The barracks were alive with the low murmur of voices. Ethan and the other recruits, though tired from the long journey and the startling events of their arrival, were still wide awake, discussing their expectations and sharing jokes. Ethan himself was sitting on the edge of his bunk, listening to Herbie and Zane bicker about who would outshine the other during the exchange. Yara’s voice echoed faintly from the girls’ barrack next door, her laughter cutting through the night.
Just as Ethan was about to lean back on his bed, a sharp whistle pierced the air, cutting through the conversations like a blade. Instinctively, every recruit in the room froze, their instincts honed by months of training. Without a word, they scrambled to their feet and hurried out of the barrack, the sound still ringing in their ears. The girls emerged from their barrack at the same time, Yara in the lead with her jacket half-on, followed closely by Iris and Elara.
“What now?” Zane muttered, pulling his boots on as he jogged.
Ethan shrugged but kept his pace steady as they all headed toward the source of the sound. It came from a clearing near the center of the outpost, where several supervisors, mentors, and other unfamiliar faces stood waiting. Torches cast flickering light across the scene, and the recruits slowed as they took in the gathering.
Ethan’s eyes widened as he spotted one particular figure among the group. An old man with a hunched posture and a face as wrinkled as dried parchment. Charon. The man who had “recruited” him into the realm, dragging him from the mortal world into this new reality. Charon’s thin lips stretched into a grin, his yellowed teeth catching the torchlight. He gave Ethan a knowing nod before turning his attention back to Gabriel, who stood at the center of the gathering.
Gabriel, ever calm and composed, raised a hand to silence the murmurs of the recruits as they arrived. He was dressed simply, his sharp, middle-aged features illuminated by the firelight. Despite his lack of wings or any outward signs of his angelic status, his presence commanded attention.
“Good morning, recruits,” he began, his voice firm but not unkind. “Welcome to the Hellfire Outpost, your staging ground for the exchange. I’m sure many of you are wondering what’s next. Allow me to explain.”
Gabriel gestured to the forest beyond the outpost’s perimeter. “Your hunting grounds lie beyond this outpost. The competition will take place over the next fifteen days, during which you will face a variety of challenges. Your primary objective is to gather as many points as possible by eliminating corrupted creatures, completing assigned tasks, and, most importantly, surviving.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “Now, while the death rate for this exchange is close to zero, it is not zero. There is a real, albeit small, danger to your lives. Take every precaution. If you find yourselves in a life-threatening situation, activate the emergency runes embedded in your uniforms. A rescue team will be dispatched immediately, but using those runes will result in disqualification. Consider them your absolute last resort.”
The recruits nodded, some glancing nervously at one another. Herbie shifted uncomfortably, muttering something under his breath that Ethan couldn’t quite catch.
Gabriel continued, “Each team will be provided with a basic supply kit: food rations, water purifiers, medical supplies, and a map of the hunting grounds. These supplies are limited, so use them wisely. Additional resources are hidden throughout the competition area. Finding them will require skill and a keen eye. Keep in mind, you’re not the only team out there. Others will be searching for the same resources.”
At this, a ripple of murmurs spread through the recruits. Zane leaned toward Ethan. “Great. So it’s a treasure hunt with monsters,” he whispered.
Before Ethan could reply, a booming voice interrupted the murmurs. “And now, a proper welcome!”
The bald-headed veteran from earlier stepped forward, his scarred face splitting into a grin. “Listen up, recruits. My name’s Sergeant Gorran. You’ll be seeing a lot of me over the next two weeks, so get used to it. You’ve already handed over your training weapons. Tomorrow, after lunch, you’ll head to the logistics unit to claim your new, field-tested gear. Trust me, these weapons are built for this environment. You’ll thank us later.”
Gorran’s grin widened as he continued, “Now, about those hidden supplies. We’ve stashed them in places that’ll test your wits and teamwork. Some are easy to find, others… not so much. Keep your eyes peeled, and don’t get too greedy. If you hoard everything, you’ll just paint a target on your backs.”
Herbie raised his hand tentatively. “Uh, Sergeant, what happens if we run out of supplies?”
Gorran let out a hearty laugh. “Then you’d better hope you’re good at hunting or trading. This isn’t a picnic, kid. Resourcefulness is part of the test.”
The recruits exchanged uneasy glances. Gabriel stepped in again, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Gorran’s boisterousness. “Remember, this is a team effort. Individual rankings are important, yes, but survival and success depend on how well you work together. Trust your team, and trust your training.”
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With that, Gabriel stepped back, allowing the recruits a moment to process everything. Ethan’s eyes drifted back to Charon, who was watching him intently, his expression unreadable. The old man’s presence stirred something uneasy in Ethan, but he pushed the feeling aside. There were more immediate concerns to focus on.
“That’s all for now,” Gorran announced. “You’ve got the morning to settle in. After lunch, report to the logistics unit for your weapons. Until then, make yourselves useful. Dismissed!”
