The teenagers moved up the ramp with surprising determination.
No lingering glances back at tearful parents. No dramatic final waves or shouted promises to write. They simply walked forward, their faces set with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation that spoke of youth ready to embrace whatever came next.
Ares followed at his measured pace, noting the sudden shift in their behavior with quiet interest.
'Interesting,' he thought. 'The moment they stepped onto the ramp, childhood ended. They all felt it.'
The transition from village ground to skyship deck marked more than a physical boundary. It was a psychological threshold that separated their old lives from whatever lay ahead.
Behind them, parents called out final words of encouragement and love. The teenagers heard them, but something had already changed. Their focus had shifted irrevocably forward.
As Ares crossed onto the ship proper, he felt the subtle shift in air pressure and temperature that marked the boundary between outside and inside.
The sensation was barely noticeable, but it spoke of sophisticated environmental controls that maintained perfect comfort regardless of external conditions.
The interior took his breath away.
Where he had expected cramped military functionality, he found something that resembled a palace more than a transport vessel.
The corridors were wide and airy, with walls that seemed to glow with their own inner light. Intricate patterns flowed across every surface—not painted or carved, but somehow grown into the very structure of the ship.
'Artificing,' Ares realized, recognition sparking in his mind.
He'd heard the village shaman mention it once during one of his rambling lectures about the wider world. The art of infusing magical essence into materials, creating objects that functioned through mystical rather than mechanical means.
The craftsmanship here was extraordinary. Smooth curves replaced harsh angles. Every line served both aesthetic and functional purposes. The lighting wasn't harsh or artificial—it felt like captured sunlight, warm and natural despite being entirely magical in origin.
This world might lack the advanced technology that his previous life was filled with, but they had found something arguably superior.
These magical alternatives were not only equally functional—they were beautiful in ways that pure technology could never achieve.
'Remarkable,' he thought, genuinely impressed despite his natural restraint.
The group was led into a large open space that served as the ship's main gathering area.
The ceiling soared high above them, giving the impression of standing in a natural cavern rather than a manufactured vessel. Soft light filtered down from crystalline formations that hung like chandeliers, casting dancing patterns across the polished floor.
The middle-aged man with the impressive mustache stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate attention. Up close, his uniform was even more impressive—clearly crafted from materials that were both practical and durable.
"Welcome aboard the Stormcrest," he began, his voice carrying easily through the space without seeming to echo. "I am Captain Thorne of the EagleBeak Camp. For the next several hours, this ship is your world."
His sharp eyes swept across the gathered teenagers, cataloging each face with practiced efficiency.
"You've all awakened bloodlines ranging from D-rank to S-rank," he continued. "That makes you exceptional by village standards. Out here?" He gestured vaguely toward the walls. "You're barely adequate. In fact, your bloodlines mean a lot less than you would expect."
A few teenagers shifted uncomfortably at the blunt assessment.
"The world beyond your quiet villages is dangerous in ways you can't yet imagine. Primordials roam the wilderness. Breakout beasts hunt in packs. Political conflicts rage between bastions." His expression grew serious. "Survival requires more than just a decent bloodline ranking."
Ares listened with calm attention, filing away every word. This matched what he'd suspected—that his small village existed in a protective bubble that bore little resemblance to the wider world.
"Before we continue," Captain Thorne said, his tone shifting slightly, "I want you to meet someone."
He gestured toward a shadowy corner of the space that Ares hadn't paid particular attention to before.
The darkness seemed to deepen, becoming almost solid. Then something massive stirred within it.
A crow emerged from the shadows, but not any ordinary bird. This creature stood nearly three meters tall, its midnight-black feathers gleaming with an oily iridescence that hurt to look at directly. Its eyes burned with intelligence far beyond animal instinct, and when it shifted its weight, the deck beneath its talons creaked ominously.
But it wasn't the size that made Ares's blood run cold.
It was the aura.
Death radiated from the creature like heat from a forge. Not the peaceful release of natural passing, but violent, predatory ending. The promise of being torn apart by something that enjoyed the process!
Around him, teenagers began dropping to their knees. The pressure wasn't physical, it was purely psychological, a primal terror that bypassed rational thought and struck directly at the survival instincts buried in every human mind.
They felt the fear of death!
Gasps and whimpers filled the air as more than half the group collapsed under the weight of the crow's presence. Some tried to resist, struggling against the overwhelming urge to prostrate themselves before this apex predator, but their legs betrayed them one by one.
Ares felt the pressure like a physical weight pressing down on his shoulders. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his heart rate increased involuntarily. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, to hide, to submit before this nightmarish creature decided he was worth killing.
But he remained standing.
His legs trembled with the effort, and his breathing grew shallow, but he refused to kneel. Beside him, two others managed the same feat—Kira, her face pale but surprisingly determined, and a tall boy with sandy hair who looked like he might vomit at any moment.
The three of them stood in a sea of kneeling teenagers, all fighting the same internal battle against terror.
'A Spirit Companion,' Ares realized, the knowledge surfacing from occasional shaman lessons.
