now and if he had to fight someone twice his size, it would be a total disaster. Even if he had a sword or spear in his hand, he could only clumsily slash or poke and any average soldier would just slap him dead.

Unfortunately things turned out to be much worse than expected. Not only for Alex, but for all chosen.

Until they were forced to leave the college, they were treated like prodigies, Lord’s children and humans of a higher standing. But suddenly, here they were turned in to common soldiers. And even though some of them were sixteen years old youths or even a bit older, most were still only children.

This was where the once high and mighty chosen learned the meaning of the term ‘hell’. The lived in large, primitive tents, ate disgusting porridge and got continuously abused in combat training that was nothing else but trashing the weak. Under the threat of a capital punishment everyone was forbidden to talk and so the previously proud chosen suddenly transformed into mute wretches.

Already their first morning began with running around the fortress while carrying heavy shields, then ‘sparring’ in the arena and those who were still conscious got their smelly meal. In the afternoon they had exercises that included heavy lifting, stretching and standing in the horse stance with wooden pikes under their bottoms.

Needless to say, dozens of chosen were crippled during the first day and rare was the person who didn’t have broken ribs. Two chosen and one of the former teachers who allowed themselves to show displeasure with this treatment got executed on the spot.

Luckily Alex had his Lord’s seeds and could completely heal up after a night’s sleep. But nothing of this made sense to him. What happened in the fortress went against every basic concept of theocracy. No religion would allow to humiliate their priests like this to not speak about killing them in the open.

But on the second morning Alex noticed a familiar face conversing with the leader of the holy warriors, probably a general of some sorts, and all became clear. It was one of the investigators he saw back in the college. They obviously had not given up on the stolen Lord’s seeds and interrogating the bishop Phelippe, missing teachers and chosen gave no results. It only left them with two options – either the seeds were really stolen by Vova or someone else was involved and that someone else was one of the present people in the garrison.

The first option was probably too hard to believe and thus the investigators were left only with the second. From what it looked like, they would abuse the chosen and their former teachers, observe and afterwards interrogate. Of course, Alex knew the scapegoat was poorly made, but he never suspected the investigators would go to such lengths. It all pointed at the fact that Alex greatly undervalued the significance and worth of the Lord’s seeds.

There was no way for Alex to run and more importantly – there was nowhere to hide his staff or the seeds in it. In addition, he actually needed those to simply survive the upcoming days because after their arrival each chosen got assigned to their personal ‘tutor’ – a holy warrior who kept mercilessly beating them under the pretense of a combat training. This time they were not dressed in their signature shiny and imposing armor, but had a light leather gear on, similar to what hunters wear, carried wooden sticks that supposed to be swords and used those to teach the ‘proper techniques’.

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For the next three days Alex endured the ‘teachings’ of his ‘mentor’, every time ending up with something broken. It was remarkable how the holy warrior managed to control his strength and inflicted the maximum amount of pain with a wooden stick while giving only bruises or few cracked ribs, but at the same time not killing ‘the student’.

In addition, he somehow remembered the inflicted injuries from the previous days and even if Alex didn’t ‘repair’ himself overnight, they wouldn’t worsen too much. Of course, the man didn’t shy off from making new ones as a part of the ‘casual practice’ thus increasing Alex’s difficulty of act with every new day.

Other chosen were not as lucky and didn’t have Lord’s seeds on them, thus their condition worsened by day. Alex, of course, didn’t care about their problems and only did his best to look as bad as they did.

When on the fourth morning Alex pretended to drag his fake-exhausted body out of the tent, he saw his ‘mentor’ discussing something with another holy warrior. This one was obviously much younger, although also tall and strong looking. In the end the older holy warrior shrugged and went away leaving the other one behind. From what it looked like for some reason the new guy became Alex’s new ‘mentor’.

‘F*ck my life!’ Alex cursed to himself.

