Flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, I listened to Galina pant a few feet away. She’d just kicked my ass up and down the room. Again.

I groaned as I got to my feet, shaking out my arms before getting back into my stance.

She just held up a hand, shaking her head. "That's enough for today," she said, grinning. "That was amazing! You've improved so much! I'm very impressed."

I flopped back down, rubbing my ribs. “I didn’t even get a hit in.”

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t improve.” She sat down beside me. “You stopped two double-leg takedowns. Two! And you’re finally throwing real punches—it’s actually hard to dodge you now.”

She held up three fingers, counting them down as she went. “You used the environment well,” she said, gesturing at the wreckage of the room. “Last time you were just breaking things. This time, you actually used the space against me, taking into account where I am and what obstacles you can use against me.”

Then she knocked on the side of my head. It made an empty-sounding thud. Ignore that. “Didn’t know there was a brain in there.”

I shot her a look, but she just grinned.

“And Jesus, Boris, you are tough. The Lieutenant asked me to… uh, discipline you, and I tried my damn hardest. But you just kept going. Do you know how impressive that is? That first kick alone won me my last match in the Ascension Tournament.”

“Explains the… well. Everything,” I muttered, wincing as I rubbed my shoulders. Even my shins ached, welts already forming.

“I’d give you pointers on using your ability better, but I get the feeling you learn best by getting your face smashed into the mat.” She checked her watch. “We’ve got five minutes left. Plenty of time.”

Then her eyes lit up with something almost mischievous.

“So, Boris.” She leaned in slightly. “What did you do to the Lieutenant?”

I sighed, running through the whole thing. She nodded along, eyebrows climbing higher and higher. When I got to my, uh, nighttime activities, she didn’t even try to hide her smirk.

By the time I finished, she had an expression like she was holding back a laugh. Then she suddenly clapped her hands. “Oh! Right! Boris! You need to start looking for weapons. Please tell me you started when you ‘ran to Alexandria.’”

She air-quoted it. Real exaggerated. Real judgmental.

Why does no one believe me? I ran further than that for fucks sake.

I shrugged. “No, I haven’t, actually. I have a tarp, if that counts?” I flashed her a grin.

She just stared at me. “A tarp.”

“A really nice one.”

She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “Sure. Anyway, I get why you’re trying to get back in her good books, but… come on. An apple? And suddenly it’s all okay?” She raised an eyebrow.

I threw my hands up. “Well, yes. What else am I supposed to do? Cure cancer?”

“That would probably do it.” She smirked before her expression softened. “But for now? Give her time. Disloyalty pisses anyone off. If you show you’re genuinely sorry—” her tone shifted, more serious now “—she’ll come around. Anyone would.”

She said it like it was obvious. Like it was that simple.

I nodded. “Thanks, Lieutenant. I’m trying, so we’ll see if I can’t make some headway there.” I frowned. “Otherwise… what do we do now?”

She leaned back on her hands. “Well, I think you’re supposed to ask me questions on how to win.” Then, her lips curled upward. “Although… pretty much everyone is curious about the new Blessed the General spared. I don’t think there’s a single person in the tower who hasn’t heard about you.”

“Oh? I’m famous now?” I smirked.

“Infamous, more like.”

Before I could respond, her watch beeped.

I gestured toward it. “I think you’re out of time.”

She groaned. “Just getting to the good part.” She pushed herself up, dusted off her hands, and gave me a quick fist bump. “Okay, goodbye, Boris. This was fun, actually. Looking forward to next week.” Then she was gone.

Not a moment later, Zach came knocking, calling me to dinner.

While we were heading to the mess hall in formation, I noticed something off. Zach was hiding a small gun under his fink uniform. Noticing the barrel outline in the pocket he was trying to conceal it in.

No one could hide things like that from me.

I wondered where he'd get the bullets? The lieutenant hadn't let me use any last time, so I assume they kept them away from us sleeveless.

Dinner was quiet. Again.

I tried making small talk with the ones not in the Ascension Tournament, but no one was giving me anything to work with. Just blank stares and half-hearted replies.

I sighed and gave up, finishing my meal in silence.

Afterward, we ran through our nightly routines, the Lieutenant dismissing us to bed.

