"Surely that's impossible! How can a thirteen year old do something like that? How did you even survive?"
"I agree. I bet it's just some cosmetic shit!"
"Hmph, what do you take us for? Fools?"
"I expected better from you."
Half the youths began grumbling in protest. They were angry, furious that their intelligence was being tested. A lot of them had gone through hell and back just to qualify as examinees.
Unlike in the ancient times when people were actively recruited into the military, only the local police did such nowadays. If you wanted to enter the military, you had to earn the right to do so.
All of the youths in this cargo were well known in their respective areas as great fighters and hunters or excellent members of various other occupations.
Towards the edge of the gathering was a bulky youth nicknamed Reaper. He was a bounty hunter and a lot of the youths knew him even though he didn't reside in their areas. They had been shocked when he allowed this slender pretty boy to take centre stage.
In summary, each of them earned their spot through their flesh and blood and ultimately, their extreme cunning. After all, there was only so far brute strength could take you. For someone to put their intelligence to test, it was a stain to their ego.
"I call bullshit. You know what! I'm outta here!" A youth raised his voice as he spoke. He had deep green eyes and he was the second dark skinned in the cargo. The bulky guy known as Reaper was the third.
All eyes fell on him and a few people scooted to his side. He looked beside him and smiled cunningly,
"To those that don't agree with this bullshit, come with me. I'm not proposing to be a leader or anything, we will all move to the second cargo and face whatever comes ourselves. No allies, nothing. Just ourselves"
"Sure!"
"Yeah, let's get out of here."
"F**k this! I'm outta here."
A few youths followed after the youth as he left the cargo. The dark skinned youth with the scar remained silent, his shirt was now unbuttoned.
Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do if they want to leave. They are not mine to command.
After the other group left, the dark skinned youth glanced around, scrutinising those that remained. The he spoke,
"Why are you staying?"
Although he was facing the others, a few could tell that his question was directed to one person in particular. Reaper.
The bulky youth walked forward and the scarred dark skinned youth stood, his back straight and his eyes unwavering. The person opposite him was at least six feet seven, towering above his six two frames. And he was also way larger but the scarred youth didn't seem to have any fear in his eyes.
"Lassen," Reaper reached out his hand in a gesture of handshake. The scarred youth paused for a bit before reciprocating, shaking Reaper's hand firmly.
"Zandov Ghame." He replied.
Lassen retrieved his hand and suddenly began rolling up his sleeves. A few of those around took cautious steps back. The atmosphere immediately became tense, like a fight was about to break out. It looked like that too.
"I got this from a noble too. A lady. She used her heels." The eyes of the youths that remained in the third cargo widened as they looked at another gruesome scar on Lassen's forearm. It ran straight across and ended on a puncture like scar at the back of his palm.
"Zandov is right. Those nobles are inhumane and our best chance is to battle them first."
"Why? Can't we just fight amongst ourselves and the rest of us can join them?"
"No." This time, it was Zandov that spoke. His expression was grave,
"They hate those that are commoners. They will most likely eradicate the survivors."
"Can they do that?"
"Shouldn't that be illegal or something?"
"Illegal? There are currently at most four of them on this train. They are rare and hence, extremely pampered. Most of their parents hold high ranking positions in the military."
Zandov looked at the youths around him, his expression one of pity. He pitied not just them but everyone else that weren't nobles and were on the train.
Such is the way of the world. Sigh…
Clank! Clank!! Clank!!
The cargo suddenly became quiet, the eyes of all the youths rising simultaneously to the roof of the train. A few of them even went on the defensive.
A flash of lightning illuminated the area briefly and the nerves of a few youths went taut as they awaited the rumbling that should come after but the thunder never came. The atmosphere became tense, an eerie feeling hanging in the air as taut nerves ran on adrenaline.
Clank! Clank!
The sounds reverberated through the room, echoing bizarrely through the battered metal that made up the carapace of the locomotive. The sound began to fade as it moved farther away and from the cargo.
Zandov released a breath that he didn't even realise he was holding and he looked at Lassen,
"Wow, that was some strange shit. What the hell was that?"
"Honestly. This room immediately became like some bizarre station for a horror movie."
"I know right!"
"Do you think that was part of the test?"
A few murmurs filled the area but Lassen remained strangely silent. His hands twitched beside him and his brows furrowed. After a moment, he spoke in a voice that was barely above a whisper but clear enough for Zandov to hear.
"It sounded like footsteps…"
Footsteps? Surely that can't be possible. There's a storm raging outside after all. Moreover, how did the person even get on top of this barely functioning tin can?
Zandov looked towards the second cargo, he could tell from how the youths there were looking around in horror that the sound had gotten there and after a while, they returned to normal.
It seems to be heading for… the first cargo? Don't tell me… Lassen was right? Those were footsteps?
Zandov felt a cold shiver down his spine.
If that's a noble, then they are even crazier than the usual ones.