"Hmm..." Carole's eyes narrowed slightly in interest. " Designation Number 37 of the first platoon, S17 come up."
Omen didn't hesitate. He moved confidently, climbing up to the platform without a word. A few envious glares followed him, particularly when Dahlia threw him a glare—one that didn't go unnoticed by the other boys in the platoon who took it for something else. Jealous murmurs rippled through the crowd. The fools had no idea she was just angry he stole a good challenge from her—
"Come together at once," Captain Carole commanded arrogantly.
Omen and Dahlia shared a glance—silent, but enough to understand what the other was thinking. The moment Carole gave the signal, they launched forward, their combined speed startling the crowd. With her werebeast agility and razor-sharp claws, Dahlia swiped at Carole with a ferocity that left no room for hesitation. She moved like a wild animal, her strikes fast and relentless, not even allowing the captain a chance to declare another rule.
'what monsters did Haelkrie recruit!' Captain Carole was extremely startled by their ferocity, her arrogant mask crumbling slightly.
Omen, on the other hand, was calculating and cautious. When Dahlia swiped up, he swiped down. They moved in perfect brutal harmony, their attacks synchronized in a way that left no opening.
Carole, however, was not to be underestimated. She quickly shifted to the offensive, throwing a powerful kick aimed directly at Omen's torso. But with an agility that bordered on unnatural, he ducked and glided out of the way, his movements smooth and graceful. His reaction was so seamless that Carole couldn't help but be momentarily impressed.
Just as she steadied herself, Dahlia struck again. Her feline form blurred with speed, and her punch came down with such force that the concrete below them shattered, cracks spreading like spiderwebs beneath her feet.
The crowd gasped, the sound of crumbling concrete echoing through the arena. Dust and debris rose from the ground, and Carole was forced to jump back, her eyes narrowing as she reassessed the situation. The combination of Omen's fluid grace and Dahlia's raw power was unlike anything she had seen among the recruits so far. But Carole was a seasoned Captain, and her expression gave away nothing as she prepared for the next move.
'I need to thank Haelkrie later, these two are on the level of a staff sergeant!' she surmised with a frown, not pleased with the fact that such talent was quickly catching up to her, a captain at that. 'with such potential they could even advance from lieutenant to colonel, even general!'
Captain Carole's frown deepened as the intensity of the spar escalated. The duo were taking the fight more seriously than she had anticipated, forcing her hand. She had no intention of letting them push her this far, but they were leaving her little choice. It was like they wanted—no—needed her to die.
'Such animosity', Carole was inwardly alarmed. Most slaves usually just submit and die for the army but these two harboured such strong-willed resentment for their captivity…they wanted freedom. It was her job as the captain to make sure such defiance never surfaced if not the slaves despite their imprints would still have the urge to retaliate or worse, rebel.
With a blur of motion, Carole made up her mind and moved like a gust of wind, reaching Dahlia's back before the were beast even realized what had happened. A brutal smack to the back of the neck sent the girl crumbling unconscious to the ground, her body going limp in an instant.
"Rule number four," Carole began, her voice sharp and authoritative, "Never lose focu—."
A hand slashed across her face and a drop of blood fell from her cheek. She had dodged just in time to prevent herself from getting a serious injury.
"You should adhere to your own rules, captain", Omen said as he observed the cut he made on her cheek. His tone wasn't arrogant, but his words made the slaves cheer in excitement.
'No, if this continues, the battleslaves will begin to manifest hope; I can't let that happen.' She turned her attention to Omen, ready to finish the spar by delivering the same swift blow to his neck. Her hand moved with precision, aiming to strike him down just as she had with Dahlia. But, to her utter shock, Omen dodged.
'He dodged!'
It was an instinctive, fluid movement as if he had somehow predicted her attack. Carole froze for a fraction of a second, disbelief flickering in her eyes. The neck strike was supposed to be a finishing move, one nearly impossible to dodge without active exogene enhancing speed and reflexes. Yet here he was, evading it with no apparent use of his abilities 'Don't tell me just his innate strength and speed are just this great. Was he some kind of were beasts. Afterall the invaders had varieties of species never seen in humanity, the boy before him might have been perhaps even a lieutenant according to whatever ranking system they used.
'But still…' Her gaze turned to the crowd, they were all staring at Omen in awe, it had gotten out of hand. Those who always had the intention of rebelling now had a lifeline to cling to. Before she could fully process what had happened, Omen grabbed her wrist, attempting to pull her off balance. Carole felt the tug but reacted immediately, infusing her body with exogene to increase her mass, anchoring herself to the ground. Omen's attempt to unbalance her backfired as she remained firmly rooted, using his momentum against him.
With a quick motion, she flipped the boy over, sending him sprawling onto the ground, landing face-up with a soft thump. From his position, Omen stared up at her, her sharp, beautiful features framed against the glaring sunlight.
"Rule number five," she continued, her tone calm yet stern, "Do not be overconfident. Confidence is good in battle—confidence in your abilities and skills. But overconfidence..." She let her words hang in the air as she gazed down at him. "Overconfidence is when you think you've discovered an opponent's flaw. That leads to a fatal mistake, and in the real world, it would mean your death."
Her voice carried across the entire square, reaching every recruit who watched in stunned silence. A captain was a captain afterall, if a battleslave could easily defeat one then all they had to do was plan a revolt and storm the lieutenant and captain's office to destroy their batons. Omen didn't flinch. He pushed himself up from the ground, dusting off his uniform with a calm, collected demeanor. Despite the intensity of the exchange, his face remained impassive. Without a word, he bowed respectfully to Captain Carole and began to walk away, his posture as composed as ever. He smiled inwardly to himself 'second phase was a success'.