Celisar Kael
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Chapter 44 | Is This a Joke?
🕑 Added 2025-08-17 12:00:13 +0000 UTCLights hummed above the field, casting pale circles across the dirt. Most recruits had already turned in for the night, leaving the training grounds nearly deserted. Only a few lingered at the edges—small clusters sparring, talking, or just sitting in their armor, too exhausted to move.
Leon stood near the center of the field, gripping his spear with aching arms. His legs felt like stone, and sweat clung to the inside of his suit, pooling uncomfortably at every joint. Across from him, Mason gave one final charge, shield raised, before stepping back and dropping his stance.
"Calling it?" Mason asked, breathless but still steady.
Leon nodded, too winded to speak. He let the spear drop to his side and staggered backward until he could sit down. The dirt felt cool beneath him while his whole body throbbed with exertion.
Mason dropped next to him with a quiet grunt that echoed inside his helmet.
"Not bad. You're moving cleaner these last couple of days."
"Still feel like I'm swinging a tree trunk," Leon muttered, pulling off his helmet and letting the night air hit his face. The cool breeze felt like salvation against his flushed skin.
Nyra arrived a few seconds later, her armor dusty and streaked with sweat. She flopped down on Leon's other side and let out a low, theatrical groan.
"Speak for yourself," she said. "I'm dying."
Leon leaned back on his hands, chest still rising and falling with every labored breath.
"That makes two of us."
"Three," Mason added, though he somehow looked the least worn out of them all.
They sat in a loose triangle, weapons scattered nearby, armor scuffed and dulled under the harsh lights. The rest of the field was quiet now, just the hum of the lights and the occasional clang of weapons from the few recruits still practicing.
Leon glanced at the spear beside him, its shaft worn smooth where his hands had gripped it these past weeks.
"It's harder than it looks," he said, flexing his fingers to work out the stiffness.
Mason picked up his shield and turned it over in his hands, examining a new dent near the lower edge.
"Which one's starting to click for you?" he asked, looking between Leon and Nyra.
"Spear," Leon said without hesitation. "Feels familiar. Like something I've used before, even if I haven't."
Nyra rolled her wrist with a small, satisfied grin.
"Sword all the way. Light and fast."
Mason tapped his shield against the ground with a hollow thud.
"Shield for me. I like that I can hit someone in the face and block a blade right after."
"You make it look like it weighs nothing," Leon said with a faint smile.
"You make it look like it's about to pull your arm off," Mason shrugged.
Nyra laughed, her voice low and tired.
Leon leaned back and looked up at the night sky. Stars peeked through the light haze above Ferros, distant pinpricks of light in the darkness. The sparring, the pain, even the quiet companionship—it all felt real in a way nothing else had since he arrived.
It had been a couple of weeks since they received their armor. Every night they sparred and trained after his evening saturation session. While he had improved with the sword and shield thanks to Nyra and Mason, the spear remained his strongest weapon. Something about its balance and its reach, just made sense to his body.
"We should head back," Nyra said reluctantly, breaking the silence. "Early formation tomorrow."
None of them moved. These quiet moments after training had become precious, a small pocket of peace in days otherwise filled with constant evaluation and competition.
Finally, Mason pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, then offered a hand to each of them. As they gathered their weapons, Leon felt a strange sense of contentment despite his exhaustion.
He had friends here. Real ones. Something he hadn't expected to find in the Imperial Army.
The very next morning, the recruits stood in rigid formation under the harsh Ferros sun. All had their weapons with them; sword at the hip, shield magnetically locked at their backs, and spear in hand with the point toward the sky. The formation gleamed, armored figures standing at perfect attention.
Beside their group stood Group B with identical gear.
Leon could see weapon racks at the edge of the field. Less worn than the ones they were carrying.
Wait… why is he here? Leon questioned when he saw a middle-aged man step in front of the formation.
"Good morning, recruits," the Warcenturion said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the field, "Today is Phase 2's assessment. It will be a mock combat scenario between the two groups."
The recruit in front of Leon twitched. Leon couldn't blame him, he did the same. They hadn't been told that today would be an assessment.
"Your instructors will give you the details. I hope to see what the best of this generation has to offer," the Warcenturion concluded. With that, he turned, nodded at the instructors, and walked to the edge of the field where he would observe.
The instructors barked orders and separated the groups, marching them to opposite ends of the field. Leon's group gathered around Instructor Zell, whose expression was even more severe than usual.
"Listen up," Instructor Zell said. "This exercise will be graded, so pay attention. The instructor cadre has determined Group B as more skilled overall than Group A."
Leon noticed a few recruits shift uncomfortably at this announcement.
