CHAPTER 4: THE OBSIDIAN COVENANT
The door creaked open. A man stepped inside, his eyes cold and detached. He entered with the precision of a soldier. He wore a uniform that carried the cut of a suit, yet its weight and plating gave it the unmistakable presence of battle armor. His lower face, covered by a mask.
He looked at the children huddled together, his gaze slow and evaluating. Then he spoke, his voice measured:
"You must have many questions." He paused, his gaze steady. "In time, you will have your answers."
He let the silence linger before continuing.
"You all had lives before you came here. But I am here to tell you — your life before has ended. But a new one begins now, and it begins here."
The group stared at him, eyes wide, their bodies pressed together in silent fear. Confusion flickered across their faces, but none dared to speak.
At last, John whispered, his voice trembling:
"What… what the hell is he saying?" Beside him, Nico muttered, "I have no idea."
The man's head turned toward them, his gaze sharp. For a moment, it seemed he might respond. Instead, he dismissed them with silence and said, his voice calm but commanding:
"Now. Follow me."
The children exchanged uneasy glances, their confusion deepening into dread. No one moved. The man's gaze swept over them, cold and expectant.
"Or you can stay," he said evenly. "It is your choice. But know this — those of you who stay, you will die. As to why… you may discover that for yourselves."
Silence pressed down on the group. John was the first to rise, his jaw tight. Nico hesitated, then met John's eyes and stood as well.
John turned to the others, voice low but firm.
"We don't have a choice. This is our best chance."
One by one, the children began to rise, some reluctantly, others trembling as they clutched at each other for courage. A few still lingered, eyes darting between the man and the door, as if weighing the impossible choice.
The man watched without expression. He neither urged nor praised, only waited. The silence stretched until it felt suffocating.
At last, the last of them stood. The man turned, his armor catching the pale light spilling through the doorway.
"Good," he said simply. "You understand survival."
He stepped into the corridor beyond, his voice echoing back to them.
"Follow closely. I don't want you getting lost."
The children exchanged nervous glances, then began to move, their footsteps hesitant as they crossed the threshold. The air beyond the door was colder, sharper, as though the world itself had shifted. The corridor stretched ahead, narrow and dim, its walls lined with faint lights that pulsed like a heartbeat.
The man's pace was steady, unhurried, yet every step carried the weight of command. He did not look back, but his voice carried through the silence.
"Beyond this hall, you will see what remains of those who chose to stay. Let it be your lesson."
Skeletal remains lay scattered along the path, mouths frozen open as if caught in the last breath before death. The children moved past them in silence, each step heavier than the last.
After what felt like an eternity, the corridor widened into a clearing. To their surprise, other children were already gathered there, standing in tight groups — some ten, some eleven, some thirteen — each cluster composed of different races and faces.
At the center stood a raised platform, stark and imposing, its surface lit by a pale glow that seemed to draw every eye toward it. The air was thick with expectation, as though something was about to begin.
The man led them to the clearing, then stopped. His eyes swept over the group one last time before he turned away. Without a word, he walked across the chamber and took his place beside a line of others — each dressed in the same uniform, each standing rigid and silent like statues carved from iron.
The children froze, their fear deepening. It was no longer just one man. Now there was a wall of them, identical in bearing, their presence radiating authority and menace.
From the shadows, a man emerged, flanked by figures who looked like guards. Yet there was something in their bearing, an aura that suggested they were not there to protect him, but to emphasize his presence.
He moved toward the platform with calm, measured steps. Each stride carried a deliberate weight, as though the chamber itself bent to his pace. Ascending the steps, he reached the center. His final step landed with a resonant echo that seemed to linger in the silence, commanding every eye to fix upon him.
John's eyes fixed on the man at the platform. Then, from the line of uniforms, two faces pulled at his memory. It struck him suddenly... Bill, the guard who had beaten him, and Roth, the one who had stopped him.
His gaze locked with Bill's. For a heartbeat, Bill looked at john, then his lips curled into a smirk.
John's chest tightened, anger rising like fire in his veins.
"That bastard," he muttered under his breath.
Nico glanced at John. "What's wrong?"
John muttered, his voice low and sharp. "Nothing. Just saw an annoying dog."
Nico looked at him with concern but let it go.
The man clapped once, the sound echoing through the chamber. He began to speak, his tone calm but absolute:
"You must have asked this questions — where am I? What is this place? Who are these people? well, I am here to answer them.
Before you came into our possession, you were nothing but slaves. What you were before that does not matter. You were slaves, and we acquired you through a transaction. By that logic, you belong to us."
The man's voice carried across the chamber, calm and unyielding.
"...from now on, your life is no longer yours. You live to serve a purpose — our purpose. As for who we are… You would not understand, even if I told you. But know this: we are the Obsidian Covenant."
The words hung in the air like a sentence passed down. The children flinched, their faces pale, eyes darting to one another as if searching for recognition. Some mouthed the name silently, trying to recall if they had ever heard it before. None had. The unfamiliar word only deepened their dread, as though its meaning was too vast, too terrible to grasp.
The man's voice rang out, steady and commanding.
"In here, we forge only the finest swords, swords that will serve our purpose, and if not be discarded. You will be trained. You will dance on the edge of death, again and again. And in that dance, many will stumble. But those who survive will learn how never to fall."
