The stench of the room is horrid, though what was I to expect from a packed changing room of sweaty, muscular men prepared for war. A third of these guys look like they want to molest me, and another third look like they would kill me for the thrill of the game. If I held the level of power they did, I would also kill me. I'm such a useless fuck, unable to achieve anything, constantly procrastinating with my dreams and unable to find any meaning in this shitty world.
My name is Beryl, and I'm from the slums in the kingdom of Raven. Since I was seven, I have always wanted to duel for sport. Because of this, I trained with a sword when I was younger, so I'm not going to be completely useless. I am now seventeen, but according to the old calendar, I am four and a quarter. The kingdom was extremely corrupt in the sense that everyone's age depended on how long they had been under a king's rule for. The reasoning has been lost to time, but that measure of age has been replaced with a more reasonable one. Despite this, lots of people still say they're four and a quarter, though I hope they get used to the new system soon. A lot of people believe this system was in order to make a former child ruler seem older than the rest of the population, and that seems like a very believable theory.
I did say I am from the slums of Raven, but I actually have no blood connections to this kingdom. Rather than blond hair and pale skin, I have brown hair and slightly peacher skin. I lived in the slums for a reason, and that is due to the agreement of clovers, which states that all the local kingdoms have to allow the free movement of labour and goods. Due to this, I do have some protection in this supremacist nation. My bloodline comes from a nation in the south called Kili, but due to lots of civil wars, there isn't much of my kingdom left. Apparently it was the most powerful and rich kingdom in the region before all the conflicts, and it makes me mad thinking about how life may have been if my family didn't migrate to Raven.
Why am I going to war? Well, free food, free shelter, something fun to do (combat). What more could you ask for? Most people here are from the slums since us lowborns are easier to sacrifice than the highborn knights. Knights wear a full set of armour, so there is practically no room to stab them. They also have weapons with powerful runes installed on them. This army does supply basic weapons, but I brought my trusty knife just in case. The knife's hilt was carved from a spruce tree by none other than myself. The blade itself was also chipped by none other than myself. The blade was created using crimsonite. Crimsonite is a crystal, said to be formed from the carbon released from the flames of dragons. It is a bit weaker than a diamond, but its story makes it feel like such a treasure. I originally found the gem in some house I robbed, but it was probably stolen before then since the house was in the slums.
I sat down on the bench in the changing room; on my left was a man with a good physique, kneeling. He was putting some armour pieces on his legs; it looked like it was made of leather, but honestly the more armoured up you were the more respected you were. That's how shit tends to be in armies. This is in fact my third battle, but this is a new group. My old group is mostly dead and the remainder had been redistributed to the other armies. This army is based in the giant forest in the centre of the continent. Due to the shit tonne of tribes and enemy nations in the forest, it is highly dangerous, but there are so many valuable resources such as plants, gold and drugs. Honestly the weed we grow back home hits the spot perfectly, so I doubt the drugs will be that great.
I looked to my right, it was a guy around my age. He looked so innocent, a bit too innocent. I would happily watch one of these guys around me rape him in the open; no one deserves peace. Peace is such a shitty concept, something that will never succeed so long as people crave for more than they already have. Peace can only truly be achieved when no one has any egos or aspirations. Dreams are the cause of conflict. Dreams are an idea of what you can be, but most of the time it's not what you will be but what you want to be. Big difference. Wanting something leads to delusion and delusion leads to corruption. Each person corrupts themselves each time they sleep, and it is uncontrollable.
"Hey dude," a voice said casually. It was the fucker on my right. "What squad you in?" he asked nervously. I really hated his guts. He looks a bit older than me, and after inspecting him closer I noticed he had a leather eyepatch with an 'x' stitched on it. Welp, this kids fucked. Some strong factions in the kingdom tend to kidnap kids to rape. They always remove their right eye and give them an eye patch with a symbol to mark them. The rapist is probably here, and the kid prolly was forced to be his little play thing for this campaign. His voice was also very high, proving his dick and balls were cut off. Normally they would remove their tongue, or seal their mouths, but I guess this one got lucky. "Who's your owner?" I asked him directly. I need to make sure I avoid them since their toy is prolly getting too old. The slave's face went dull; it wasn't hate, though a bit of envy and sadness leaked out. "Stop dreaming of freedom, and actually try and achieve it," I told him out of pity, "dreams are just delusions of a possibility you want, but not necessarily one you can have." I pulled a sack out of my pocket, "This is poison, just a bit will make those delusions reality. Give it back to me when you take them out." I was hoping to use it on some generals, but my body acted instinctively. Oh well, poison is a woman's weapon.