Instructor Zell continued, outlining the exercise. Due to Group B's perceived superior skill level, they would serve as attackers. Group A would defend their flag holder, a recruit named Damon Krest.
"Recruit Krest is currently the number one ranked in this group," Instructor Zell announced, causing heads to turn. "He will also act as the cavora commander."
Their group's goal was simple: prevent Recruit Krest from being eliminated. The attackers would have fifteen minutes to reach and “kill” Krest. The battlefield would be the open training field they currently occupied.
"The other nine vora leaders will be based on ranking," Instructor Zell said, tapping at his datapad. "These are your voras. You have ten minutes to get your vora together and for the leads to come up with a strategy. Dismissed."
A second later, a prompt popped up:
Incoming file transfer from Blade Captain Brask Zell. Accept?
Yes.
A table with vora assignments appeared. Leon searched for his name and the CRI automatically detected his intention, revealing the section:
- Vora 10 -
Leader: Ezra, Leon
Vex, Kara
Rinn, Talia
Thorn, Ravi
Carl, Malco
Dross, Lena
Saar, Mason
Salen, Niko
Eltan, Malric
Cless, Varen
I'm the vora lead?! Leon's eyes popped out of his skull as he stared at the list of the ten names that make up his Vora.
Mason walked up beside him and removed his helmet.
"Hey, cap," he said with a big, goofy grin.
Leon didn’t respond. He just kept staring, hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something else.
"Hello?" Mason waved a hand in front of his face, then tapped a knuckle against Leon's helmet. "Anyone home?"
Leon blinked, snapping out of it. He yanked off his helmet, still trying to process what had just happened, but before he could speak, two other recruits jogged up to him.
"You're Leon, right?" a girl asked, her voice muffled through her helmet.
Leon opened his mouth but found no words.
"Yeah, that's him," Mason answered, clapping him on the back hard enough that Leon had to steady himself. "Our glorious leader."
More recruits trickled over. One by one, they removed their helmets and gave quick introductions. Three girls, six boys including Mason. All eyes were on Leon, and he was still too stunned to say anything.
He scanned their faces, trying to memorize them. Kara was short with intense eyes. Talia had a narrow face and kept glancing toward the other group. Malco was fidgeting with his helmet seal. Lena stood with perfect posture, evaluating him openly. Niko seemed distracted. And then there was Malric.
Before Leon could finish memorizing the rest, Malric stepped forward, his brow furrowed into deep lines.
"Aren't you the Nullari kid?" he said with a sharp tone that cut through the introductions.
Leon stiffened. A few others; Ravi, Varen, and Lena, glanced at each other, their expressions tightening.
"Great," muttered Ravi, a tall, lanky recruit with deep brown skin, loud enough for everyone to hear. "We don't finish one stupid obstacle course, and now we’ve got an unaug leading us."
Leon’s gut tightened, and his jaw twitched as he started to speak. He opened his mouth to correct them. To say, he wasn't Nullari anymore, but another part of him hesitated.
What did it matter? They already decided what I am, He thought.
Before he could respond, a voice barked across the field.
"Vora leads, get over here!"
It was Recruit Krest, already gathering the other vora leaders.
Leon turned and walked off without a word, his mind racing. Why had he been chosen as a vora leader? Was it some kind of test? A joke? Or worse, were they setting him up to fail?
As he approached the gathering vora leaders, someone nudged him in the ribs. He turned and found Nyra falling into step beside him, her helmet tucked under one arm and a smug smile on her face.
"Hello, fellow vora leader," she said with a grin that seemed to say she wasn't surprised at all.
"You're a lead too?" Leon asked, his mind still catching up to his new reality.
"Yup. Vora Nine."
They reached the forming huddle, where Damon stood waiting, arms crossed over his chest. The other leaders were already there, looking sharp and focused, except Nyra, who looked like she might burst out laughing at any moment.
Damon Krest was tall and lean, with buzzed blonde hair and the kind of face that seemed permanently set in concentration. He looked like he had been born to wear armor.
"You two, rear reserves," Damon said the moment they arrived, pointing at Leon and Nyra without any introduction.
Leon blinked, the words taking a moment to register.
"Reserves? Why?"
Half the leaders turned toward him with expressions ranging from surprise to disdain, as if wondering if he was an idiot to question the cavora commander. Even Nyra winced beside him.
Damon let out a short sigh, somehow filled with both impatience and annoyance.
"Because Group B is better than us across the board. You think I'm putting your voras full of failures in critical points?" he said, clearly trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt.
Leon wanted to argue. He wanted to point out that being held in reserve meant they may not see any action. That his vora would be judged useless before they even had a chance to prove themselves.
But he didn't say any of that. He just swallowed the reply forming in his throat and nodded stiffly.
His first day as a leader, and they were already benched.
