Ashern City - Reinhart Institute of War, 1st of Brightforge, year 315 UC

Bryan entered the gymnasium, noting immediately that the chairs from earlier had vanished. His teammates stood in a loose circle near the center, their voices echoing in the vast space. Despite arriving thirty minutes before the scheduled time, he was apparently the last to arrive.

Alan Walker stood apart from the group, intensely focused on his academic card. At Bryan's entrance, he looked up sharply.

"Blackwood."

Alan's voice carried across the gymnasium.

"You're late. Hurry up."

Alan’s tone left no room for argument. Bryan joined his teammates without protest, the others falling silent as they watched him take his place at the far left of the group.

'When did they arrive? I did not get the time wrong, did I?'

Alan tucked his card away, eyes scanning the assembled students.

"Everyone else arrived early, ready to begin. Yet Blackwood, despite having the same instructions, arrives separately. When a team is prepared and one member is absent, that member is late – regardless of the scheduled time."

Alexander stepped forward, fingers fidgeting with his sleeve.

"Sir, that's not exactly what—"

"Silence."

Alan raised his hand, cutting him off.

"No need to cover for your teammate, Silvermark. This is a valuable lesson for everyone."

His scarred face hardened as he surveyed the group.

"You're in this together, or not at all. A lone wolf cannot do it all. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

They responded in unison.

"Good."

Alan's lips curved into a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Heartland, step forward."

Farrah moved toward him, not even sparing a moment to glance back at the others. She stood only three feet away from them as she stood still with her hands behind her back. Alan approached her, but his attention shifted to Alexander.

"Since Silvermark wants to be a leader, let's see what you think of your leader after this."

Alan paused beside Farrah, leaning slightly to whisper something in her ear before straightening.

"Pick a number, Silvermark. Between fifty and two hundred."

Alexander's fingers twisted in his sleeve as he considered. He raised an eyebrow as he glanced right in Christopher and Sabrina's direction.

"One hundred and twenty-five?"

He finally called out.

"Was that a question or an answer?"

Alan asked as he stood in front of Alexander, looking down on him.

Alexander's grip tightened on his sleeve and Bryan could see the boy didn't know what to do with himself. The sight would have been funny, but Bryan only felt pity for him.

'He's going to fail.'

Bryan knew that Alexander would not last. It was not set in stone, but there was a strong feeling that he would be one of the students going home early. Either on his own or be forced out.

"I-i."

Alexander stumbled over his words, failing to get them out.

"Speak up Silvermark!"

Alan shouted causing Alexander to jump slightly.

"I'm telling you, sir!"

Alan turned to Farrah.

"What number was I thinking of?"

"Fifty, sir."

Farrah answered promptly.

"Correct."

Alan's smile widened slightly.

"But since Silvermark so graciously suggested one hundred and twenty-five, that's how many laps you'll all be running."

He swept his gaze across their faces, noting how Alexander looked mortified.

"Don't forget to thank your leader."

The team remained silent, one person clicked their tongue. Alan glanced at Sabrina but said nothing to her. Bryan noticed Sabrina's jaw tighten, while Christopher's shoulders slumped slightly. Even Farrah's knuckles were turning white.

"Oh, and one more thing."

Alan added casually.

"Last one to finish gets an extra ten laps. For every lap not completed, your teammates will have to finish them for you."

His eyes lingered on each student in turn.

"But that shouldn't be a problem. Everyone here should be able to pull their own weight."

Bryan did a quick calculation – the gymnasium's size meant each lap would be roughly equivalent to a quarter mile. One hundred and twenty-five laps would be over thirty miles.

He could do it, no problem. The others though? He doubted as much.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Thank your leader and start running."

Alan shouted at them.

The team mumbled their thanks to a mortified Alexander before spreading out along the starting line. Bryan positioned himself near the back, already planning his pacing strategy.

***

On his twelfth lap, Bryan maintained a steady pace. Farrah matched his stride. Christopher lagged behind the group, his feet slowing with each lap.

"Silvermark!"

Alan's voice echoed through the gymnasium.

"Want to continue our game from earlier?"

Alexander’s stride faltered, but he pushed forward, his breathing uneven.

