One year had passed since Lira had first knocked on Aric’s door and turned his world upside down. In that time, he had trained relentlessly, sharpening both his mind and his body in ways he never imagined. His muscles had grown stronger, his endurance greater, but even now, his father’s Labor still weighed heavily on him. Mastery was slow, grueling, but with each day, he could feel the sword becoming more of an extension of himself. Yet, his second Labor still remained elusive, always just beyond reach, like a distant echo waiting to be heard.

Aric stood outside his small home, gazing at the sky. Today was different—today was the day he would leave for the military orientation, the rite of passage for all able-bodied people when they turned 18. Lira had prepared him for this moment, but now that it was here, the reality of it settled into his bones. This was more than just training; it was his first true step into the wider world—a world filled with dangers far beyond the borders of the village.

He had turned 18 just a week ago, and now it was time.

Lira approached from the side, her cloak trailing behind her like a shadow. In the past year, she hadn’t changed much. Her eyes were as sharp as ever, and her voice still carried that calm authority that had come to ground him. Yet, in some ways, Aric had changed. He had outgrown the uncertainty he once felt around her. She had become more than a mentor—she was a constant in his life, guiding him toward an uncertain future.

“You’re ready,” Lira said without preamble.

Aric nodded, though his stomach churned with a mix of anticipation and dread. “Do you really think this is necessary? They already have soldiers.”

“This isn’t just about fighting,” Lira replied. “The orientation is a way to integrate people like you—those with Talents and Labors—into a greater network. You’ll need allies. Friends. And the military will give you the chance to test your skills in ways you can’t here.”

Aric sighed. He knew she was right, but it didn’t make leaving any easier. Still, the Crater loomed in his thoughts, a constant reminder of the danger that never left the edges of their world.

The military camp was buzzing with activity when Aric arrived. Rows of barracks stretched across the grounds, recruits milling about with a mix of nervousness and excitement. Some of them were fresh-faced and eager, others looked more reserved, weighed down by the gravity of what was to come. Aric stood in the middle of it all, feeling like a stranger among so many unfamiliar faces, despite his year of training.

He hadn’t been there long before a voice called out.

“Hey! You look lost,” a tall, broad-shouldered young man grinned as he approached. He had dark, curly hair and a friendly smile that reached his brown eyes. “First time here?”

Aric nodded, feeling some of the tension ease at the man’s easygoing demeanor. “Yeah. First time.”

The man extended his hand. “Name’s Joran. You look like you know how to handle yourself—what’s your Talent?”

“Marksmanship,” Aric replied, shaking his hand. “You?”

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“Super strength,” Joran said with a laugh. “Not exactly subtle, but it sure makes things interesting.”

Aric raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Super strength? That’s… useful.”

Joran flexed his arm playfully. “You’d think so, but it also makes breaking stuff way too easy. I’ve gone through five swords already.”

There was something about Joran’s energy that made Aric instantly like him. He was loud but genuine, and there was a confidence to him that made it hard not to smile in return.

Another figure approached, this one quieter but with an intensity that matched Aric’s own. She was shorter than Joran, with dark, straight hair tied back in a tight braid. Her sharp blue eyes were calm but calculating, as if she was constantly assessing everything around her.

“This is Nya,” Joran said, waving her over. “She’s a tactical genius. The rest of us might be strong, but she’s the one who’ll get us out of trouble when it really counts.”

Nya gave a small nod of greeting. “I’ve been watching the way you move. You’re disciplined.”

Aric blinked, surprised by her directness. “Thanks, I guess?”

“It’s a compliment,” Nya said, her tone neutral but not unkind. “Most people here are a mess. You’ll stand out.”

There was something unnerving about Nya’s presence, but not in an uncomfortable way. Her eyes were always moving, always scanning the space around them, as if she was perceiving something others couldn’t. Aric quickly learned why.

Joran leaned in with a grin. “Don’t let her quiet demeanor fool you. Nya’s Talent is a rare one—space distortion. She can manipulate distances and angles in a fight, warping the battlefield to her advantage.”

Aric raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Space distortion? How does that even work?”

Nya glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “It’s about control. Most people see space as fixed, but it isn’t. I can shift it—alter the flow of movement. Distort what people see and feel. It’s subtle, but effective.”

Aric could feel the depth of her ability, sensing just how valuable it would be in combat. He had never encountered anyone with a Talent like hers, and he couldn’t help but feel a strange admiration for her calm precision.

The opening ceremony was held in a massive outdoor pavilion, with recruits packed shoulder to shoulder. Aric stood with Joran and Nya, both of whom seemed more relaxed than he felt. His gaze scanned the stage, waiting for the higher-ups to arrive and give the standard military speech. A speech about duty, loyalty, and the dangers that awaited them all.

But then something unusual happened.

An old man stepped onto the stage. His appearance was striking—he was tall but hunched, with long, silver hair that flowed down his back. His beard was equally long, streaked with white, and his skin was pale, almost ghostly. His clothes were simple but worn, a dark robe that seemed to absorb the light around him. But it was his eyes that stood out—deep, sunken eyes that had seen more than any person should. The man moved slowly, each step deliberate, and he carried an air of authority that made the crowd fall silent.

Aric’s eyes locked onto the old man, feeling a strange chill run down his spine.

The old man sat down in the center of the stage, crossing his legs in a lotus position. The pavilion, filled with so many recruits, fell deathly silent now, as if the very air had been sucked out of the space.

As the old man settled into his seat, something even stranger occurred. His forehead, smooth and unmarked just moments ago, began to shift. A crease appeared, slowly splitting the skin between his brows until a third eye—a glowing, otherworldly eye—opened, staring out at the crowd.

The entire crowd seemed frozen in place, as if held in some kind of trance. Aric could feel the gaze of the third eye pressing down on him, and for a moment, everything around him faded away. There was no sound, no sensation, just the deep, overwhelming pressure of that eye watching him, as if it could see straight into his soul.

Then it started.

Blood-curdling screams erupted all around him.

At first, the sound was distant, almost like a whisper, but then it grew louder, overwhelming. The screams of the recruits filled the air, piercing and raw, like they were being torn apart from the inside. Aric’s heart pounded in his chest, and he whipped his head around, but he couldn’t see anything—just darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision.

His legs felt like they were sinking into the ground, the weight of the third eye pressing on him harder and harder. The screams of the other recruits seemed to echo endlessly in his ears, each voice filled with terror and pain. It was as if the world around him was collapsing, suffocating him in the sound of agony.

He tried to move, to shout, to break free, but his body wouldn’t respond. His limbs felt heavy, disconnected, like they didn’t belong to him anymore.

The last thing Aric saw before everything went black was the old man’s third eye, glowing brighter, staring right at him.

The darkness consumed him, the screams of the recruits ringing in his ears.

Then—nothing.

Aric lost consciousness.