That night, my prayers felt… different.

“Lord. Give me the strength not to see my kids.”

I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the sheets.

“Every piece of me wants to rush out of here, make sure they’re safe. I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s always there, in the back of my mind. Just—just give me the patience to survive this hell.”

I paused, suddenly aware of the pride in my own words.

No. That wasn’t right.

I exhaled, lowering my head.

“No. Don’t help me. Abandon me to this false paradise. Help them. Please. I beg you. Watch over them. Keep them safe, just until I can get there.”

My jaw clenched.

“I should never have agreed to Maria’s request.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The words felt heavy, solid. A truth I couldn’t take back.

“Just… help them until I can go back. Please. Amen”

I finished up, lay down, and ignored the footsteps echoing through the halls that night.

Instead, I sank into that perfect cloud they called a bed.

I was up maybe ten minutes before the Lieutenant walked in, already dressed and waiting at my bed. Across from me, Manus was still dead to the world, a line of drool stretching from his mouth to his pillow. I watched in silent amusement as it inched toward his eye.

The second the Lieutenant stepped through the door, I snapped to attention and threw a perfect salute. A real one. Hated every second of it, but gotta make amends somehow.

I whispered loudly, “Lieutenant!”

She paused. Just for a fraction of a second.

And I swear—on everything holy—the corner of her mouth hooked up. But then it was gone, and she was banging on the bed frame, barking orders.

“Up! Now!”

“Oh, come on! That was a great salute!” I called after her. “I’m sorry, I really mean it!”

She didn’t even turn around.

“Boris. You were not given permission to speak.” Her voice was as sharp as a blade. “Five hundred pushups. Then you can go to breakfast. It’ll be five thousand if I don’t see your face looking like a newborn’s bottom.”

And with that, she was gone—off to go terrorize the girls' barracks.

I sagged, defeated, before dropping to the floor and rediscovering my deep and endless hatred for pushups.

By the time I made it to breakfast, I’d finally coaxed Tom into telling me about his day—when the mess hall door swung open, and a fink with three gold bands around his sleeve walked in.

I remembered him. Kinda. Think his name was Lieutenant Michael.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, but something about him was… strange. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I think it was his eyes. They looked unnatural—like electricity was buzzing behind them, making them flicker and jump from face to face.

“Everyone,” he said flatly. “You will attend the exercise hall for B ranks today. If you are absent, pray to whatever god you believe in that I do not catch you.”

Then he turned on his heel and walked out the way he came.

The mess hall was silent for a moment before the usual low murmurs picked back up.

When everyone finished breakfast and started filing toward the hall, I hung back and nudged Theo. “So, Lieutenant Michael. Real charmer, huh?”

Theo’s face lit up like I’d just handed him a birthday present. “No! He’s really nice, actually! He even let me bring my books! I like him!”

I glanced at Isaac, who was barely suppressing a smile.

“Of course he’s nice,” I muttered, shaking my head.

Isaac shrugged. “Despite Theo’s enthusiasm, yeah, he’s okay. Just orders us around all day. Some of the girls don’t like him, though. I don’t know why.”

He didn’t seem particularly interested, like it wasn’t worth considering.

Before I could dig into that, we stepped into the warehouse, where the B ranks were already lined up.

I sprinted into position, feeling Lieutenant Zenzele’s eyes burning a hole through my skull for being the odd one out.

At the back of the hall, a makeshift stage had been set up. Colonel Walker paced back and forth across it, slow and deliberate, like a tiger that had just spotted its prey.

Some people must have been too slow getting in line, because suddenly, his voice exploded through the room.

“WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? ALEXANDRIA? GET IN LINE OR I WILL MAKE THEM HAVE TO PEEL YOU OFF THE FUCKING FLOOR!”

Every person snapped into neat lines in ten seconds flat.

Behind me, someone was shaking in his boots. Poor lad.

Lieutenant Michael and Lieutenant Zenzele stood off to the side, surrounded by hundreds of other finks, from low ranks to lieutenants. I couldn't tell them apart, only knowing that the three gold bands marked a lieutenant. At the very front, ahead of all of us, stood the high rankers, perfectly lined up.