The village shaman had mentioned them once. They were rare beings formed in the Origin Expanse when bloodline beasts with exceptionally powerful souls were killed. Their death created a spirit core, a crystallized essence that could be hatched and then fused with a human to awaken the companion beast.
The process was dangerous and the cores were extraordinarily rare. Most people lived their entire lives without ever seeing one, let alone attempting the fusion process.
But those who succeeded gained access to their companion's full range of abilities, along with massive increases to their physical capabilities. The spirit existed in a symbiotic relationship with its host, able to manifest when needed and provide constant enhancement to the human's natural attributes.
Captain Thorne watched the scene with obvious disappointment, his expression growing colder by the second.
"Pathetic," he said, his voice cutting through the oppressive atmosphere like a blade. "If you can't even stand in the presence of a controlled spirit companion, what hope do you have against actual enemies?"
He gestured dismissively at the kneeling teenagers. "If you have any dreams of joining the Force in the future, I advise you snuff those dreams out quick. Half of you are already eliminated from consideration. The Force has no use for weak-willed recruits who collapse at the first sign of real power."
The crow tilted its massive head, studying the three still standing with something that might have been curiosity. Its gaze lingered on each of them before returning to its shadowy corner, the oppressive aura fading to manageable levels.
Around the room, teenagers slowly climbed back to their feet, their faces flushed with embarrassment and shame.
"The Force," Captain Thorne continued, "is the premier organization on this continent. Their sole purpose is hunting and eliminating Primordials—the ancient beings that threaten all mortal life."
Ares felt something stir in his chest at those words. This was it. This was exactly what he'd been hoping to find.
Primordials were his enemies in ways these people couldn't begin to understand. If the Force dedicated themselves to fighting such creatures, then they represented his best path toward the power he would eventually need.
"Each member of their organization possesses strength that defies normal understanding," Thorne went on. "They could rule this continent if they chose. Nations would bow before their combined might. But they have more important concerns than petty politics or territorial ambitions."
His expression grew deadly serious. "Primordials represent an existential threat to every living thing on this world. They are chaos given form, entropy with malicious intent. Left unchecked, they would reduce all of creation to ash and madness."
The weight of that statement settled over the room like a burial shroud despite them already having heard it countless times.
"This is why they exist. This is why they train the exceptional few who show promise. Because when the darkness comes—and it will come—someone must stand against it."
Ares absorbed every word, feeling each syllable resonate with his own hidden purposes. He already knew his path forward.
He would need to successfully complete this camp training, pass the entrance examination to a top academy, graduate with flying colors and then hopefully pass the Force's entrance examination after all that.
The journey was still long, but it was his only chance.
Captain Thorne's gaze swept across the three still standing, lingering on each of them with obvious approval.
"You three," he said, pointing at Ares, Kira, and the sandy-haired boy. "Acceptable performance. You may have potential worth developing."
Then his attention turned to the others, and his expression hardened again.
"The rest of you have work to do. Strength of will can be developed, but only if you're willing to suffer for it. Your current performance suggests most of you would die within the first week of actual training."
He gestured toward a corridor leading deeper into the ship. "Living quarters are down that passage. Choose any unoccupied room and leave your belongings there. The ship's layout is intuitive—follow the light patterns in the walls if you get lost."
Another gesture indicated a different direction. "The cafeteria is that way. I strongly recommend you eat before we reach our destination. The food there will be the best you'll taste for quite some time."
His smile was sharp and not entirely reassuring. "Once training begins, nutrition becomes a luxury you'll have to earn."
With that ominous statement, he turned and walked away, the massive crow dissolving back into shadow as if it had never existed.
The teenagers stood in stunned silence for several heartbeats before beginning to move toward the indicated corridors.
---
Ares followed the flow of light patterns through the ship's corridors, marveling again at the elegant integration of function and beauty.
The walls guided him effortlessly toward the living quarters, where dozens of identical doors lined both sides of a gently curving passage.
He chose a room at random, stepping inside to find a space that was both compact and perfectly appointed.
A comfortable bed, storage compartments built seamlessly into the walls, and a small window that currently showed nothing but sky and clouds.
He left his few belongings there and followed different light patterns toward the cafeteria, his mind still processing everything that had happened.
The dining area was enormous, easily capable of seating several hundred people. And from the looks of things, it was nearly at capacity.
Hundreds of teenagers filled the space, their conversations creating a buzz of noise that spoke of nervous energy and excitement. These weren't just the kids from Galley—this ship had clearly made multiple stops, collecting promising young people from villages across the area.
Ares studied the crowd with his usual calm assessment. It was clear the EagleBeak Camp was conducting a massive recruitment operation, gathering talent from across a wide geographic area.
He made his way to the food service area, where an impressive array of dishes awaited. Everything looked fresh and appealing—clearly the ship's magical systems extended to food preservation and preparation.
Ares selected a balanced meal and turned to find an empty table, preferring to eat in relative solitude while he continued observing his potential future companions.
He spotted an empty chair at a table near the wall and began walking toward it, his attention focused on the conversations swirling around him.
Just as he reached the chair and was about to sit down, someone's foot shot out and kicked it away.