*GONG!! *GONG!! *GONG!!
Distant bells rang out again and again, piercing Jinn's ears and making him wince.
His eyes then cracked open slowly.
Turning his head to the side, he looked toward the window, where the outside light spilled into his room in soft beams.
With a grunt, he pushed himself up from the bed and walked over.
What he saw made him pause briefly.
The metallic skies from the night before had vanished—replaced by something transparent.
It was still a dome, but now it allowed the morning sky to shine through—flooding the area in golden light.
He shifted his gaze downward.
Zendrell stood below in the courtyard, his usual armor nowhere in sight.
Instead, he wore a simple sleeveless tunic that clung to his broad frame. His muscles flexed as he stretched—arms reaching high above his head, then leaning down to touch his toes, twisting side to side with slow, and steady movements.
Beside him on the ground lay two iron swords.
They were Medium-sized, thick, and dull-edged. They looked well-used—scuffed and worn, but still solid to look at.
"Those must be the training swords." Jinn thought, narrowing his eyes.
As if sensing Jinn's presence, Zendrell looked up. He spotted the boy at the window and cracked a wide grin.
"Hey, Jinn boy—let's scrap!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the yard.
Jinn let out a quiet sigh before turning around to grab the training clothes that had been given to him just recently.
It was a fitted tunic with leather straps, paired with black pants that felt heavier than they looked. Along with it came a shoulder guard—crafted specifically to match the shape of his synthetic arm.
He slipped it all on, adjusting the fit until it sat snug against his body.
*thud! *thud! *thud!
He jumped a few times in place, testing the weight, then rotated his shoulder to loosen up.
Everything felt right—secure and balanced.
This was the day.
The day he and his friends would be separated and mentored—each sent off to a different, unknown teacher.
Still, deep down, Jinn knew this was necessary. As It was a step toward something greater. Toward their dream—or at least, his dream.
Freedom.
Holding onto that thought, Jinn turned, gripped the knob of his door, and pulled it open. The old metal hinges creaked as morning light presented into the hall beyond.
Jinn stepped outside, remembering the familiar path from before he had first entered Merilyn's house. His boots echoed faintly against the metal floor as he descended the stairs, eventually reaching the main entrance where Zendrell, Merilyn, and the rest of his friends were already waiting.
They looked different—cleaned up and dressed in new training clothes. Their eyes lit up when they saw him approach, a quiet energy shared between them.
"Took you long enough," Zendrell smirked. "Let's not waste any more time, shall we?" He reached down, grabbing the two iron training swords from the ground before tossing one toward Jinn.
The sword looked manageable at a glance—medium in size—so Jinn caught it with one hand, only to feel its surprising weight drag his arm downward.
The blade slipped,
*Bang!
and struck the ground with a loud metallic thud.
"Urgh—my floor steps…" Merilyn muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Take it to the training grounds," she said, annoyed.
"You've read my mind, dear sister," Zendrell grinned before glancing back at Jinn. "Come, Jinn! I'll make you bleed!" His booming laugh echoed through the surrounding as he began walking east.
Jinn let out a quiet sigh, then turned to face his friends.
"Good luck, all of you. Let's get stronger—together."
His voice was firm, and his gaze serious, before he turned and followed Zendrell—dragging the heavy sword behind him with a steady scrape.
His friends watched him go, their eyes lingering on his back until he and Zendrell faded into the distance.
"There he goes again…" Ophelia muttered, her arms crossed as she turned to face the others. "Just like Jinn said—let's do our best to get stronger alongside him."
"Well, that's a no brainer," Verhedyn said with a shrug. "The only thing I'm worried about—is who's going to mentor me—well, and all of you."
"It doesn't matter," Orin murmured under her breath, eyes low.
"They're all enemies in the end... we're just using them to grow stronger." Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as if afraid someone might challenge her for saying it.
"Whatever happens," Hector said, his brows tight with resolve, "we follow Jinn. Just like we always have."
But then a nervous voice broke through the steady current of determination.
"W-Wait, guys!" Kain stammered, his hands slightly shaking. "You all know I c-can't fight!"
A sharp clap then broke their conversation.
"Now then—let's get all of you to your mentors!" Merilyn announced with a wide, eager smile.
===
As the rest of his friends were being led to their respective mentors by Merilyn, Jinn had already arrived at the training grounds with Zendrell.
All around him, soldiers in worn training attire moved in rhythm,
*BANG!
*YARGH!
their grunts echoing as they struck metal dummies with dull iron swords—just like the one Jinn had been given.
Sparks flew, metal clashed, and the air was thick with the scent of sweat and steel.
"Welcome, Jinn boy!" Zendrell called out with a wide grin. "This is where I'll beat you to a pulp!"
He stepped forward, his tone shifting slightly, more serious now. "From this moment on, you're not special. You're a soldier—nothing more, nothing less."
"But aren't I a slave?" Jinn asked, his voice laced with sarcasm as he eyed Zendrell.
Zendrell scoffed.
Without warning, he swung his iron sword in a wide arc toward Jinn.
"The moment you stepped on this ground—you stopped being a slave, child. You're a soldier now. A warrior."
Jinn's instincts kicked in.
He gritted his teeth and raised his sword with both hands, the weight of it nearly buckling his arms.
*CLANG!!
The clash rang out, steel meeting steel.
Yet, Zendrell didn't give him a moment to breathe.
He stepped forward and drove his boot into Jinn's chest,
*THUD!!
sending him flying backward.
Jinn crashed onto the hard earth, the impact knocking the air out of his lungs. He slid a few meters before coming to a stop, dust clinging to his clothes.
"I'm not here to teach slaves," Zendrell rotated his shoulder before taking slow, deliberate steps toward Jinn. "I'm here to forge warriors. And warriors—don't complain."
Jinn winced, his chest throbbing, but forced himself to move.
He rolled to the side just in time as Zendrell's next strike came down hard,
*BANG!!!
smashing into the ground where Jinn had just been.
Dust and debris scattered from the force of the blow.
He scrambled to his feet, breathing hard, his sword trembling slightly in his grip. His heart pounded in his chest—not from fear, but from something deeper.
Determination. Defiance.
Zendrell stood tall, sword resting against his shoulder—smirking.
"Get up, boy," he said. "Lesson one—never stop moving."
Jinn narrowed his eyes, planting his feet firmly on the ground with a thud.
"Fine then," he muttered, wiping dirt from his cheek.
"Bring it on."