Leo advanced with the slow, shuffling line of contestants, his boots gliding silently over the cracked concrete as he moved without making a single sound.
It was not something Leo did consciously, but rather a reflexive grace that was born from instinct and years of training rather than thought.
The abandoned prison facility stretched out before him, sprawling and oppressive in its decaying grandeur.
If Leo had any doubts about being in a prison-like facility at first, they vanished the moment he got a clearer look at the test grounds—as the towering fences, rusted barbed wire, and imposing watchtowers left no room for uncertainty.
The courtyard he stood in was vast and rectangular, surrounded on all sides by high concrete walls. Rust stains ran like old blood down the cracks in the walls, and faint scorch marks suggested fires long extinguished.
Above, watchtowers loomed at regular intervals, their steel frames skeletal and weatherworn. Dark figures shifted behind tinted glass windows, their silhouettes barely visible. Sniper barrels occasionally caught the light, a chilling reminder of unseen eyes watching their every move.
The place felt like a graveyard of authority, stripped of life but heavy with echoes of its brutal past.
Leo's sharp eyes flicked over each detail, mapping out the terrain, the choke points, the exits. Instinct drove him to look for high ground, blind spots, and places someone might set an ambush.
But before he could gather his thoughts, the sharp blare of a horn shattered the stillness.
BLARE!
Following the sound, every head turned toward the large raised platform dominating the center of the courtyard.
Above it, a massive digital countdown clock hung suspended by thick steel cables, its bright red numbers frozen at 20:00, glowing like a silent warning.
Soon after the horn sounded, a tall man in a crisp military coat stepped forward onto the platform. His dark uniform bore silver insignias, and across his chest, stitched in precise letters, was his title:
Commander Rourke – Lead Instructor of Covert Tactics and Stealth Operations.
His gray eyes scanned the crowd below with a cold, calculating sharpness, and when he spoke, his voice carried across the courtyard, steady and commanding.
"Elite Assassin Seedlings. That's what you are now—nothing more, nothing less."
The crowd stood frozen, breaths held, as Rourke's piercing gaze swept over them.
"You stand here today at the edge of something far greater than yourselves. Beyond this entrance test lies the opportunity to enroll into the Rodova Military Academy—a place reserved only for the finest warriors of the universe. Those of you who survive this test today will join the ranks of history's finest assassins, while the rest… will be forgotten."
Rourke paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"The other departments like Swordsmanship and Archery have their own trials—trials where no lives are lost. But you—assassins—don't get that luxury. Because such is the life of an assassin. Every step you take, every breath you draw, every shadow you step into could be your last. You are always hanging by a thread and hence your entrance test is also designed as such."
A ripple passed through the crowd—some contestants stiffened while others exchanged wary glances.
"There are 2,500 of you selected to be here today, just enough to form 1,250 pairs.
However, at the end of this test, only 125 pairs will earn the right to step through the academy gates, with your selection being as dependent on your partner's performance as your own.
Your partner's death equals your disqualification. Do not mistake this as loyalty or friendship—it is survival. If your partner dies or abandons the test, you fail. Simple."
Delivering this grim message, Rourke raised a gloved hand, and two assistants in matching uniforms stepped onto the platform, carrying small black boxes.
"Each of you will receive two devices to aid you in this test."
The assistants moved through the crowd, distributing the items. Leo took his turn, accepting the two objects and inspecting them:
The first device labelled as 'Counter' felt smooth to touch with a glowing digital display showing the number 1250.
The second device, a small, glass-like sphere was labelled 'Teleportation Orb' and it felt cold and fragile in his palm.
Just as Leo began to lose interest in the objects in his palm, Rourke's voice rose again.
"The Counter will keep you informed of how many pairs remain. The Teleportation Orb is your way out—crush it, and you'll be teleported out of the testing grounds immediately. But know this: using it means disqualification, both for you and your partner."
Rourke's sharp gaze lingered on the crowd.
"You now have 20 minutes to find a partner. After that, the test begins. If you fail to pair up, you will face consequences before the first phase even begins."
With a sharp motion, Rourke stepped back.
Above him, the countdown clock hanging over the stage flickered to life.
20:00
19:59
19:58
And as a result the entire courtyard erupted into motion.
*********
Contestants scattered like insects, lunging toward each other, calling out, bargaining, and threatening.
Some grabbed the nearest person they could find. Others stalked the crowd, eyes scanning for someone who looked strong, capable, or—at the very least—useful.
Fights broke out in isolated pockets as contestants shoved others away from potential partners.
Leo remained still, his sharp eyes darting across the crowd, as his instincts screamed at him to choose wisely.
A few seconds into the selections, a hulking brute shoved his way past smaller contestants, smirking towards him with bloodshot eyes, however Leo ignored him outright.
His gaze was fixed instead on a slender girl with knives strapped across her chest, but as she made eye contact with Leo, she immediately shirked away, clearly rejecting him tacitly.
Leo's thoughts raced. Who could he trust? Who wouldn't turn on him the moment it became convenient?
His hand clenched around the Counter in one palm and the Teleportation Orb in the other.
19:05
19:04
19:03
The seconds were bleeding away, and each tick of the clock felt like a hammer striking against his skull.
Leo gritted his teeth and took a step forward.
He had 20 minutes to make a choice that could mean life or death.
But as he was about to start choosing somewhere deep in his chest, the same instinct stirred again—sharp, cold, and familiar.
Survive. Trust no one.