As the gates of the training camp grew ever closer, Rain found himself more focused on the surrounding area than on the road ahead. After all, it was his first time here. The government area was quite a sight to behold; more fortress than seat of power. To him, it made sense; there were thousands of Selected sent to this particular camp.

  Ultimately, this was the safest place for them to be, and the safest way to contain the possible thousands of Shards that would appear from the deaths of the newly Selected. It struck him that in around a month, this entire district would be on lockdown, and thousands of families would be praying for their children to survive and return.

  Thinking back on Granny and how she would feel during that time made Rain’s heart ache. At the end of the day, there was nothing he could do for her; he just had to make it back.

  The bus slowed to a halt, joining a long queue of other transports carrying the Selected. By now, the silence inside was staggering. Rain looked around. Everyone kept to themselves, staring forward in nervous anticipation.

  He could hear the quivering, deep breaths of the person next to him, clutching a small picture of what was presumably his family. Rain couldn’t imagine it. As someone without family, he saw being Selected as an opportunity. But… would he have felt the same if his parents were still here?

  The engine rattled back to life, and slowly the bus rolled forward, passing the massive steel gates. The compound opened before them like a small village: a broad courtyard, dozens of concrete buildings, all ringed by high walls and watchtowers. Rain caught sight of other groups already gathering as their buses emptied.

  Eventually, their bus stopped. A middle-aged man in a military uniform climbed the steps.

  “Attention, everyone. You have arrived at Training Camp CB-47. You’ll be staying here for the next month for your government-obligated training. I’m sure you have many questions, but please refrain from asking them, as the Lieutenant will hold an assembly shortly. If you still have questions afterwards, you will be placed in a group with a dedicated Training Officer. Everyone, step off the bus, grab your belongings, and make your way to the courtyard.”

  With that, the officer stepped back down.

  Passengers rose from their seats one by one, filing out in silence. When Rain stepped off, the full scope of the compound greeted him. He had never seen so many people gathered in one place. The slums didn’t have space for crowds this size. And yet, even with thousands of people dragging luggage and muttering under their breath, it still felt… quiet. No one dared treat this like anything less than what it was.

  ‘Hm. I don’t see Elys.’

  ‘Well… he’d probably spot me first, with those eyes of his.’

  Since Rain had no luggage, he headed straight for the courtyard. The military was setting up a podium at the far end, while young adults of every background filled the open space. Many were slum-born like Rain or Elys, but most carried themselves differently. Middle-income households, no doubt. They had better clothes, and most importantly, actual luggage stacked beside them.

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  To Rain, they also looked the least nervous of the bunch.

  From what he knew, the government provided training courses for students starting at age fourteen until the Selection at seventeen. But for slum-born kids, it was the bare minimum. Those from higher-income households often hired private Blessed instructors. Rain, of course, had none of that. He’d gone to a school run by volunteers in their spare time. It gave him the basics, but the government had abandoned the slums decades ago, directing its funding elsewhere.

  A loud thump echoed as a microphone was set on the podium. A tall, muscular man in uniform walked up the steps. The courtyard quickly fell silent.

  “Good morning, all of you. My name is Lieutenant Dawson, and I am in charge of Training Camp CB-47.”

  His stern, cold voice filled the air, and Rain felt a chill run down his back. Dawson looked young, perhaps in his early twenties, yet he outranked every older officer standing at his side.

  ‘This guy is no joke.’

  To reach such a rank at his age, he had to be exceptional.

  Whispers stirred around Rain.

  “That’s the Berserker!”

  “Dozens of Guilds and Companies sought him out, but he joined the military instead; even the Houses were interested in him.”

  The Lieutenant’s voice rose, booming louder. The whispers died instantly.

  “As of today, you are all Selected. But I will remind you, you are not yet Blessed. That privilege is earned only once you return from your expedition. I will explain the process and the rules you are to follow for the next month.

  First, you are prohibited from leaving this compound at any time. This is for your safety, and for everyone else’s.

  Second, you will undergo compulsory Combat Training. There will be many other courses available, but those will be optional. You are considered adults now. We will not force you to take them. Still, I strongly urge you to attend courses that may increase your chances of survival.

  Third, you will be assigned groups for Combat Training. These groups will also be your dorm mates for the next month, so get along with one another and don’t cause trouble. Each group will be assigned a Training Officer, who will test and guide you.

  Today is orientation. Classes begin tomorrow. You will now be handed a bracelet. This bracelet will identify you and your assigned group. Behind me, your officers are waiting. That is all.”

  He stepped away from the podium and, without pause, walked towards the main building.

  ‘That guy is… intense.’

  ‘Berserker…’

  Rain had never heard of him before, but for a Lieutenant to be known by name among the masses, he must have been someone extraordinary.

  ‘Why the military, though? Why not a famous Guild?’

  His thoughts broke off as an officer handed him one of the bracelets. It was nothing more than a thin, stainless steel plate, which confused him. He slid it onto his wrist instinctively. The metal bent and sealed around his arm, forming a proper bracelet. A small screen blinked to life, and after a few seconds, his name appeared.

  ‘Rain: Group B3.’

  Others were already scattering, searching for their groups. Behind the podium, dozens, perhaps hundreds, of officers stood beneath floating holograms marking their assigned letters. Off to the far left, he spotted B3.

  He had only just taken a step when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

  “Rain!!! There you are! Wait! What group are you in?!”

  A familiar voice boomed across the courtyard.

  ‘Could he be any louder than that…’