The trip to Camp Thorne was a much bigger ordeal than getting to Fort Ironhold. Instead of a single wagon, there were several—a true caravan winding its way across the landscape. Fortunately, the ride this time was much shorter, only about half a day away. In the wagon, spirits were high. Everyone was excited for the next step in their training.
"Hopefully you can finally put your sword down," Garin teased, elbowing Davick, whose mock battle performance had become a bit of a running joke among the group.
Davick rolled his eyes, already prepared for the jab. "Yeah, yeah.”
"I mean, you were the first one out of both sides," Garin continued, a grin spreading across his face.
After a few moments of silence, Garin burst out laughing, and Harlan tried, and failed, to stifle his own laughter. Kaiden was doing his best to hold it in, but one look at Davick’s exaggeratedly wounded expression sent him over the edge. He laughed out loud with the rest of them.
The mock battle during the final days of basic training had clearly left an impression. Davick, unfortunately for him, had been one of the first to be "killed" on the battlefield. It was the sort of harmless joke people found funny for a few days, and they made every effort to remind him of it at every opportunity.
"Why couldn’t I have had a bow?" Davick muttered, shaking his head dramatically.
"Because you'd be the first archer down, too," Garin teased, grinning.
Davick sighed loudly, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward in a reluctant smile. "I think Kaiden would, actually."
“Hey, don’t bring me into this. I took three people down!”
“Yeah, leave Chicago outta this.”
The group shared a laugh at this, the camaraderie lifting everyone’s spirits even higher. It was moments like these that made the long journey and harsh training bearable. The bond they had formed during their time at Fort Ironhold was undeniable. Even with the constant teasing, the banter was light-hearted and full of mutual respect.
As the wagon rolled on, the landscape outside shifted from fields and woods to rougher terrain, signaling they were getting closer to Camp Thorne. "You think things’ll be different over there?" Kaiden asked, trying to steer the conversation toward their next challenge.
Harlan nodded. "I’d bet on it. Dungeoneer training isn’t like anything we’ve done so far. It’s the real deal—actual dungeon runs, real danger."
Davick grinned. "Good, I’m ready to see what I can do for real. No more wooden swords and play fights."
Garin leaned back against the wagon’s side, crossing his arms. "Just don’t get taken out in the first five minutes this time."
Another round of laughter rippled through the wagon, with Davick rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Just wait 'til we’re in the dungeon. I’ll outlast all of you."
They finally pulled into the compound and began unloading all the wagons. The newly promoted privates filed out of their seats and were immediately directed into formations by corporals and sergeants waiting outside. Once a full formation was made, they were marched off. Kaiden and the others fell into step, their basic training kicking in as they handled the transition with practiced ease. Kaiden couldn’t help but be a little impressed at how smoothly everything ran.
He was positioned toward the back of the formation, and with everyone in front of him, he couldn’t see where they were headed. He wanted so badly to look around, to take in his new surroundings, but he knew better. He kept his gaze forward, playing the part of the disciplined soldier, as they marched for about fifteen minutes.
Finally, they were led to a large open field and ordered to sit down on the grass. Kaiden wasted no time taking a seat, feeling a wave of relief as he was able to take a proper look around.
All around him, the other newly promoted privates who had arrived earlier were sitting neatly in rows of their respective formations. Hundreds of people filled the field, and there were clearly more on the way.
And then he saw it.
In front of the sea of soldiers was a large stage with a podium, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. No, what truly drew his gaze was the massive structure looming behind the stage.
The structure behind the stage loomed like a jagged, unnatural mountain, towering over the compound with an imposing presence. Its surface was uneven and craggy, but not like any rock formation Kaiden had ever seen. There was something about it that felt... off. It wasn’t smooth or symmetrical like a man-made fortress, nor was it entirely chaotic like a natural mountain. It almost seemed alive, pulsating faintly with energy. Dark veins of some unknown mineral traced its surface, glowing faintly under the sunlight, and the shadows cast by its sharp angles gave it a foreboding, otherworldly aura.
What... is that? Kaiden’s heart raced in his chest.
A wide stone path led up to the base of the mountain, flanked on both sides by towering pillars. The pillars, ancient and weathered, were engraved with intricate symbols and runes that he couldn’t recognize. Despite their age, the pillars seemed to hum faintly with magic, a subtle vibration in the air that made Kaiden’s skin tingle. He could feel the energy even from where he sat, like the pillars were alive with power.
At the end of the path stood an enormous set of doors. They were dark and gleaming, a strange combination of metal and wood that shimmered in the light. They were colossal, the largest doors he had ever laid eyes on. They seemed more like the gateway to another world than a simple entrance.
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Hanging from those colossal doors were four massive banners, their colors muted by the distance, but distinct enough for Kaiden to make out their positioning. They fluttered lightly in the breeze, each one bearing symbols that were too far to distinguish, but they were undoubtedly important. They marked something.
His breath caught in his throat as he stared, mesmerized by the sight.
That has to be a dungeon.
There was no mistaking it. The stories, the whispers—everything he had heard about dungeons back in basic training—this was it. The scale, the energy, the ancient feeling it exuded. He had no doubt in his mind that what he was looking at was the real deal.
Holy shit, he thought, his heart thudding in his chest. This was no longer just a distant concept. He wasn’t just training for some theoretical battle. This was real. This was where they’d be trained, where they’d learn what it meant to be Dungeoneers.