"I'll make it easier this time."

Alan continued.

"Answer correctly, and everyone can stop running. Get it wrong, and you all will still complete all one hundred and twenty-five laps. What do you say?"

Bryan noticed Alexander's pace slowing, clearly tempted by the offer.

"Did I say stop running?"

Alan's voice caused Alexander to nearly stumble.

"Well, Silvermark? What's your answer?"

Alexander picked up his pace again.

"I'll pass, sir. We'll finish the laps."

"Are you stupid?"

Sabrina called out between breaths.

"It's one hundred and twenty-five laps! We'll die before we finish!"

A chuckle escaped Alan's lips.

"You'll wish that was the case."

He turned toward Sabrina.

"Since you're so vocal, interested in trying yourself?"

"Yes!"

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Sabrina answered immediately.

“Excellent. But since you’re not Silvermark, let’s make this a bit more interesting. Same terms, but I’ll adjust the difficulty… seeing as you’re all warmed up.”

Sabrina waited a beat before replying.

"What's the question?"

"What's Alexander's favorite color?"

Alan asked her, his eyes never moving away from her as she ran by.

Sabrina nearly tripped, bewilderment clear on her face.

"How am I supposed to know that?"

"Something you should have considered before volunteering."

Alan replied coolly.

"Now, what's his favorite color? Five seconds before I add twenty more laps."

Sabrina glanced around desperately, but Alexander was on the opposite side of the gymnasium.

"Ugh... green?"

"Silvermark."

Alan called out.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Green."

Alexander answered, slightly breathless.

Alan's expression hardened.

"Really? Because your profile says it's blue."

His voice carried a sharp edge.

"Lying is unbecoming of a soldier. Care to revise that pathetic excuse of an answer?"

Alexander's shoulders tensed.

"Blue, sir."

"That's right. Blue."

Alan tapped his academic card, and suddenly spaces opened throughout the gymnasium – along the walls, in the ceiling, everywhere. A holographic dog materialized.

"Don't let the dog finish before you do."

Alan announced as the hologram began running alongside them at a rapid pace. Each time it completed a lap, a number appeared above its head.

Bryan watched the dog's pace carefully. It was moving at a pace similar to his own, so as long as they maintained their speed they should pass. Although the others were starting to tire out, so they would not pass.

He clicked his tongue thinking about how they were already dragging him down. If they did not manage to finish their laps, then he'd have to pick up their slack.

If they passed out on the field? Then what would happen? Since Bryan would be the last one running, wouldn't that also mean he would be the first and last one to finish?

'Ugh, this is so stupid. Why can't they just shut up and run? Why make more problems?'

He watched as the number above the dog's head changed: 1… 2… 3…

Bryan clenched his fists. He couldn’t do anything about it. The hologram wouldn’t tire, and there was no way to stop it. This could’ve all been avoided if Alexander hadn’t tried to speak up for him. Bryan hadn’t asked for that, and now they were all paying for it. Next time, he’d show up an hour early just to avoid this nonsense.

This whole experience was frustrating, and he was inclined to blame Alexander for it, as well as Sabrina. When he did, he just felt angry with them. But then again, they probably felt the same with him for being 'late'.

'Is that his goal? To get us to dislike one another?'

Bryan asked himself as he took a glance at Alan.

***

By lap thirty, the holographic dog was firmly in the lead. Christopher lagged two laps behind, his breathing ragged and uneven.

"Vane!"

Alan called out.

"You're better than this. Are you really content being a burden to your team?"

Christopher stumbled but kept moving, his head hanging low as he struggled to maintain his pace.

"If you want to give up, just walk off my floor right now. No shame in admitting you can't handle it."

Christopher's only response was the sound of his labored breathing as he pressed forward.

Alan nodded slowly, his boots echoing on the gymnasium floor as he paced alongside him.

"You're zero for two, team."

"I'm giving you an out, Vane. Walk away now, let your teammates carry your weight since you're already behind. The pain ends the moment you stop."

Christopher’s jaw tightened, and his hands balled into fists, but he didn’t stop.

"Interesting."

Alan's scarred face twisted into something resembling approval.

