The clang of metal was already ringing in Echo's ears as he stood in front of Sentinel on the second day of training. The stone slab from yesterday was gone, replaced by something even more formidable—a large, reinforced iron barrel filled with an unknown substance. His arms still ached from the previous day's trial, but he knew there was no turning back. Every moment he spent recovering was a moment wasted.

Sentinel stood to the side, his posture impeccable, his arms crossed, giving no indication of approval or disapproval. His eyes were sharp, calculating, as if he could see the very thoughts stirring in Echo's head.

“The goal for today is endurance,” Sentinel’s voice broke the silence, sounding more like a statement than an instruction. “You will lift this barrel for the next ten minutes. The substance inside is heavier than it looks. Every minute it becomes harder. You’ll feel your muscles screaming at you, your mind begging for release. Don’t listen to either. Focus.”

Echo's throat tightened as he stepped forward, grabbing the handle of the barrel. It felt cold, heavy in his hands, but it was nothing compared to the weight of the task. His legs were stiff, and his back was sore from yesterday’s grueling test, but he could feel the determination building inside him. He wasn’t just here to survive; he was here to excel.

Without waiting any longer, he hoisted the barrel off the ground and held it at chest height. The weight felt manageable at first, but as seconds ticked by, the strain intensified. His arms began to tremble, his legs shaking slightly as he struggled to maintain his balance.

The air around him seemed to thicken with each passing second, and the only sound was his heavy breathing. His mind was racing, trying to focus on the task ahead. Don’t think about the pain, he told himself. Focus on the goal. Focus on the end.

But every fiber of his being screamed at him to drop the barrel, to give in to the burn coursing through his muscles. The clock ticked down slowly, every second an eternity.

“You’re weak,” Sentinel’s voice cut through his concentration, but there was no judgment—just a simple statement. “You’ll stay weak until you learn to push through this. Until you stop thinking about what you can’t do and start focusing on what you can.”

Echo’s breath was coming in ragged gasps, but he tightened his grip and stood firm. This was only the beginning. There was no other choice but to endure.

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Rook’s day had begun differently. Gladiator had led him to a series of tall, spiked wooden poles that stood in a perfect line across the training yard. It was clear that today’s training would test his agility—his speed and dexterity.

“You’ve got no shortage of strength, but strength is nothing if you can’t use it,” Gladiator had said, his voice rough and commanding as he gestured to the poles. “We’re going to work on your movement. You’re going to climb, jump, and weave through these obstacles. I’ll time you. Your goal is to make it to the end without touching the ground.”

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Rook’s heart raced in anticipation. He had done agility drills before, but this—this was a whole different level. The poles stretched high, the spaces between them narrow. Some poles were uneven, some tilted at odd angles, and a few were covered in sharp spikes. A slip could cost him more than just pride.

“You’ll have to move faster than you think,” Gladiator warned, his voice gruff, but there was a fire in his eyes. “Every second counts. You want to be one of the top dogs here? Then prove it.”

Without another word, Gladiator gestured for him to start. Rook took a deep breath and sprinted toward the first pole, his body reacting instinctively. He grabbed the pole with one hand, swinging his legs up to find his footing. His heart pounded in his chest as he launched himself to the next pole, his body twisting and turning, moving faster than he ever had before.

Each jump was more difficult than the last, and he could feel his muscles protesting with each swing and leap. His hands were raw from gripping the slick wood, but he refused to slow down. The sound of Gladiator’s gruff voice followed him like a shadow, reminding him that there was no room for failure.

“You’re moving too slow,” Gladiator shouted as Rook stumbled briefly on one of the poles. “Get it together.”

Rook pushed through the pain, his mind focused entirely on the rhythm of his movements. With each leap, each twist, the goal became clearer. I’m going to make it. I have to make it.

And, by sheer willpower, he did. He reached the final pole, breathing heavily but triumphant. His body ached in ways he had never imagined, but there was a fire in his chest, a burning desire to push past his limits.

“You finished, but that wasn’t good enough,” Gladiator said as Rook staggered to a stop, hands on his knees. “You can do better. Faster.”

Rook looked up, his chest heaving with exhaustion, but his gaze was unwavering. “Next time, I’ll do it faster.”

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Day Three:

The third day of training was just as brutal as the second, if not more so. Echo’s body was sore from two days of grueling effort, and now, on top of everything, Sentinel had added another layer to the challenge.

“You’ve learned to push your physical limits,” Sentinel said, watching him carefully as Echo stood before another set of weights. “Now you’ll learn control.”

The task ahead seemed simple enough—carry a weight, but in a specific and controlled manner. The goal was not to lift the heaviest load, but to move it with precision and consistency, using slow, deliberate movements.

For the next few hours, Echo worked tirelessly under Sentinel’s watchful eyes, carefully honing his ability to maintain control over his body. His body screamed with exhaustion, but Sentinel didn’t allow him any moments of rest. Not yet. Not until he could carry the weight properly.

Meanwhile, Rook faced a similar challenge. Gladiator led him to a series of speed trials, forcing him to run, leap, and dodge through obstacles at breakneck speed. The focus now was precision in motion—every movement calculated and perfected, without hesitation.

By the end of the third day, both Echo and Rook were drenched in sweat, their bodies bruised and battered from the tests. But their resolve had only grown stronger. They had no choice but to endure. This was only the beginning of their journey, and they knew that the road ahead would be unforgiving.

But neither of them flinched.