Koragnier [OPEN]

Ilia stood inside the entrance of the 101st gate to the Armasseum, waiting alongside five other instructors for the Firstborn to arrive. None of the other instructors had any experience fighting in Koragnier, nor would they ever, but they had seen many generations of Firstborn come and go, and had been taught by past veterans on what the new initiates would need to know.

Truth be told, Ilia felt out of place beside them. Not only were they far more experienced instructors, but they were also regular human beings and the tallest of them barely reached her shoulders. Still, they would defer to her status as a veteran and, being an Ascendant at the end of her lifespan, they would respect the fact that she did not have much time left among them. This would be Ilia's first and only class she would ever teach.

The Firstborn arrived now, lead in lots of ten by the collectors as they crossed the long stone bridge to the gate. There would be a thousand of them altogether, no doubt full of trepidation and any number of expectations.

What could be going through their minds right now? Ilia wondered, remembering her own deep sense of apprehension at the gates of the Armasseum. Even through the haze of countless battles, she could still remember that.

~~~

Ingrid walked at the very front of the group, looking up at the imposing gate to the Armasseum with her head held high. It was all she saw, not the collectors in front of her or the other Firstborn beside her, no, they were just shadows in the greater shadow of the Armasseum, the gateway to Koragnier and destiny itself.

No one spoke, but just to her left, Ingrid could hear someone taking a deep breath. The fear was palpable. "Worried about dying?" she asked.

"Of course I am," the young man whispered harshly, his dark brown hair flying as he turned to reply. "Who wouldn't be?"

Ingrid smiled. "I'm not. Our souls already belong to the God-king, so if we die in battle, we're just going back to him. There's nothing to fear expect being unworthy of the honour."

"Quiet in the back," the lead collector sternly commanded, his weapons and brigandine armour rattling as he walked.

The young man shot Ingrid a disbelieving stare before turning his eyes forward again, marching in nervous silence.

~~~

Kieran walked in the very back of the column as the Firstborn crossed the bridge, looking up apathetically at the gate before returning his gaze to the others before him.

They look more like sheep than warriors, he thought, not that it made much of a difference in his mind. If they could not wield the power of magic, then they were going to be slaughtered like sheep regardless of how ferocious they were.

As an elementalist, Kieran knew that his life alone outweighed most of all the others put together, but it would do more harm than good to point that out to them. He only hoped that if the time called for it, they would realize that fact before then. It was only practical after all, since magic would be the best weapon against demons.

In any case, no demon could ever be more terrifying than Kieran's lifelong mentor had been. "Remember this, boy," the old sadist had said before the collectors came. "When you return from Koragnier and one day you will, never forget that I will still be here, waiting for you. You are mine, always remember that."

A dreadful prospect, Kieran thought as he remembered entire days of intensive training, interspersed with hours of...

He shuddered at the memory and looked up at the gate again in an attempt to clear his mind. No, nothing could possibly be worse than what he had already suffered.

Kai, like a few others had been walking in the far back of the column. Not because she wanted to, but because the steps everyone were making, however not in unicin, were making a very nice echo for the sound to bounce off of the things she needed to see.

In fact she hardly thought anyone noticed that she was blind. She had exellent speed and percision, hand eye coordination if you will. Though this was only obtained through practice. It was still a doubt, or a fear of others that she would be useless because of her condition. Most people had given up on trying to train her before they even knew what she could do. The only people who tried were her parents. To which she was eternally greatful. They never treated her as if she were blind. They were tough on her, saying
"Just because you cant see doesnt mean that you are blind, Kai. Listen to the world, to your surroundings. For they are speaking to you, guiding you. Remember it."

Those words would always uplift her spirits in some shape or form, and she was content. Though at the moment it was killing her not to start up a conversation with someone, anyone really. She needed sound, but the thing she loved most was the unique voices that would send different sound waves bouncing off of things like she had never seen before. She loved talking to people. She was dependant on it.

Still it seemed everyone were to be silent. Kai sighed and continued walking, only slightly looking around her, to take in the new

As the Firstborn reached the end of the bridge, one of the instructors stepped forward to address them. A white-bearded man with a straight back unbent by age, Grigor cut a stern figure in front of the gate, clad in green robes with a thick red sash, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, an iron quarrel went through it and the collector in front of Ingrid threw his crossbow aside to draw a bundle of explosives from his belt.

"Give me back my son or I'll destroy this bridge and everyone with it!" he yelled desperately as he pulled back his hood, revealing a middle aged face with teeth bared in a manic expression.

"Father!" shouted the fearful young man by Ingrid's side.

"Don't worry, Mikkel, I'll get you back h-"

The man had turned around for just a second to address his son, but it was all the time Ilia needed to summon her wings and fly past, severing the man's hand with a flash of her sword.

The man let out a feral scream as the other collectors swarmed him, pinning him to the ground whilst a few others kept their crossbows trained. Even as the blood pumped out of his wrist, he struggled and fought.

Breaking into fragments of light, Ilia's wings vanished as she dismissed them after landing in a crouch. Standing up again, she turned to approach the intruder just as one of the collectors drew his sword and said, "The punishment for murder is death."

"Let him go," Ilia said as she flicked the blood off her sword before sheathing it. "He's no longer a threat and Grigor can be revived easily enough."

"He cannot be allowed to live."

Ilia looked upon the intruder with pity as he roared his frustration and pain. "I've made my decision. Treat his wound then send him home... he's lost enough."

~~~

The young man named Mikkel stared in horror as he watched his father being dragged away, kicking and screaming whilst repeatedly shouting his son's name.

For a moment, Mikkel looked as though he were about to run after him, but Ingrid seized his arm and shook her head as she said, "There's no turning back now. Do not disgrace yourself like him."

Ingrid could understand a father's attachment to his child, but to rob the Armasseum of a warrior of God was nothing but sacrilege and undeserving of pity. Such weakness was simply shameful.

Mikkel had nothing to say as he looked on with empty eyes, even as his father disappeared from view, though the rest of the Firstborn were quietly but avidly abuzz.