"Then let's try this – you're on a mission with Heartland, Rigof, and Silvermark. Heartland's bleeding out from a stomach wound. Rigof is surrounded by three Class-C monsters. Silvermark's pinned under debris with a head injury. You can only save one. Who do you choose?"

Christopher's pace faltered as he processed the scenario.

"I... I'd try to save them all."

"Wrong answer. The situation doesn't allow for that. Choose."

"Then... Farrah. The stomach wound—"

"Incorrect."

Alan cut him off.

"You didn’t ask the critical questions. What are their abilities? Their positions relative to each other? You made assumptions that cost lives. Worst of all, you didn't even ask where the Blackwood was in all of this. Did you already forget about him?"

He turned his attention to Bryan.

"Blackwood, want to try your hand? Get it right, everyone stops now. Get it wrong, you all double what you have left."

Bryan sighed between measured breaths.

"What's the question?"

"Simple enough – will Christopher catch up to the dog? If you think yes, then he has fifteen minutes to get on the same lap. If you think no, you can all stop running right now."

Bryan studied Christopher's struggling form, noting his deteriorating condition. The dog was two laps ahead now. Christopher's shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his steps growing heavier by the minute.

Bryan analyzed Alan's question while maintaining his steady pace. Each "simple" question so far had been a trap – or rather, a lesson.

First, Alexander chose a number when he could have asked Farrah, or he assumed was just given the answer. He could have even talked to them, and seen what they thought would be a good answer. Then Sabrina guessed Alexander's favorite color instead of simply asking him. Now this question about Christopher's ability to catch the dog.

The obvious answer was no. Christopher's current pace was deteriorating, already two laps behind with no sign of improvement. Pure mathematics said it was impossible.

But that would be too simple.

Bryan reconsidered the question carefully. Will Christopher catch up to the dog? Not can Christopher run fast enough to catch the dog. The distinction suddenly seemed important.

"Yes."

Bryan answered.

"He will catch up."

Alan's eyebrow raised slightly.

"Fifteen minutes, Blackwood. Make it happen."

Bryan immediately increased his pace, channeling ether through his body. His muscles responded instantly, strength and speed multiplying. Without breaking stride, he swept past Christopher, hooked an arm around his teammate's waist, and lifted him effortlessly.

"What are you—"

Christopher started to protest.

"Catching up to the dog," Bryan replied simply, his enhanced legs carrying them both around the gymnasium at a blistering pace. Each lap closed the gap, the numbers above the holographic dog growing closer to their own count.

The others watched in amazement as Bryan, carrying Christopher like he weighed nothing, systematically erased the deficit. When they finally drew even with the dog's lap count, the hologram flickered and vanished.

Alan clapped once and nodded, his scarred face betraying a hint of satisfaction.

"I'm a man of my word. Exercise complete."

Bryan set Christopher down, his own breathing barely elevated despite the exertion.

"Push-ups. Now."

Alan's commanded.

"And no ether reinforcement."

They dropped into position, muscles already protesting from the run. Only Bryan and Farrah seemed relatively composed.

"Let's discuss what went wrong today."

Alan began, pacing between them.

"Four hours. I gave you four hours before this session. What did you do with that time? Surely you didn't waste it doing whatever you pleased, ignoring the opportunity to bond with your teammates?"

Their push-ups provided the only response.

"You're in a new environment, surrounded by strangers, competing against everyone else here. The bare minimum would have been gathering to talk about yourselves, and getting to know one another since you'll be working together."

Alan's voice hardened.

"How can you work together if you know nothing about the person next to you? How can you trust them to have your back?"

He stopped in front of Bryan.

"Why were you late, Blackwood?"

"Thought it best to get settled in my dorm first, sir."

Bryan answered between push-ups.

Alan turned to the others.

"Did you all do the same?"

"No, sir."

Sabrina replied, breath hitching slightly.

"We went to the cafeteria for food, but Bryan declined to join us."

Alan nodded slowly.

"And why did you decline their offer, Blackwood?"

"Wasn't hungry, sir. Wanted to settle into my room."

"Is that more important than having a moment with your team?"

Bryan paused during a push-up for a moment before responding.

