Chapter 1: Start of a New Troop, Part 1.
Why did I leave?
He was staring blankly at the wooden wall, a wall that was carved with symbols of different troops, and the one he was looking at was an eye—red and black, with horns.
Why did I walk away from everything?
I wasn't even mad at them.
It wasn't them; it was someone, that man, the one who put pain in my heart.
But was it necessary?
The girl behind the counter waved at him, desperately trying to get his attention.
He didn't even know she was there; he was completely lost in thought.
He was in an ocean of thoughts, and his surroundings and sense were weren't as sharp.
"Sir… Sir… SIR!" Her voice, after every "sir," became louder and sharper.
He flinched back and reacted, pulling out a sword from his side. The rise in volume—from a silent space to a raging war—triggered him.
It made his brains mental function turn on, and it made his muscles, reflexes, and senses react when put to their highest setting.
His breaths were tight, and his heartbeat speed increased. His sword was pulled out instantly, like a flash.
The lady went back a step and was shivering.
Soon after, the girl dropped behind the counter, eyes wide with fear, unsure if he meant her harm or if he simply lost control.
He saw her and his surroundings.
Then he realized what he was doing and slowly returned it.
"Ah—my bad," he muttered, sheathing the weapon. "Didn't mean to…"
It's okay. Anyway, your troop badge upgrading is complete."
She smiled gently as her body eased up, each muscle gently relaxing.
"You have earned your troop leader badge. Congrats! You now can start a troop if you wish," the lady with brown hair stated at the front desk of the Troop Association.
"You've reached the highest rank troop badge; now you only have to climb the classes of the badge."
She handed him the badge; in it was an embedded sword.
"Yeah, thank you," said a man, bowing politely while scratching his head.
His icy hair waved in the wind. Clean-cut face, sharp golden eyes that scanned the room with quiet intensity. A soft grin on his lips.
His torso was athletic, not too muscular, but he had broad shoulders and was around 74 inches (ca. 188 cm) or 6'2".
Lean legs, but muscular. His polished black clothes had neon green stripes down the sides, and the pants were all black.
He had a red pendant along with a wristband, and now in his hand, a badge.
"Um, what am I supposed to do to create a troop?" he blurted out, his fingers twitching.
"Over there in that building, you can create a troop. Just pick a name and create a slogan," she replied, pointing to a white building that looked like a shop far in the distance.
"But, you won't be recognized as a professional troop until you create a banner and have at least 5 members, not including yourself, the leader," she politely said.
"Meaning you cannot earn money." She added on,
"Ah, money, I see… I understand. Thank you." He replied before turning around.
Money? Do I even have any?
I haven't checked my wallet since arriving in this town.
Uncertainty gnawed at him as he stood still.
He didn't even know where his wallet was as he searched his pockets.
Ah... I can't think about money now.
Right now, I have to register and create my troop.
He walked away from the counter and put his hand near his heart. He placed the badge—a badge of a sword—a troop leader badge.
His name is Amish Ardol, a 22-year-old trooper now promoted to the highest rank—the rank to lead a troop.
But not the highest class in the rank.
"Now, what do I want to name my troop?" he muttered quietly while staring at his new badge.
How do I even gain members for a troop? He thought.
What do I even need? A building? Uh… who knows.
This is too complicated. The troop I used to be in—it was simple and strong. I got paid, got free food, and got equipment. But I don't have a clue how it works. I didn't think to ask.
This is annoying.
He sighed softly, letting out his frustration. So many unknowns, no plan, no coin. No one to ask.
What do people do in these situations?
My brain hurts so much...too many thoughts.
He walked out of the giant building—the troop headquarters, where people sign up to be troopers, people who fight in this world.
A world where swords and skills dominate.
And troops were groups of troopers that banded together.
They fought each other, trying to outbid each other for new troopers—people awakened with skills.
Troops fought in dungeons and gravelands—places where skeleton-like creatures called Graveletons roamed. Souls of the deceased in the form of skeletons, which had different ranks, and attacked people with their brains and memories completely erased.
They were graded based on how many fingers they had, with more than 8 meaning forceful, and only 1 finger per hand being incredibly weak.
Troops protected the one kingdom on the continent, Dyclath.
The streets were flooded with people, shacks of food, and other random stuff, along with weapon and technology shops. As technological diversity was rising ever since Graveletons came to the world 50 years ago, buildings were fresher, as people built systems, gears, and weapons out of Graveleton Steel.
After turning left and walking around 0.5 miles (0.8 km)—
Hearing—
Cries. Screams. from kids playing.
Conversations.
"Look at that man's badge; he—he is a troop leader," said a young lady around 20 with blonde hair.
"No way," said another one with brown hair.
"Is that Amish, the Sunflash?"
