Chapter 5: Capital- RIMORE

Sheath stood still, staring into the void, his thoughts spiraling. Am I really on the right path? The question echoed in his mind like a whisper he couldn't silence. I don't understand… No matter how much I try, I can't seem to escape this hell. I want to… but I can't. I'm trapped.

Each day felt like a chain, every order he obeyed another link that bound him tighter. He clenched his fists. All I can do is follow him… wait for a moment, that perfect moment to break free. But when will that moment come?

He had trained relentlessly—pushed his body, sharpened his mind, tested the limits of his endurance. Yet the gap remained, wide and unforgiving. No matter how hard he fought, how much pain he endured, it never felt like enough.

Can I ever surpass him?

Doubt crept in like a shadow. He hated the feeling—it made him feel small, powerless. But deep inside, a flicker of something else stirred. I have to believe that my time will come. I must be patient. I must endure…

Still, the weight of helplessness was suffocating. How long must I wait? How much more must I sacrifice before I earn my freedom?

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to calm the storm within.

One day… I'll break these chains. One day… I'll be free.

Until then, all he could do was wait. Train. Endure.

And hope.

Three long, grueling years of sweat-soaked mornings, punishing drills, and sleepless nights spent nursing aching muscles and bruised egos. Through it all, Sheath never stopped. He trained harder than anyone, not to impress, not to compete, but because deep down he knew—every step, every strike, every drop of blood brought him closer to freedom.

Armin's voice never softened. "Faster, Sheath! Is that all you've got?"But Sheath no longer flinched under his words. He absorbed them. Let them fuel him. Day by day, the once-cold steel of his resolve was tempered into something stronger. Sharper.

And strangely, so was his circle.

Isame, the loudmouth rival from the first year, didn't stay an enemy for long. Their first race ended in humiliation for him—but instead of holding onto his pride, Isame came back the next day with a grin and a challenge. "Let's see if lightning strikes twice." From then on, they were rivals in training, friends in spirit. They pushed each other beyond limits neither thought they could reach.

In time, others gravitated toward them.

Kale was the first—a quiet, observant recruit with an uncanny sense for tactics. He rarely spoke, but when he did, people listened. His calm presence grounded the group, and his insights during sparring exercises often turned the tide in their favor.

Then came Lira—fiery, impulsive, and fearless. She knocked out a senior in a sparring match and never apologized for it. She hit hard, trained harder, and laughed the loudest. She clashed with Isame often, but even their arguments somehow brought the group closer.

Rein joined last. The jester. He had a joke for every occasion and a grin that seemed permanent. But behind his easy laughter was a sharp mind and surprising talent with dual blades. He made them laugh when they needed it most—when training broke their bodies and the silence of the night threatened to break their minds.

Together, they became a unit.

They trained together, bled together, grew together.

There were moments of triumph. When Sheath finally bested Armin in a mock duel for the first time, the silence afterward was more deafening than any applause. Armin gave him a single nod—barely noticeable, but to Sheath, it meant everything.

There were failures too. Injuries. Days when motivation slipped. Nights filled with self-doubt. But they endured. Not because they had to—because they chose to.

One evening, near the end of their third year, the five of them sat beneath the fading glow of dusk, the training field quiet around them. The grass was cool beneath their backs, the sky painted in streaks of deep orange and purple.

Isame tossed a pebble in the air and caught it lazily. "Hard to believe it's been three years already."

"I still remember calling you a slacker," he added with a smirk.

Sheath didn't look up. "I still remember outrunning you in front of everyone."

The group burst into laughter. Even Kael cracked a rare smile.

Ren sighed, hands behind his head. "You know, if someone told me three years ago I'd survive this long, I would've laughed in their face."

"You did laugh," Lira pointed out. "Right before throwing up during your first obstacle run."

"Ah, good times," Ren groaned dramatically.

But even through the jokes and reminiscing, there was a heaviness in the air. An unspoken truth lingering between them.

This chapter of their lives was ending.

And the next… would be far more dangerous.

They were no longer recruits. No longer just trainees under Armin's relentless eye. Soon, they'd be chosen—or cast aside. Sent on real missions. Facing real threats.

