(POV of the Male Hero)

War has always plagued the world. Humans fight for anything they want, and a Country fights for prosperity. The result is such a thing called War. During these times, the country forcefully conscripts all males to be put in the army. Age limit? There was no such thing. Children were to be trained until they can fight for the country, those who are mature enough are trained with the bare minimum and are to be immediately put nto the battlefield.

I was one of those children. For the soldier's convenience, children were not named, only labeled. I was only seven at that time. Children at my age were supposed to play outside, and enjoy the youth that they have. Alas, our playtime is to have live ammunition practice. We were thouroughly trained that the lessons seeped deep into our bones.

However, not all children can endure such hell. The ratio of those that live after the hellish training was 3 out of 10. It may not seem alot, but to my country, it was enough. After all, those who survived those days were said to be the elite of elites. They were trained to kill, they were taught to kill, they live to kill. Their only reason was to kill their enemy.

Ten years. For ten years straight, we went through that hell. Before the sun rises in the morning, we ran laps around a military base in the outskirts of a forest that is in the opposite direction of the battlefield. We ran, and ran and ran. We must ran, or else we will get punished. A few hours after the sun rose, we begin breakfast. Though I said breakfast, it was only bread and soup. We are to be grateful enough to have some, after all the country doesn't steadily provide us rations. There were times that not all children ate breakfast, and some only ate bread.

We are given an hour of break, then we are to directly head into the training grounds. One portion of children are to train in CQC, another in weapon handling, the other in shooting practice. I was trained under the weapon handling section, in other words, soldiers that rely on guns. But I hated that. If I were to be disarmed, I would be completely helpless in the battlefield. In the camp, self-practice was allowed. I believe it was the General's way of making us independent. In my spare time, I would watch the combat group practice. I absorbed every movement, every action they make. The time we spent on the training grounds was until dusk. After that, dinner was served.

The last training after dinner was live practice. The children would fight against each other in an attempt to display the skills that they have gained. Wooden weapons were used, and those in the weapon handling group would use slings and the like. They would take distance in order to not get trashed by the more muscle-developed combat group. The fight itself was fair and equal. However, there were times that children die during the fights. The soldiers, however, pay no heed to such things.

After the combat exercise, we sleep. Rinse, and repeat. That is how we children of war lived our youthful years before we are sent to the battlefield. Some children are dispatched earlier than others. Then there are those that have to stay a bit more longer than others. During that time, if they failed to prove their worth, they are still to be dispatched to the front lines. It's that, 'Sending someone into their own grave' thing. No matter how useless they turn out to be, they were trained by the soldiers for years, they ought to have some use.

However, those that have the feeling of rebelling were killed by the soldiers. There was someone in the past that tried to kill the General in the camp. He died a dog's death. He was captured, limbs were broken and torn one after another, skinned alive, nailed, cauterized. He was tortured slowly in the center of the camp day by day. In his last breath, he was burned alive. His screams still echoed in my ears. After that, the children never thought of rebelling again.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Then our time came.Ten years of hellish training has ended. We were sent into the battlefield.

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"LISTEN! You maggots have now graduated from our supervision! You are no longer the trash you were. You are no longer what you used to be. You guys are soldiers. You guys are assassins. Your objectives are only to kill the enemy in front. You are to use everything at your disposable, even your life. Fight for your country!"

Is he seriously saying that?

The General at the camp was more fearsome and powerful than this man. And we are under his supervision? This must be a joke. Currently, we are gathered here in rank and file to hear the speech of the General that was assigned to us. One noticable thing about this gathering is that, ten of us is separated from the other graduates. We are that Specialized Team that the General at camp was bragging about. He called us 'Elites'.

"That is all! You maggots are dismissed!"

It was time. The lousy General has finished his speech. It was then, that someone else came on stage. A girl with short, dazzling blonde hair came on stage. That rank... a Superior General?! That's a rank above General, one of the two greatest rank the Country has, and only three persons weilds it! A girl possessing such rank, and one that is young no less, what is she? Her age looks around 20, I guess? In any case, she looks young. Her height looks about 150 cm. And those eyes... Sapphire blue eyes that stares directly into one's soul... She stands in front of our rank.

"I am 2nd Rank Superior General Sela Luveria. You ten are under my supervision. You don't need to heed anyone else unless they have the same rank as mine or higher. Follow me, and we shall bring victory to our Country."

Her words resound my very soul. On that day, I decided that I will follow her as long as I breath.

The outcome of the war was decided on that day. My Country has triumphed in repelling the enemy invader, and has also conquered them. These feats were done within two years. Our team's name was not recorded in history. We are after all, a secret force that moves in the shadows. There were rumors though. But no one can affirm them, as no one has a concrete grasp of them. During the time of war, our team was reduced from 11 to 4. Sela, me, one woman and one man. We are the remains of the so called Elites.

I'll leave out the details of the war. That will be a story for another day. Though, I suppose I'll tell you what happened after that.

After the war has ended, we Elites spent our time in the capital. Even if the war has ended, we are forces that are necessary for upholding order and peace. Although, there are only 4 of us. No one can replace the lost Elites. There were replacements, but Sela sent them back after she deemed them useless and incompetent.

Huh? What do you mean we still have our ego? Ah, that part about trained to kill, taught to kill and live to kill? You can say we are different. Though I say that, most of the graduates do become like that. I am one of the very few that retained their ego and sanity. The other two regained some of theirs through their experiences in war.

Now, we mostly idle around in the capital as reserved forces. The other two digilently work as instructors in the capital. Sela often takes breaks from work, and I would do the same. While I think we are being treated as decorated trophies, I don't mind it. Although, there was something that was lacking.

What is this unsettling feeling? It was only a few months after the war ended. Yet, I feel that there is something missing.

It was an indescribable feeling that I cannot put into words.

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