He paused, letting the words settle like iron.
"This is the crucible. Here, weakness is stripped away. Here, you will be broken and remade. And when you rise, you will rise as the best."
The man's gaze swept across the chamber, his voice steady, deliberate.
"Now, all that said, I will explain how this will proceed. You have all been divided into teams. Together, you will form squads. Each squad will be assigned a supervisor from the Covenant."
The children shifted uneasily, whispers dying in their throats.
"In the first six months, you will build the basics — speed, stamina, strength, intelligence, and a list of other things. Those who cannot keep up will be removed… permanently."
A tremor rippled through the crowd. One child's knees buckled, another clutched their friend's sleeve. John's fists clenched, and Nico's eyes flicked nervously toward the floor.
"Then you will move to the awakening of your path, the first true step to power. Normally, this would only be possible after fifteen. But we are not looking for normal. You will be given a special serum to have an early awakening. Whether you survive or not… is up to fate."
Gasps broke the silence. Some children covered their mouths, others stared wide-eyed, frozen.
"Every year, there will be an annual team score. This score is determined by the points you score in the year's continuous assessment. There isn't any fixed time, but you will be tested again and again until you start being useful. Those who finish last will be removed. The Covenant does not tolerate weakness. We do not carry the weak. We forge only the strongest."
The man paused, letting the words settle like iron. His eyes narrowed, voice dropping lower, colder.
"There are more things, but we will cover them later, when the time comes. Any questions?"
The chamber remained silent. Though the children's minds burned with countless doubts, none dared to speak.
After one final sweep of the room, the man said only:
"Dismissed."
Then, as if swallowed by the shadows, he disappeared. His entourage followed, the masked figures moving in perfect synchronicity, each step measured, each motion identical as though they shared a single mind.
When the silence returned, the masked men did not leave. Instead, they spread out, each one stepping before a group of children. Their presence was suffocating, their eyes void of emotion.
The man who had led John's group earlier now stood directly in front of them. His posture was rigid, his silence heavier than words. The masked figure's voice cut through the silence, calm but firm.
"I have been assigned as your supervisor for the duration of your training. I will be the one answering your questions and monitoring your progress. As for the training itself, you will attend sessions led by specialists in each field."
The children stood rigid, their eyes fixed on the faceless mask. Some exchanged nervous glances, others stared at the floor, unwilling to meet his gaze. John's fists tightened at his sides, Nico shifted uneasily, and a girl at the back bit her lip until it bled.
The supervisor's tone did not change, but the weight of his words pressed down on them.
"You will be tested in ways you cannot yet imagine. My role is not to protect you. It is to ensure you are shaped into what the Covenant demands."
John, wary but steady, raised his voice.
"How can we address you?"
The masked man stared at him for a long moment before answering, his tone flat and unyielding.
"My name is One… or simply call me sir."
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. John processed them, his thoughts sharp and bitter.
'So his name is… a number. Of course. How did I not see that coming?'
John, still curious, pressed on.
"What about the man who gave the speech?"
The supervisor's masked face turned toward him, voice clipped and cold.
"He is the leader of this branch. You may call him Lord roan."
"If that is all," the masked man said, his tone clipped and final, "then follow me back to your compartments. You will all be sharing one room. And remember — no unnecessary thoughts."
With that, he turned sharply and began to walk. His steps were measured, echoing against the chamber walls.
The children hesitated only a moment before falling into line, their footsteps uneven, their silence heavy. Some glanced nervously at one another, others kept their eyes fixed on the floor. John walked steadily, his jaw tight, while Nico lingered close behind him, shoulders hunched as if bracing against the weight of the words.
The procession moved through the dim corridors, shadows stretching long across the walls. Every turn felt deliberate, every step pulling them deeper into the Covenant's grip.
After a long march through the dim corridors, they finally reached their rest area. The supervisor gestured toward the iron door, his voice clipped and practical.
"The bathroom is there. Rest now. Tomorrow, training begins."
He gave no further words of comfort or warning. With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the silence.
The children stood uncertainly in the doorway, staring into the bare chamber. Rows of bunks lined the walls, the air stale and heavy. For a moment, no one moved. Exhaustion pressed down on them, but so did unease. The knowledge that this was not home, but a cage.
John stepped inside first, his expression steady but guarded. Nico followed close behind, glancing nervously at the others. One by one, the rest entered, their silence louder than any words.
Nico glanced around the room, his voice breaking the heavy silence.
"Well, as if this place wasn't terrifying enough… now we all have to share the bathroom. The horror."
A few children blinked at him, startled by the attempt at humor. One even let out a nervous chuckle before quickly covering their mouth.
John turned to him, eyes wide in disbelief. 'He can joke at a time like this?' Yet, as the thought settled, he admitted silently that Nico wasn't wrong — sharing one bathroom with so many was its own kind of nightmare.
John looked at the group, his voice steady despite the weight of the day.
"Well, since we're going to spend a lot of time together… how about we get to know each other?"
For a moment, silence lingered. The children exchanged uncertain glances, torn between exhaustion and fear. Then, slowly, one nodded. Another shifted closer. A faint murmur of agreement rippled through the room.
It wasn't much... just a fragile thread of connection, but in this place of shadows and masks, it was enough.