The sounds stopped. A minute crawled by. Then another.

The Colonel didn’t rush. He let the silence breathe, let the weight of what had just happened settle into our bones. Then, with the same measured calm as if he were giving a weather report, he spoke.

“Now then, everyone. I have a simple instruction, and it will be obeyed to the letter.”

He waited. For the ones who had fainted to stir. For those whose eyes were still locked on the corpses to force themselves to look at him. He waited long enough for the silence to ache. Then, finally—

“All of you have seen the field with the obstacle course. You will run around it.”

No one moved.

The Colonel raised an eyebrow, his voice somehow carrying even more weight without rising in volume.

“My apologies. I clearly didn’t speak loud enough.”

This time, his voice boomed, ricocheting off the walls—somehow sounding neither angry nor upset.

“All of you. Run. Now.”

The room detonated into chaos. Bodies jolted into motion, not in unison, not in order—just raw, animal panic. Someone shoved a man aside, throwing him into the doorway just to clear their path.

I stayed back, watching the mess unfold.

Then I glanced over and saw Sofia.

Her hands were shaking. Her eyes locked on the floor, like the bodies were still lying there.

Then, slowly, she looked up. Saw me watching. And just like that, her face shut down, turning flat, empty. Her mask slid back into place, cold and unreadable.

I saw her mother in that moment.

So, naturally, I stuck my tongue out at her. Then flipped her the bird and took off running.

We reached the field, and I realized just how much had been hidden behind the warehouses. There were firing ranges, a vast empty space stretching into the distance, and what looked like a sprinter’s track—only it was covered in barbed wire, with mud pooled beneath it.

But none of that mattered. None of it compared to the monster that lurked behind one of the warehouses.

It was an oversized tank—if you could even call it that. The thing was massive, dwarfing the military trucks I’d seen in my youth, turning them into mere playthings. It had six wheels, each taller than a man, and I could already picture the deep scars it would leave in the earth with every movement. Its metal plating was jagged and dark, catching the light at sharp, uneven angles—like the armored hide of some ancient beast. Slits and holes lined its sides—just enough space for finks to slaughter in comfort.

The front sloped forward, thick and angled, as if built to smash through mountains. Long mechanical arms jutted from its front, ending in what could only be described as enormous katanas. Spikes bristled along its edges, cruel and menacing. But it wasn’t just its size or its design that weighed on me—it was something more. The air itself felt heavier around it. It stood in absolute silence, yet its presence screamed.

This thing was unholy. It existed to spread misery. And just looking at it was enough to make my stomach turn.

Some of the others glanced at the tank, but otherwise, it was ignored. Somehow.

Everyone just kept running, slipping between it and the warehouse like it wasn't even there. The ones far ahead were already taking the turn—maybe two kilometers in the distance.

Only then did I realize how big Sector B actually was. The tank, almost looking like a building on tires, looked small compared to the sheer scale of the warehouse. The sleeveless only turned at its farthest edge.

We ran in that every day? No wonder it made us tired.

And so, we ran.

By the time I made the first turn, I spotted the Colonel. He wasn’t alone. A thousand sleeved finks, at least, moved in formation, flowing onto the field like a tide. Lieutenant Zenzele was among them.

Finally, the others started slowing down, murmuring between heavy breaths. Questions, half-formed and frantic, spread through the ranks.

Everyone ran with their heads slightly down, their shoulders tense, eyes flicking away the second they met someone else's. Even the ones talking sounded off—voices hushed, like they weren’t sure if they should be speaking at all.

I ran ahead, finding Kate. The B ranks had closed around her, running almost in formation, shielding her with their bodies. A few spoke to her, voices low and urgent, but most just stuck close, offering silent protection.

I slotted into the gap between Marnus and Zach. "Kate, you okay?"

She barely glanced at me before her eyes darted between the others, too many questions and mouths for her to keep track of, her eyes growing even wider and more panicked than the others.

Before she could answer, Marnus snapped. “All of you, shut the fuck up. Leave her alone. We can discuss it later.”

It was still always surprising to see the little guy get angry, but not one person disobeyed. The murmuring softened, the questions died. But they still ran around her. Close enough to remind her that she wasn’t alone. That she wasn’t the cause of this.