After a few more minutes, when it seemed like all the newcomers had arrived and taken their seats, two men in uniform walked across the stage to address the new dungeoneers. The first man was tall and broad-shouldered, with a seasoned look to him—his hair was graying at the temples, and deep lines etched his face, evidence of a life spent in battle. His posture was rigid, and despite his age, he carried an air of strength and command. The second man was younger, in his mid-thirties, with a clean-cut appearance, sharp eyes, and a lean build. He had the look of someone who followed orders to the letter.
The older man stood at the side of the stage while the younger one strode to the center, facing the crowd. His voice boomed as he shouted, "Attention on deck!" Immediately, over a thousand privates stood up in unison, snapping to attention. The young officer then executed a sharp about-face, standing with his back to the crowd, facing the dungeon at full attention.
The older man walked forward, and the younger one quickly saluted him. The older man returned the salute, and the younger soldier moved to the edge of the stage. The gray-haired soldier stepped up to the podium. He didn’t need to shout, yet his voice carried effortlessly across the massive field.
"At ease. Sit down, everyone," the older man commanded. His tone was firm, but not harsh. The recruits obeyed, sitting back down onto the grass.
Kaiden noticed through his Arcane Vision that the podium was enchanted, amplifying the speaker’s voice with subtle magic.
The speaker smiled slightly, a hint of pride crossing his features. "This way," he began, glancing briefly over his shoulder at the massive structure behind him, "everyone can see my dungeon."
He turned back to the audience, letting the weight of his words settle. "My name is Colonel Everan Thorne, and welcome to Camp Thorne. This is where Dungeoneers are made."
Kaiden leaned forward slightly, focused on every word.
The colonel’s expression hardened. "Now, I won't lie to you. Passing this training to become a dungeoneer might be the hardest thing you've ever tried to accomplish—or it might be the last thing you try to accomplish." His voice was calm, but the statement hit the crowd like a punch to the gut.
Kaiden stiffened. Around him, the crowd remained silent, though he could feel the unease spreading like wildfire. The tension was palpable.
The colonel continued, "At the end of your training, every one of you will get a shot at my dungeon." He glanced back at the mountain, as if confirming its presence again before his eyes swept over the crowd. "This is the lowest difficulty dungeon on Aterra. And if you can pass it, then you'll become a full-fledged Dungeoneer. But if you can't..." He let the silence linger for a moment, the gravity of his words sinking in. "Then you'll die."
Kaiden’s breath caught in his throat. What? he thought, his mind racing.
The crowd was disciplined, but even among the soldiers, there were audible shifts, some gasps breaking through. No one dared speak, but the weight of the statement hung over them like a cloud.
The colonel’s face remained impassive. "That’s not an exaggeration. I wish it was. But the mortality rate for Camp Thorne Dungeon is 50%."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Kaiden’s pulse quickened as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard. 50%? he thought. No way. That’s... just insane.
Whispers now rippled through the crowd, the discipline cracking under the weight of the colonel’s audacious claim.
The colonel didn't even bother trying to quiet the crowd as they murmured amongst themselves. Slowly, the voices faded as he continued, his calm, steady voice cutting through the air.
"50%. That’s not a lie. Because anything can happen in a dungeon," he said, "your lives are never guaranteed. Clearing a dungeon is not something an instructor can help you with. It’s just you and your party members. That’s why it’s called the Art of Four."
Kaiden perked up at the mention of the phrase. The Art of Four, the fundamental structure of every dungeon-diving party. He’d heard it from his friends in basic training, but hearing it from the colonel, from someone who had undoubtedly seen hundreds of recruits either make it or perish, gave it weight.
"At basic training," the colonel continued, "you started making a foundation. Now it’s time to build on that foundation. There will be no restrictions on abilities at any time. This is the place to grow and master your abilities."
Kaiden noticed a ripple of pleased expressions spread across the faces of many recruits, himself included. No restrictions meant they could finally use their abilities freely. He’d been holding back his Regeneration skill and other recruits were surely eager to flex their powers as well.
"But," the colonel added after a pause, his eyes scanning the crowd, "from here on, you need to try your hardest to learn as much as you can and better yourselves as much as possible to give you the chance of passing my dungeon. Be the 50% who survives."
His voice softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. "Now, your instructors will take it from here and start breaking you down into platoons."
"Attention on Deck!" the younger soldier barked, snapping everyone back to attention as he marched in front of the colonel, saluting crisply. The colonel returned the salute and walked off the stage without another word. The tension seemed to relax a fraction as the younger soldier addressed the recruits.
"Stand by for all the platoon leaders to arrive. They’ll begin calling your names to break you up into your training groups."
As soon as the colonel was gone, a hum of voices filled the air again. People were chattering nervously, excitedly, all trying to process what they’d just heard. Some recruits seemed scared, others brushed off the colonel’s warning with bravado, but no one could shake the weight of the 50% mortality rate.
Was Colonel Thorne related to that General Thorne that Davick brought up during all that dragoon talk? Kaiden shrugged it off. That hardly mattered at the moment.
As he glanced around at the mass of trainees waiting to be sorted, something struck him that he hadn’t fully processed until now. Amidst all the chaos of arriving at Camp Thorne, the imposing dungeon in the background, and the colonel’s shocking speech, there was one glaring difference from basic training: Girls.
They were everywhere—among the new recruits, scattered in the formations, chatting, some looking just as nervous or excited as the men. Kaiden blinked, realizing he hadn’t seen a single female soldier during basic training. No wonder so many men looked oddly happy despite the grave prognosis.