Not so long before…
Darius Virvit — POV
Two men sat in chairs across from each other, neither speaking.
The first wore the brown uniform of Nivalis — white shoulder plates, a red badge insignia on his chest that marked his rank and service clearly. He had a notepad open on his knee and was writing something in it, lost in thought.
The second sat across from him, watching something projected on the mana-share mounted on the wall. His left hand rested against his chin. His beard was thick, his build massive — the kind of body that had been built through years of deliberate, brutal work rather than born into. He wore a plain black t-shirt that pressed close against him, leaving nothing about his physique unclear.
At the end of the right sleeve, a strip of green ran along the cuff. On it, five small white symbols were stitched in a row: a sword, a spear, a bow, a fist, and a hammer. Five weapons. Five masteries. Anyone who knew what those symbols meant understood exactly what kind of man was wearing them.
The one with the notepad finished writing, set his pen and pad on the small wooden table beside him, and shifted his gaze toward the mana-share. Then toward the man across from him.
"You've gotten quite interested in all of this, haven't you, Darius?" he said.
I was watching a pale blue mana circle that projected an image onto the wall — a large white room filled with beds, at least thirty people moving through it. Some were lying down, some standing, some talking in small groups. I examined each of them as carefully as the image allowed. Their movements. Their posture. The way they observed the space around them and the people in it. How they carried themselves when they thought no one was watching.
It would have helped a lot if i could hear them. But, the mana-share didn't carry any sounds.
His voice pulled me sideways.
"Huh?" I glanced left. "You said something?"
"Ehehehe." He laughed quietly, eyes closing, scratching the back of his neck. "I said you've gotten very interested in all of this. Haven't you?"
"Yeah, I have. Is that a problem?"
"Of course not, Darius. You were chosen for this — it would be concerning if you weren't interested." He smiled. "After all, you're about to spend the next two months with them."
I scratched my neck. "Well, that's exactly why. Two months is a very long time. Especially for them, I should give them the best I have."
"True," he said. "But don't forget what your mission actually is."
"I haven't forgotten, Elias. If anything, I'd be more worried about you than me."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Don't worry about me, Darius." He stood from the chair and walked to the cabinet along the wall, opened it, and took out a bottle of wine. He came back carrying two glasses in his left hand, set them on the table between us, and poured.
"Want some?"
"Thanks."
He handed me the glass and sat back down. Took a sip. His expression shifted slightly — surprised.
"Oh," he said, looking at the glass. "This is very good." He looked at me.
I took a sip. The red liquid moved across my tongue and left a bittersweet taste that stayed. He wasn't lying, It was good.
"You know," he started, settling back in his chair, "I wanted to ask you something."
"What is it?"
"What do you think about all of this?" He gestured vaguely toward the mana-share.
"What do you mean?"
He swirled the wine in his glass, watching it.
"A lot of those kids are young. Doesn't that concern you at all?"
The question caught me off guard. I looked up at the ceiling and held it there for a moment, thinking honestly.
"Why would it?" I said.
His mouth opened slightly. He had the expression of someone who had just heard something they couldn't quite believe.
"You read the brief they gave us, didn't you?"
The brief. Those pages the soldiers delivered not long ago. Just thinking about them was enough to give most people a headache — the rules, the objectives, the specific outcomes we were expected to produce before handing them over.
"Yes, I read it."
"And it doesn't concern you at all? What is going to happen to all of those children after this?"
He leaned forward slightly as he asked, his voice carrying something genuine.
"Listen, Elias." I set my glass down. "Neither of us was sent here to concern ourselves with what happens to them afterward. We're here to make sure that afterward, we don't have to worry about them. That's the difference."
"W — what?"
"I'm going to give them the worst two months of their lives. When I'm finished with them, I strongly believe most of them will never want to see my face again. That's how I'll work with this group and every group that comes after them. What happens once the training ends is not my concern. I'll have done my job. The moment we hand them over to Daxel Ronnu, our responsibility for them is finished."
"But still…" He paused. "They're young, Darius."
I sighed and stood from my chair.
"Listen, Elias. It's hard for me to say this because I don't know you that well yet. But perhaps you should consider leaving the essencer path."
"What?" He stood immediately, voice sharpening. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what I said. You should find something else to do."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because you're soft." I said it simply. "From the moment I met you, you didn't have the look I expected from someone working with me."
