Rain pelted down hard on the outdoor training field, soaking the thirty-two rookies standing in formation before CloudLord Craigen.
The man before them was a living symbol of the Empire's might, wearing the legendary armour of the Juggernauts. It's green bulk a testimony to his high rank.
It was rare to see these suits of cloudsteel up close, but today was special. The rookies had finished the brutal Rookie Camp, and now they stood on the precipice of earning plates of their own.
The training grounds were an open stone courtyard, surrounded by iron gates and packed with spectators. Hundreds of citizens from the capital filled the stands, a rare sight.
Parents and siblings cheered, hoping their sons, daughters, or siblings would join the ranks of the Empire's protectors.
Ronzel didn't look toward the crowd. He knew there would be no one there for him. Everyone he knew stood beside him in line, folk he had met during his time in camp.
Craigen paced before the line of rookies, his booming voice cutting through the sound of falling rain, and his heavy steps almost crushing the ground beneath him. "Today is the most important day of your lives," he announced, his presence as commanding as ever. The rookies stood straighter and clasped their gauntleted hands tighter behind their backs.
"You have made me proud," Craigen continued, his gaze sweeping across their faces, "and it has been my honour to train you these last twelve weeks. Yes, my methods were harsh." The rookies chuckled. "But it was for your benefit."
He stopped in the middle of the line, the Western Juggernaut base looming behind him—a tall, plain building that has been home to the rookies for the past twelve weeks.
"The young men and women standing before me today are not the same ones I met months ago. You've gained muscle, lost fat, and some of you have even earned scars. But your journey has only just begun."
A ripple of nervous energy passed through the line. "Fight these duels well," Craigen declared, "and you will earn your place as third-rank Juggernauts. You will become Rainers!"
A roar of applause rose from the crowd, and pride shone on the faces of the rookies. Ronzel remained focused, stoic. His thoughts were already on the duels ahead.
"As you know, each of you will fight three duels, each lasting one minute," Craigen explained. "Your opponents have been selected to provide the most entertaining and beneficial matches."
He gestured to a tall woman standing nearby. Her long brown hair was tied back, and her sharp, handsome face was confident.
"With me today is Stormer Liena, who many of you probably already know. She will help me judge, and decide who earns their plates today."
Liena raised her fist to her chest, and the rookies copied. Ronzel knew of Liena's reputation—she had earned her plates at just seventeen, a feat hardly achieved by even the greatest of the juggernauts. She was a prodigy among the forces, already a first-rank by eighteen.
"We are expecting another guest," Craigen added, "though I am not sure when, or if, he will show up. Now then, on with the duels!"
The rookies were led to the waiting stands near the base, where they could watch the duels and wait for their names to be called.
Tension hung in the air, each rookie aware that only half of them would pass today. The others would have to wait until the empire was in need of more juggernauts before another twelve weeks of camp, hoping for a another chance at success.
Ronzel felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked over to see someone sitting beside him. Their face was hidden beneath the heavy steel helmet they all wore in training, alongside the bulky armour that was made to replicate the juggernaut plates.
He lifted it just enough for Ronzel to notice who it was.
"Hope I don't have to fight you," Denard said with a chuckle. "Would be nice if we could both make it through."
Ronzel nodded. "Aye. Fight hard, fight with heart, and we both will." He liked Denard, but did not enough about him to consider him a friend, and if he was being honest, he did not believe this man would earn his plates today.
He was clumsy.
Denard laughed, though the sound was muffled by his helmet. "With you in the ring? I'll need all the heart I've got. You're gonna use the great sword, I assume?"
Ronzel hesitated, worried that he would give something away to a potential opponent, but then realized it didn't matter. Whoever he fought, he would give his everything, and that is all that mattered.
"Yes," he answered simply.
Before the conversation could continue, Craigen's voice boomed across the courtyard. "Ronzel and Omarn to the square!"
The first duel, Ronzel thought to himself as he stood, heading for the weapons rack.
Omarn was already there, acknowledging a shout from the stands. Ronzel chose a great blade, feeling its familiar weight settle in his hands, while Omarn lifted a great hammer. His opponent was fierce, one of the better fighters in the camp, and Ronzel wondered how he would fare against him.
"May the best man win," Omarn said with seriousness, taking his place at one end of the square. Ronzel mirrored him, standing roughly ten paces away, his blade held in a defensive stance.
Craigen and Liena watched from outside the chalk-marked square. The air was thick with anticipation, the crowd silent, waiting for the duel to begin.
"The rules are simple," Craigen said.
"Anything goes for a minute. When the bell rings, you stop. Fight with everything you have."
There was a moment of stillness.
"Begin!"
---
Omarn advanced first, his hammer dragging behind him as he closed the distance. His steps were heavy but calculated.
Ronzel poised himself in a wide stance, his great blade held out in front of him, ready.
When Omarn finally swung, aiming a brutal downward strike at Ronzel's head, Ronzel moved quickly, gripping his left hand on the blade and right hand on the handle, in a defensive position.
The hammer crashed against his sword, the impact jarring his arms, but he successfully deflected the blow, pushing the hammer to the side.
With Omarn off-balance, Ronzel struck back, swinging his blade upward and catching Omarn under the chin.
The blow sent his opponent stumbling, but Omarn recovered quickly, charging into Ronzel with his shoulder and following up with a jab to the face with the butt of his hammer.
Seeing success, Omarn crouched, pivoting on his feet, and swung low, aiming for Ronzel's legs.
The hit connected, sending Ronzel to one knee and then Omarn followed through by kicking him in his chest, his back crashing against the ground as he fell.
He managed to scramble to his feet just in time to dodge another crushing strike aimed at his chest. The hammer lodged into the floor and was pulled free with force, Omarn hefting it in his hands again.
Ronzel decided it was his turn to go on the offensive. Charging forward, Ronzel feinted low, causing Omarn to drop his guard. At the last second, Ronzel switched his strike to a thrust that landed on his opponent's chest.
The hit sent Omarn staggering backward.
Ronzel saw an opening and swung his blade overhead. It crashed into Omarn's helmet, sending the man down onto his backside.
Ronzel dropped his blade and leapt on top of Omarn, delivering punches to his head and body.
Ring!
The bell sounded, signalling the end of the duel.
The crowd erupted into applause as Ronzel stood, breathing hard. He extended a hand to Omarn, who took it gratefully.
"Good fight," Ronzel said between breaths, feeling proud of his performance.
Omarn nodded. "An honour."
As they bowed to the crowd, Ronzel glanced at Craigen and Liena. Both seemed impressed, and that was all the approval he needed.
Craigen rose and gestured with his hands, silencing the cheers.
"An excellent start," he said. "Let this duel set the standard. Your opponents today will fight hard, but the Cloudlings fight harder. Liena and I know this first-hand. Their bodies must be battered and dented repeatedly and severely before they succumb to their injuries, and their threshold is higher then ours by tenfold."
Ronzel's mind drifted, the mention of the Cloudlings pulling him into the darkest corners of his memory.
Those ethereal monsters were the reason the Juggernauts existed—the creatures that had stolen his parents from him. The nightmare he had lived through as a young man, watching helplessly as the cloudlings brutalised his mum and dad, had made him swear to himself.
He would never be powerless again and would do everything in his power to make sure that no one else had to go through the same experience that he had.
Craigen's voice snapped him back to the present. "Let us continue," the CloudLord said, settling back into his seat.
Ronzel returned to the waiting stand, ready for whatever came next.