Chapter - 8 :- The weight of Training.

Chapter 8: The Weight of Training

The soft gray light of morning spilled into the room, slipping through thin curtains and casting faint lines across the floor. The dorm was quiet, save for the hum of the distant city that never truly slept.

Rein's eyes opened slowly, a dull ache still lingering in his chest. Not from bruises or sore muscles—but from the weight of everything pressing down on him.

Another day. Another battle—not on the field, but within.

He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The thin blanket pooled at his waist as he stared at the ceiling, the memories of his past clawing faintly at the edge of his thoughts. He shoved them down. He didn't have time for weakness. Not here. Not now.

A quiet rustle caught his attention. He turned his head.

Elena stood at the far side of the room, brushing her long blond hair back as she adjusted her training uniform. She moved with elegance—but behind every motion was sharp control. Calculated, purposeful.

Her blue eyes met his. Calm. Confident.

"Morning," she said, fastening her collar with practiced fingers.

Rein nodded, stretching his sore limbs. "Morning."

On the opposite bed, Dante was still half-buried under a blanket, headphones in, legs dangling off the side as if the weight of training couldn't touch him. He looked like he belonged at a rooftop concert, not a military facility. And yet… Rein had learned to never underestimate him.

Revin, as usual, was already awake and studying. His desk was filled with neatly arranged notes and open manuals, his brows furrowed in quiet focus. He didn't greet them—he rarely did before finishing his morning notes.

Rein changed quickly, the uniform stiff against his skin. He could still feel the tension from yesterday's drills deep in his muscles.

It was only going to get worse.

---

The recruits stood shoulder to shoulder in the central training hall—walls of steel and glass closing in around them like a cage. The cold air bit at their skin as overhead lights hummed faintly above.

Their instructor stepped forward. A woman with stern eyes and a presence like a drawn blade. No warmth. No mercy.

"This isn't about how fast you run or how well you fight," she said, her voice sharp and clipped. "This is about your mind. How it handles pressure. Chaos. Despair."

She paced slowly in front of them, eyes scanning the group like a hawk sizing up prey.

"In the real world, hesitation kills. Emotion clouds judgment. And when things fall apart—and they will—you either keep your head or you die."

Without warning, alarms blared.

The lights dimmed and began flashing red, casting the room in a hellish strobe. Steam hissed from unseen vents. The floor vibrated as the simulation began.

A crisis scenario: civilian hostages. An armed threat. Conflicting objectives.

Every decision mattered. Every second counted.

Rein's heart raced as he moved with his team through the chaos.

Elena took the lead—quickly analyzing the room, directing movements, issuing orders with sharp, efficient gestures. There was no panic in her voice—only clarity.

"Revin—cover the east entrance. Dante, check the ceiling cams. Rein, flank with me."

"Got it," Rein replied, forcing himself to move through the disorienting lights and noise.

Smoke poured in. A child cried in the corner. Simulated gunfire rang out. Rein's breath caught—but he didn't freeze.

He spotted the enemy position—a fake, but still dangerous in the simulation. He aimed, calculated, and took the shot.

Neutralized.

But then—another twist. One of the "hostages" turned out to be the real threat. A test of instincts.

Elena shouted, "Left!"

Rein pivoted, shot again.

Clean. Controlled.

The simulation ended with a shrill tone.

The room is still. The smoke cleared.

They stood there—sweat dripping down their faces, breath heavy, hearts pounding.

The instructor nodded, arms still crossed. "Not bad. Some of you kept your heads. Others… barely. But this was only Level One."

Rein exhaled. His shirt clung to him, soaked with effort.

He felt proud—but only slightly. He had done better than he expected, but he knew it wasn't enough. Not yet.

---

The rest of the day passed in a blur of drills and stress tests—obstacle runs, tactical puzzles, memory recall under pressure. Every hour stretched them thinner. But none of them broke.

By sunset, Rein stumbled outside, collapsing onto the metal steps that overlooked the city. The orange glow of the horizon painted the skyline in quiet warmth, a stark contrast to the day's intensity.

He sat in silence.

Footsteps approached.

"You always sit alone when you're tired?" Elena's voice drifted beside him.

He looked up. She stood there, arms crossed, but not in her usual cold way. She sat down beside him, letting the breeze stir her golden hair.

Rein sighed. "Just needed some air."

"I get that," she said softly, staring into the distance. "Today was hard. But... it's supposed to be."

He nodded. "I know. Still… sometimes it feels like I'm barely keeping up."

"You are keeping up," Elena said, turning to face him. "And you're getting better. You don't realize it, but we see it."

He looked at her, surprised.

Elena gave a small shrug. "You think I woke up with confidence? I've failed more times than I like to admit. But you learn, and you push forward. You don't give yourself time to stop and question it. You move."

Rein was quiet for a moment.

"…Thanks," he said quietly.

She smiled—just a little. "We're a team, Rein. We watch each other's backs. You're not alone here."

The wind stirred again. Rein closed his eyes, feeling the tension fade slightly from his shoulders.

In his pocket, his fingers brushed against a worn silver pendant—his mother's.

He clenched it tightly.

I won't fail. I can't afford to.

As night fell and the city lights flickered to life, Rein made a silent vow beneath t

he quiet stars.

Whatever came next—he would endure it.

Not just for the IBE.

But for himself.

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End of Chapter 8