The platoon came to a grinding halt, panting and weary as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the dense forest. "Halt!" Sergeant Kellan's voice boomed, jolting everyone out of their trudging exhaustion.

They had been marching since the early morning, and Kaiden could barely feel his legs. His body ached in ways he hadn’t known possible. Running had nothing on this, he thought to himself, his lungs burning from the exertion. Marching for hours on end, with a heavy pack and sword, was a kind of torture all its own. It gave him a newfound respect for the infantry of old, those who had to endure endless miles of walking before even reaching the battlefield.

This... this was a taste of the realities of war.

"Good job, everyone!" Staff Sergeant Orlin's voice cut through the chatter, his tone surprisingly proud. "We've reached our destination just in time and we’d didn’t have any casualties. Now, set up camp and listen for Sergeant Kellan to assign watch duty. Fall out!"

The platoon broke ranks with tired groans, the clattering of gear and shuffling footsteps filling the air. Some recruits immediately headed into the treeline to relieve themselves, others fumbled with their canteens, eager for water after the grueling march. Kaiden wiped sweat from his brow, the cool evening air a relief after the relentless heat of the day.

“Keep your swords within an arm’s distance at all times!” Sergeant Kellan barked, scanning the recruits with his usual stern glare. “This is war. Don’t get comfortable.” He then began rattling off names for the night’s watch rotation.

Davick, already unbuckling his pack, trudged over to Kaiden, relief painted across his face. “Glad we don’t have watch tonight.”

Kaiden gave a weary nod. "Yeah, but my turn's probably up tomorrow."

"Count on it," Davick smirked.

Garin and Harlan soon joined them, each looking as worn out as Kaiden felt. "Hell of a hike," Garin muttered, massaging his feet through his boots.

"My feet are killing me," Harlan grumbled, stretching out his legs. "Can’t feel my toes."

Davick let out a half-hearted chuckle. “From what I’ve heard, this march is the hardest part of the whole training.”

Kaiden raised an eyebrow. “What about the battle tomorrow?”

Davick waved it off. “Not much to get excited about. Just some sparring with wooden swords and following our squad leader’s orders to ‘force a surrender.’”

“Yeah, exactly,” Garin nodded in agreement. “I heard it's mostly staged. You do what you're told, get ‘killed’ if you're unlucky, and that’s it.”

Harlan chimed in with a knowing grin. "I heard it’s better to get 'killed' early. That way, you can rest while the rest keep swinging.”

Kaiden looked down at the wood sword strapped to his waist, feeling its rough weight. Killed? he thought, imagining how it might go down. All recruits carried a wooden sword at their side. They had been working through forms and techniques with real steel, but for sparring, or anytime they were training in close quarters, the wooden ones were all they were allowed to use.

“All the sergeants are going to judge tomorrow’s battle,” Davick continued, sounding almost bored by it. “I'm sure they’ll explain the rules before we start. But don't expect much."

Kaiden nodded thoughtfully. But still, something about the idea of even a mock battle had his adrenaline quietly stirring.

Kaiden took a brief moment to glance around at his platoon, activating his Arcane Vision. His vision flooded with swirling colors where magic was being used—subtle glows around the few recruits who were actively using their abilities, though none were particularly strong. While the sight was mesmerizing, it felt largely useless to him at this point. He'd been using it every evening in the barracks before bed over the past few weeks, hoping to unlock its potential, but it hadn’t leveled up at all. Kaiden sighed in frustration as he deactivated it.

Davick, noticing his expression, raised an eyebrow. "Tired, huh?"

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Kaiden just nodded, too drained to even explain his frustration. After finishing his travel rations, a simple meal of dried meat and a plum, he curled up in his bedroll, activating Regeneration before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, the mood was entirely different. A sense of excitement rippled through the recruits, their spirits high after a solid rest. Today was the day of the mock battle against the other platoon, and everyone seemed motivated to win.

Staff Sergeant Orlin gathered the platoon to go over the rules and objectives. It was exactly what everyone had expected: a simulated battle, but this time on a larger scale. They'd be putting all their training into practice, testing their skills in an organized fight. Orlin’s voice was sharp and clear as he said, “Squad leaders, take it from here.”

“Aye, Staff Sergeant,” came the unified response from the four squad leaders.

