Spartan

Bam!

"Time's up."

Ichor raised his eyes, his different colored pupils locking onto a pair of deep blue eyes. They were cold and emotionless, but the subtle glint within them seemed to convey a message.

The others were shocked; they looked between Sal's previous location and the ring, wondering how he had moved so fast.

Even Percy, Yvonne, and Marceline, who were nobles, were amazed at his speed.

In merely an instant, Sal had moved from where he was and somehow arrived in the ring. As if that wasn't enough, he had perfectly caught the attacks of both Grim and Ichor, stopping the match effortlessly.

And he looked like he had done so casually!

He barely disturbed the air. He might even be stronger than him…. Percy's eyes narrowed as he assessed Sal. He began to realize that maybe this man was more than he seemed.

Grim, on the other hand, wasn't surprised. He knew Sal was watching the time and that he would definitely stop the match when it was right.

He clicked his tongue, a bit disgruntled at not being able to defeat a recruit. He was sure his colleagues would laugh at him when the news got to them in Northvault.

Sal stared back at Ichor, a carefree smile on his lips as he let go of both fists. He smacked his lips, adjusted his cap, and chuckled,

"You did well."

Sal turned around, placing his hands in his pockets as he walked out of the ring, his gait relaxed and unbothered.

"Follow me," he said as he walked past the youths who had been spectating.

The youths were lost for a moment, unsure of what to do. They weren't sure if Sal was talking to all of them or just Ichor and Grim.

But when they saw Ichor, Grim, and Percy walk past them, they finally snapped out of their stupor.

They left the training room, following after Sal as he led them down the corridor.

They walked in silence, entering various corridors, climbing down a few stairs, and even using a lift to go down even more before finally arriving at a large and archaic double door.

Just by merely looking at it, the cadets could tell from its thickness that it must weigh a couple of thousand pounds.

Even before Sal spoke a word, the youths already knew that this was their destination.

Apart from the fact that the door stood out by being different from everything else in and on the base; the whole base was made up of futuristic technology while the door looked like the entrance to an ancient palace, it was also isolated from the rest of the base.

The air is humid…we are probably several thousand feet underground, Zandov noted inwardly. He knew he was probably not the only one that noticed.

"This is where your orientation starts," Sal said as he took his right hand out of his pocket. He reached out and leisurely placed his palm on the door and with what seemed like a slight push, the doors swung open.

The sight behind the door wasn't what any of the youths had expected, except Grim of course. He had received his orientation with his colleagues a few years back.

The moment the door opened, a wave of hot air bombarded the cadets. Within the room that was behind the door were mechanical parts, robotic suits, weapons being hammered by robots, already crafted weapons, molten metals, blacksmithing tools, and various other strange mixes of ancient and futuristic technology.

"Welcome to the forge," Sal chuckled as he led the youths in.

They were dazzled as they looked around, not even the nobles or an experienced person like Ichor could hide the glint in his eyes at the sight.

"Amazing..." Zandov muttered.

Ichor looked around, his eyes narrowing as he saw the mechanical suits that were arranged in a corner. They were covered in a weird but beautiful mix of fabric, metal, and something else that he couldn't recognize.

They all look handcrafted. The craftsman must be exceptional, he thought.

Percy was also thinking the same thing but for different reasons. His eye had immediately locked onto a black blade the moment he entered the room.

It was a greatsword, one that was perfect for the Warburns. It was composed of only two colors, black and red. A tapestry of onyx and ruby, one that birthed a regal and almost divine-looking blade of darkness.

It was like a thing from myths.

"It belongs to your brother," Sal commented, his eyes glancing in the direction of the blade. "Made from the two strongest metals on the continent. It will hopefully last him until he gets to the commander level."

Percy furrowed his brows. He didn't understand all of what Sal had said, but he knew better than to ask.

The youths gathered around, their eyes focused on Sal's figure as they waited for him to tell them the reason they were here.

Although they were curious and wanted to explore the area, they knew better than to do so at that moment.

Sal didn't say a word. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

The cadets looked to their right, their gaze locking onto the figure of a stout man. He had extremely rough features and he was dressed like a prehistoric relic.

And although he didn't look the part, the cadets all knew without a word that he was most likely the one in charge.

He stood beside Sal, their height difference comical. While Sal wasn't a giant, he was still over six feet tall. But the man that had just arrived was just over four feet.

He and Sal nodded at each other before Sal faced the youths to address them.

"Well, you all must be curious. You must also be wondering why you are here." Sal began, chuckling as he looked around once more, glanced at the stout figure beside him, then looked back at the youths.

"I can't say I blame you though, I'm still amazed every time I come down here. After all, this is the core of the royal military's special squad."

Sal paused for a moment as he stared into the eyes of each and every one of the youths,

"This is where you transform from human into something more. This is where you become Spartan."