The dreams had started years ago, and were just as confusing to him now as they were then. This one, like many he had experienced throughout his life, showed him a confusing mess of images that he only understood on some subconscious level.
What he knew was that the images shown to him were something to do with his life.
He saw his friends, a woman he had briefly encountered one day, a girl that inexplicably set something off inside him.
He saw people in the foreground of shattered empires. He saw vast bastions, gigantic towers and wide, unending plains.
He saw things that filled him with dread.
Eventually, these visions changed him. Ever so slightly, they changed him.
He saw the pathetic corpse of his friend sprawled in an alleyway, dead at his hand. He saw his friend's sadness at being horribly mistreated in the Guard. He saw many more possibilities that could and had happened, lowering his opinion of them over time.
He saw them as weak. Of course, he would protect them, but he would not consider them his equal.
He jolted awake and sat upright. The dream he had been experiencing remained clear in his mind, guiding him along a mental path of possibility of what could happen in the future.
After a short while, he leapt out of bed and moved with a sense of urgency out of his room. Outside, he encountered the two people he was looking for.
"Hey, it's 'graduation day' today," Elanor said.
"You ready for it?" Bran asked him.
"Yeah," he responded. "Listen, you two trust me, right?"
"Yeah, we trust you."
"Of course, why?"
"When it comes to the graduation, I want to try something. Just trust me with it."
"Sure," the two said in unison.
"To be clear, I don't need your help to get in," Bran added. "After all, I'm simply the better fighter."
Marcus smiled and responded, "sure," in a sarcastic tone.
Hours later, the black carriage adorned with golden decorations arrived in the grounds of the orphanage. Lined up outside stood the children who would be partaking in the Guard examination.
After a brief exchange, the children were ordered to commence the exam by forming into lines.
Most of the children compiled, but Marcus, accompanied by his two friends, remained rooted to the spot.
"You're the commander, aren't you?" Marcus asked the man that approached them.
"I am. Commander Garnell," the man responded. "And you are?"
"Marcus Grant. Now, let's say I know something you're up to," he began, lowering his voice. "Let's say I know about a group you run that's meant to be an elite force. If the three of us beat you, you let us join."
"What if I refuse?"
"You can tell me in the future, one you have felt the extent of your regret."
"Very well," the commander responded with a smile, the boy in front of him reminding him of Tess. "But the three of you will have to wait until the rest are done." After a short pause, he added, "I won't go easy on you just because you're kids. You acknowledged this was an elite force." He then turned and retreated back to his previous position to observe the others.
After a short while, he ordered his companions to clear an area and beckoned the three forward.
"Do you have a plan? After all, this was your idea," Elanor asked Marcus as the three moved to the hastily made arena.
"Pretty much," he responded. "Just bless the two of us and then watch for any openings. Keep talking to us throughout, tell us what you see."
Turning his attention to Bran, he continued speaking. "Overwhelm him with water, douse his magic, keep him busy."
He ignored Bran's dissatisfied reaction as the three reached the arena, his friend clearly assuming he was delegated to little more than a supporting role.
As they approached the centre, Marcus studied the crowd that surrounded them. On the faces of the other children, expressions of confusion could be seen, their owner's missing knowledge of the events clearly shown.
The carers of the orphanage attempted to watch with neutral expressions, but were betrayed by unwarranted hints of fear displayed through their eyes. Of course, they knew the commander wouldn't unnecessarily hurt children, but they still felt a sense of worry.
In contrast, the soldiers of the Guard that had accompanied the commander were clearly excited about the spectacle, and openly mocked the three children with their expressions.
The commander gave them a moment to compose themselves before he began chanting, casting his opening.
An outer layer of armour, made wholly of flames, coated the commander's armour. On either side of his neck, large shoulder guards of flame exploded, nearly tripling the size of the already large pauldrons that adorned his shoulders. His forearms, once protected by thin armour, now spat defensive flames in all directions. Behind him, a flaming cape billowed out behind him, enveloping his silver cape, before falling to rest at his back, staining the ground with its heat.
Flames swirled around his head for a moment before coalescing into form, creating a pointed helmet that fit snugly. It was dark, blacker than his smith-formed armour.
He ran a hand down the length of his blade, summoning flames that followed his hand tightly to envelop the blade.
His preparations complete, he directed the sword at the trio and took a two-handed stance in preparation for their attack.
Elanor was the first to act.
She raised both arms, each directed at one of her companions.
"Bless!"
A soft glow, originating at the core of each of the boys, spread around their body before slightly increasing in intensity. Immediately they advanced, their speed marginally increased thanks to the buff granted to them by Elanor.
"Waterballs."
Bran summoned a group of water projectiles that he organised above his head. As he ran, he launched the first at the commander.
Marcus snapped his fingers as he knelt down. Beneath him, a chunk of Earth erupted from the floor and carried him forward. He snapped once again as he touched the surface with his right hand, transferring part of the concrete to his hand, granting him a gauntlet.
He leapt off the surface, making use of its speed to gain extra momentum. He snapped once more as he reached the apex of his jump, igniting the makeshift gauntlet into flames, drawing murmurs of surprise from the crowd.
He brought the fist down directly onto the commander's blade, attempting to destroy it immediately at the start of the fight. Unfortunately, the blade held as it received the attack, and Marcus was thrown backwards courtesy of a left-handed counter from the commander, drawing yet more sound from the crowd.
The commander stepped forward as he began advancing towards Marcus, but was stalled by another attack from Bran on his left.
Reacting after one quick glance, the commander dashed left, identifying the boy had overstepped in his attempt to cover for his friend. He slashed downwards with his sword, but cut through only air. His second attack, a wave of flame that extended off of his sword, also found nothing but air.
Recognising the boy had been put out of range thanks to a quick Earth platform summoned by Marcus, he retreated backwards, acknowledging the threat presented by their multi-angled attack.
'Speaking of, where is he?'
He glanced to his right, and saw only the signs that the boy had been there. Suddenly, he heard a loud noise behind him as the ground opened up behind him.
Marcus leapt out and swung a simple combination of attacks at the commander with his reinforced fists. Effortlessly, the commander dodged every single one.
Noticing a signal from Elanor, Marcus retreated back down his improvised hole and escaped, reappearing beside her.
Bran threw another waterball to cover his retreat, before falling back himself.
"He's tracking your movements too easily." Elanor told them. "Attack the same way, but you need to set it up first..."
Elanor's plan in mind, the two boys attacked once more in the same manner.
Bran hurled a ball forwards as Marcus attacked, aiming directly for the commander.
Just before hitting the commander, the ball exploded upon being hit by a fireball thrown by Marcus. Instinctively, the commander turned his head to avoid the steam that came from the reaction. Taking advantage of the situation, Marcus attacked with a barrage of punches that brought the commander down to a knee.
Behind him, Marcus heard Elanor shout a warning.
"Marcus! The Cape!"
In a defensive move, the commander had flailed out with his cape of flame, which had changed form to resemble that of a tail. Heeding her warning, Marcus snapped his fingers and retreated by contorting the ground beneath his feet.
"That's enough," the commander calmly declared before leaving the arena and going to talk with his companions.
After a few minutes, he stepped forward and addressed the children.
"Johnathan Sands!"
"Johanna Cain!"
"Mathia Bria!"
"To you three, congratulations! You have been assessed fitting to join the National Guard, and shall be collected tomorrow."
"Marcus Grant!"
"Branhen Tarno!"
"Elanor Loxley!"
"You three are assessed fitting for special assignment!"
"To the rest of you, unfortunately, we will not be recruiting you at this time. Good luck in all your future endeavours."