The twins are named Wrena and Fienna. It takes Saryn more than thirty minutes to find out.
“Who taught you how to fight like that?”
Her question startles the young recruit, one of the twins—her name is Wrena, identifiable by the mole on her lips. She turns around to face Saryn, a look of foreboding dread crossing her features. It makes her appear almost guilty.
“My father. He, actually, is—We are not supposed to talk about him,” she stutters, her words tumbling out in a rush.
She keeps her eyes down, standing at attention, then peers up at Saryn to gauge her reaction.
The realisation dawns on Saryn a little late; discussing her father might be forbidden in Paradenia.
After all, the twins hail from The Fringe, the home of the defiers.
“It’s okay,” she reassures, her voice gentle. “You can talk to me about him. I’ll keep it a secret, as your mentor. Your father taught you how to fight?”
Wrena nods, her posture relaxing slightly. Although her shoulders remain taut. “People are bad, really bad out there. So dad said that we should learn how to defend ourselves.”
Given it is their first day of military training, Saryn has planned endurance and strength exercises in the gymnasium of the training facility. The last phase of their initial training is combat practice, aimed at identifying each recruit’s strengths and weaknesses.
And the daunting training facility is a vast, industrial space. Its concrete walls and floors reflect the harsh, utilitarian design typical of high-intensity training environments.
Bright, functional lighting casts a clinical glow over the entire area, highlighting the various pieces of equipment arranged with military precision. In one corner, rows of standing targets lined the wall, their silhouettes ominous against the stark background, awaiting the next round of combat practice.
Nearby, a large metal cage stood like an ominous challenge, its bars gleaming under the overhead lights. This is clearly a place where strength and agility were put to the test.
Out of the twins, Wrena displays fast reflexes but lacks precision. Fienna, her sister, excels at defence but is easily frightened.
Elyn, the girl with bitten lips, shows proficiency in both combat and defence but tires herself out by using excessive force.
Among the boys, Zeph is strong but struggles with endurance, while Maxith is moderately skilled in both areas.
Fienna approaches her sister, and Saryn notices that only Wrena has a mole on her lips. The twins have a habit of finishing each other’s sentences.
“Dad said he had a couple of tricks to teach us because he was an old military legion soldier,” Fienna says, her voice barely above a whisper.
Saryn nods, her face impassive, but inside she can only imagine the reasons behind the girls’ hesitance to discuss their father.
Saryn wouldn’t have pried if it weren’t for Wrena’s combat skills. The girl’s posture is perfect, and her punches carry the right amount of strength, although she lacks the timing to make her attacks effective.
Her father must have taught her to not give the opponent time to defend—a rough technique, but impressive for a child of Wrena’s age.
“He taught you both really well. I’m impressed by you two,” Saryn acknowledges the twins with a warm smile before moving on to observe the others.
“Everyone, take a ten minute break,” Saryn announces, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “We will continue back here and you will start with individual combat practice,” she adds, “with your mentor.”
Everyone’s face slightly pales at the upcoming challenge, especially since it is with their mentor. Combat with someone far more experienced than them on their very first day puts them at a heavy disadvantage and it seems cruel too.
But one of Saryn’s main objectives is to observe the twins.
The recruits rush to drink water and relax within their ten minutes of break while Saryn begins to fill out the little form the mentors are given for each of their hunters.
The facility is filled with the low hum of chatter and the squeak of sneakers on the polished floor. The smell of sweat mingles with the scent of the fresh leather of stealth suits and protective gear.
After ten minutes pass, Saryn gathers all the kids in the focal point of the gym: the fighting area. The area has a large, rectangular mat, brightly illuminated by stark, overhead square lights that contrasted sharply with the surrounding gloom.
The recruits form a semicircle around her, eyes wide with anticipation and nervous energy. She hands out protective gear to every recruit, the clatter of body armour and padding echoing in the spacious room.
“This is an empty gun, no bullet as you can see,” Saryn says, pulling her revolver out and showing them the empty cylinder.
The metal gleams under the fluorescent lights, and she spins the cylinder with a flick of her wrist.
