It was a long, restless night, full of questions and an almost obligatory lack of sleep. By the time the first rays of the sun peeked over the tall ramparts surrounding the city, most people inside Camp Verdant had barely gotten a whiff of shut-eye, most due to work keeping them from doing so, but some, like John, were kept awake by the events that transpired outside.

He was still thinking about it, even after having been forced to wake up and assemble in yawning lines. Seemingly uncaring about the fact that injuries normally took time to heal, the old man looked fitter than ever as he stood before them, his face frowning in an almost spectacularly grim way.

He counted them once again before they set off. John and the other children hurrying after him as best as their short legs allowed, but the old man’s gait was vast and his pace unmatchable.

It was only his exceptionally bad mood and perhaps the seeds of fear buried in the hearts of the children that allowed them to barely keep up whilst keeping the complaints at a bare minimum.

‘At least we don’t have any luggage,’ flashed through John’s mind as he remembered the oh so very brief marching drills that the modern military fortunately found as obsolete as the swords in the age of starships.

They pushed through throngs after throngs of fully armoured men and women marching in perfect formation, as well as normal civilians, blood-covered soldiers and what he presumed to be butchers, if their bloody aprons were any indication.

It was an organized chaos, with every person on the street seeming to have their own monumentally important agenda. To John, it felt like being inside an ant in a hive that had been roused from its slumber.

So many people crowded the streets that John’s distraction-seeking-mind couldn’t help but wonder where all of them had even come from. There must have been thousands upon thousands of people gathered here, far more than even the amount of people attending the festivities.

With so many people here, how did the logistics keep up? Transporting this much food, weapons and other wares into Camp Verdant and then administering them must be a true nightmare to everyone involved. Not to mention how they managed to do that without the constant rumbling of carriages or-

John remembered the ridiculous abilities of warriors, and most of his thoughts dissolved into hot air. Things really were different in this new world of his, after all.

They marched onward, most conversations that had been going on drowned out by the cacophony of crowds. The closer they got to the walls, the more bustling the scene became. Civilians and soldiers alike hurried about, busily working on whatever tasks they may have had. Every now and then, the entire main street had to make way for mutilated beast corpses as tall as houses, dragged by the combined force of dozens of people.

The first one they came across was a massive bear, its one intact eye that could have fit John’s body inside still wide open. The other one had been busted open, showing its grossly white and pink interior. The rest of its body was riddled with wounds, ranging from small scratches to a large gash at the neck that nearly decapitated it.

Before John could stare at this daunting sight for too long, he was pushed along by his laughing and cheering classmates. They seemed extremely cheerful at the grotesque sight, which, considering that this probably wasn’t as abnormal as he thought, John could quite understand. Such a huge beast would undoubtedly consume vast amounts of food, and would surely become a disastrous calamity for all farmers it lived in the vicinity of.

Then again, if the other beasts were just as huge, then perhaps its own size wasn’t that exaggerated. John made a mental note to ask about the local ecology. Perhaps their increased needs were balanced by aether, too?

As time passed, even humongous herbivores, or at least what he presumed to be herbivores due to their glaring lack of child-sized razor sharp teeth, passed by them.

It honestly didn’t make sense. The whole attack didn’t. Just what would these beasts have to gain from eating humans? And even if there was some sort of grand mystic reward to be gained from eating humans, why attack a heavily fortified base teeming with superhuman personnel? Aside from an unanimous decision to commit mass-suicide unhindered by race and species, John couldn’t really think of a plausible reason.

By the time they had gotten out of the human quagmire the vicinity of the walls had turned into, John’s clothes were already drenched in sweat. Fortunately, that very same mass of people seemed hellbent on avoiding the walls themselves, granting him a fair amount of breathing space once they got out of it.

They passed the tense guards and battered gates, walking through the gateway turned tunnel through the wall, where the noisy soundscape slowly quieted to an almost comfortable din.

It took them a few minutes to walk out of the gateway, and once they did, John’s jaw hit the ground, anchoring him to it as his mind strained to process the things it was seeing.

A literal sea of blood. Gaping brown holes in the otherwise lushly green landscape dotted with red stains that were already starting to fill with diluted blood and rainwater. Craters and cracks on the walls stretching into the distance. And, perhaps most terrifyingly of all, the corpse of what could only be described as an earthen brown oversized dragon nestled in between two hills.

Were it not for the pools of crimson blood and massive craters and ravines on both its body and the hills trapping it, then perhaps it could have managed to pass as an extremely peculiarly shaped hill.

One that had the shape of an oversized reptilian flipped on its back, with the broken legs standing proudly in the air. The belly had been completely torn up, and a steady stream of humans were transporting things back and forth from a road John didn’t remember existing at the time of their arrival.

