Chapter 15: In Your Shoes

Marcus frowned.

He knew it was within his rights to request a squad once he reached the barracks, but acceptance into any unit depended entirely on the squad captain's discretion. Joining the Lead Sentinel's team might sound like a lifeline now, but it could easily turn into a trap. If he accepts the offer, he might be cutting off the chance to join a better and more balanced squad.

From the murmurs around him, it was clear that the current members of the Lead Sentinel's squad weren't pleased with the second condition. Low voices carried veiled insults as they questioned his strength and usefulness. Yet none of them dared to speak out loud.

Except one.

Waldolf stepped forward with a face twisted with disgust. "Captain, this weakling will only drag us down. He's just awakened. He should be with the rookies and undergo more training, not with us."

The Lead Sentinel didn't so much as glance in Waldolf's direction. He remained still, relaxed—dangerously so.

"Captain—" Waldolf started again, but he was cut short.

Another squad member clamped a hand over his mouth and yanked him back, forcefully dragging him to the side.

"He never learns," Keeyah muttered, shaking her head. "Cap's definitely going to deal with him later."

Silence returned with a thick tension… at least that was how it felt to Marcus.

"I can agree to the first condition," Marcus said, finally. "As for the second… may I take my time to think about it?"

"Hmm. That's fair. You don't need to decide now. Once we reach the barracks, you can join my squad, or take your chances elsewhere." He smiled again, but this time, the smile didn't quite reach his eye.

"What if I eventually decide not to join your side after getting to the barracks?" Marcus asked.

The Lead sentinel only smiled—a slow, knowing smile that suggested he wasn't the least bit concerned.

"Let's leave that for the future."

Around them, the Iron Marshals who had been aboard the train with Marcus threw glances his way, tinged with hot envy. Unlike him, they had been deployed to the Second Ring after completing their military training at the academy. They understood what it meant to be scouted—especially by someone like the Lead Sentinel.

Marcus might not yet grasp it, but they did.

There was an old saying in the Empire:

"Soldiers of the First Ring are barely warriors. Those in the Second are forged into weapons. But the ones from the Third? They're no longer human."

It wasn't just a saying, it was a lived truth of those who have survived long enough to repeat it.

Marcus gave a curt nod. He didn't trust the Lead Sentinel—not yet. But he had the sense to know that playing along might increase his chances of surviving. If this man had truly wanted him dead, he would already be lying cold in the grass by now.

"Good," the man said at last. "My name's Nexus. Lead Sentinel of the Empire. A commoner who once rose to great heights… and fell to lower ground in the blink of an eye. Let's get along, Marcus Black."

He extended a hand with a wide grin.

Marcus responded with a crisp salute instead, ignoring the murmured sneers that rose from the crowd behind him.

Nexus chuckled. "Don't be such a spoilsport."

Then his voice hardened, his tone switched from amused to commanding. "Alright, move out! We've got work to do. The last thing I want is a complaint from the higher-ups about slacking off again. Salvage anything important and load the cargo. Leave the corpses for the necro-lovers to handle."

The moment the words left his mouth, everyone snapped into motion.

"Whatever questions you've got, save them for the road," Nexus said as he brushed past Marcus. "I'm not getting another query letter from those old bastards."

…

It didn't take long to load the cargo into three separate military trucks. The train wreck survivors, already patched up and weary—were grouped into one vehicle. The Iron Marshals from the train shred another with Marcus, Nexus, and a handful of squad members.

The night settled in fully melding into a peaceful atmosphere. The hum of engines filled the silence as they rumbled over rough terrain. Inside the truck, the atmosphere was heavy. Some of the soldiers nodded off, drained by the night's chaos. While others sat stiffly—silently and paranoid. Wounded more in the spirit than in flesh.

"Relax, soldier," Nexus said. His arms folded as he glanced at Marcus. "I gave my word and I meant it. No one here will touch you. The way you've been burning holes through half the truck with those eyes of yours… someone might think you're the threat."

He smirked. "Ouch. Now you are burning holes through me." Only he laughed at his own joke.

"You're not going to ask me anything? Not even a little curious?" He added after a beat.

I am, but I don't know where to start. More importantly, no matter what you say, I'm only going to take it with a grain of salt.

"You know," Nexus continued, with a softer voice this time, "I have been in your shoes before… a border-born, marked and wanted dead by a powerful faction."

It was the most sincere Marcus had heard from him. He eyed him a bit;

"How did you then survive?" Marcus asked, his voice low.

"What do you think?" Nexus arched a brow at him.

Marcus hesitated; "You joined an equally powerful faction?"

Nexus let out a loud, barking laughter. "I wish! Not a single faction dared to take me in despite my qualifications. They were all too afraid of being wiped off the map."

Is he joking with me, There are only a few families in Avalon that can eradicate legitimate factions from the map. How did he survive till now?

"Personal strength," Nexus read the doubt in Marcus's eyes. "Not the kind backed by rank or title. I'm talking raw, brutish power. I made myself so dangerous that they had to think twice."

I don't believe a damn word of that. You might be a Lead Sentinel, but that's not enough to steer factions away from taking your life if they want it.