~~~

Kieran merely quirked his eyebrow as the intruder was dragged past by two collectors. It was about the most entertaining thing he had seen all day and it had been a very long trip, travelling with the collectors and other Firstborn by wagon, but now that the spectacle was over, it seemed the day was going to continue being long and dull.

"That Mikkel guy is a goner for sure," said a ginger haired girl as she nudged Kieran in the arm. "Care for a wager?"

"Another time perhaps," Kieran replied, affecting politeness. "Maybe after we actually have something to wager."

"Oh yeah, the collectors took everything."

Idiot.

Kieran sighed as he went back to staring at the gate, waiting as the collectors tried to restore order.

As Kai looked around, a sudden commotion arised that obviously was a big deal due to all of the shouting that cut through the silence like a sword. It was sort of damaging to her ears, that the noise came so suddenly. But the echos from such a scene allowed her to get a pretty good visual of what had just taken place. Such violence made Kai a little sad, that such violence took place against each other. She considered it a waste of energy. Energy that could have been used to help fight those monsters.

Unfortunately the whole scene happened rather quickly, Kai had been focusing on it so intently that she forgot her surroundings and bumped into a man (Kieran) beside her, taking her out of her little trance. Kai was flustered and she backed away immediately, stammering a quick apology. For one moment everything had fallen silent and she had fallen into darkness again. It wasn't until she turned to him, clearly looking past him as she spoke, but that was due to her not being able to see his eyes. "I'm sorry, forgive me.."

Kieran staggered forward a bit before catching himself and whirling on the fool that walked into him. Clicking his tongue with annoyance, Kieran said as he turned, "Excuse me, are you blind?"

He almost regretted his words when he saw the black haired woman. She was very pretty in a striking sort of way, perhaps even elegant for someone her age, but probably not a mage judging by her attire. Still, she did apologize.

"It's all right," Kieran sighed. "Just watch where you're going please."

It wasn't until he looked into the woman's eyes that he realized how foolish he must have sounded.

"Oh, you... can't see me, can you?"

"Doesn't seem like she'll last long either," the ginger haired girl whispered to Kieran.

Kieran was inclined to agree but said nothing as he faced forward, eyes on the Ascendant whilst the collectors called for silence. From where he stood, the veteran was only a distant figure, but she clearly stood head and shoulders above everyone else. The woman must truly be a towering colossus up close.

~~~

"It seems we'll have to skip the introductions," Ilia said as she addressed the Firstborn. "For now, please enter the gate in an orderly fashion. You'll each be assigned rooms where you can rest for the day as the head instructor receives treatment. I'm sure it's been a long journey for you all."

One of the men had gathered up the severed hand and the explosives gripped within, then tossed them over the edge of the bridge before leading his group away.

Looking at the blood trail on the ground where the intruder had bled from his wrist, Ilia shook her head as she stood aside to let the Firstborn and collectors pass through. Such events were rare, but not unheard of.

Most people considered it an honour to send their firstborn children away to fight in Koragnier, to fight alongside the gods and reclaim the home of their ancestors, but there were a few who had no such concerns and saw only a tyrannical war machine that demanded the flesh of their young each year.

Ilia's own parents had been against the mandatory conscription of the Firstborn, but they knew the necessity of it and saw fit to prepare their daughter in the best way possible, raised at home among family and friends, and reasons to fight for.

Those reasons served Ilia well on the battlefield, even in her darkest moments when fatigue and the loss of companions had taken their toll. She never lost her resolve in all her twelve years of constant fighting.

Her greatest concern was for those like Mikkel, whose parents had ill equipped them for the trials ahead. Such people tended to not fare well at all in the face of adversity, never mind battle. How long until they were crushed into paste under a demon's tread?

~~~

"He's gone," Ingrid said as Mikkel kept staring after his father. "There's no way but forward now."

Without a second glance, she strode towards the gate as another collector replaced the intruder and led the way.

Passing by the scarlet haired Ascendant, Ingrid looked up to her in admiration and thought, That's who I'll become one day.

She didn't see the tired look in Ilia's eyes or the slump in her shoulders from many sleepless nights. To Ingrid, the veteran was a grand figure of strength, clad in a fortress of ornate black armour. A living demigod. She didn't see the person within.

Kai only blinked, smiling as there was a certain awkward silence after he had asked if she were blind. This to her meant that he had figured it out a little too late, but still had asked her if she could see him anyway.

"Oh but I can. But maybe..so it doesn't happen again, would you tie this around your wrist or a piece of clothing? The red helps.."

As Kai said this, she pulled a bright red handkerchief and only slightly extended it to the boy she had been talking to. His voice to her was a careful one, and had a not-so-friendly tone mixed into it. She had wondered then if he even cared for her apology.

Kai had overheard what sounded like a girls voice speaking in a low tone to the boy she had ran into. Something along the lines about how she wouldn't last long. She only smiled at this and turned her attention back to the crowd.

The advantage that Kai had, probably over most here was that she had come from a long line of not only mages but regular, but very powerful skilled humans as well. This reason alone was why mostly everyone had been disappointed in the way she was born, blind.

But nevertheless These were also the reasons why Kai had survived this long, she was trained well, and even though she hadn't inherited any magical traits from her ancestors, she knew most of the tricks and tactics of a mage,. Yes most people only saw the surface of what she was but in all actuality, she was probably one of the more qualified of the group to partake in this. Any doubt people around her had of her, seemed only to fuel her will to get even better.

"How quaint," Kieran replied as he took the handkerchief, wondering how its colour helped the girl. "I can't say that I understand, but I suppose I could do that if it means no more collisions."

Wrapping it around his left hand, he raised his other hand and wriggled his fingers to see if the girl noticed.

"There, can you see it?"

Blind or not, the girl promised to be somewhat entertaining, if only for puzzling out the nature of her affliction. Just what had she meant by saying that she could see when she clearly couldn't, and why the colour red? Was there perhaps some other means for her to navigate the world?

It almost sounds like some form of magic, Kieran thought.

Kai only smiled as she watched the red cloth seemingly floating around in the darkness she saw, and then it took form. As the man talked, the echos bounced off of her and back on to him, she could see his outline just in time to see his fingers moving with the red cloth attached to his wrist.

