Gabriel
"You've got to be kidding me."
Raphael crossed his arms, shaking his head as we stared at the mess in front of us.
A pile of junk.
Broken beams, rusty metal pipes, half-collapsed crates—more garbage than a training ground.
Isaac casually pulled a knife from his belt, sliced off a piece of bread, and chewed on it. "This is your training ground."
Raphael
"We have weapons." I tapped the shaft of my lance.
Isaac barely looked up from his bread. "And do you always have them?"
I opened my mouth—but this time, I stopped myself.
We had found our weapons. But what if we lost them?
Isaac gave a barely perceptible nod toward the junk pile. "Do you really think a vampire or a killer will politely wait for you to draw your nice, holy sword?"
Silence.
I hated it when he was right.
Michael
The first training session was a disaster.
We were supposed to fight with whatever we had—which meant unstable wooden poles, rusty chains, and broken bricks.
Gabriel reacted instinctively.
His metal rod whistled through the air, a precise, powerful strike.
Isaac barely moved. A tiny step to the side—and Gabriel's attack missed completely.
Before my brother could react, Isaac had already grabbed his wrist, twisted him around, and slammed him to the ground with a smooth motion.
Gabriel gasped as the air was knocked from his lungs.
"Far too predictable," Isaac stated matter-of-factly, turning his gaze to us. "Next."
Gabriel
I got back on my feet as Raphael and Michael attacked.
Raphael was wilder, using his strength to hurl a heavy beam toward Isaac.
Isaac ducked, kicked the beam—and sent it flying straight at Michael.
Michael jumped aside, but his attack was lost.
Isaac grabbed him by the collar and slammed him down.
"You only ever think about direct combat," he said quietly. "But fighting means using whatever you have."
Raphael
It took days before we started to understand.
Isaac made us fight with anything we could find.
Once, he handed me a kettle lid and a broomstick and told me to defend myself.
Another time, we had to hold our ground against him using only our fists.
And then—after a month—something changed.
I started to sense when Gabriel would move. I could anticipate Michael's next action.
And I knew they felt the same.
Our rivalry grew fiercer. Each of us wanted to be better than the other.
But at the same time, we were getting stronger.
Michael
Isaac saw it.
He made us fight each other—without weapons, only fists.
It was brutal. It was ugly.
But it was honest.
Gabriel tackled me into the dirt, I grabbed his leg and pulled him down with me. Raphael kicked us both over.
No one gave up.
No one wanted to be the weakest.
And that was exactly what made us stronger.
Isaac Crowe
I watched them as they fought, as they grew.
After two months, I could see the difference.
The way they moved. Their reflexes.
They no longer thought about their attacks.
They acted.
They weren't good enough yet.
But they were on the right path.
Gabriel, Raphael & Michael
One evening, we sat by the fire.
For the first time in weeks, we had real food.
Bread, meat, some wine.
Isaac ate in silence while we devoured our meals.
Michael finally looked at him. "Why today? Why now?"
Isaac set down his knife. "Because you're no longer completely useless."
Gabriel let out a dry laugh. "What a compliment."
Isaac looked at us.
"Tomorrow, the next phase of your training begins."
We stared at him.
And for the first time, I wondered if this was really just training—or if we were being prepared for something much bigger.