The very fact that humans had managed to slay this massive beast was a feat that John couldn’t quite wrap his mind around. How do you even slay something a hundred times bigger than yourself with medieval technology? Catapults, perhaps? Or magic?

Loud cheers interrupted his thoughts.

The passing soldiers with free hands were either clapping or nodding their heads with reverence towards their teacher. There were big and tired smiles on their drenched faces, with various remarks being thrown around. The one that stuck to John the most, however, was “Dragonslayer”.

John blinked. He looked at the massive slain beast, laying there like a remnant of a divine war, and then at the admittedly tall and stalwart, but nevertheless human figure of his teacher. Back and forth his gaze went, as if doing so would allow him to figure out just how that old man had managed to accomplish this inhuman feat.

And then John caught sight of the golden dragon emblazoned on the old man’s back, and he gained an inkling. Things still didn’t make sense, but he felt like he was on to something.

The children around him were first stunned, then elated. With serious expressions on their faces, discussions about how he could have done that and whether they would be able to do the same one day broke out.

What they didn’t notice was that the pace of the old man in the lead had slowed, not much, but just enough to allow them talk and walk at the same time without running out of breath.

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The journey back was long and filled with beast encounters. It seemed like the roads had lost the enchantments that caused beasts to instinctively shy away from them, for many a time they came across cracks, animal tracks or even entire missing sections. Which meant that they had to walk under rain and mud that much more often.

It wasn’t rare for them to come across long caravans heading into the same direction as them, albeit quite a bit faster, or smaller troops of soldiers almost running past them with tired and sweaty faces.

Beast Tide seemed to have become a magic word in the taverns they rested in, circulated only in whispers and hushed conversations. The adults were anxious, which in turn unsettled the children.

From Ronnie and the others, John learned that this wasn’t the first time such things that completely went against the survival instincts of every animal had occurred. Though various smaller outbreaks would occur occasionally, large ones on this scale were rarely seen in the lifetimes of their parents.

It was eventually confirmed by their teacher, who became moodier and grimmer with every passing day.

He often vanished when they were on break or sleeping, returning with the smell of blood and gore clinging to him like a cloak. Of course, he never deigned to offer an explanation, but he didn’t need to. Everyone knew what he was doing, and there was certainly no one who complained about it.

Their training time was extended little by little every day. Small minutes that, when piled up, turned into torturous sessions that lasted for eternities. In order to not delay their arrival despite that, breaks were cut and their pace accelerated even further.

After a week and a half of such torture on the road, they finally stood in front of Frumentum again. It seemed like this grand capital of human civilization was unaffected by the recent events, with its unblemished golden walls shining like a sun in the foggy and rainy season.

Too tired to look for details that would prove their first impression wrong, they hurried through the customs, past the noisy streets and new beggars into the more affluent parts where the Golden Gate was located.

The guards, standing ramrod straight in the presence of their teacher, seemed to be as idle as ever. They were watching the steady stream of people flowing in and out of the main gate with confident ease, their platemail managing to glimmer even with the sun being hidden behind innumerable clouds.

The two of them nodded towards them before proceeding to watch the long line again.

Their group gave back various greetings ranging from nods to cheeky remarks whilst they passed the duo.

They mingled amongst the finely dressed ladies and gentlemen intent on visiting their home, eventually separating once they spied upon their ever so familiar field of choice. The sky was already dimming, making the shapes and forms of the people gathered as well as that of the sand underneath them somewhat hazy.

The old man gathered his pupils in a semicircle around himself, allowing them to plop their tired rears onto the unyielding sand below. It scratched and itched when it managed to find its way into their clothes, but it beat the sensation of endlessly walking by billions of times.

Greg folded his arms in front of his chest, staring at them somewhat absentmindedly. He waited until he had their absolute attention before he spoke up.

“You did well,” he said. “Exceptionally so.” He started tapping the ground with his foot, his expression ambiguous in the waning light. “Your superiors were full of praise, saying that you were much better than many of the previous batches that had worked there. You also did admirably on the road, save for the occasional slip up.”

“But good does not suffice. Not anymore. Due to some cruel twist of fate, the beasts have chosen to rise up once again. If you’re lucky, it might be over before you even know it. Perhaps we could quell the source of these tumults in the next few weeks, buying us precious years of peace.”

He swept his eyes that had somehow gained an ethereal glow across them, fixing them in place. “I don’t think so though. The last time a Beast Tide of this size had broken out was during the Founding Age, where the beasts had yet to learn to fear mankind.” He paused and sighed. His shoulders sagged somewhat. “It lasted an entire decade, that one. Who can tell me what it came to be known as nowadays?”

A few hands shot in the air, and he randomly picked one out.

“Blood Baptism,” came Andrea’s voice from the other end of the semicircle. “The beasts managed to lay siege Frumentum itself. Had it not been for the Founder’s timely slaying of their beast king, they might have managed to breach our then still immature and low walls.”