"Are we supposed to be social, sir?"

"If you're trying to twist what I said, you have another thing coming."

Alan retorted.

"There's a difference between being social for fun and being social because you're with the people who will have your back now and in the future. This isn't some noble's social event where everyone's trying to butter up to those of higher status while pursuing their own ventures. You're here to be soldiers, and last I checked, being a soldier means working as a team, as a unit. One mind."

He paused, looking down at Bryan.

"Unless you think you're better than everyone else simply because you're rank one."

Without waiting for a reply Alan moved to Alexander.

"It was admirable standing up for your teammate. But if you have the courage to speak out, at least have the balls to stand proud. Being nervous is a disgrace."

His scarred face twisted.

"What does it mean to be a leader, Silvermark?"

"To keep everyone safe."

Alexander managed between push-ups.

"Make the right choices, and listen to those around me."

"Then why didn't you use the resources at hand? One question, multiple people to ask, yet you decided their fate alone."

Alan's voice grew contemplative.

"Did you even think about asking someone's opinion? Question what was whispered to Farrah?"

"No, sir."

Alexander said softly as if he was drowned in guilt.

"Why not? Trying to impress someone? Look cool? Or was being put on the spot too much to handle?"

Alan stepped back, addressing them all.

"As stated before, you have a team match in three days. Your roles are decided, but leadership wasn't. I thought I'd let you choose for yourselves, but clearly you're not ready."

He paused for effect.

"Congratulations, Silvermark. You're captain of team four, with Heartland as your vice-captain. From today forward, every decision reflects on you as a whole."

Stopping in front of Sabrina, Alan's voice lowered.

"It was a simple question. Too simple, actually. What did you do wrong?"

Sabrina's arms trembled slightly as she continued her push-ups.

"I... I guessed instead of asking Alexander directly."

"Exactly."

Alan agreed.

"A simple question with an even simpler solution. Yet you chose to gamble rather than take two seconds to ask your teammate. In the field, that kind of thoughtless action gets people killed."

He moved to stand before Christopher.

"And you, Vane. The moment you started falling behind, what should you have done?"

Christopher's push-ups had grown irregular, his breathing labored.

"Asked... for help, sir?"

"You know how I feel about questions Vane. You're asking me, or telling me?"

"Telling sir."

Christopher quickly corrected.

Alan nodded once.

"Instead of asking for help, you suffered in silence, falling further behind, becoming the very burden you feared being."

Alan's words were right, even if it hurt to hear them.

"Pride has no place in a team. Neither does suffering alone when help is within arm's reach."

He turned to Farrah, who maintained her form while Christopher was slacking.

"Heartland, you noticed Vane struggling. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought..."

Farrah hesitated.

"I thought he needed to push through it himself."

"Wrong. You're his teammate, not a spectator. If you see a comrade struggling, you act. Period."

He addressed them all again.

"Each of you failed today, but not in the ways you might think. The running wasn't the test. The questions weren't the real challenge."

He began pacing again, his boots echoing in the gymnasium.

"Blackwood figured out part of it at the end – there are no rules against helping each other. But even his solution was individualistic. Instead of coordinating with the team, he acted alone."

Alan stopped in the center of their formation.

"Everything I asked today had a simple solution requiring only one thing: communication. But you all chose to struggle alone, make decisions alone, fail alone."

His voice hardened.

"If you think this is hard now, then just wait for what is in store for you all later on! This pressure you're feeling now, this is nothing. When you're running for cover as a mob of Class-A monsters with your teammates asking for help, one man down, and support ten minutes out with everyone looking at you for directives, then you can talk about pressure."

“What you need to learn is how to pay attention to the details—they matter. When you’re exhausted, your mind wandering, and the weight of your decisions pressing down on your shoulders, that’s when you forget the small things. Like the cavern entrance big enough to shelter everyone and buy enough time for support to arrive. Those details make the difference between survival and annihilation.”

Alan looked down at all of them before he continued speaking.

"In three days, you face your first team match. Right now, you're not a team. You're five individuals who happen to be in the same space. That changes now."

He paused, looking at each of them in turn.

"Keep doing push-ups until one of you figures out how to end this exercise."