The mess hall was abuzz with chatter as recruits from different training grounds gathered for lunch. Long wooden tables filled the spacious hall, with steaming trays of food laid out at the far end. Ethan and his team found a spot near the middle, surrounded by other recruits, some familiar and others strangers. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air, mingling with the hum of voices and the clatter of utensils.
Ethan took a seat beside Herbie, who was already piling his plate with food. Across from them sat Yara, Iris, and Zane. Elara lingered at the end of the table, her plate modestly filled as she carefully observed the room.
“So,” Herbie began, his mouth half-full of bread, “what do you think these new weapons will be like? Better than the ones we’ve been using, or just different?”
“They’d better be better,” Yara replied, spearing a piece of meat with her fork. “That bald guy made such a big deal about them. If they turn out to be just shinier versions of what we had, I’m going to be seriously disappointed.”
Zane shrugged, chewing thoughtfully. “From what I’ve heard, weapons made from earth iron are no joke. Even if it’s the lowest grade, it’s still leagues above what we had back at the training grounds.”
Iris nodded, her tone measured. “And they’re probably tailored for the environment here. The mentors wouldn’t risk us going out there with subpar equipment.”
“Still,” Elara added softly, “no weapon can compensate for poor skill. We’ll need to adapt quickly if we want to stay ahead.”
Ethan listened quietly, his mind replaying Sergeant Gorran’s words from earlier. The mention of “environment-suited” weapons had piqued his curiosity. He glanced at the other tables, where similar conversations seemed to be unfolding. Recruits speculated, argued, and laughed, the tension of the upcoming challenges momentarily forgotten in the warm atmosphere of the mess hall.
After finishing their meals, the team made their way to the logistics unit, a large building on the eastern side of the outpost. The air was thick with anticipation as they approached, the murmur of voices growing louder. Recruits from all five training grounds in Region 13 were gathered there, forming a long, winding line that snaked out the door and into the courtyard.
Inside, the scene was chaotic. Tables piled high with weapons and gear lined the walls, while logistics officers and veterans moved briskly, calling out names and issuing equipment. Arguments broke out in pockets of the room as recruits from different companies jostled for position or questioned the quality of their assigned gear.
“This place is a madhouse,” Zane muttered, craning his neck to see over the crowd.
“Stay close,” Iris advised. “The last thing we need is to get separated in this mess.”
As they edged closer to the front, Ethan spotted a heated exchange between two groups of recruits. One of them, a tall boy with a shaved head, was pointing angrily at a set of daggers on the table.
“These are scratched!” he shouted. “You expect us to use defective weapons?”
The logistics officer, a grizzled man with a scar across his jaw, didn’t even blink. “Scratched, not defective. If you’re worried about looks, maybe you’re in the wrong place, kid.”
Herbie snickered, nudging Ethan. “Looks like some people need a reality check.”
Finally, it was their turn. The officer behind the table looked up, his sharp eyes scanning their group. “Names?”
“Ethan, Iris, Herbie, Yara, Zane, and Elara,” Ethan replied.
The officer nodded and began pulling out items from the stacks behind him. First came a longbow for Iris, its dark wood inscribed with faint, glowing runes. “Ancient spells,” the officer explained. “Increases penetration and reduces strain. Don’t break it.”
Next was a pair of daggers for Yara, their blades gleaming with a faint, silvery sheen. Zane received a crossbow, equally inscribed with runes, along with a quiver of bolts that shimmered faintly under the light. Herbie’s new weapon was a heavy war hammer, its head crafted from solid earth iron and etched with intricate patterns.
When it was Ethan’s turn, the officer handed him a spear. The shaft was smooth and sturdy, made from reinforced wood, while the blade—forged from earth iron—had a faint, almost imperceptible glow. Ethan gripped it tightly, feeling the weight and balance. It was heavier than his old polearm but somehow felt more natural in his hands.
“Earth iron,” the officer said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Lowest grade, but more than enough to handle lower-rank monsters. Take care of it, and it’ll take care of you.”
Ethan nodded, his gaze fixed on the weapon. The others examined their gear as well, testing grips, aiming sights, and exchanging comments.
“These are amazing,” Zane said, his voice filled with awe as he loaded a bolt into his crossbow.
“No excuses now,” Yara teased, spinning one of her daggers expertly. “If we screw up, it’s on us, not the weapons.”
Elara, who had received a lightweight rapier, twirled it experimentally. “They’ve thought of everything,” she said. “Even the balance is perfect.”
As the group stepped out of the logistics unit, the noise and chaos faded behind them. Ethan held his spear firmly, his mind racing with thoughts of the days ahead. The weight of the weapon in his hand was reassuring, a reminder of the training and effort that had brought him to this point.
He clenched the spear tightly, a determined look in his eyes.