"Yes, that's perfect. Sorry if red is not your color.."

Kai's words drifted off some as she thought of a boy wearing her red attire and she couldn't help but let out a muffled laugh. She realized then, to people who didn't know her condition, she must have looked like a crazy black haired, red eyed crazy girl who was obsessed with the color red. So much so that she wanted others to wear the color as well.

After her short lived amusement she turned back in the general direction of the man and smiled again.

"Thank you, I don't think many people would have actually worn it..It helps me out a lot, probably more than you think."

Nikia watched in wonder at all the buildings as the first borns walked up to the gates. It had been such an amazing wonder in their journey here. All the sites she had seen were greater than her imagination though she tried hard to think of all the possibilities that could happen around her. Everyone she ran into within the first borns seemed to think she was zoning out. She heard the whispers around her as she walked in the middle of the pack. They all thought she was going to be one of the ones to go. It was harsh, but people grew up differently than she did. They were all nice people, they just didn't know how to show it yet. Or at least thats what she believed.

As they walked up through the beautiful archway of the bridge, she couldn't help but stare at the intricate designs along it. People pushed passed her until she was in the back of the group, continuing to stare. What could it take for someone to think up such beautiful artwork. Each line in its perfect place, creating a flawlessness in the grand design. It would have to be something she drew in her book. Something she would never forget.

Eventually a boy bumping into her awoke her from her day dream and she started to walk with the others once more. A girl with ebony hair wearing red seemed to catch her eye. There was something off about how graceful she moved. Something that told her that she was not exactly without a disadvantage like most others. Her head seemed to stay straight, ears ever listening. She only seemed to take steps after the noise in front of her. It must be an imagination, but usually when she saw things like this it meant the person was well trained in hiding their flaws. She should know, she was put through somewhat of the same sort of thing, with her day dreaming and all. She had been taught to pick up on the little details of everything she saw since that was what she looked at for her conscious portrait. The paintings and images she created in her own mind and locked away somewhere deep inside her. Her training seemed to be paying off, but something in front of the group her caught her attention. A certain smell that didn't seem to belong in some place so beautiful.

As she watched the commotion in front, the scent became so much clearer when the man held up the explosives under his belt, the smell of blood mingling with it in the air. Someone was bleeding out or had to have been gravely hurt. She quickly started to make her way to the front of the pack until someone called out to the man next to her. Another girl seemed to hold him back as he screamed for his father. Something had to be done. Both men now bleeding on the ground, she wanted nothing but to bring them back. The pain being felt by this boy and those with a weak heart that were watching must have been immense, but alas there was nothing she would have been able to do. Not in the state she was in. As the pack began to move forward again, Nikia walked towards the woman giving direction.

"Um, Miss... would you mind if I uh, helped in the treatment or at least watched. I wouldn't be able to rest knowing that we all saw what happened and just stood by, not while he needs treatment at least."

She tried to address the woman as she had been taught to do by her father. He had told her that once she was in the building she might not be able to do what she wanted, she had prepared for that, but hopefully this instructor could see what she meant by needing, not wanting, to make sure that this man was revived. In her heart she believed that she could help everyone and this was her chance to at least give it a good start. Though she would not be able to revive the man who almost blew up the group, which caused her great pain since the boy seemed to love his father so, she could at least try to help the other unfortunate soul.

"I'd imagine so," Kieran replied, lowering his hand. "Personally, I'm not sure what to think. Many questions come to mind."

Catching sight of the lead collector turning his head, Kieran started walking before the man could start barking at him, and let others pass by whilst falling in step with the blind girl.

"Questions like, why the colour red?" he continued. "Or, how do you perceive your surroundings? I'm curious to know, but then, I think I prefer the mystery."

The entire time, Kieran looked the girl up and down with a studious gaze as he would an exotic animal or some curious device, trying to figure out how it worked just by examining it.

"At the very least, I'll have something to think about other than what awaits us beyond those gates."

~~~

Ilia watched as one of the revivalist instructors cradled Grigor's head in his lap, whilst a collector pulled out the iron quarrel buried in the old man's throat.

"Instant death," said the revivalist, a lean figured man with thin, dark brown hair. "Shouldn't take too long to bring him back."

As he pressed both hands over Grigor's chest, Ilia heard a timid voice calling for her attention. Turning around, she was confused to see no one before her until she remembered to look down.

"Hm? Oh... yes, can I help you?" Ilia asked sheepishly when she noticed the black haired girl. After hearing her out, Ilia thought on it briefly before continuing, "I suppose there's no harm. You'll be left behind, but I can help you find your room later on. For now, go over to Rexmar over there and see if he wants any help. If not, you can just stand by and watch."

~~~

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Ingrid was the first of the Firstborn to pass beyond the gates. She expected to see little more than a dark, dingy hollow within the mountain, but as soon as she stepped inside, she could only gape in awe at the sheer splendour of the sight before her.

Beyond the gates was a grand cathedral of fluted columns, arched ceilings, and dazzling light pouring in from over a dozen windows at either end of the mountain, barred with rods of brass.

The floor was white marble and the walls were all giant alcoves and statues of colossal knights, all in the same black and white armour, standing sentinel with their stone hands resting on the pommels of their swords.

http://puu.sh/i0Mu0/517381b7fb.jpg

In the centre of the palatial space was an empty fountain made of black granite, which shone like obsidian, drinking in light rather than reflecting it. Just as everything else, the fountain was also gargantuan in size.

"This way," said the lead collector as he veered off towards a relatively small door between two statues.

Ingrid found herself hard pressed to take her eyes off her surroundings and follow. Never before in her life had she felt so humbled by what she had seen. This is truly a holy place, she thought.

Nikia gratefully bowed her head to the woman and ran after the man who had his hands on Greigor's chest. He was a very thin man with thin black hair. Though he looked like he was not very strong, she could feel the energy inside her. Whilst growing up, she had always watched as the weaker looking creatures took on the strong and found that looks did not give away the hidden secrets deep inside the hearts.

"Excuse me... I was given permission to come over and help. Would you mind if I helped with the revival of this man?" She asked as she stared into the hole of the man's mouth.