He glanced at the new guy who let a satisfied grin flash across his face. He was of average looks, neatly shaven, but had longer hair that almost fell on his shoulders. To Alex’s despair the new guy seemed to be happy and energetic, and it definitely was not a good sign.

Even though the old one was rough, at least he knew where the previous injuries were supposed to be and didn’t hit Alex hard or at all in those spots. But the new guy would ‘start from scratch’ and Alex would have to endure the same torture all over.

For some reason things went completely differently. While the new guy did land some painful hits, most were something like throws that only made Alex dirty. Out of habit Alex groaned and gave out soft cries of pain which for some reason resonated on his new mentor’s face. He seemed to care for his student’s pain although did his best to hide it and it felt as if he was forced to beat Alex up against his will.

This was the second time something didn’t make any sense after they arrived here and Alex’s concluded that the only reasonable explanation was the new guy also being from the investigator squad and he was supposed to play some kind of ‘good cop’ role. When during the next couple days chosen one after another got taken away only to never return, Alex confirmed this assumption.

What threw him off was that the next day after pushing Alex to the ground, the ‘teacher’ came over, with a wide swing kicked him with a kick that didn’t hurt at all, then picked him up only to heavily shake and whisper, “Pretend to loose consciousness and don’t wake up until I say so. The others are dying.”

Alex widened his eyes in surprise, but the holy warrior smacked him hard – this time for real. And Alex lost his consciousness, also for real.

Alex woke up in his tent, lying on the old sleeping bag. It took a while for him to register where he was and just as he was about to curse the teacher for giving him a concussion, he remembered the teacher’s last sentence. Alex immediately closed his eyes while the gears in his head spun at increased rate.

This was definitely too much of an overkill if that holy warrior was playing ‘good cop’ to get a better cooperation during the upcoming investigation. Something was wrong! Was he really some kind of a ‘good samaritan’ who cared for a poor chosen? But the guy definitely was a holy warrior who reeked of blood. His arms were strong enough to use as paddles for a small ship, but he still managed to ‘gently’ punch Alex around for days.

‘Others are dying’ was what Alex already suspected, but if it was not a play, the warrior risked his life only by saying it! Alex went back and forth with many theories, but couldn’t think of anything. In the end he decided to follow the warrior’s advice and pretend to be unconscious for a while.

When they arrived there were fifteen other chosen with him in the tent. Five were already gone when Alex fell in the fake coma. During the next three days he heard fewer and fewer people coming back until on the fourth day no one came.

All this time Alex continued to motionlessly lie on his sleeping bag. It was incredibly uncomfortable and he wanted to stretch a bit and run around, but all he allowed himself was to cultivate the force of nature while no one seemed to be around.

Few times a day someone came and fed him water, but Alex didn’t intend to take any unnecessary risks and didn’t open his eyes to see who it was. That person was clumsy and seemed to not be used of nursing others, but at least someone cared.

On the fifth morning Alex heard several people approaching the tent and it was unlikely they brought good news.

“Check him!” A man in a raspy voice ordered.

Someone, probably some kind of a doctor, rushed over to Alex, checked his pulse, breathing and raised the left eyelid to verify his condition. Alex didn’t see who it was since he rolled his eyes back as much as possible as a precaution.

“Doesn’t look good.” The one who inspected Alex reported.

“I don’t care! Wake him up.” The raspy voice commanded again, “He’s the last one so it’s no big deal if he dies during the interrogation. We already established that the bishop most likely was behind it. This kid is just a formality.”

‘F*ck you!’ Alex inwardly screamed while trying to remain motionless, ‘Your mama is a formality!’

From what it looked like, the few days the good samaritan bought him only prolonged the inevitable and he really didn’t want to get interrogated. Not only these guys would find out he had no injuries despite the fierce beating, they would torture out of him any information they wanted! He read about the ancient torture methods during his first life and had no illusions about the subject.

He had to run! And he had to do it now!