Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed as the sky darkened. The air was filled with the smell of iron and wet sand and the sun was completely bloated out. Everywhere was dark, like night time had decided to come early without the moon and stars.
A furious wind tore through a deserted station, threatening to uproot the battered structure from the floor. Behind the rundown station was a small hill that blocked the sight of the city. To the front, across the railway and deep into the forest was nothing. At least nothing that was known yet.
By the side of the rundown station stood the figure of a young man. A youth to be precise. He was covered from head to toe, his large overcoat billowing in the wind, flapping wildly like a desperate bird in the sky.
His hat covered his eyes, revealing only the lower part of his face and beneath his coat, he wore a three piece suit.
His hands, which were covered in black leather half gloves, held a briefcase and an umbrella. The former on the left and the latter on the right. He stood, unmoving and unbothered even as the wind picked up, turning the soil and uprooting trees.
Storms in the northern continent rarely occurred but whenever it did, it was one anomaly after the other and today was a good example of that.
Under the extremely dark sky, a loud sound reverberated, its echoes reaching the station. It wasn't the sound of thunder but that of a sputtering locomotive engine.
It was deep and loud, followed closely by tinkering sounds that heralded broken cogs and rusted gears.
The youth looked to his left, his expression obscured, his gait unbothered. Soon, the source of the sound revealed itself. It looked worse than it sounded. Half of its cargos lacked complete wheels, its engine was laid bare and it was incomplete.
It was a wonder how the locomotive was moving at all.
The youth remained unbothered by the sight, instead, his lips curled into what looked like a smile.
The train moved at surprising speed, faster than any other steam locomotive the youth had seen and he had seen a lot. In less than ten seconds, the locomotive had arrived in front of him, covering a distance of almost three hundred metres.
It didn't slow though, instead, it maintained its speed. It would soon pass the station. At the forefront of the train was a human dressed like a driver. He had a blue facecap on his head that hid his face, leaving only his stubble filled face for the world to see.
On his lips was a crooked smile. Even without seeing his eyes, one could tell that it was a mocking one. For the first time, the youth moved.
He placed his briefcase on his right hand, holding it together with the umbrella as his left hand reached up to hold down his fedora. And with a calm gait, he took a step forward.
Within the locomotive, in the third cargo to be precise was a gathering of youths. The oldest seemed to be twenty three and the youngest was sixteen. There were a variety of hair and eyes colours, the only thing that stood out was the little diversity in terms of skin colour.
Only three people had dark skins, the rest were as pale as a ghost.
The rest of the cargos were empty and the leader of this gathering, judging from how he was at the centre, was ironically a youth with dark skin. He stood in the middle lane, he was the only one standing. Others were seated either in the left or right side of the cargo.
"There are five cargos, two are unusable, the second and third were previously or currently occupied by us and the first cargo. The first cargo is our goal."
"What's in the first cargo?" Someone among the crowds asked and the youth replied with a slight pause,
"Humans, just like us. They are all noble by birth and they claim to be martial geniuses. They are our biggest obstacle. As much as I hate to admit it, one of them is most likely worth ten of us in combat."
"Bullshit!"
"Have you forgotten that we all got here on our own? At least give us some merit!"
"Noble blood my foot! I bet I could take them one in one."
"If they are that much stronger, then why take the entrance exam with us?"
The youth patiently listened to the complaints of the passengers who were also his fellow examinees, a cold smile on his face. After a few more complaints, the youths kept quiet and waited for the dark skinned youth to speak once more.
"How many of you have met real militants? How many of you have heard of the special forces? Do you think they are jokes? They are nothing like the police that roam the streets and get beaten up by common gangs. These people are more than warriors!"
The youth could see the sceptical look some of the examinees were giving him. He sighed and slowly unbuttoned his shirt.
"Here, let me show you the reason we have to fight them like we are fighting inhuman beings."
The dark skinned youth pulled his shirt apart, revealing a gruesome scar that spread from his right clavicle down his left pelvis. The eyes of most of the examinees widened.
They had seen their own fair share of injuries and what shocked wasn't how gruesome the wound was but the fact that someone within their age group had gotten an injury like that and survived.
"This…. Are you saying?" a youth began,
"Yes. This was given to me by a noble born. One probably on this train." The dark skinned youth's hand trembled as he reached up and traced the scar.
"It was five years ago. I was sixteen at the time and he was a boy of barely thirteen. I only remember offending him and waking up in the hospital."