I glanced toward the Colonel, watching the way he moved through the crowd, his presence an iron weight on the field. Then, I saw a man next to him tap his left arm, then point at the Colonel.

Not a moment later, his voice rang out as loud as when we were standing in Sector B.

“All of you. Sing the national anthem. I want to hear it echo against the leviathan.”

So, there might have been a slight problem.

I did not know the national anthem. I had only heard it played a few times on the screens in Goudstad, but I was too busy to even try and memorize the words.

The others started without hesitation—something about skies and Alexander, about being the best finks, then, for some reason, switching to Xhosa, then Russian.

I had no idea what was going on.

Theo caught up beside me, eyebrows raised, clearly wondering what the hell I was doing. I just shrugged in time with my steps.

“I don’t know the fink song.”

He gave me a look of absolute bafflement, like he could not understand what I'd just said.

Before he could respond, the Colonel’s voice cut through the air again.

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“Some of you are still talking. You forget, I can see you.”

He let the words settle, the silence stretch.

Then, with that same steady, measured calm—“Everyone who isn’t singing will have a far harder time running. This is your only warning.”

I shut my mouth. Hopefully, that would be enough.

We kept running.

One man—either too bold or too stupid—kept talking. Five seconds later, he paid for it.

His steps faltered, his pace dragged to a crawl. His footprints sank deep into the dirt, as if the ground itself had decided to swallow him whole. A sharp yelp tore from his throat as his clothes grew heavier, his entire body sluggish, weighted down like lead.

I didn’t look back.

We just ran.

And ran.

And then—more running. I don’t know what you expected.

It was hot. Humid. Sweat clung to every inch of skin. An hour in, our uniforms were drenched, sticking to our backs, to our thighs, to the insides of our elbows.

I swear I could hear Marnus’ shoes squelch with every step.

We ran the entire day. And not one person even thought about stopping.

Some of the B ranks kept up with me until—what? Ten a.m.? But by midday, most of them were struggling, breath ragged, movements sluggish. I slowed down to match their pace, and honestly?

I was almost bored.

That was, until a high-ranker fell in beside me. I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. Unlike the others, he didn’t look shaken—no exhaustion in his eyes, no trace of fear. Like this was nothing new.

He probably looks like me, I thought to myself. Like he’d seen worse. Like this was just another day.

I picked up the pace. So did he.

He kept singing the whole while. That’s when I recognized him—the same fink from testing day, the one who needed a towel.

We ran together, each of us pushing just a little harder, testing just how far the other could go in our unspoken contest.

And well, I wasn’t the most competitive guy. But I figured it would be fun to teach him what running looked like.

We kept pushing, our pace creeping up with every lap, until we lapped everyone. And then we lapped them again. And again. By the eighth lap, I saw him stumble. He caught himself and kept going.

That’s when I knew I’d won.

Only took him another seven laps to realize it. Finally, he slowed to a crawl, shoulders shaking and after a few more steps he staggered to the side, vomiting onto the dirt.

I let the victory sink in, riding the high as I lapped them all, What did Sofia say? Nineteen hundred and eighty-six of them?

When I caught up to Theo, he was coughing, wheezing—making noises I’d never heard before.

Isaac wasn’t doing much better. I slowed down to match them, falling in step. No one was singing anymore. No one was talking.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the Colonel’s voice rang out one last time.

“All of you, outstanding. Get back into the warehouse.”

As the others panted their way toward the warehouse, I panted toward Sofia, stepping in beside her.

I’d lapped her too many times to count today. She’d done okay, but just okay—nothing special.

“You know,” I started, forcing a deep breath to stop myself from wheezing, “you said… I wouldn’t make it past the first match… but you barely made it past the first lap.” I flashed her a grin. “Better start training… for the tournament… or you might just embarrass dead old daddy.”

She just gave me a side eye so sharp it could cut steel, and finally an expression leaked through. I knew there was something under there. It happened to be hatred and contempt. But still. It was something.

She tried to speak, lips parting, but her breath was too ragged. “You… think… you—”

I waved a dismissive hand at her.

Already moving on, I spotted the high-ranker I’d run against earlier and clapped him on the shoulder. “That was… fun. Let’s do it… again.”

He yanked away from my touch like I’d burned him, barely getting the words out. “We… aren’t… friends… civvie.”

