About five days had passed since the announcement that Dominik would be the Muita family's candidate for the upcoming Decree of 1111.
In the dimly lit training hall of the Hera building, Dominik sparred with his uncle Foden, the clash of swords filling the air with a rhythmic cadence. Sweat dripped down his brow as he lunged and parried, each movement honed by years of training under Foden's watchful eye.
Foden's gruff voice cut through the silence, offering guidance amidst the intensity of their practice session. "Focus, Dominik! You can't afford distractions, especially now."
Dominik gritted his teeth, his muscles burning with exertion. He couldn't keep up with the experienced swordsman at all, compounded by the fact that he wasn't as trained as he should have been. After being defeated again for the umpteenth time, Dominik threw his wooden sword away in anger, his eyes watering with tears. "What is the point of all of this, being beaten and training until I can barely move to take a compound that no one knows anything about?"
Foden nodded knowingly, his weathered face etched with concern. "True, but you've got the Muita blood in you. We've faced worse odds and come out stronger."
Dominik clenched his fists until they were white. "That is simply not true. Being bullied by family members is not the same as being sent to your death. It is not the same as being sent to take a compound that has killed millions of people over the last few decades knowing how weak I am. I know you're trying to help but we both know this is suicide, Uncle," he let out all in one breath.
Foden sighed, rubbing his palm on his face. "You're right, you're going in blind here. Resilience is a part of surviving the IGE48, as said by previous survivors, and the Muita sword art does that. Therefore, I'll help you in the way I know, by training you. Besides, rather than focusing on those that died, as sad as that was, think of those that survived and went on to become legends. Don't forget you are the son of the lion of Muita, a legend of Ahnduim. If there'll be a lower-class man that will survive the IGE48, it might as well be the son of the lion. A lion does not give birth to a rat. Now pick up your sword and get in stance."
Motivated by his uncle's words, Dominik picked up his wooden sword and continued with his training.
After the grueling training session with his uncle, he made his way through the bustling streets of Ahnduim City to visit his friend Raphael.
Raphael's infectious laughter echoed through the narrow alley as they walked, the sound a stark contrast to the dilapidated buildings and muted colors that surrounded them. "Come on, Dom! You're worrying too much about this IGE48 thing," he exclaimed, clapping Dominik on the back with a force that almost sent him stumbling, surprising considering every muscle in his body hurt after the training earlier.
Raphael was the same age as Dominik. At 18, Raphael was a tall, ebony-skinned young man, incredibly muscular from working in mines and fields to help his family. His build, coupled with his short-cropped hair and a scar on his face from a mining accident, made him look intimidating. However, he was cheerful, caring, and easygoing. They became friends because he lived close to Dominik's mother's clinic, and they went to the same standard school.
Dominik managed a weak smile, grateful for his friend's unwavering optimism despite the weight of his impending fate. "Easy for you to say, Raphael. You're not the one who has to face it."
Raphael shrugged, his cap tilted back on his head as he looked up at the darkening sky. "Maybe not, but imagine if it works! You could be flying through the air like those Epiconsuls. A Class 4 citizen! Heck, maybe even a Class 3 if you're lucky."
His words sparked a flicker of hope within Dominik, a fleeting vision of a life beyond the confines of their Class 4 existence. "Do you really think so?" he asked quietly, half to himself.
"Absolutely!" Raphael replied with conviction. "You've always been smarter than me, Dom. You're practically a Class 3 already with that brain of yours."
Dominik chuckled softly, appreciating his attempt to lift his spirits. "If only it were that simple, my friend. The Decree of 1111 isn't something to take lightly. It's a matter of life and death."
As they navigated the maze of crumbling alleyways, Dominik couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between their surroundings and Raphael's unwavering optimism. Class 5, the poorest and most neglected, bore the brunt of post-apocalyptic life. The buildings here leaned precariously, their walls adorned with graffiti and makeshift repairs. Many lived in tents in the dangerous weather of Ahnduim. Sickly children with tattered clothes played in the streets, their laughter mingling with the distant hum of air buses ferrying wealthier citizens above.
"This place..." Dominik began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words. "It's like the forgotten heart of Ahnduim. The government barely acknowledges our existence."
Raphael nodded solemnly, his gaze lingering on a group of elderly Class 5 residents huddled around a makeshift fire. "Yeah, they don't care about us. We're just numbers to them, Dom. But that's why we gotta stick together, right?"
His words struck a chord within Dominik, reminding him of their bond forged through years of friendship. Raphael, with his loud laughter and irrepressible optimism, was a beacon of hope in a world where despair lurked around every corner.
As they reached a quieter corner of the slums, away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears, Dominik turned to Raphael with a sigh. "I just wish I knew what to prepare for, Raphael. The IGE48... It's a gamble, and I feel like I'm stumbling in the dark."
Raphael's expression softened, his usual grin replaced by a look of genuine concern. "I get it, Dom. But you're not alone in this. We'll figure it out together, like we always do."
His reassurance was like a lifeline amidst the uncertainty that threatened to engulf Dominik. He nodded gratefully, finding solace in his friend's unwavering support. "Thanks, Raphael. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Raphael clapped him on the shoulder again, his grin returning. "You'd be lost, probably! Now, come on. Let's grab a bite to eat. My treat."
Together, they ventured deeper into the heart of the slums, where the aroma of street vendors' offerings mingled with the sounds of bustling activity. For a brief moment, amidst the chaos and decay, Dominik allowed himself to believe in Raphael's optimism—to imagine a future where the IGE48 held the promise of change, not just for him, but for all of them in this forgotten corner of Ahnduim.
As they ate, surrounded by the sights and sounds of Class 5 life, Dominik reflected on differences between him and Raphael, with his boisterous nature and unwavering hope, was a stark contrast to Dominik's quieter, more reserved demeanor. Yet, somehow, their differences only strengthened their bond with the both of them supporting each other through thick and thin over the years. His loud cheerful friend was more than just a friend, he was his brother.