"The one who is known for speed… it can't be right."
"Wasn't he just part of the strongest troop?"
"Is he now becoming a troop leader? What a waste. Unless you're rich, you have no chance of competing—even if the leader is strong."
Why do they have to keep talking about me?
Wait… did they say I need to be rich to make a troop?
"I'm so screwed," he muttered, hand dragging down his face.
I spent the last coins on food, like 25 swords and 20 pairs of expensive clothes.
"Damn this," he muttered, turning his hand into a fist.
He found a gigantic building. It was polished white and had a sword logo on top. Green doors.
Troop Registration Facility, along with a store.
There in front stood a towering woman dressed in silver Graveleton armor, clutching a register with bored precision, eyeing Amish as he approached uncertainly.
"Amish?" the woman said quietly, her eyes a greenish color and hair red.
"It can't be you, can it?"
"Oh… Seraphina—long time," Amish stated.
"Yeah… but—"
She quickly regained her composure.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be on a mission with the rest of them?" she blurted out.
"I left," Amish said.
She froze, almost like time stopped. She couldn't believe what he just said.
"What do you mean… you couldn't have."
"It's idiotic. Even you aren't that dumb."
"I have," he stated calmly.
"No… you must be joking. Good one," she said cautiously, still not believing the truth.
Amish pointed at his sword badge.
"Here, look at this. I'm going to be a troop leader now," he smiled.
"Why…? You were in the strongest troop, where you made tons of money. And now you're going to make a troop?" she stated.
"You can't even make money until you have 5 members, not including yourself, and even so, you won't make a scratch compared to the Demon Eyes," she stated.
"Seems pretty fun. Plus, I want to lead."
"I understand how good you can be in battle. It's like your brain actually turns on. But… this is just stupid."
"It might be, but with me, stupid turns into great."
"You… dumb… idiot… You have no chance. Our troop has over 200 members higher than A-Grade Troopers. And you—an SS one—one of the top 5 in our troop along with me," her expression became angry.
"You should represent us, not waste your life on an unaccomplishable goal—a decision that will make you go down as an idiot," she stated, her look serious.
"You really think so?" he stated. His expression became serious as his eyes, brain, and ears began to react.
"Then…"
"I will prove you wrong… Seraphina."
"We'll see. Long time. Good luck in your fail. I know you'll be crawling back soon enough," she stated, walking away.
Why did he have to do this? Seraphina thought.
He's leaving me again, trying something impossible, unrealistic, irresponsible.
Is it because he can't stop chasing a vision that only he can see, even when everyone else warns him not to?
He is going to fail and thats final.
Her mind was about 99% certain that would be the outcome, but that 1%—the one that thought he might actually do it, like he'd done plenty of times before with things that seemed impossible—
But this was on a new level. Creating a troop with no money, no equipment, no influence, or sponsorships, she thought.
She didn't want him to succeed. Although her face showed anger and was serious, in her head she was in despair.
Amish was a person she had always laughed at and looked up to. Her being 2 years younger, she thought of Amish like an older brother—someone to look up to, her hero. And now that hero was being taken away—a bird being locked away from the sky.
Before she was out of the door Amish turned around.
He was different from before, a different side, a side that wasn't lazy dumb, a serious side.
A leader side,
A side that made people stop and whisper—'He's incredible."
"Seraphina think whatever, but in the end, I won't fail," He stated,
Seraphina turned around and glared at him holding the tears from her eyes,
"I didn't come here to instantly be the best troop, No, I came here to build one — Leveling up as I go." He declared as the air seeming to be heating up around him.
Sweat trickled slowly down Amish's neck as the room flickered with afternoon sunlight. His hands clenched into fists as he stepped forward, on the wood floor.
"So, starting with nearly nothing, I'll make every mistake myself before assembling a single follower." He continued.
"Then, when I've learned enough from my failures, I'll find the ones who thrive on impossible odds, assemble them, train them, outskill your entire troop." He declared loudly even people outside could hear his voice.
"Think, say, try, you know what will be the result in the end." She stated boldly.
"Three to Nothing, Domination from the start till the finish." She stated.
She turned around, and left the building, as the fire had arisen in the building.
Two igniting embers.
And now one inside.
Amish began to wonder.
Was this really the right choice? Was it what I truly wanted?"
Seeing her mad, frustrated, and competing after what she's been through,
It hurts me.
But this decision I needed to do, to prove something to that man.
He stood up and turned around to start his troop.
This was
A competition.
And a war.
Of two friends.
Or even A Mentor, and student.
Seraphina Avila, and Amish Ardol.
And their troops.
And their troops. One already built, and one not even formed.
One a king, another a queen.
One who leads, another who moves.
A game that has already started one side, and the other setting up the pieces.
And the people who started this game, are now watching it unfold.