Three days had passed since Adrian Falter found himself in the Breles Empire, a world of medieval knights, towering castles, and a delicate peace constantly on the brink of war. The empire stretched across vast lands, with twelve major cities, each as unique as the next. Arvendale, the city Adrian now called home, was located in the southeastern part of the empire, bordering the demonic kingdom of Danivir. The two realms shared a tenuous truce, one that felt like it could crumble at any moment. But none of that mattered to Adrian today. Today, his focus was on something far more immediate—joining the ranks of the empire's soldiers.
The morning sun had barely begun to peek over the horizon when Adrian found himself following Captain Mohan toward the barracks. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on his shoulders. His body was stiff with tension, and his nerves buzzed with a mixture of anticipation and fear. Beside him were three other recruits, each of them new to the empire's military, much like himself. They were a varied bunch, but their expressions mirrored his own—nervous, uncertain, but trying to appear confident.
The barracks loomed ahead like a fortress in its own right. It was a long, rectangular building made of thick, rough-hewn stone, the walls weathered from years of standing against time and the elements. Narrow, barred windows allowed only slivers of light to enter, while heavy wooden doors reinforced with iron greeted them at the entrance. The air around the barracks smelled of sweat, steel, and discipline.
Mohan reached out, his large, calloused hand pushing open the creaking door, and the group stepped inside. Adrian's first impression was one of controlled chaos. Soldiers of varying ranks moved about, some polishing their armor, others sharpening their weapons. The clang of metal against metal filled the air, mixing with the murmurs of conversation. The interior of the barracks was spartan. Rows of bunk beds lined the stone walls, each with a thin straw mattress and a scratchy wool blanket. At the foot of every bed sat a small chest for personal belongings—though none of the soldiers seemed to have much beyond the essentials.
At the far end of the room, the mess hall bustled with activity. Soldiers sat at long wooden tables, eating their morning meals of bread, cheese, and salted meat. The scent of the food wafted through the air, making Adrian's stomach growl in protest. But his nerves overpowered his hunger.
"Don't worry about your lack of training, lad," Captain Mohan said, his deep voice cutting through Adrian's swirling thoughts. "They'll teach you what you need to know here. Just focus, keep your head down, and give it your best."
Adrian nodded, though a pit of doubt still gnawed at him. He had never been the athletic type. Back in his world, his days were spent behind a computer screen, his body untested by anything more than the occasional gym visit. But here, things were different. In this world, strength wasn't just a virtue—it was a necessity for survival.
As they moved deeper into the barracks, the sound of clashing steel echoed from outside. The sharp ring of swords meeting shields sent a shiver down Adrian's spine. He could hear the rhythmic thuds of spears striking wooden targets and the shouts of men in the heat of training. What am I doing here? Adrian thought, his anxiety spiking.
Captain Mohan, sensing the unease in the new recruits, stepped forward and addressed the room with his booming voice. "Attention!" The command cut through the din like a blade, and every soldier in the barracks stopped what they were doing, turning to face the captain.
"I'd like to introduce our newest recruits," Mohan continued, gesturing toward Adrian and the others. "This is Adrian Falter, and these are your fellow soldiers. They'll be joining our ranks, so treat them as you would any brother-in-arms."
Adrian felt the weight of dozens of eyes on him. He could sense the quiet judgment in their gazes, some curious, others skeptical. His cheeks warmed under the scrutiny, and he fought to stand tall, to project a confidence he didn't feel. His slender frame and awkward posture likely betrayed him, but he hoped his resolve would be enough to earn their respect.
Mohan's introduction continued, but Adrian's thoughts were elsewhere. He could sense the tension in the room—the unspoken evaluations from the seasoned soldiers who had already been through the grueling training that he was about to face. Do they think I'm weak? The question gnawed at him. He knew he didn't look the part of a soldier, and it stung.
As the introductions wrapped up, Adrian let out a slow breath of relief. He had survived the first hurdle, but the hardest part was yet to come.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Adrian did his best to get acquainted with the other soldiers. Some of them were friendly enough, offering tips and words of encouragement. He listened intently, grateful for any advice. He found himself sharing stories with a few of them, learning about their lives before they enlisted. It seemed that many of them were farmhands, blacksmiths, or hunters before answering the call to arms.
But not everyone was welcoming.
One man, in particular, caught Adrian's attention—and not in a good way. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a sharp, angular face and eyes that seemed to burn with quiet contempt every time they met Adrian's. The man's name was Lars, and his presence was unsettling. His stare was cold, his expression hard. It was clear he didn't think much of Adrian, and he wasn't shy about showing it.
Adrian tried to brush it off.
'What's his problem?' he thought. Maybe it was his slight build. Or maybe it was the fact that Adrian didn't look like a seasoned warrior. Whatever the reason, Lars's disdain was obvious, and it gnawed at Adrian's already fragile confidence.
As the day wore on, doubt began to creep in.
'Can I really do this?'
Adrian wondered. Can I survive in a world where strength is everything, where everyone around me is faster, stronger, more experienced?
But every time those dark thoughts threatened to take hold, Mohan's voice echoed in his mind. You've got this, lad. Just keep moving forward. And so, Adrian did. He knew that if he was going to prove himself, he would have to work harder than anyone else.
The following day, the new recruits were summoned to the training grounds. A large wooden stage had been erected in the courtyard, and standing atop it was the Master-At-Arms, a grizzled veteran with a stern gaze that swept over the sea of new faces. Hundreds of recruits stood in formation, their expressions a mix of eagerness and fear. Adrian stood among them, the tension in his chest rising with each passing moment.
The Master-At-Arms began to speak, his voice loud and commanding. He spoke of duty, honor, and sacrifice, his words carrying the weight of experience. The recruits listened in silence, hanging on every word. As he spoke, Adrian found his gaze wandering, scanning the crowd. His nerves bubbled up again.
'How am I supposed to survive this?'
The faces around him blurred together, each one a potential rival, each one stronger and more capable than him.
Adrian clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He couldn't afford to think like that. He had to fight—not just for honor or glory, but for survival. This world was unforgiving, and he needed to adapt, no matter the cost.
When the Master-At-Arms finally dismissed the recruits, the training grounds came to life with the clanging of swords and the whistle of spears. Adrian stood frozen for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. But then he took a deep breath and stepped forward.
He had no choice now. This was his life. And he was determined to make it his own.