The days at the military academy blurred together into a relentless, soul-crushing routine. Each morning began with the blaring of the horn, dragging the recruits out of bed before the sun had fully risen. Breakfast was a tasteless paste that barely qualified as food, followed by hours of grueling physical training, combat drills, and strategy lessons.
By the end of the first week, Kikidori was convinced he was living in some version of hell.
"Pushups!" bellowed Sergeant Relk, a hulking man with a voice like thunder. "You weaklings think the Dalki are going to take it easy on you? Get down and give me fifty!"
Kikidori collapsed to the ground, his arms shaking as he struggled to keep up. Around him, the other recruits pushed themselves with varying levels of success. Quinn worked in silence, his face an unreadable mask, while Vorden seemed to breeze through the exercises, offering the occasional grin to anyone who looked his way. Erin completed her pushups with cold precision, while Peter lagged behind, his face red and drenched in sweat.
As Kikidori's arms gave out, he collapsed onto the dirt, gasping for air.
"Get up!" barked Relk, looming over him like a storm cloud. "You think the Dalki are going to give you a break just because you're tired? Move it!"
Kikidori gritted his teeth, summoning what little strength he had left to push himself back up. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he kept going, fueled by a mix of anger and sheer stubbornness.
By the time the day's training finally ended, Kikidori could barely stand. He stumbled back to the barracks with the rest of the recruits, his legs feeling like jelly.
"This place is a nightmare," he muttered under his breath.
"What was that, Kikidori?" Vorden asked, falling into step beside him.
"Nothing," Kikidori grumbled, too exhausted to argue.
When they reached the barracks, Kikidori collapsed onto his cot, letting out a groan of frustration. "This training is such a load of crap!" he exclaimed, earning a few chuckles from the others.
Peter flopped onto his own cot, wiping the sweat from his brow. "You're telling me. I don't think I've ever been this tired in my life."
"At least you're still alive," Erin said dryly as she sat down on her cot. "Relk looked like he was ready to murder someone during the sparring session today."
Layla, who had been tying her hair back, smirked. "You mean Kikidori. He's been Relk's favorite target all week."
Kikidori groaned, throwing an arm over his face. "Don't remind me."
Later that night, as the recruits lay in their cots, Kikidori's frustration boiled over.
"This whole place is Fucking ridiculous," he muttered, loud enough for the others to hear. "What's the point of putting us through all this crap? Half of us are probably going to die before we even see a Dalki."
Quinn, who had been silently reading his notebook, finally looked up. "The point is to weed out the weak," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "The military doesn't care about us as individuals. We're just numbers to them. Tools for their war."
Kikidori frowned. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"
"No," Quinn replied, his gaze sharp. "It's supposed to make you understand. If you want to survive, you need to stop complaining and start figuring out how to adapt."
The room fell silent, Quinn's words hanging in the air.
After a moment, Vorden chuckled, breaking the tension. "Well, he's not wrong," he said. "But don't worry, Kikidori. You've got me to watch your back. Stick with me, and you'll be fine."
Kikidori sighed, turning onto his side. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say."
The next day, Kikidori's mood hadn't improved. As he struggled through another round of drills, he couldn't stop himself from muttering curses under his breath.
"This is Fucking stupid," he grumbled as he crawled through a muddy obstacle course.
"Keep moving, Kikidori!" shouted Relk from the sidelines. "Or do you need me to carry you?"
"Fuck you," Kikidori muttered, though he made sure Relk couldn't hear him.
Quinn, who was crawling ahead of him, glanced back. "You really need to learn to keep your head down," he said quietly.
"Yeah, well, maybe I don't want to," Kikidori shot back.
Quinn didn't respond, but the faint smirk on his face told Kikidori he found the outburst amusing.
That evening, as Kikidori sat on his cot rubbing his sore muscles, he couldn't help but think about Quinn's words. As much as he hated to admit it, Quinn had a point. Complaining wasn't going to change anything.
He reached into his bag, pulling out the vampire book he'd hidden away. Opening it, he ran his fingers over the strange symbols and diagrams, wondering if it held any answers.
"I don't know what you are," he whispered to the book. "But if you're my only shot at getting out of this hellhole alive, then I'll take it."
For the first time since arriving at the academy, a spark of determination flickered in Kikidori's chest. He didn't know what lay ahead, but he was done being powerless.
The End of Chapter 13.