Colonel Walker paced the raised platform, his presence pressing down on the room. After a long pause, he finally spoke.

“Lieutenants. Bring the perpetrators.”

There were no wasted words, no ceremony. Just the order.

We waited. Five minutes passed before the men were dragged onto the stage, gagged and cuffed behind their backs. Every single one of them looked terrified, shoulders hunched, eyes darting around the room like rats trapped in a cage. There were only five of them. Lapdog was missing.

For a brief moment, the only sound was their muffled, desperate pleas—whimpers, choked sobs, useless struggling against the restraints. I saw a fink discreetly hide behind his friends, tapping his shoulder and pointing a hand at the colonel.

And the second he spoke again, his voice cut through the room like a blade.

“Sleeveless. I know all of you are training hard. But we, as your instructors, must apologize.”

His tone was cold, almost distant, yet his eyes never left Fish. He stepped forward, walking behind the prisoners with slow, deliberate steps.

“You are infants. We, your parents. And we have failed you.”

The words lingered, heavy.

“But now, we rectify that failure.”

He stopped behind one of the men—the one I remembered, the one who could make his hands grow bigger.

“These men stand accused of attacking a Sleeveless—unprovoked. Of assaulting a Lieutenant—one of their own sisters in arms.”

Murmurs rippled through the hall. Then, he stopped walking behind the one in the middle of the kneeling men.

“And worst of all—attempted rape.”

It was like the air had been sucked from the room. Two thousand pairs of eyes locked onto the accused, every single one of them burning with hate. The man shook so badly his cuffs rattled. He tried to speak, but his gag turned his words into incoherent, panicked noises.

The Colonel didn’t even acknowledge it. His voice remained steady, unaffected. “I have done a thorough investigation. I have collected multiple eyewitness testimonies. And, as if to prove their own incompetence, there is more than enough video evidence.”

He paused, and then his voice sounded almost relieved, like he finally accomplished a task that had taken far longer than he expected, “And I declare these men guilty. The sentence is death.”

The silence before the first shot stretched long. A pause. A breath. Then the Colonel pulled a pistol from his coat and fired—once, twice, five times—so fast even my Blessed eyes struggled to follow. Fish took two bullets and was still squirming, his eyes bulging toward the ceiling, his legs kicking the dead man next to him. The Colonel just looked at him with open contempt, as though the man’s final moments were an inconvenience.

Then, he moved behind the last one—the one who had tried to rape Kate. This time, his tone shifted.

“The method of execution for rape generally lies at the hands of the victim. They have chosen to remain private. Their punishment was merciful.”

“However.” The Colonel’s voice sharpened, an edge creeping into it that hadn’t been there before. “As your parent, I have jurisdiction. And I have come to a far different conclusion.”

The condemned man—I think his name was McGill?—bit clean through his gag before he screamed, his voice raw with desperation.

“Please! I didn't do anything! I swear! I just wanted to talk to her! Zenzele, please—you know me! We trained together! I wouldn't—”

The Colonel’s face twisted into something unholy as he grabbed a rope and wrenched it around the man’s mouth, tightening it with an almost deliberate cruelty. The strain was so vicious I swear I heard McGill’s teeth crack under the pressure.

His plea cut off with a choked grunt.

Then, just as quickly as his rage surfaced, it was gone. The Colonel stepped back, smoothing his uniform as if nothing had happened. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, almost indifferent.

“His birth certificate will be burned. His social media presence deleted. His name scratched from every record he has ever written it on. He will be erased. Bear witness to his final moments, for history won’t even know he existed.”

He tapped his left shoulder, raised his hand toward the condemned, and then he paused. “If you are squeamish, I suggest you turn away.”

The screaming didn’t last long. But the… sounds did.

He worked slowly, methodically, each motion measured, each noise stretched out just a little longer than necessary. The grotesque symphony of crushed flesh and bone filled the silent hall.

Most turned away. Some gagged. A few fainted. Anna vomited, some of the bile splattering my shoes.

Me?

I’m not squeamish. And I had been planning to kill the bastard myself.

So I stood there and watched, letting the show unfold. Letting it sink in.

And somewhere, deep down, I realized—I didn’t just agree with this.

I liked it.