I just rolled my eyes and walked off before he could finish.

Found Theo next.

For the first time since I'd known him, his eternal smile wasn't on his face. He looked sad, heartbroken, as he stared at the floor. But when he looked up and saw me walking next to him, he smiled and clapped me on the shoulder. “You… were… incredible,” he panted. “I… want… your… lungs.”

I wanted to grin. He was smiling. But it didn’t reach his eyes. There was no warmth in it, just exhaustion and something deeper—something wounded.

I thought about wrapping him in a hug, but instead, I just rested a hand on his shoulder, giving him a quiet look before walking with him into Sector B.

The first thing I noticed was that the stage, the blood, and the bodies, were all gone.

Everything was back to normal. Like nothing had ever happened.

We lined up again, still catching our breath, when the Colonel spoke. “You all did outstanding today. Tomorrow, training will resume as usual. But tonight, as a reward, after your dinner, you will each receive ice cream.”

He paused. Let the words sit.

“I apologize, but there shall be no speaking at dinner. This is an order, not a request. So I expect it to be obeyed.”

He said it like he was announcing a birth, like he’d just given us the greatest gift in the world.

Then his tone hardened. “High-rankers, you will stay here. Lieutenant Zenzele will accompany the B ranks. Lieutenant Michael and his compatriots will accompany the lower ranks. None of you will speak. If any of the lieutenants catch you stepping out of line”—he paused, letting the silence stretch—“I will not be lenient. At. All.”

“Am I clear?”

No one had the breath to answer properly, but the others still snapped to attention, saluting.

“Yes, Colonel!” they panted.

We were marched to the mess hall, filed in like perfect little soldiers. Lieutenant Zenzele walked behind us, silent, her presence like a blade at our backs.

When we got inside, I grabbed my tray, moved through the line, and was about to sit when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

The Lieutenant.

Her voice was low. Unyielding. “You’re sitting near me. Not a word, Boris. I mean it.”

I just nodded, slipping into the seat beside her as she stood at the end of the table.

Dinner went down quick, like always. I finished far before the others and nudged Tom’s plate with mine, asking for my second dinner.

He looked at me wide-eyed, like I’d just asked him to sign my death warrant. I glanced at the Lieutenant—she was trying to set my skull on fire with her glare. Ignoring it, I turned back to Tom and gave him a pointed look. He hesitated, then finally sighed and copied his food into my tray. Sucker had only finished half of his.

I ate quickly, just as the lower ranks filed in—silent. Completely silent.

No talking, no banter, none of the usual background noise that made mealtime feel alive. Just the scrape of chairs, the clatter of silverware, the slow, mechanical sound of chewing.

It was the strangest thing I’d ever heard.

So, confession time: I’ve had ice cream exactly twice in my life.

Some rich civvies in Goudstad didn’t want theirs anymore, so they tossed it out, and I was lucky enough to grab it first.

This? This would be the first time I had my own. All to myself.

I was the last to get mine, being at the back of the line and all. I dug my spoon in—paused—then glanced up at the Lieutenant.

Her lips were pursed as she watched Tom eat his.

I sighed, shoved my spoon back into the bowl, and got up.

Before the lower ranks could get their ice cream, I cut back to the cook area and grabbed a second bowl. The cook barely glanced at me before shooing me away like I was a pesky fly.

I walked back, plopped the second bowl onto the table, ignoring the Lieutenant’s hard stare, then made my way to the lower ranks' table and found what looked like the only empty chair.

Let’s just say I made sure the thud was just a little too loud as I set it behind her.

Then I sat, holding up the second bowl toward Tom, nudging him the same way I had earlier.

He looked like I’d asked him to kick a puppy, but he did as I asked. He copied my ice cream into the new bowl, his hands shaking like he’d never done this before.

I didn’t say anything. Just placed it in front of the Lieutenant. Then, finally, I dug in.

It was a little melted, but thank god—it was amazing.

It reminded me of that burger I’d had that fateful day—what felt like a lifetime ago.

But new friends always make food better. And seeing the lieutenant sit down and get stuck in only hammered home that fact.

We went to bed without fanfare, everyone too exhausted to even think, let alone speak. I felt worn out too, so when I finished my prayers and got into bed, it wasn't even two seconds and I was asleep.