The wound would have caused instant death. She knelt down next to him so that she could get a closer view on everything the iron quarrel severed. The man throwing the iron quarrel must have had extremely accurate aim to get it into the mouth just as he had opened it to say something. It looked as though the wound itself was not that cleanly severed, though she couldn't see most of it due to the blood starting to pool in the mouth from removing the weapon.

Rexmar glanced up to see Nikia before returning his focus to Grigor.

"Sure," he said and then before Nikia could act, "As in I do mind, now step back and give him some space. He'll be spitting up blood after he awakens."

True enough, Grigor came back to life with gurgling noises in his throat as he tried to take a deep breath, but ended up spraying red mist into Rexmar's face and spluttering his lungs out.

"Ahem, yes, you're all right now, old man," the revivalist said as he wiped the blood off his face after helping Grigor to sit up. Looking up at Niki, he continued, "Consider this your first lesson, bringing someone back in the field isn't always going to be pretty."

"I'm sure... hack... you could've spared the time to drain my mouth," Grigor muttered as he hocked up a glob of blood. "I could have choked and died again, and you may consider that a lesson for yourself, Rexmar."

The revivalist rolled his eyes as he helped Grigor to stand up. His snow white beard now covered in blood, the head instructor wiped his mouth dry, if not clean, then readjusted his red sash before turning to look at the bridge.

"What happened to the assailant?"

"I can answer that, sir," Ilia said as she approached. "After killing you, he threatened to destroy the bridge with explosives if we didn't return his son to him, so I cut off his hand and sent him back home."

The head instructor narrowed his eyes. "You showed weakness then."

"I showed mercy."

The two instructors faced off for a moment, each unwavering in their perspectives.

"We'll speak more of this later," Grigor said. "What of the Firstborn then?"

"Being escorted to their rooms, all except this one," Ilia answered. "I'll guide her myself."

"See to it and girl," addressing Nikia now. "Never forget what you've seen here today. The collectors would've been right to kill the intruder and never bring him back. There'll be some like that among your fellows... but you'll learn that soon enough."

Ilia touched Nikia on the shoulder and turned towards the gate. "Come on, this way then."

Nikia was about to help the man with the revivalist process when he adjusted what he had said. She was suppose to stay out of the way. He seemed like a really uptight man. She rolled her eyes and stood up, moving back a bit. Unfortunately from where she was and how much blood was in the mans mouth, she never got to see the parts piece themselves back together during the reviving process. Lost in her thoughts, she focused on each individual piece she could imagine piecing together. All the muscle fibers pie in back together, all the nerve endings becoming electrified one more. It had to be such an intricate process. If she could just see it all happen, she would have a much better understanding.

Nokia was lost in her own little world until she heard the gurgling in the mans throat. Snapping back into reality, she stepped back smiling, she watched as blood was sprayed into Rexmar's face. It took all she had not to start chuckling as the old mans started hacking up blood. It was such a hilarious sight to see.

Rexmar's tried to reassure the man was alright which is what revivalists were trained to do, but Grigor didn't really need it. When the revivalist decided to share a tip for her, it was probably the worst thing to do. She couldn't hold the laughter in any longer and started to chuckle silently to herself. Luckily neither of the men noticed as Grigor said something that made sense, they should have drained the blood from his mouth first, but if they did, then there wouldn't have been such a hysterical scene that had just played out.

Ilia finally joined them again as Grigor asked what had happened. To tell the truth, she agreed with his perspective on the matter, it was weakness to cut the man's hand off. Granted, she wouldn't want the man dead since his son would not make it through the trials if he knew his father were dead, but the situation was all in the past now.

The old instructor decided to end the bickering by asking about the first born. That's right, I'm suppose to be finding my room right now, she thought to herself not having felt like a new first born in the moments that had just passed. "Oh I will sir."
She started to walk with the tall ginger haired woman. "Thank you for letting me stay and watch. You two seem like good friends, miss."

"Are you talking about Grigor?" Ilia asked with an incredulous scoff. "Hardly, the man is as harsh and iron-hearted as he looks... but even during my first time here, he was the head instructor then."

The ascendant looked up at the gates as though gazing into the past. "I remember training my whole life for this day. As much as I like to believe how prepared I was, I think it was thanks to him that I survived at all. He taught us to be strategists as well as warriors."

Then with an edge of annoyance, "Tch, he also taught us to abandon those who might prove to be a liability. I have every respect for the man, but he'll never see Koragnier, he doesn't understand that the life of every comrade is precious, even the least among us."

Halting by the threshold of the gates, Ilia turned to Nikia and asked, "So what do you think, should some people be left to die? As a revivalist, I'm sure you must have some insight on the matter."

As the two females started walking, she could tell that the instructor had a lot of past with Grigor. It didnt seem like a good past either. Something must have happened between the two instructors. Something she didnt want to remember.

As she talked about her past with the man, she could tell that the schooling wasnt going to be easy. Not with this man. Teaching strategy and combat training were great in making the first born ascend but it couldnt just rely on natural selection. They would have to work together if anyone was going to trust the other and survive.

The woman's annoyance caught her attention and struck through the calm words of her past like a hatchet through wood. Along with teaching everyone the strategies and combat techniques, he also taught that the weak should get left behind. Her eyes looked enraged with fire. No one should get left behind. No one.

When they stopped at the threshold, she looked up at the woman with sympathy in her eyes, as if her question hit a soreness in her that forever grew.

"I believe as a revivalist myself that every life is precious and though someone may be a hinderance on the battle field, they might have a talent elsewhere that could be useful. If we abandon them for any reason, we would be abandoning our very souls where they lie. God put each and every one of us on this earth for a reason.... If we deny that and abandon a comrad for his or her lack of strength or knowledge then we are no better than the demons we are fighting...."