Most of the guys look like they've finished what they were doing. We are probably going to get tested and put into groups, which is a bit long. Most of the people in this army are new, so most people will get tested and grouped. I'd say I'm average; I always get into the mid-ranked groups. This army is a bit different though; it is just one big army which gets split up on the spot. "Yo kid," I heard from my left. "You seem rather young and unprepared. Letting you go into battle like this is the same as brutally murdering you with my own two hands." It was the guy right next to me. He seemed extremely nice, though I didn't trust it. No-one is nice for no reason; everything people do has some sort of gain. Some might be to satisfy an addiction or craving, some are for financial gain and some are to gain some sort of power, whether it be social or political. "Don't worry, they give weapons for free. The name's Beryl by the way," I said. "Kilian," he responded, "this your first time?" looking at his face, he really wanted to get close to me. "Nah," I told him. After that it became an awkward silence.
This is so dead. What the fuck is taking them so long? They can't afford a late start with this many newcomers. The room then became smoky as shit, like literally out of nowhere. I initially assumed it was the captain making a dramatic entrance, but fuck no. some dumb cunts were smoking in this extremely confined space, and I had to get some. I got up and walked towards the group smoking cigarettes. "Would you spare a poor soul a cigg?" I asked jokingly. "Alright mate, but in return tell us about ya-self. Smoking is where you truly open up," one of the guys responded. He had brown hair and a full beard, with a subtle sadness in his eyes. He looked… happy, free, relieved. He wore loose trousers, an overcoat without anything underneath, and he was ripped as fuck. He truly was living the life. His hair was in a manbun, which on top of his size made him look like a great warrior. He put his left hand out towards me, holding a miniature chest of cigarettes. "Lets hear that story," he said, calmly. I grabbed a cigarette from the chest, and the end instantly lit up. One of these guys knew magic.
"The names Beryl, and I'm a former soldier from the Zurr conflict. I grew up in the slums in the south of the kingdom and have spent most my life there, so nothing too special. I've always wanted to fight for sport, but unfortunately only the rich and famous get that honour, and I just had to learn it the hard way when I was fifteen." I inhaled the cigarette and released the light, grey smoke. There really wasn't anything special about me, other than the fact that I killed some nobles in the past, but am I really going to tell them? "You sound like you've lived a boring life, kiddo," one of the guys said. His hair was a light purple and his eyes were a jade green. You couldn't just see him, but also feel his deep stare. He wasn't huge, but he looked experienced. His hair was in a midpart, he almost looked like a noble. His torso had a light, chainmail shirt, but it was more like a vest since his arms were completely uncovered. "Well, us guys earn our stories on the battlefield, that's where the boy gets made into a man," said the last guy. He had no hair on his face or head, other than his eyebrows and eyelashes. He was wearing a brown cloak with his hood down. He was huge. "Well, this was fun. I'll make the announcement now." said the one with purple hair.
He grabbed a cream-coloured cloak, got up and walked towards the front of the door leading to the main headquarters. He then stood there facing the changing room; everyone stopped what they were doing and looked right at him. His presence was on another level, powerful enough to shut a crowded room full of warriors. "I am Esther, but to all of you I am the second in command to this army. Welcome to Solus!" well thank god this shit was starting, but why was the second in command in the changing rooms with us, and how is his presence so inhumanly powerful? He must know magic. "Before the trials, at Solus, we have ground rules. Firstly, every fight you take in a battlefield is to the death, so no sparing or hostages. Secondly, none of you will be buried or cremated when you die. You'll instead be fed to the beasts in the dungeon. Lastly, you will do everything you can to become strong, even if you die in the process. This has always been the strongest army the kingdom has ever had, and it will always be at its strongest state possible. Do I make myself clear?" The crowd was silent for a few moments, but then they suddenly started cheering. This sounds fucking fun, I want to kill, I want to watch my opponents scream in agony as their blood slowly gets consumed by the soil below. The death of my former army was the greatest thing that could've possibly happened. I want to be the one to kill that green eyed guy talking. The tendencies are too strong. I hate those noble fucks, and he looks just like one. Those nobles killed most of the friends I grew up with. None of them deserve life, not a single one. Shit, my murderous tendencies got to me again.
Some of the men got up and walked towards the front. They were probably the original members who didn't need to get tested. Amongst the cheers, half of those men walking looked depressed, but a burning fury was visible deep within their souls. It was kinda scary; they must've seen it all. Amongst those men were the two I shared a cigarette with. I should've known they were already in the army; this is the only army that gives paper-wrapped cigarettes. Normally you just fill a pipe with tobacco, which the army provides.
I wonder how many of the people in this room will die? I'm willing to bet half, but that seems like a significant overestimate for the first day. I heard the trials in this fuckhole are worse than death, and they last a week. Rumours say that more people die in the training than in the field, which sorta makes rule 3 feel very serious. I still doubt more than half will die; they do need an army after all. The men had finally left the room.
"Everyone finish up what you're doing, the trials start soon."