The first weeks were not training. They were demolished.
Ren woke before the sun, body still trembling from the previous day, and ran until his lungs burned raw. The east tiers stretched like a stairway built by mad architects. Steel platforms climbing into the mist, every level another punishment. A weighted vest strapped to his chest, a low-oxygen mask biting his face, he climbed and climbed until he could not see the ground.
Daevar waited at the top, arms crossed, voice as unrelenting as stone.
"Too slow. Again."
Ren collapsed, chest rattling, but the instructor hauled him back to his feet by the collar. He wasn't allowed to fall. Falling meant crawling. Crawling meant humiliation. And humiliation meant another round.
By the second month, the soldiers had stopped calling him "trainee." The barracks gave him a new name.
"Blue Rat."
