Forged in Ruin

Chapter Three: Trial by Fire

I'm up before the horn blares this time, awake in the dim, pre-dawn light that barely seeps through the small, barred windows of the barracks. I lie still for a moment, staring up at the ceiling as the realization sinks in that this isn't a dream. My body feels like it's been through a grinder—every muscle stiff and sore, my shoulder throbbing from yesterday's combat training. The mattress beneath me is thin, barely a cushion against the cold, hard frame of the bunk, and I can still feel the springs digging into my back. I roll over slowly, each movement sending a dull ache rippling through me, and rub my eyes, trying to shake off the exhaustion that clings like a second skin.

The horn finally sounds, a deafening blast that echoes through the barracks like a physical jolt to the chest. Around me, recruits scramble to life, their groggy movements turning frantic as they throw off thin blankets and fumble to get dressed. There's no room for hesitation here, no space to gather your thoughts or ease into the day. I swing my legs over the side of the bunk, my boots hitting the cold, concrete floor with a thud that resonates up my spine. My fingers are stiff as I lace them up, and I have to force myself to move quickly, mimicking the frantic energy around me. No one wants to be the last one out.

The chill of the morning air hits me as soon as we step outside, biting and sharp, cutting through the thin fabric of my uniform like a knife. My breath fogs in the cold, swirling in front of me as we're marched in formation toward the training grounds. The sky above is still dark, just a faint line of light on the horizon hinting at dawn, and the floodlights cast long, eerie shadows that stretch across the ground. I rub my hands together, trying to force some warmth back into my fingers, but the cold has already settled into my bones.

Instructors pace along the edges of the courtyard, barking orders and glaring at us like they're waiting for the first sign of weakness. I keep my head up, my posture straight, but it's hard not to feel small under their scrutiny. The older cadets are already moving, running drills with the kind of mechanical precision that makes everything we're doing look slow and clumsy by comparison. They move as one, their footsteps synchronized, their breaths timed perfectly, like they've been doing this for years. And they probably have.

I try to ignore the tightening knot of nerves in my stomach as we're led to the starting point of today's trial: the obstacle course. It stretches out before us in a seemingly endless series of challenges—tall walls slick with mud, narrow balance beams suspended over deep pits, tangled webs of barbed wire, and ropes dangling from high platforms that look far too high to reach. It's a battlefield designed to wear you down, to test every ounce of strength, agility, and endurance you have. The instructors are already lined up along the sides, clipboards in hand, eyes sharp and unfeeling as they size us up.

"This is it," one of the instructors shouts, her voice carrying over the low buzz of murmurs from the recruits. She stands tall, her expression hard and unsympathetic. "This course is not just a test of your physical abilities; it's a measure of your will. It's designed to break you down, to push you past the point of exhaustion. You will run, you will climb, you will crawl, and you will finish. Those who cannot keep up will be left behind. There are no second chances."

My heart pounds in my chest, and I try to take steady breaths, focusing on the air filling my lungs. I scan the course again, mentally mapping out each obstacle, trying to gauge where I'll need to save my energy and where I can push harder. I've always been good at reading situations, at finding the gaps and using whatever small advantages I can. I know I'm not the strongest here—not by a long shot—but I have to be smart. That's the only way I'm going to survive this.

The whistle blows, sharp and sudden, and the world snaps into motion. We're off, a jumbled mass of bodies sprinting forward, each of us desperate to make it through the first few obstacles without stumbling. My feet pound against the uneven ground, the impact jarring up my legs, but I force myself to focus, to keep moving. The first wall looms ahead—a slick, mud-coated structure that's already claimed several recruits who scramble for purchase but slide back down, their fingers clawing at the surface.