chapter 3: Training Begins

Morning came too soon.

A sharp, blaring noise ripped me from sleep. I groaned, barely lifting my head off the pillow before realizing what was happening. The sound wasn't just any alarm—it was coming from the communicator on my wrist, flashing with a bright blue light. 5:30 AM. First day of training. No going back now.

Tristan and Nate were already up. Tristan stood by the mirror, adjusting his uniform while Nate, still half-asleep, fumbled with his boots.

"C'mon, Evan," Tristan called, his voice annoyingly chipper for this early hour. "You don't wanna be late on your first day. Codatorta's not exactly forgiving with that kind of thing."

I grunted in acknowledgment, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My muscles ached, probably from the tension of yesterday's events, but there was no time to dwell on it. I pulled on my uniform—smoother than I'd expected but tough, like a second skin. It felt…right.

Once we were dressed, the three of us headed out, joining a stream of other recruits making their way toward the training grounds. The early morning air was cool, and the sun had barely started to rise, casting a pale orange glow over Red Fountain. As we walked, I found myself both excited and anxious. I had watched the show as a kid, but living through this felt different. More intense. More real.

By the time we arrived at the training grounds, the area was already buzzing with activity. Rows of recruits stood in perfect formation, their expressions grim with focus. A large open space stretched before us, filled with all kinds of equipment—everything from weapons racks to holographic combat simulations. This was the heart of Red Fountain, where Specialists were made.

At the center of it all stood Codatorta, watching us with that same fierce intensity he had shown yesterday. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable as he waited for the last of us to fall into place.

"Alright, listen up!" Codatorta's voice boomed over the training grounds. "Today's the first of many days where you'll be tested. Some of you won't make it. Some of you will break under pressure. But if you survive—if you thrive—then you'll prove yourselves worthy of the title of Specialist."

His eyes swept over us, stopping briefly on me. I stiffened, unsure if he had singled me out or if I was imagining it.

"We'll be covering a range of skills over the coming weeks," Codatorta continued. "Combat techniques, strategy, survival skills—everything you'll need to face the dangers of this world and beyond. But first…" He gestured toward a row of equipment. "We start with the basics. Hand-to-hand combat. No weapons, no magic. Just you, your opponent, and your ability to survive."

The recruits around me exchanged glances, some looking eager, others more apprehensive. My stomach tightened. I wasn't worried about the physical aspect, but the idea of no magic left me feeling slightly vulnerable. Even though I hadn't fully figured out how to control it, it had already started to feel like a safety net. Now, it was gone.

Codatorta didn't waste time. He barked orders, splitting us into pairs for sparring. "You," he said, pointing at me. "And you."

I turned to see my partner—a tall, broad-shouldered guy with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. His expression was neutral, but the way he cracked his knuckles made it clear he wasn't going easy on me. I swallowed hard. Great.

We stepped into the sparring circle, a wide ring marked on the ground. Other recruits were already getting into position with their partners. The air was tense, thick with anticipation.

Codatorta clapped his hands once, loud and sharp. "Begin!"

My opponent moved fast—faster than I expected for someone his size. He lunged at me, throwing a punch aimed directly at my face. I barely dodged, my reflexes kicking in just in time. I could feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. There was no room for hesitation.

I countered with a jab of my own, aiming for his midsection, but he blocked it easily and retaliated with a sweeping kick. I stumbled back, barely managing to stay on my feet. Damn, he was good.

The sparring continued, a flurry of punches and kicks exchanged in rapid succession. I was holding my own, but it was clear this guy had more experience. His movements were precise, calculated, while mine were more reactive, driven by instinct rather than skill. Still, I wasn't about to back down.

After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, my opponent managed to land a solid hit to my side, knocking the wind out of me. I gasped, doubling over as pain shot through my ribs. But before I could recover, he grabbed me by the arm and swept my legs out from under me, sending me crashing to the ground.

The impact jarred my entire body, and for a moment, I lay there, staring up at the sky, trying to catch my breath.

Codatorta's voice cut through the haze of pain. "Get up, Evan!"

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to my feet, my body protesting every movement. My opponent was already waiting, his expression unreadable. He hadn't even broken a sweat.

"Not bad," he said, his voice calm, almost bored. "But you've got a long way to go."

I wiped the sweat from my brow, trying to regain my composure. "Yeah," I muttered. "Thanks for the tip."

The rest of the morning went by in a blur of drills and sparring matches. By the time Codatorta finally called for a break, I was drenched in sweat, my muscles screaming in protest. Tristan and Nate fared better—Tristan had a natural grace to his movements, while Nate relied more on brute strength. Both of them seemed to have their own styles, and I made a mental note to pay closer attention to what worked and what didn't.

As we gathered by the edge of the training grounds, Tristan handed me a canteen of water. "Tough first day, huh?"

I nodded, taking a long gulp of water before wiping my mouth. "Yeah. I didn't think it would be easy, but…"

Nate chuckled, leaning back against a tree. "Don't worry about it. Everyone struggles at first. You'll get the hang of it."

I appreciated their attempts to reassure me, but something still gnawed at the back of my mind. The physical training was intense, but I could handle it. What really worried me was the magic. I hadn't used it all day, but I could still feel it—like a coiled spring inside me, waiting to be released.

I couldn't afford to ignore it forever. The power I had, whatever it was, was going to come out eventually. And when it did, I needed to be ready.

But for now, all I could do was focus on surviving Red Fountain's brutal training regimen. One step at a time.

---

Later that evening, after a grueling afternoon of more drills and combat practice, I collapsed onto my bed, too exhausted to even think. My body ached in ways I didn't know were possible, but at least I had survived the first day. Barely.

Tristan and Nate were already in bed, both of them equally worn out from the day's training. As I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, my thoughts drifted back to the magic I'd felt earlier. I had managed to keep it under control today, but how long would that last? What would happen if I couldn't control it during a fight?

My mind raced with questions, but no answers came. Instead, sleep pulled me under, and for a few blissful hours, I forgot about everything.

---

End of Chapter 3