In order to get her point across, she decided to smile and change the subject just a bit. "I'm glad you showed mercy to that man. Though I grew up on the laws of our god and believe that his punishment was in fact death for killing Grigor, I am happy you spared his life. It wont be easy living on without his hands or his son, but at least his son will not be grieving in such a way he would not be able to make it through the trials we are already facing. At first i agreed with Gregor, only because I grew up on such laws, but I see why you showed mercy... It takes a great deal of strength to show as much mercy as you did and shows his weakness for wanting to follow simple laws..... NO OFFENCE to him of course." The last part, she spoke with her heart and forgot that she might have just offended the woman by speaking out fo turn for the head instructor. "Please forgive my words... I... I..." She decided it was best to stop talking now. Her hands began to sweat and her face started to turn a deep shade of red.

Seeing the girl so flustered over her own words reminded Ilia that all the Firstborn gathered in the Armasseum were still only children; old enough to fight, but still so young. How cruel it was to send them here to be forged like weapons, burning them away in the crucible of battle until all were as the stone knights lining the walls.

"It's all right," Ilia said with a reassuring smile. "You're entitled to your thoughts and don't ever forget it, but you are wrong about Grigor. He doesn't care so much about laws as he does about cold, hard pragmatism."

Leading the way into the mountain, Ilia continued, "In his view, sparing that man was a mistake because he could always come back later to assault the gate and try to take back his son, maybe with reinforcements. I spared him because it was just. Which one of us is right, who can say? I know only this."

She waved her hand at one of the statues whilst passing by. "If Grigor had things his way, we'd all be like them; powerful warriors without the inconvenience of thoughts and feelings. He would teach you to throw away your humanity to be able to fight the demons, but I have learned that this does not have to be so. You need only the courage and will to master yourself."

As she walked along the side of the great hall, Ilia looked at each door between statues, examining the list of names nailed to them. The collectors would have lead their respective groups to their designated areas by now. All but one would have a fully checked list. It was only then that Ilia realized she had not so much as introduced herself yet.

"So what is your name?" Ilia asked. "I'm sorry, I should have asked earlier. I am Ilia Strong, but you may call me by whatever name you prefer."

Nikia listened to the warrior as she spoke of how Grigor would have liked all of the first born to have become powerful godlike warriors with no soul and no feelings of their own. It wasnt until she looked passed the womans face that she realized the beautiful statues that lay around them in th ehall inside the mountain. They were wonderful pieces of art, depicting beautifully strong warriors. As she explained about Grigor's mindset, she looked to the warrior she was describing.

As the woman looked at all the statues with names on them, looking for the one that had one person still to check in, she realized she had never asked Nikia her name. "Oh, my name is Nikia Desmoras... Its alright. I should have said my name when I first asked to see Grigor. Its nice to meet you Miss Ilia."

She looked up at the statues once more studying the art of every detail etched into the stone. "You know, you are right.... I dont agree with him. In order to fight the demons one can not lose who they are. They need to have the strength and courage to master themselves and their mistakes to do so. If you lose all humanity to fight them, then isnt that like turning into a demon? Demons have no humanity, so to fight them you would have no humanity... It just doesnt seem right. Its like the pot calling the kettle black. If you fight without thoughts or feelings then you will die sooner than if you see and feel everything that is going on and adjust for it."

Nikia slowly moved to one of the statues and started to touch it as if feeling every grain of stone inside of it. Her heart continued to pour out the words her thoughts were trying to hold back. "Thats what each of these statues depicts. Every detail in its work, every crevice just placed in the correct spot. Every mark and every word brings meaning to the piece. No one statue is like the other. Some may look similar, but it always has a way of shining out as something else with one slight detail. Fighting against demons, you need that diversity. You need that strength that comes from the heart. What makes us human may be a weakness but it can also be our strength if harnessed correctly. Throwing away that detail, throwing away those precise words and symbols is what makes us uniform and fall so much quicker. There is no beauty in being the same. The beauty is in how you are different."

Noticing that she had rambled on, she quickly turned to look at the woman. She fought the reddness that tried to burn through her cheeks as she stared at the woman with firm set eyes. "This is my true belief... Every life is precious because every life is unique. You cant fight demons with uniformality."

She started to walk towards another statue that seemed to have her name written on a parchment tacked to it, not checked off. "Miss Ilia, were you looking for this statue?"

"Indeed I was," Ilia replied as she looked at the list. "Your room number is six, that should be somewhere on the right side, but if it's not over yet, you'll first have to go to the mess hall for roll call, just at the end of the dormitory. The collectors will be running over some house rules while they're at it."

Opening the door, Ilia stood aside and waved her hand through the entrance as she said, "After you, miss Desmoras."

Inside was a small room that served as an antechamber for the dormitory. It was a dingy space compared to the great hall outside, sparsely decorated and lit with a single lantern hanging from the ceiling.

There was a bookshelf at one side of the room, a desk with two chairs at the other and a wooden panel on the wall with some notes pinned to it. The door to the dormitory was open and Ilia could see the back of a collector at the end of it, standing guard by the entrance to the mess hall.

"Before you go," Ilia said as she touched Nikia on the shoulder. "I sense that we may be kindred spirits here, so I feel I should warn you of what lies ahead. The next time we meet will be in battle, for before you and the others face any demons, you must all face me first and I will not go easy on anyone. You might even die more than once at my hands, so my advice to you is whatever happens, do not be dismayed and stay strong... now I shouldn't delay you any further."

Nikia stepped inside the hallway as the woman held the door open for her. Room number six. Not a bad number at all. Normally when she went somewhere such as a tavern or something it would be room number 10-20 but she was happy to be 6th on the list. Did the numbers mean anything to them? Or were they put in the rooms at random. The questions started to flow through her mind like an endless sea. This was a new experience and everything in this place seemed to have meaning so why not the numbers of the room in which they were placed in.

Inside the doorway was a room that seemed to be a sort of antechamber. It wasn't a very decorative one. To tell the truth it was droll and bland. In fact, there seemed to be nothing at all inside besides a single lantern for light and a small bit of decoration. The desk with two chairs and the bookshelf seemed to suggest it was an area for studying or gathering for social means. A wooden panel with notes pinned to it seemed to help convince her of this. It looked as though it was for announcements or something of the sort.

She started to walk towards the open door when the woman stopped her in her tracks. Her voice seemed to be very caring yet careful as she spoke her warning to the girl. She told her about the final challenge before they ascended.