He stared at me, mouth open, searching for words. My words had landed harder than I intended. I hadn't tried to soften them — maybe I should have.
"You have a child on the way, Elias," I added.
"And?" His voice went up. "My child has nothing to do with any of this. You're talking nonsense. I don't know why I'm even listening to you."
"Let me ask you something, then." I sat back down. "You fought in the last war with Naxana. I looked into your service record. You didn't kill anyone on the battlefield." I looked at him directly. "Why?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"Why would I?" he said finally. "There were others who were doing that. I don't want those deaths onto my soul."
I turned back toward the mana-share and looked at the candidates.
Something was happening.
A young man with short brown hair had stood up from his bed and crossed the room, moving toward another who was lying down with one hand pressed to his forehead. He grabbed the lying one by the shirt and hauled him upright.
"What do we have here?" Elias said, moving closer to stand beside my chair.
The brown-haired one raised his fist.
So predictable.
Before the punch landed, someone else moved — grabbed the fist mid-swing and put the attacker flat on the bed, arms locked.
"Smooth," Elias said, a slight smile on his face.
I studied the one who had intervened. He'd caught the fist cleanly and subdued the attacker fast. Not bad — but raw. Unrefined. He'd need significant work.
Two out of five. For now.
A third person stepped in behind him, placed a hand on his shoulder, said something. The first man looked at him, then walked the brown-haired attacker to the center of the room and kicked him to the floor.
He was up instantly, swinging. He was stopped again.
"Let's go," I said, standing.
„You aren't going to watch?" He asked
„I've seen enough already."
I opened the door of our office and stepped into the hallway.
Two paths — left toward the candidates' room, right toward the building's exit. Behind me, Elias's boots followed without a word.
I took the left.
The hallway walls were white, same as everything else. A few hairline cracks ran along one section near the ceiling, and I noticed them briefly before looking ahead at the large wooden doors at the end of the corridor.
I reached them. I pulled a small amount of energy from my core, channeled it into my right leg, and kicked the doors.
The doors hit the wall.
The room opened in front of me — large, white, full of people. And the moment the doors opened, I felt Elias's technique filling the space around us.
His right palm extended forward. As he slowly lowered his hand, the sounds in the room changed — voices cutting off, replaced by the dull crashing of bodies hitting the floor. Dozens of them, all at once.
I covered my body with mana quickly and felt the pressure against it — significant, even for me.
I looked across the room. Most of the people there were down. In the center, two figures were still trying to get up — one with long spiked black hair and red-dyed strands, the other in glasses with short black hair. Both pinned, neither managing it.
I scanned the rest.
Those still upright, fully or partially on their knees.
One. Two. Three — and there, four. And six in total.
Good start.
"ATTENTION!"
My voice carried through the room and bounced off the white walls. Every head that could still move turned toward me.
I raised my left hand. Elias stopped his technique. The pressure dissolved.
"I'LL GIVE YOU THREE SECONDS TO LOOK AT ME."
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
I scanned the room as I counted. To my left, near the beds — a young man still staring at the floor. To my close right, another with arms shaking, unable to pull his head upright.
I raised my hand and pointed at both of them.
"YOU TWO ARE DONE. LEAVE THIS ROOM AND DON'T COME BACK. I DON'T WANT TO SEE EITHER OF YOU AGAIN FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE."
"What?" The one on the left looked up. "What do you mean by that?"
I met his eyes and held them.
"I told you what you needed to hear. Leave this room — or you'll regret staying in it."
"But why?" he protested. "We didn't do anything."
"You did," Elias said, his voice reaching him before I could respond. "Both of you failed to carry out a single order. If you can't manage to do that, we have no use for you. Leave this room. Just looking at your faces is unpleasant."
"But we di—"
"Last chance," Elias said.
"No, but w—"
Elias raised his hand. The boy hit the ground and stayed there, pinned.
"AAARRGH!" he screamed.
"If you can endure this and stand up, you can stay, or perhaps if you can get on one of your knees." Elias said.
The room watched. Elias didn't slack the technique for a single second — increased it, steadily, until thin cracks began forming in the floor directly beneath the boy's body.
"OKAY! I'M DONE!" he screamed, going completely still.
Pathetic.
Elias lowered his arm. "Get out," he said, then turned to the second one and raised his palm again. "And you — do you want to try it as well?"