“Your objective is to grab the weapon from my hand within five minutes.”
A murmur ripples through the group. Some of the recruits exchange uncertain glances, while others shift nervously on their feet. Saryn’s gaze sweeps over each of them, assessing their reactions before revealing the most challenging part.
“By knocking me down on the floor.”
There is a collective intake of breath.
Saryn watches as the reality of the task sinks in. Some recruits’ eyes widen in disbelief, while others frown, clearly considering the difficulty of the challenge.
The twins, however, exchange a brief, knowing look before focusing back on Saryn.
One of the braver recruits, a tall boy with curly hair, Maxith, steps forward slightly.
“Hunter, isn’t this a bit.. extreme for our first day?”
Saryn’s lips curl into a slight smile. “It is extreme, yes. But it’s also necessary. You need to understand what you’re up against. This isn’t just about strength; it’s about strategy, teamwork, and resilience. Out there, you might not get any warnings or second chances.”
She scans the group again, her eyes settling on the twins. “Remember, you have five minutes. Use your time wisely.”
The recruits exchange glances, some nodding to each other in silent agreement. The air is thick with anticipation and a hint of fear.
Saryn steps back, positioning herself in the centre of the ring, revolver held loosely in her hand.
“Ready? Begin!”
The recruits hesitate for a split second before springing into action. They fan out, attempting to surround Saryn, who stands calm and poised, ready to counter their every move. The real test has begun.
One of the recruits, with determined eyes Elyn steps forward, her focus fixed on the revolver in Saryn’s hand.
She takes a deep breath, gathering her courage, and then charges towards Saryn with a burst of speed.
Saryn watches her approach, a calm and calculating expression on her face. Elyn feints to the left, then pivots sharply to the right, aiming to catch Saryn off guard. Her movements are quick and fluid, displaying a natural agility that promises potential.
As Elyn closes the distance, she makes a grab for the revolver. Saryn’s eyes narrow slightly, and in a swift, almost effortless motion, she sidesteps Elyn’s lunge. The girl’s hand swipes through empty air, her momentum carrying her forward.
Saryn uses Elyn’s forward motion to her advantage. With a graceful twist, she catches Elyn’s wrist, applying just enough pressure to unbalance her. Elyn gasps, trying to regain her footing, but Saryn is already moving. She sweeps her leg in a smooth arc, hooking it behind Elyn’s knees and pulling her legs out from under her.
Elyn crashes to the mat with a thud, the air knocked out of her lungs. She lies there for a moment, stunned and winded, staring up at the ceiling lights. Saryn stands over her, extending a hand to help her up.
“You have speed and good instincts,” Saryn says, her voice calm but firm. “But you need to think ahead. Maximise your force. Anticipate your opponent’s moves and use their strength against them.”
Elyn takes Saryn’s hand, pulling herself up. She nods, a look of determination replacing the initial shock.
“I’ll do better next time, Hunter.”
Saryn gives her a small, approving nod. “I know you will. Learn from this and keep pushing forward.”
As Elyn steps back to rejoin the group, Saryn addresses the other recruits, who have been watching intently. “Remember, it’s not just about brute force. Strategy, agility, and anticipation are just as important. Now, who’s next?”
The recruits exchange nervous glances, but there’s a newfound determination in their eyes. The challenge is daunting, but Saryn’s demonstration has ignited a spark of resolve within them. The next recruit steps forward, ready to face the mentor and learn from the experience.
“May I try, Hunter?”
Saryn nods at Fienna, satisfied that it’s one of the recruits she has been anticipating for. “Yes, Fienna. You may.”
Fienna moves with a grace that catches Saryn’s attention. She circles cautiously, her eyes locked on the revolver. Saryn, standing with a relaxed posture, watches her with a hint of curiosity as to what her next move can be.
Suddenly, Fienna lunges, her movements a blur of precision and speed. She feints to the left, then pivots sharply, aiming a kick at Saryn’s hand. Saryn counters, but Fienna is quick, almost managing to knock the revolver loose.