The girl's heart seemed to spark rather than drop. Her eyes widened with her lips as she smiled at the woman. "I look forward to meeting you in battle than Miss Ilia. I wouldn't miss it for the world." She bowed respectfully to the woman before looking back up at her. "Thank you for letting me stay and watch the resurrection and bringing me back to my room. I hope to see you again before seeing you in battle." Continuing to smile, she turned towards the door and started to walk through, smiling at the collector as she walked passed.

Nike's thoughts remained on the subject the woman had just mentioned. She was to face her as the last challenge. Of course she must be an exquisite fighter to be the last challenge that anyone would have to face before they ascend. Her sheer size told of her strength and her muscles told of her grace. The woman would be practically unbeatable. Now that she new what she was in for in the end, Nikia would train as hard as she could to pass that final test without dying once. It wasn't an option. If she fell during her training she would get back up and do it again until she was able to do it without fail at least five times. That was just her way of doing things.

She absentmindedly walked through the mess hall to sit at an empty seat at one of the tables. With her so deep in her thoughts, she didn't really look at any of the detail around her or even listen to anything that may have been occurring before she sat down.

Ilia went back to the great hall, feeling hopeful of Nikia's chances in the Armasseum. There was a lot in her that reminded the veteran of herself when she was younger, but as a revivalist, the girl would no doubt have a harder future ahead than if she were a simple warrior.

When the time came, it would be up to her to decide who should live and who'd be left behind, for not everyone could be saved in the midst of battle, and that was without counting the ones whose bodies would be too damaged to be brought back. To have to weigh the lives of others, Ilia couldn't imagine a more terrible burden.

As she walked across the marble floor, lost in her thoughts, Grigor and the other instructors were standing by the empty fountain, gathered in some discussion. When Grigor noticed Ilia approaching, he waved her over and said, "Come here, there's something I have to tell you."

"Is this about the training?" the Ascendant asked.

"Yes, it's time you learn of your role in it."

"I already know, I'm to serve as the final test before the demons, correct?"

"No."

Ilia frowned in confusion. "No?"

With a level stare, Grigor firmly continued, "Understand this, it's been over ten years since the last time you were here and our training methods have changed since then. You will not serve as their final challenge, no. You will be their first, second, third and so on from this day until the end of the year, do you understand what I'm saying?"

Reeling from shock, Ilia's mouth fell open as she struggled to process what she was hearing. Was this supposed to be some kind of sadistic joke?

"I... no, they're not ready!" Ilia protested. "Do you realize what this will do to them?"

"Yes," Grigor replied dispassionately. "It will break them, destroy their spirits completely for some, but that's irrelevant. All that matters are those that perform and they will die as many times as they need to, to reach that level."

"That isn't training, that's torture!"

"Gone are the days of teaching the basics first, Ilia. You will understand in time if you do not already, now enough, we'll speak no more of it. Go wait outside in the field, the training will begin immediately."

Ilia wanted to refuse flat out, but Grigor was the head instructor here and therefore had supreme authority. Were Ilia to disobey, Grigor would simply send her back home and replace her with someone else, perhaps someone as equally ruthless and devoid of compassion as him. The Firstborn did not need that.

"... Very well," Ilia said with resignation. "But if I may ask, what will you and the other instructors be doing?"

"We will observe and advise, after the battle," Grigor replied, clasping his hands behind him. "Now go and do not hold back."

