Martial

XII.

In the final day leading up to the rager, the training ground was a hive of activity. Recruits buzzed with nervous energy as they went through their last-minute preparations. The air crackled with tension, a tangible reminder of the looming challenge ahead.

Recruits were scattered about, but there were no distinct groups forming, no whispered conversations or shared glances exchanged in strategic planning.

It struck me as odd. I couldn't help but feel suspicious. It seemed too deliberate, too orchestrated to be mere coincidence. Were they intentionally keeping their strategies hidden from prying eyes? Or perhaps they were wary of drawing attention to themselves, afraid of becoming targets for sabotage?

Whatever the reason, I knew I couldn't afford to let my guard down. In this cutthroat environment, trust was a rare commodity, and I couldn't rely on appearances alone. I resolved to stay alert, to read between the lines, and to trust my instincts to navigate the treacherous waters of training camp.

As I made my way across the training grounds, I spotted Esma and Henrie engaged in a spirited sparring match. Their movements were fluid, almost choreographed, as they danced around each other with practiced precision. Esma's agility was matched only by Henrie's raw strength, creating a captivating display of skill and athleticism.

I stopped a short distance away, leaning against a nearby pillar to observe their bout. There was a fierce determination in their eyes, a hunger for victory that mirrored my own. Despite the intensity of their competition, there was a mutual respect between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of each other's prowess.

As they exchanged blows, I couldn't help but marvel at their technique. Esma's speed and agility allowed her to dart around Henrie's defenses, landing quick, precise strikes whenever an opening presented itself. Meanwhile, Henrie's sheer power and endurance allowed her to weather Esma's assault, retaliating with devastating counterattacks that kept her opponent on her toes.

"Nice work, you two," I called out, approaching Esma and Henrie as they finished their sparring session. "Your fighting styles are really impressive."

Esma grinned, wiping sweat from her brow. "Thanks, Jo."

Henrie nodded, flexing her muscles. "Yeah, thanks. You're not too shabby yourself."

I chuckled, "Remind me to never piss you guys off. I don't want to end up on the receiving end of those moves."

Esma laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Don't worry, Jo. We'll go easy on you... maybe."

Henrie grinned mischievously. "Or maybe not. You'll just have to wait and see."

I raised an eyebrow, playfully rolling my eyes. "Well, I'll be sure to watch my back around you two then."

As Esma, Henrie, and I shared a lighthearted moment, the sound systems suddenly blared to life, echoing throughout the training area

"Attention all recruits," the booming voice echoed across the training grounds, cutting through the chatter. "Report to the plaza immediately for an important announcement."

Esma glanced at Henrie, a puzzled expression on her face. "Wonder what this is about."

Henrie shrugged, his brow furrowing with curiosity. "Guess we'll find out soon enough."

I nodded in agreement, the three of us falling into step as we followed the flow of recruits toward the plaza. Speculation ran rife among the crowd, whispers and murmurs filling the air with anticipation.

As we reached the plaza, the brutes herded us toward the center, their imposing figures keeping us in line. I couldn't shake the sense of unease that washed over me as we were corralled toward the towering, big screen at the front.