Every time I went down, I felt that I was never safe. Never strong enough for what was down there.
Dew sat on the partifold dirt as the sun hid behind the towering walls. The morning smell always made Milo feel ready. There was a certain chill that woke him up just long enough for the sun to come over and take it away.
The small group of soldiers slept in that day, but he was too nervous to rest. No one was out on the training grounds yet. Something about it made him feel ahead of everyone else.
He dropped an empty satchel next to the untouched rocks as he jumped to grab the protruding bricks. Before he could begin pulling himself upward, he could hear someone approach.
Milo dropped from the wall and turned.
The boy flinched at the sight of Elias.
The two held a long stare before Milo broke the silence.
"...Just couldn't sleep, I guess," the boy shrugged and looked down. He started fidgeting with the small calluses on his hands.
Elias didn't respond. He dropped his satchel and walked toward the wall.
Before grabbing the wall himself, he spoke quietly.
"I'm sorry. About the fight."
Milo didn't say anything. He just nodded.
The two went through their own routines in silence. After a short while, the sun peered over the partifold. The morning dew soon dried, and a wave of heat replaced the chilling breeze.
Only an hour had passed, but it was enough for both of them to become drenched in sweat.
"Seems like you two are getting along," Fowler said.
Nine others followed swiftly behind him.
The arena was now filled with other soldiers. The only ones allowed to sleep in were those going on today's mission.
"Enough idle time. Let us depart."
For the first time in two weeks, Milo was seeing the partifold door open. Its large hinges squealed as it slowly crept open. Milo could feel it on his face—he yearned to leave this place, but something made him stay. Maybe it was the promise of getting stronger.
He clenched his fists and followed the group to the street outside of the gate. A carriage sat in waiting. Attached to it was a small cart with two wheels.
A man in elegant attire opened the carriage door for the captain. Three brown horses were strung to the front of his carriage house. A thick layer of black paint coated the wood, and golden trim outlined the frame.
The rest of the team packed into the single cart in the back.
It was a short ride to the capital, but long enough to make Milo squirm from the uncomfortable wooden seats.
The only upside to the carriage was the open view.
It was his first time in the capital, but the towering spires he had seen from afar confirmed his location. The orphanage wasn't strict; Milo simply never felt the urge to leave his family. Even when people came by to consider adopting him, he found himself acting out more.
He smiled at the thought of his brothers and sisters.
Each tower spiraled just below the clouds. They spread around like chess pieces with smaller towers in between. Not a single one was uniform in size. In the very center was the thickest and tallest one, going even beyond normal heights.
The only thing that made the epicenter stand out from the rest was the stone wall surrounding it. Every so often, the wall was broken up into sections—each occupied by guards at the top.
As they strolled into the castle walls, Milo looked on in awe. Some of the men snickered.
The carriage stopped right past the entrance, and the back cart ramp fell down. The men turned to the ramp to see a short, stout man standing by.
"Welcome, gentlemen."
He waved his white glove down to his waist and extended it to motion the soldiers to step down.
The boy followed the others, copied their mannerisms, and did his best to blend in. Despite his best efforts, anyone who passed by shot him a look.
Making their way to the largest spire, Milo looked around at the attire. There seemed to be no citizens within the walls. Only those clad in chainmail or iron were seen walking around. Through small visors, he could see them watching their every movement.
Eventually, they reached the tower doors. Through the tower they went, walking down the large halls, confused as to how such a building could house such long and wide corridors. The others looked down at him and smirked.
There was no lack of manpower inside the building either. He tried his best to maintain his composure, but the stares still made him self-conscious.
As he passed by the large pillars and green wallpaper, he let his hand follow along them. It was the same as the church, but more polished, more lavish.
Every inch of the halls was decorated with famous paintings, historical objects, weapons, and everything you could think of.
As they approached the center of the maze-like building, Fowler turned to the group.
"Milo."
The boy jumped and ran to the front.
"Take this," the captain extended his hand.
A blade, about sixteen centimeters[1] long, sat in his hand. The knife didn't seem long enough to serve as a real weapon, compared to something like a short sword or a falchion.
He took hold of the knife and unsheathed it before tucking it in his waistband.
"You will use your satchel to store anything these soldiers here deem necessary."
The boy nodded.
"Good," Fowler smiled.
"You will fight bare-handed and use that knife to finish off any opponents."
I see.
The blade was short on purpose. If he were to rely on it in battle, it might hinder him more than help, given his inexperience, so it was for final blows.
Fowler knelt to become level with the boy. All of the soldiers looked at one another in confusion.
"Use whatever you can to your advantage. We don't fight fair. We win. We come back alive."
The boy nodded once more.
"Use your words, boy."
"Yes, sir!"
Fowler smiled, stood up, and turned to face the large doors.
Each door required two men. One to push. One to pull. The doors never opened unless the other did. The four guards pulled in unison.
As a gap formed in the entrance, a large gust of wind brushed through, knocking everyone's hair back.
Milo covered his face in an attempt to look through the wind.
On the other side of the doors, there was a large circular room. The walls within were reinforced with a layer of metal. There were no wall decorations or fancy pieces of furniture to complement the interior.
In the very center were two large holes—one on the ceiling and one on the floor. An iris door covered the hole in the ceiling.
Guards were stationed all around the walls, evenly spaced out. None budged or blinked at the sight of the visitors.
The room spanned about fifteen meters in diameter, with the holes making up three meters of that distance.
The ceiling was almost suffocating in comparison to the rest of the open building.
As the group approached the center of the room, Milo was the first to peek over the edge of the open hole.
What he saw made him stumble back and fall to the floor.
He knew this was how it was, but he never imagined seeing it firsthand. To him, it was simply an idea, a fairytale.
The hole opened up to a new sky, a new land, and a new place altogether. As Milo peered over the edge and looked down into the layer below, another world appeared. Its own monsters and creatures, a unique ecosystem, different races and languages, and everything that citizens of any other layer would find foreign.
The men laughed.
"Yeah, it's always scary the first time," a man named Flio said.
"I don't know what you mean by 'first time', I'm still scared," another one echoed.
The men laughed again.
"W- What do you mean?"
They all looked at each other in confusion, and then at the boy, and then at Fowler.
The captain took this as a chance to step forward.
"Stand up, Milo."
Milo stood and turned to Fowler, throwing his hand into a fist and holding it to his chest. His head was held high with uncanny pride.
"Drop your salute, soldier."
His fist dropped down.
"The other men will explain the mission once you get down there. You will follow in their footsteps and stay silent. Do as you are told."
"Yes, Captain!"
"Good. Now jump."
"W- What?-"
Before he could ask any questions, Fowler shoved him over the edge of the cavity.
[1] About six inches