The second boy shook his head rapidly left-right.
"N…no, sir." He stood carefully and began moving toward the stairs.
Elias closed his fist. The pressure hit the boy instantly and pinned him to the floor.
"Who gave you the permission to walk?"
"I'M SORRY!" he screamed, struggling uselessly against the ground.
Elias opened his palm. The pressure vanished.
Silence settled over the room. The two of them stared at us from the floor, not moving.
"Get out," Elias said.
They moved immediately — up the stairs, past us, out the door without looking back.
I stepped forward to the center of the room and stopped.
"Now that those two have left — let us continue."
I looked across the thirty-three remaining faces. Some curious. Some afraid. All of them watching me without sound.
"All thirty-three of you were chosen and brought here. I'm glad to see that most of you accept our call. Every one of you has already been through something to get to this room, and what you just experienced is only the beginning of what's coming in your future."
"The training you'll go through in the next two months will be necessary for your growth. On the battlefield. And in life. In every situation that comes after this."
"Know that you will hate me before this is over. I want you to hate me. Because I will put every single one of you through hell here."
"I won't make exceptions for anyone — not for who you are, not for who your parents are, not for your age, not for your reputation, not for anything. I won't go easy on you. What I ask from you in return are this four things: effort, order, sweat, and knowledge. Order at first. Knowledge at last. Weakness and disobedience have no place here, and the weak which you just saw are not welcome."
" there will be no mercy here, nor beautiful moments that you will remember. Here you will only have pain and suffering that will last. Many of you will give up. And so I'll say this now — if any of you have even a single doubt about why you're here, leave this room immediately. This is not the place for you, and it never will be."
I looked across the faces again. No one moved. No one spoke. Most of the credit for that belonged to Elias — but credit was credit.
"Many of you have come here for different situations. Some of you are orphans for whom this project is the only path forward. Some just want to get stronger. And some have nowhere else to go. But that doesn't matter here. You are all equal in this room."
"You'll sleep here together. Eat together. Train together. And do that for the next two months, your lives will consist of training, eating, sleeping, and nothing else — in that order, on repeat, until we're finished."
"The pressure that forced you to the ground was Elias's technique." I gestured behind me without turning. "He will train you alongside me. That pressure that you just felt, which made many of you struggle was your first test. Those who endured it have passed. Those who didn't — you watched them leave."
"My name is Darius Virvit. Some of you may know that name. Some of you may have heard my nicnkame — the Ruler. If you don't know why I have it, you will. I have no patience for weakness or uselessness. And my job here is to make you useful."
I exhaled slowly.
"Now — questions. If any of you have something you want to ask, now is the time. Consider this a reward for passing the first test. Opportunities like this won't come often, so dont hold back."
Silence.
Then, to my left, a hand rose.
I looked at the young man who had raised it. He waited — patient, composed — for me to acknowledge him before speaking. I noticed that. Average build. Pale green hair that fell across his face in uneven, layered strands. A small mole beneath his left eye.
I looked at him more carefully.
Those green eyes. That green hair. That posture.
He reminded me of someone. But I couldn't remember who exatcly.
"What is it?" I said.
"When do we start?"
"Soon. Wait for a little longer."
"WHAT?"
The voice came from my right — sharp, cutting across the room. I turned.
The brown-haired one. The one from earlier. He had stood up from his bed and was looking directly at me.
Oh. Him.
"How much longer do I have to wait? I've been sitting in this white room for almost an entire day."
"We'll begin shortly. But if I were you, I wouldn't rush it." I looked at him steadily. "Like I said — now is the time for questions. Once questions are finished, your hell begins. That's not something most people are in a hurry for."
He held my gaze for a moment, then loosened his grip on the bunk frame and sat back down. His eyes stayed on me.
"Should we punish him?" Elias's voice came through quietly — echoing in my mind.
"Not yet. Their time will come."
"Since there are no further questions — we'll begin one at a time. Each of you will come to our office individually, where we'll have a brief conversation. When we've spoken with everyone, training begins." I turned and started toward the stairs.
I stopped at the bottom and looked back.
"One more thing. Don't cause any more trouble like what we saw earlier. We watched all of it."
I pointed at the brown-haired one.
"We'll start with you. Since you've been waiting so impatiently."
I turned and walked up the stairs, out of the room, and back toward the office.