Leaving the fountain, Ilia went with a heavy heart to the gate leading out to the Armasseum's battle grounds, where the emerald grass awaited the taste of blood beneath an orange, blaze lit sky. The cool, crisp wind carried a metallic scent across the field and Ilia knew that somewhere, the 'training' had already begun.

~~~

"And that's about everything," the collector on the podium said as he presided over the mess hall, a cramped space with rows upon rows of tables and Firstborn, packed side by side on benches. "Basically, keep the place clean and never try to leave the Armasseum, you're here until the very end. Now, are there any questions?"

Each table was lit by a lantern hanging above from the ceiling and there were no exits, but a line of doors on the broad side of the room, each leading to a dormitory and one leading to the kitchens at the corner of the hall.

Noticing the black haired girl quietly entering the hall, Ingrid nudged the boy next to her aside to make room at the table.

"Hey, that hurt," the boy whined.

"Aw, quit your whining and give her some space," Ingrid replied as she jerked her head towards the girl whilst shuffling over. As the late arrival sat down, Ingrid cocked an elbow in front of her and continued, "So what's your name then and why're you so late?"

"I'm sorry, what was that?" the collector asked, his hands leaning on the podium as his eyes fixed upon Ingrid. "I couldn't quite hear you."

"I wasn't speaking to you."

Everyone stared in frank amazement at Ingrid's boldness, which was strange to her as she meant no impoliteness by it. Back where she was from, it was simply the way everyone spoke, so she could only wonder why so many people in the hall were looking at her.

"What?" she said. "Do I have something on my face?"

An iron quarrel zipped through the air and embedded itself deep in Ingrid's forehead, snapping her head back then forward onto the table.

"Any revivalists in the room, feel free to practice your art on that girl," the collector at the podium said as he slung his crossbow over his back again. "And tell her to watch her fat, disrespectful mouth the next time she decides to open it. So, are there any questions anyone would like to ask before we leave?"

When Nikia sat down at the table, she hadn't realized that the girl sitting next to her had nudged someone to move over just so that there would be an empty seat for her to sit at. She hadn't even realized that she had come in at the end of the collector's speech. To tell the truth, she didn't even realize she was sitting. All she knew was she was lost in thought. It wasn't until the girl placed her elbow in her field of vision, that she snapped out of her thoughts abruptly.

The girl asked her a question that made her flinch. Her voice was loud as if she didn't care that she was talking over the collector. Everyone seemed to stare at her as if she had something on her face. It was like she didn't care that she was being rude to the collector.

Nokia started to smile, holding in a laugh as she asked if she had something on her face. It was probably the funniest scene she had to witness in a long time.

The collector decided to mention something about revivalists and her ears perked up to him before a frown came across her face. The girl next to her was down on the table with her neck snapped. She quickly put her hands on the girls neck. It quickly formed back in place, healing the cracked vertebra and the nerves in the bone. She glared at the collector as the girl came back to life.

"My name is Nikia," she said softly to the girl so that the collector wouldn't try to kill her too. "I am late because I wanted to help with the revival of the instructor that was killed and the other instructor allowed it. Unfortunately they didn't actually let me help with it."

"What about you? Whats your name and it seems I missed a lot in this meeting. Can you tell me what happened?"

Asaar sat near the front of the benches she had been quiet so far, reclusive trying not to be noticed. So far she had succeeded, having arrived with the masses it was easy to start meaningless conversation and blend in with others. She held her head low through the halls, but cowering among herself, she knew what body language meant in this game, life or death. Others, seemed to not have that approach she witnessed the way the other girl was shot, she made a noise that resembled a snort in amusement and quickly lowered her head hoping to not have been heard. Looking back she saw the girl was then brought back to life. She sneered and turned around. No one had the right to do such things, it simply was unfair.

She knew others did not share her views, everyone jumps at the chance to kill- their being no consequence made it all the more better, who was she to judge? Perhaps, it could be blamed on her narrowed views of life, or the fact that someone like that girl was not there when she needed them. Whichever, the case Asaar found herself mentally targeting the girl, she'd have to the first to go.

Facing forward she looked around the room, and contemplated leaving, looking up she raised her arm to the man,"Can I start training now?- Or must we ask permission. I mean, we are not children- if we're being sent to our death surely we can have some liberty right?"she ranted off, biting her tongue near the end winced, that was sure to earn her an arrow too, she figured sourly.

The other Firstborn murmured their agreement, but the collector only sniggered coldly as he replied, "Your liberty ended the moment you came here, but to answer your previous question, no, you don't need permission to train in your own time. You do however need to do exactly as the instructors say, whenever they say and it just so happens there'll be a training session immediately after this meeting. That means every last one of you will need to attend."

As the collector finished speaking, Ingrid woke up and lifted her head from the table, groaning in confusion. She barely caught half the words that the girl who brought her back had said.

"Hngh, what happened?" Ingrid murmured. "That's a good question. Last thing I remember, everyone was looking at me and... uh, what's this?"

"Now if that will be all," the collector finished, just as Ingrid reached a hand to her forehead and felt something sticking out.

"Ah... AH! Holy shit, what is this?!"

The collector at the podium sighed as Ingrid shot up from her seat, with her hand wrapped around the end of the quarrel still embedded in her forehead.

"Who the fuck did this to me?!"

At a weary gesture from the collector on the podium, one of his fellows - standing guard at the door Nikia had passed through - went over to Ingrid, held her from behind and drew a dagger across her throat, then into her heart before yanking the crossbow bolt out of her head as her body fell to the ground, dead once again.

"Looks like you kids got a lot to learn," the man said, looking at Nikia as he wiped his blade clean with a cloth. "Remember to get rid of crap like that from someone before you bring them back, else they'll just heal right over it."

"That's it, everyone dismissed," the collector on the podium said as he stepped off. "Back to the great hall, all of you. I've had enough of this shit."

Everyone waited until the ill tempered man had walked past before standing up. When he reached Ingrid's table, he paused to retrieve his crossbow bolt from his colleague.

"Fucking worst lot this year, I swear," he muttered.

"C'mon, you say that every year," the other said as he sheathed his dagger.

"That's because it's always true... and you, don't think I didn't notice you coming in late."

Turning to Nikia, the collector held up his sheaf of papers and read down the list as he muttered the names.

"You're, uh... ah, fuck it, I'll find it later. I'm out of here."

Before turning to follow him out, the other collector with the dagger said to Nikia, "See to your friend here. I made sure to give her a quick death, but I think she'll be needing a new set of clothes, she's bleeding a lot. Someone will clean up the mess though. Anyway, take care now and good luck, you'll be needing it."

And with that, the mess hall began to empty of collectors and Firstborn, all chattering about what they had just seen.

Nikia stared at the girl. Of course she forgot to take the bolt out of the girls head. How stupidly daft could she be? She had learned that reviving someone with something in them always made them heal over the object yet sometimes it pushes it out. She watched as the girl moved around frantically with the quarrel still imbedded in her forehead.

A guard showed up next to her after the gesture from the collector and slit her throat. That was twice in the last ten minutes. Now she was going to have to revive the girl again. The collector seemed to walk right up to her afterwards as everyone moved from the room towards the great hall. She sat unnaturally still as he stared at her. Her eyes gave away her feelings of anger but she steadied that anger, holding onto it for the upcoming training session.

He took the bolt and started talking with the guard which made her relax, but only for a second as his eyes seemed to land on her. So he had noticed she had walked in late. Inhaling deeply, she looked up at the collector who had basically called her out in front of everyone and watched as he tried to go down the list of first borns to her name. Before giving up. The other collector with the dagger looked at her and basically ordered her to take care of the girl once more.