The platoon broke into its four squads, forming up in their designated positions. Today, they were free of their heavy packs, allowing them to focus on the fight ahead. Swords were drawn as they marched toward the enemy platoon.

After about 30 minutes of walking, one of the squad leaders called out, "Enemy in sight!"

Kaiden tightened his grip on the wooden sword as both platoons rushed toward each other. The squad leaders shouted commands, but it was clear their control was slipping. Nerves, inexperience, and sheer adrenaline overtook the recruits, and what should have been an organized clash quickly descended into chaos. Formations shattered as anxious recruits broke ranks, each one caught up in their own frantic duels.

Kaiden found himself locked in combat with a recruit he hadn’t seen before—short, stocky, with a wild look in his eyes. Their wooden swords clashed hard, the force of each blow rattling up Kaiden’s arms. He winced, already knowing how painful this could be. The chaotic scene reminded Kaiden of large-scale LARPing events back on Earth, but here, it was different, every swing here could bruise or break bone. It was no game either—everyone treated the combat with a deadly seriousness born from respect and the real possibility of injury.

A shout caught his attention: "Forgewell, out!" Sergeant Kellan’s voice echoed across the battlefield, and Kaiden nearly laughed. Davick's down already? he thought, amused. But there was no time to dwell on it—he had his own fight to worry about.

Kaiden and his opponent exchanged a rapid series of strikes, the wooden swords clashing with a force that sent vibrations up his arms. His opponent swung wide, forcing Kaiden to parry and step back, regaining his stance. He countered with a quick slash, but it was deflected with ease. They circled one another, breathing heavily, tension mounting. Then Kaiden spotted an opening—without hesitation, he lunged forward, thrusting his sword hard into the recruit’s chest.

The recruit let out a startled grunt, stumbling backward. Before Kaiden could even process the winning hit, a Sergeant from the other platoon called out, "Roan, out!"

“Fuck!”

The other recruit dropped to the ground, “dead.” Kaiden cheered internally. One down. He immediately turned his focus to the next opponent, the thrill of the fight keeping him sharp, adrenaline pushing him forward.

Kaiden immediately sought out another opponent, then another. Wait, was he actually getting good at this, or were the others just that bad? He figured it could be a bit of both—after all, most of them probably started learning the sword at the same time. Still, the thought of him doing well brought a grin to his face as he took down his third recruit.

He scanned the chaos of the battlefield and locked onto another recruit, who was too focused on fighting one of Kaiden’s platoon mates to notice him closing in. He raised his sword, ready to blindside the recruit, when a sharp pain shot through his back under his shoulder blade.

“Ouch!” he shouted, wincing in pain. Before he could even turn around, he heard a voice yell out.

“Hayward, out!”

Well, shit, Kaiden thought, dropping to the ground in defeat. Where’d that guy even come from?

Some time later, his platoon ended up surrendering with five recruits left against the enemy's eleven. It had been a chaotic, exhausting fight, but surprisingly, Kaiden found himself enjoying it more than he'd expected. By the time Staff Sergeant Orlin debriefed them at the evening meal, Kaiden realized he'd learned a lot—not just about sword fighting, but about teamwork and strategy too.

The next day brought the long, hard march back to the barracks. But this time, there was a noticeable shift in the air. Despite the weight of their gear and the soreness in their bodies, everyone kept their heads held high. The worst was behind them, and soon, they would be officially promoted from recruit to Private. It was a thought that lifted their spirits, and the pain seemed a little more bearable with that knowledge.

When they finally returned to the barracks in the evening, celebrations were in order. The chow hall stayed open late, serving hot meals, and the recruits shared laughs and stories over dinner, the tension of the last few weeks melting away. Tomorrow would be the promotion ceremony—although calling it a "ceremony" was generous.

The following day, they stood in formation while an officer, a Captain—who was the first officer Kaiden had seen so far—gave a generic speech filled with the usual military bravado. He declared them all Privates, and despite the simplicity of it all, Kaiden couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. Basic training was officially over. He was done.

The next couple of days were dedicated to logistics—returning gear, cleaning the barracks, receiving their orders, etc. For Kaiden and the other dungeoneers, there wasn’t much mystery. They all knew where their next stop would be: Camp Thorne.

"Hey, ma, I graduated boot camp," Kaiden whispered to himself with a heavy heart, feeling both the weight of loss and the pride of accomplishment.