Sheath stared at the sky, his heart steady, his purpose clearer than ever. He wasn't the same boy who once stood paralyzed by doubt. He no longer feared his path.

But he hadn't forgotten why he started.

In the quiet of that twilight, Sheath clenched his fists against the grass.

He was no longer just running from the chains that bound him.

He was preparing to break them.

As the final rays of the sun dipped behind the hills, painting the sky in deep hues of crimson and gold, the recruits gathered near the central stage of the training grounds. The air buzzed with anticipation, a strange mix of excitement and anxiety hanging thick like morning fog.

Armin stood atop the stage, arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk surveying its territory. Then, in his usual commanding voice, he shouted, "Today marks the end of your three-year training!"

The crowd erupted in murmurs and cheers.

"But don't celebrate too quickly!" he barked, silencing them instantly. "Tomorrow, you will be tested. Not with drills or sparring matches. You will be assigned your first real mission. And let me make this clear—it won't be normal. It won't be easy. I expect every one of you to be ready."

A tense hush fell over the recruits. Even the boldest among them quieted under the weight of his words. Armin gave one last cold glance across the field before turning and walking off the stage, leaving them with nothing but questions.

As the crowd dispersed, small groups formed across the training ground. Conversations buzzed around guesses, rumors, and wild speculation. Sheath's group found a quiet patch near the edge of the field, sitting together beneath a crooked wooden post that once held training ropes.

Sheath turned to Kael. "Hey, Kale, you're good at figuring things out, right? Any idea what the mission could be?"

Kale gave him a deadpan look. "Hey, idiot. I can't read minds. I'd need at least some kind of information."

Rein, sprawled lazily on the grass, chimed in, grinning, "We're probably going to destroy our own capital or something insane like that. Then again, Sheath looks way too excited for that."

Lira rolled her eyes but laughed. "It's our first real mission. Why wouldn't we be excited? This is what we trained for."

Isame leaned back on his elbows. "Whatever it is, we'll finish it easily. We're more than ready."

Sheath's expression didn't change. He stared at the ground for a moment before replying, "What if he gives us something... beyond what we're prepared for?"

Isame snorted. "Come on, man. Why would he do that? We're still rookies."

Sheath's eyes flickered with something colder—older. "You don't know him like I do."

The others went quiet. Rein tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

Sheath didn't answer right away. He looked toward the horizon where Armin had disappeared into the barracks. His voice was calm, but heavy when he spoke.

"I was closer to him than any of you. I've seen what he's capable of. He doesn't care about casualties. If he gives an order, you do it—or you die. Mercy isn't in his nature."

Kale raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?"

Sheath's eyes hardened. "Experience."

A silence fell over the group, heavier than before. Even Isame didn't offer a retort this time.

Rein gave a half-hearted chuckle, trying to break the tension. "Well, now I feel great about tomorrow."

Lira crossed her arms, her gaze thoughtful. "Still, whatever it is… we'll handle it. We've come this far."

Sheath nodded slowly. "Yeah… I just hope we all make it out."

The group lingered for a while longer under the stars, the earlier excitement dulled by Sheath's warning. Eventually, one by one, they stood and made their way back to their shelters, lost in their own thoughts.

The training grounds, once alive with chatter and movement, fell silent under the watchful gaze of the moon.

Inside his shelter, Sheath lay on the hard cot, staring up at the wooden ceiling. His body was tired, but his mind raced. Visions of Armin's cold eyes, of orders followed without question, of missions gone wrong—all of it played behind his closed eyelids.

Tomorrow, everything changes.

And he wasn't sure if he should be excited… or afraid.

The next day, everyone gathered near the stage, buzzing with excitement for their first mission—none of them expecting just how unexpected it would be. Armin and Kliner stepped onto the platform, their expressions unreadable. The chatter slowly died as Armin approached the microphone. He scanned the crowd, letting the silence build tension.

"I hope you're all ready for this," he said, voice sharp and commanding. "Because your first mission is…"

He paused, eyes narrowing slightly.

"…not what any of you were prepared for."

A murmur rippled through the recruits. Hearts pounded. Whatever came next would change everything.