They exchange a flurry of blows, Fienna’s agility almost matching Saryn’s experience.
Fienna lands a well-placed kick to Saryn’s side, forcing her to step back. With a burst of speed, Fienna dives forward, her hand inches from the revolver.
Just as her fingers brush the cold metal, the gym door slams open.
“Saryn, Daiki calls.” Hunter Caelum’s urgent voice echoes through the room.
Saryn instantly disengages, her focus shifting. Fienna freezes, her breath heavy, so close to victory. Saryn’s eyes meet hers, a flicker of respect passing between them.
“Good effort, Fienna. You are all dismissed for today.” Saryn says quickly before turning to Caelum. “On my way.”
Fienna steps back, frustration and pride warring on her face as she watches Saryn leave the gymnasium.
“Combat practice on their first day? Aren’t you being a little harsh?”
Caelum, in charge of Team Three, asks as soon as they are out of sight of the recruits and out of the gymnasium. His voice carries a hint of concern, eyebrows furrowed as he glances back toward the bustling gym.
“If they prefer soft training, I reckon they don’t apply to be hunters.”
Saryn tucks the recruits’ file under her arm, her gaze fixed ahead as they pass by the other gymnasiums where the rest of the teams are engaged in various drills. The sharp clack of her boots against the polished floor echoes through the corridor, underscoring her resolute demeanour.
“Fair enough. My recruits aren’t so ballsy enough to fight against me,” Caelum admits, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
He checks the sleek watch on his wrist, the metallic glint catching the overhead lights. His blond hair looks messy, out of place; he runs his hand through his hair—a clear sign of his frustrations with his recruits.
“Our training finished an hour earlier because they got tired,” he adds, a note of exasperation in his voice.
“Well, I wish you luck for weaponry training.”
Zyran’s voice cuts through the conversation, smooth and sudden. The pair nearly jumps, Caelum spinning on his heel to face him.
“How do you always appear out of nowhere?” Saryn asks, her face a mixture of surprise and curiosity as she scrutinises Zyran.
His presence is always unwittingly silent, as if he materialises from the shadows themselves. Zyran shrugs, a subtle lift of his shoulders. “What do you mean? I was right behind you. Daiki called for me too.”
His expression is calm, almost amused, as if he enjoys the mystique surrounding his entrances. His dark eyes flick between Saryn and Caelum, taking in their reactions with quiet amusement.
Caelum shakes his head, a chuckle escaping his lips. “You need to teach me that trick someday.”
Zyran’s lips curl into a slight smile. “Perhaps, if you can make your team of recruits survive Saryn’s combat training,” he teases, a playful glint in his eye.
Saryn rolls her eyes but a small smile plays on her lips as well. “If they can handle my training, Caelum might just be worthy of learning your secrets.”
The three of them share little briefs about each of their assigned teams, the tension from the intense training sessions easing slightly as they walk down the corridor together to Daiki’s office, their footsteps a synchronised rhythm against the floors.
“Well, I am done with my report so I’ll let you two go right ahead,” Caelum says once they reach the heavy wooden door of Daiki’s office.
He gives them a quick nod, his expression a mix of relief and readiness to be done for the day. Both Saryn and Zyran nod back as he turns back around and strides away, his footsteps gradually fading into the distance.
“Why do you think he called for us specifically?” Saryn asks, turning to face the imposing door. Her eyes narrow slightly, a mix of curiosity and apprehension crossing her features.
The dark wood of the door seems to absorb the dim light of the corridor, adding to the sense of mystery.
“Must be something regarding your new mission,” Zyran replies honestly, his calm demeanour betraying no hint of speculation. His straightforward answer makes Saryn pause for a moment, considering the possibilities.
With a determined nod, Saryn places her hand on the cool brass handle, the metal smooth under her fingertips.
“Well, here goes nothing.”
YOU ARE READING
YOUNG GOD.
Mystery / Thriller"I AM WHAT YOU MADE, FATHER." GENRE(S): thriller | angst | action. A dystopian novel. Viewer description is advised. © all rights reserved.
