They didn't start with numbers.
They started with elimination.
The first notice spread quietly.
Not through nobles.
Not through official channels.
Through whispers.
Fighters.
Drifters.
Ex-soldiers.
Broken men with nothing left—
Were invited.
"…That's it?" Rian asked, leaning against a wooden post as he watched the first group gather.
"…No promise of pay?"
"…No glory?"
Adam stood beside him, arms crossed.
"…Those who come for that—"
A pause.
"…Will leave first."
The training ground was abandoned.
Far from the main city.
Hidden.
Dusty earth.
Worn wood.
And silence.
At dawn—
They came.
Twenty.
Then thirty.
Men of different builds.
Different scars.
Some confident.
Some desperate.
All dangerous.
"…You're the one?" a large man stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.
"…The boy?"
Rian smirked.
"…Oh, this again."
Adam didn't react.
"…If you're here," Adam said calmly, "…you follow my rules."
A scoff.
"…Or what?"
Silence.
Then—
Adam moved.
Fast.
The man didn't even react—
Until he was on the ground.
Air knocked from his lungs.
Arm twisted.
Pinned.
"…Or you leave," Adam said quietly.
Silence.
No one laughed.
He released him.
The man didn't stand immediately.
Respect.
Not given.
Taken.
"…Anyone can leave now," Adam said.
"…No consequences."
Five men stepped back.
Then three more.
They walked away.
Adam didn't stop them.
"…Good," he said.
Rian grinned.
"…Less cleaning up later."
The first test began immediately.
"…Run," Adam said.
Confusion.
"…Run?" someone repeated.
"…Now."
No explanation.
They ran.
Through forest paths.
Over uneven ground.
No direction.
No distance.
Hours passed.
Men slowed.
Collapsed.
Quit.
Those who stopped—
Were done.
No second chances.
By sunset—
Only twelve remained.
They returned.
Barely standing.
Covered in dirt and sweat.
"…Water's there," Rian pointed lazily.
"…Drink if you can still stand."
Some collapsed before reaching it.
Adam watched.
Endurance is nothing without will.
The second test came that night.
No rest.
No warning.
They were attacked.
Blunted weapons.
Masked strikes.
Chaos.
But controlled.
"…Fight!" Rian shouted, laughing as he joined in.
Some panicked.
Some froze.
They were removed immediately.
No mercy.
No explanation.
By morning—
Seven remained.
They stood in a line.
Silent.
Different now.
Not recruits.
Survivors.
Adam stepped forward.
"…Last test."
A pause.
"…Fight each other."
Silence.
"…Until only those worth keeping remain."
No rules.
No structure.
Just survival.
The first clash was immediate.
Brutal.
No hesitation.
A knife flashed.
A punch landed.
Blood spilled.
Adam watched every movement.
Every decision.
Not just strength.
But control.
One man fought wildly.
Strong.
But reckless.
He was taken down.
Another—
Calm.
Precise.
He waited.
Chose moments.
He stayed standing.
Time passed.
Pain built.
Until—
Only four remained.
Breathing heavy.
Covered in blood.
But still standing.
"…Stop," Adam said.
Silence fell instantly.
He stepped forward.
Slow.
Measured.
"…Names."
The first spoke.
"…Karn."
Tall.
Scarred.
Eyes cold.
"…Ex-soldier."
Adam nodded slightly.
The second—
"…Boros."
Large.
Heavy.
But controlled.
"…Former pit fighter."
The third—
"…Silas."
Lean.
Quiet.
Eyes sharp.
"…Scout."
The fourth—
A pause.
"…Dren."
Young.
But steady.
"…Survivor."
Adam looked at each of them.
Long.
Carefully.
Then—
"…You're in."
No celebration.
No relief.
Just acceptance.
Rian clapped slowly.
"…Welcome to hell."
A faint smirk from Karn.
"…What do we call this?" Boros asked.
Silence.
Then—
Adam spoke.
"…Siles."
The word settled.
"…It means nothing," Rian said.
"…Not yet," Adam replied.
A pause.
"…It will."
Training began immediately.
No easing in.
No adjustment period.
They were pushed.
Harder than before.
Group coordination.
Silent communication.
Combat drills—
Without pause.
Adam trained with them.
Not above them.
Fighting.
Bleeding.
Improving.
Rian handled chaos.
Turning fights unpredictable.
Karn adapted fastest.
Boros—
Became a wall.
Silas—
Disappeared between movements.
Dren—
Learned.
Fast.
Days turned into weeks.
Four became six.
Six became ten.
But only through the same process.
No exceptions.
No weakness.
Siles grew—
Slowly.
But solid.
One night—
Adam stood watching them train.
Silent.
Liora stepped beside him.
"…This is different," she said.
"…Yes."
A pause.
"…No hesitation this time."
Adam's eyes didn't leave the field.
"…No mistakes."
Silence.
"…And no room for weakness," she added.
A pause.
Adam didn't deny it.
"…Not again."
She watched him.
Carefully.
"…You're building something dangerous."
"…I know."
A pause.
"…So am I."
She didn't argue.
Because she understood.
This wasn't survival anymore.
This was preparation.
Far away—
Duke Arvant received word.
"…He's rebuilding," the messenger said.
A faint smile.
"…Of course he is."
A pause.
"…Then let him."
His eyes darkened.
"…The stronger he becomes…"
"…The more satisfying it will be."
The fire had died once.
Now—
It was being rebuilt.
Stronger.
Sharper.
And this time—
It wouldn't break.