Fragile Phantasy

Part 20

Deep inside the walls of the facility, Magnus stood tall and imposing, surrounded by his chosen disciples who were training rigorously. The disciples, most of them beggars, abandoned or scattered on the streets, had found a new purpose under Magnus' leadership.

As Magnus entered the training room, his disciples stood in awe of him, lining up with their eyes fixed on their leader. Magnus approached the center of the room, his gaze piercing through their souls. "If you wish to join my ranks," he bellowed, "you must be willing to trample over each other. This world is a survival of the fittest, and only the strongest will survive at the top."

The disciples, mostly teenagers, became nervous and anxious, sensing the gravity of the situation. They started fighting amongst each other until only a few remained standing. Magnus pulled out a list and began to read off the names of those who had passed the test. "Ariel, Qougre," he said, continuing down the list until he reached the last name. "Edgar," he announced.

Edgar's face lit up with joy as he raised his hand and jumped up and down. "Yes, I was chosen!" he exclaimed.

"For those who were not chosen, you may enter the other room," Magnus said, gesturing to a suspicious door. "But for those who passed, follow me." The chosen disciples fell in line behind Magnus, their hearts racing with excitement.

Magnus led them into a room filled with magnificent weapons, each one gleaming in the dim light. The disciples looked around in awe, unable to believe their luck. Magnus walked to the center of the room, his eyes glinting with pride.

"This is just the beginning," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Together, we will rule this city, and no one will stand in our way."

As the chosen disciples entered the room, their eyes fell upon a strange gauntlet adorned with sharp spikes. Magnus, the enigmatic leader, stood before them, his piercing gaze fixed on the group.

"That's a cestus," he said, his voice grave. "Forged from the strongest lightning, it is a weapon unlike any other. However, no one has used it yet, as it they dissolves in the electricity it releases."

Maximus turned to his disciples, his expression serious. "But the person who could wield that can become my right hand," he said. "Which of you is willing to take on this weapon?"

Without hesitation, some disciples lined up, each one determined to prove their worth. But one by one, they were dissolved by the power of the cestus, until only Ariel remained standing. The lion element had chosen him as its wielder, and all of his colleagues envied him, especially Qougre.

"Good job, Ariel," Magnus said, nodding approvingly. "The lion has chosen you as its protector."

The remaining disciples then chose their own weapons, each one selecting the tool that suited them best. But for Edgar, there was only a measly dagger left, and he felt a pang of disappointment. He had been chosen as a disciple by Magnus himself, rising from a young thief on the road. But he always seemed to be last on the list, never quite good enough.

"Now, you will undergo my rigorous training regimen," Magnus said, his voice commanding. "I will assign you roles in high-risk missions, and you will be pushed to your limits."

The disciples braced themselves for the most challenging training they had ever experienced. But they knew that with Magnus as their leader, they would be unstoppable.

With each mission, Edgar found himself barely hanging on by a thread, always on the brink of surviving. He felt like a burden to the team, constantly questioning whether he was good enough to be there. He knew that if he couldn't improve, he would either be removed from the team or killed on a mission.