The old man nodded. “Correct.” He cleared his throat, and John couldn’t help but notice the muscles hidden underneath the bulky sleeves tensing underneath the thing fabric. “I lived through it.”

“Horrible times, I can assure you that. Even though we have come far in the last two centuries, and it would need a much bigger Beast Tide than the current one to reach or even – Oriana forbid – breach Frumentum’s walls, that doesn’t mean you’re going to be safe.”

“It is in times like this that warriors shine the brightest. All warriors, trainees like you included, will be taking part in the upcoming extermination of the beasts.”

They gulped in unison. Was the geezer serious? Strengthened as they might be, how were children supposed to face beasts the size of buildings? If they were to actually come to blows with these monsters, they’d be slaughtered.

It seemed like John wasn’t the only one to think that, for almost all of the children exchanged uneasy glances. No one dared to talk at a time like this, but they probably all realized what the outcome of a fight with a beast would turn out like.

With a wave of their teacher’s hand, a gentle and somehow calming breeze washed over them. “Don’t worry about it too much. No one in their right minds likes wasting potential, especially not that of warriors that haven’t grown even near their full potential. At most you’ll be tasked with dispatching some minor pups, and if you lost to even those-“ The creepy smile they hadn’t seen in more than a week found its way on the old man’s face, causing shivers to run up and down John’s spine. “Then you never deserved to be called warriors of Frumentum in the first place.”

“What reassuring words,” John and the marble thought in unison.

Seemingly satisfied with their reaction, the old man put his hands behind his back, his expression returning to normal. “From tomorrow onwards, your new training regiment will be put in place. I recommend sincerely giving it 110%, for if our warriors don’t solve this problem quickly we’ll have to depart on missions before the start of harvest season.”

He let his words sink in, perhaps even only enjoying the depressing silence that ensued. “Rest whilst you can. We shall see each other tomorrow morning,” he stated more than said, proceeding to walk off into the dimming distance.

Once he was out of sight, the entire group broke into an unprecedented commotion. Sighing whilst the others started discussing things he couldn’t be bothered to listen to, he made his way towards Ronnie, who was located in the middle of the semicircle, and tapped him on the shoulder. There were more important questions on his mind.

“How long until the harvest season?”

Still sitting, Ronnie scratched his head whilst looking up at the sky. “I dunno. A few months, maybe?”

“That’s quite the optimistic estimation you have there,” Jessica, who had at some point appeared next to them, interjected. “It’s probably gonna be weeks. So I guess we need to serious buckle up and throw ourselves into training.” The girl bit her lip. “I heard Andrea say that even those so-called pups are bigger and stronger than your average adult.”

John groaned. Great. Just exactly what he needed. Facing monsters at the tender age of…somewhere in the single digits. Age was a tricky thing if you didn’t have the slightest clue about your birthday.

“How does she even know that? I mean, couldn’t she have simply made that up?” John asked, perhaps more desperate than hopeful.

Somewhere at the edge of his vision, Andrea’s characteristically perfectly groomed blonde hair swivelled around. Before he knew it, a pair of vibrantly green eyes were fixing him up with a cold glare.

“Don’t doubt others when you have no clue,” she spat. “Believe me, even those damned pups are capable of tearing fully grown warriors apart if there are enough of them. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“You what?”

She looked away. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes, okay? Look, I just want what’s best for us,” she said, sighed and then turned around, resuming her conversation with Logan, who, for once, seemed more than willing to listen.

“What’s her deal?” John asked, quiet enough to probably not be overheard.

Ronnie shrugged, and Jessica put a hand on her chin. She began stroking a non-existent beard. “I think she was sent here after her parents were killed in a Beast Tide. It would explain her extreme hatred towards animals,” she said.

John nodded slowly. A lack of parents wasn’t anything special in their little group, or the entirety of the Golden Gate, for that matter.

He scratched his head, somewhat unsure of what to do. They hadn’t had much free time in the last one and a half month. He had gotten used to having one matter or another to attend to, so much so that this complete absence of tasks was somewhat disconcerting.

Training would be effective and efficient, but they would be doing more than enough of that in the days to come. Studying would be good, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with that insufferable librarian jealously guarding his books like treasures only to get some children’s books.

Someone shouted right next to him, and then a hand slapped his shoulder.

“You’re it!” Ronnie shouted before running away.

“Wai- what?”

John looked around, and the other children were running away from him at top speed.

‘How the hell had they gone from worriedly discussing their future do playing tag in such a short amount of time? Just what the hell is going on in the heads of these kids?’ He thought for the briefest of moments before coming to a decision.

“Come here you damn twerp!” John shouted as he chased after Logan.

In the end, after playing for an entire day, John sank into his bed and shed a tear for his supposed maturity.