Nikia bent over and started to heal the girl once more, putting her in the recovery position after all was done. She didn't say a word this time. Nothing she could say would change anything. Quickly, she got up, waiting for the girl to recover before looking down on her. "Come on. We need to get going.. Don't need anymore trouble." Sighing, she started to walk towards the main hall, way behind all the other firstborn, hoping that the other girl was coming along.

Ingrid clutched at her throat as she woke up, remembering the searing pain across her neck before she had realized what was happening. Feeling a warm dampness on her chest, she looked down to see blood all over herself and stood up slowly, muttering all the while, "Oh god, what a mess. All over my fucking... ach, god damn it."

Straightening up, Ingrid looked at Nikita and flashed a sheepish grin as she scrunched up her brown top, squeezing the blood out. "You must be the one who brought me back, er, twice. My thanks for that."

"Twice dead in as many seconds," Kieran remarked as he passed by. "That's one way to make a first impression I suppose."

Others sniggered at the comment and Ingrid glared after them with half a mind to pick a fight, but then the revivalist girl spoke and followed the crowd out of the mess hall. Ingrid shrugged off her anger and jogged along until she had caught up.

Walking alongside the girl, Ingrid rubbed her blood smeared hands together as she said, "I fucking hate collectors. Drag us off here like prison guards and don't show a lick of respect when we're the ones training to fight alongside the gods. Anyway, my name is Ingrid and you are... Nikia, I think you said? I'm sorry, I wasn't paying much attention to what you were saying before. Oh hey, there's my room."

Ingrid pointed at a door marked with the number ten as she walked by through the dormitory.

"So what's your room number?"

Nikia looked at the guy who passed by them like he owned the place. She seemed to get a bad vibe from him, as if he didn't care for others. Her head starting spinning a little bit from the way he talked. His sarcasm was made his personality palpable. She glared after him for a second and then turned to an angry Ingrid who ran up to her, seemingly shaking off the anger. From the way the others sniggered, she was sure the girl had wanted to start a fight which would've been her response had she not wanted to start a fight either.

Too many things happening at once. Nikia just shook her head and continued to walk. "Your welcome... I am in room six," she pointed to a door that had the number six marked on it. She stared at the door and then looked back at Ingrid again. "I hate the collectors and I'll tell you what, the instructors won't be much better. They will throw us to the dogs if they can. When I get the chance to ring that collectors neck I will. I hate that he killed you, twice. And the insults he was spewing... Be happy you were dead for it.... I mean... Well you would've wanted to witness that. I did meet miss ilia who will be the one we fight in our final test though. She seems to have a good head on her shoulders."

Nikia took a breath remembering where she was and stopped herself from saying more. With everything that was goin on, she was sure the others were going to be staring at her for all she said. Sure enough when she looked around, they were either staring, dumbfounded by her insolence or as if they would challenge her themselves to prove she was a weakling. To tell the truth, there were so many different kinds of stares, she just wanted to gouge out their eyes... But then she would have to be the one to put them back in.

"Anyways.... Let's just say the older instructor grigor, he's going to basically kill every weak soul he can get his hands onto the moldable strong ones. We have to start being kind of careful." Her voice was much softer as she spoke, making it so that only Ingrid could hear her.

"Ha, I wouldn't have it any other way!" Ingrid boasted proudly. "Let the cowards and the fools be weeded out so they don't hold back the worthy. It's how we did things back in the wilds, nothing we ever ate that we didn't find or kill with our own two hands. If you weren't good, you starved. Good training."

As everyone entered the great hall again, Ingrid noticed the instructors standing by the fountain, though the Ascendant was conspicuously missing. Where was she?

Grigor waited until all the Firstborn were gathered into a single crowd before speaking, "Now that you have seen your quarters and where you will break bread, it's time to get acquainted with the armoury. Follow the collectors to other side of the hall. There you will find all the equipment you need. Arm yourselves then return here and be ready for the test to come."

"So Ilia, that's the name of the Ascendant, right?" Ingrid asked as the Firstborn went on the move again. "And she's meant to be our final test, that's what you said, right? So... why do I get the feeling that we'll be facing her much sooner than that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Kieran said, overhearing the conversation. "That's because we are."

Ingrid began to feel her heart thumping more quickly. "That's a daunting thought. I've seen bears twice my size, wrestled a few of them too, but they're all as cubs compared to her."

Kieran shrugged nonchalantly. "Big or small, all creatures burn and freeze the same. I'll just use my magic to end things quickly. I'm sure she won't be much of a threat encased in ice."

How typically arrogant of a mage, Ingrid thought with irritation as the boy moved ahead, apparently having had the last word. Turning to Nikia, she asked, "So what weapon are you going to get? I've always trained with the axe."

Lathen walked to the big gates knowing she was late because her journey took longer the expected she had wandered if they would even actually let her in. As if on Que the gates just opened. She looked to see if someone had opened the gate for her, but no one was around.

She walked in looking all around ans she heard some faint noises coming from a room ahead. She walked into the room to people standing around talking about something thing and she assumed they too where other firstborns.

Not wanting to interrupt she stood there quietly and just listened to what they where saying. Soon getting kind of bored with their conversation she started to wander off and look at everything else the different rooms and the different stuff hanging on the halls.

After she was done being curious she found her way back to the big room everyone was in and to her surprise they were all still there. She then decided it was time to make a entrance. She walked in not looking at anyone and just sat in a chair throwing her feet up on a table. As they looked at her she just smiled

"Go ahead carry on with whatever you where talking about don't mind me." She said smiling at them and acting like she really cared what hey where taking about when she really knew they were probably plotting ways to kill her already.

Grigor blinked at the late arrival before turning to the collectors and calling out, "Stop!"

The collectors stopped in their tracks and the Firstborn followed suit as their handlers turned to Grigor.

"Who is missing one of their charges?"

The collector who had killed Ingrid with his crossbow scowled as he stepped forward, remembering that there was another Firstborn apart from Nikia who was unaccounted for.

"Fucking kids," the man muttered as he glared at Lathen before raising his hand and saying, "I am. Sorry about that, boss."

"Such carelessness is inexcusable," Grigor declared with stern anger. "You'll be replaced as soon as the Firstborn complete their first training session."

The collector seethed with rage, but gritted his teeth and saluted as he said, "As you say, sir."

Ingrid pumped her fist as she mouthed the word 'yes' at Nikia with a grin.

Turning to the latecomer, Grigor continued, "What is your name, girl?"

She looked around the room and waited a moment before answering. "The name is Lathen, and excuse me for my tardiness I had a long journey and not all of us are rich and can affords a means of transportation here." She huffed. She never wanted to come really, but she knew she had to come which she thought it was a waste her family back home needed her there not at some magical place training, but her parents insisted on her coming so she listened and came.

She looked at the people in the room to see if any of them looked a little bite familiar and no one did, but she wasn't surprised. She was amused by the person throwing her hands up in the air though, which gained a chuckle from Lathen.

"So if you think I am going to die at the first challenge why not just kill me now it would safe you the trouble of wasting food, water, and supplies on me. She say there smirking at the guy waiting to see his reaction.

She was waiting to be kicked out or just to be killed because she has a cocky, sarcastic attitude, but none of that reflected her fighting skills. Her skills where better then her personality. Atleast that's what everyone says where she comes from back home.