Chapter Six — First Lesson
“Inside!”
A commotion rose in the dark corridor. Loran was almost thrown into an unbearably dry room by a knight who grabbed the back of his neck; his shoulder hit the floor and slammed into the wound, making him give a faint whimper of pain. The small door in the room was then shut.
Through the little window in the door, Loran saw row upon row of identical small rooms, like cells, and in each one sat a child in much the same state as he was. They were all between fourteen and sixteen years old. Some had wounds on their faces, some looked utterly hopeless, and others were wailing loudly.
The entire corridor was filled with desolation and pain.
…
“Rustle…”
Loran leaned quietly against the cold wall, straining to regain his strength while beginning to scrutinize the room. It was not large—barely enough for a person to lie down with limbs spread. The floor was covered with straw; on one side there was a small window barred with iron, and beyond that a pane of glass, almost completely cutting it off from the outside world.
And through that tiny window, Loran was able to study this unfamiliar world in detail.
Outside, a scene of ruin and desolation spread out. Standing on a lone mountain, in front of him lay a vast maple forest, as if stained with blood. Between the maples ran a mountain path where some cavalry and wagons were passing. The wagons carried heavy loads—perhaps food, or maybe water—but those sights were all very distant, for the castle where Loran stood sat atop the high peak, high enough to look down on everything below.
This place was like a secret sanctuary cut off from the world.
Loran didn’t keep looking. He lay back quietly and peeled back the cloth bandaging his injured palm to take a glance. The wound was gruesome; after a night exposed to wind and rain and a long, jarring journey, it seemed to have started festering. A burning pain also radiated from his shoulder—the injuries were growing worse.
By evening at last footsteps sounded in the distance, and then a knight’s sonorous voice echoed from deep within the corridor: “Test the star-source power of each of them. Those who possess star-source power advance to the second round of selection; those without it are to be tossed straight into the trial room. Their only value is roughly in inspiring others’ courage.”
“Yes, my lord!”
From afar, the sounds of small doors opening kept coming, and voices echoed one after another through the night—
“First-rank Star Source Power, sent to selection.”
“Hasn’t awakened yet, take them away!”
“Another one who hasn’t awakened—take him away!”
“Hmph, another useless one. These Hunt Knights don’t seem to have found any good prey this time—what a bunch of trash.”
“Huh? There’s a girl here with a third-rank Star Source power. Take her, send her to selection!”
“Next, come on.”
…
At last, the voices drew nearer. With a clank, Loran’s small door was opened, and a big hand like an eagle’s talon reached in, grabbed his leg, and dragged him out. A hand then pressed into Loran’s palm, and a burning warmth surged through him. The next moment, the robed man sneered coldly, “Another waste whose star vein hasn’t awakened. Drag him away, send him to the trial room.”
“Yes, sir!”
A knight stepped forward, grabbed Loran and carried him out along the corridor, arriving at a very spacious plaza. Loran glanced around and couldn’t help but feel a chill. Layer upon layer of towered buildings rose in orderly rows across the plaza, each inlaid with the cross emblem of the Order of the Radiant Knights. Beside the enormous stone pillars stood knights with hands on their sword hilts, motionless like statues. On the high walls nearby, archers stood holding bows and arrows, their gazes grim as they looked at Loran, who was being held by the knight. Some even allowed a merciless sneer to cross their faces.
Then Loran was led into a huge underground chamber. The moment he entered, a foul stench hit him—a mixture of excrement, urine, and rot. Inside the massive wooden cages, pairs of numb, vacant eyes watched him. They were boys around Loran’s age; how long they’d been there he couldn’t tell, but each of them seemed completely desensitized.
“Bang!”
Loran was hurled heavily into a wooden cage, and then the door slammed shut.
One after another, more youths were tossed into the cage; the crowd kept swelling. Each cage seemed to hold hundreds, and before long five or six cages were already overflowing with people.
…
“Just in time.”
A man in knight’s armor held a booklet in his hands and said to another man wearing an imperial uniform with a silver emblem on his shoulder, “Sir, with this batch just delivered, we’ve almost reached 2,000 people. It’ll be enough for tomorrow’s opening ceremony.”
“Okay.”
The man in uniform nodded, “Keep a close watch on them. Give them food and water, let them rest well and recover their strength. Whether they survive tomorrow will be up to them.”
“Yes, my lord!”
The two of them left, and not long after, a guard came carrying buckets of meat soup and stacks of flatbread, letting the boys in the cages eat their fill with no limit—until they were full. Loran wolfed down five pieces of flatbread and three bowls of meat soup, then sat quietly in a corner to wait for his strength to return. Most of the other boys ate and then fell asleep.
No one knew how much time had passed when, with a clang, the main gate opened again. Two knights walked ahead, torches raised, and behind them followed a cold-eyed middle-aged man in armor, gripping a broad sword. Sharp glints ran through his gaze—he was the same man they had seen outside, called Luke.
“Children!”
Luke climbed step by step onto the raised platform in the center of the basement, finally reaching the top. He planted his longsword into the ground and looked at the children in the surrounding cages, his gaze showing a hint of excitement. “I imagine many of you harbor doubts and anger. Now, I will dispel your doubts, but you must deal with your anger yourselves.”
Saying this, he waved his hand and pointed to the world outside. “This place is a secret base of the Star Origin Empire, and at the same time the sacred training camp of the Order of the Radiant Knights. We call it the Blood Castle. For centuries, well over half of the Awakened and the empire’s strongest have come out of the Blood Castle, and you too will become part of the Blood Castle.”
Immediately, a young boy stood up and said, “Sir, do we… also have a chance to become knights?”
“Yes.”
Luke nodded, a malicious sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But that’s on the premise that you can survive until tomorrow.”
As if he could read the astonishment and confusion on the boy’s face, Luke continued, “The Blood Castle, also known as the Blood Prison Training Camp — the Empire’s knights and the magic academy’s cumbersome, superfluous rules mean nothing here. In the Blood Prison there is only life and death, so we scour the Empire by means the world would not accept to find talent, train them into true strongmen, and make them the elite of the Order of Light. We call those people cadets, but you are different…”
All the children were stunned.
Luke laughed: “Your strength is too weak; you simply aren’t worthy of being students, so you’re merely the consumables for the students’ first lesson at Blood Castle. Our first lesson is called Courage. Each student will be paired with an opponent; only the students who kill their opponent qualify to begin the second stage of training, and you—you’re the targets the students have to kill in their first lesson.”
“What!?”
A group of youths were furious; someone even shouted, “The Empire… Imperial law would never tolerate you doing such cruel things. You are the Light Knights under the Light Church—how can you commit such a shameful act!?”
“Shameful?”
Luke sneered, his gaze fixed on the boy who had spoken. He pointed north and said, “Do you know how many Light Knights are slain by beasts at the border every year? For centuries, if we hadn’t used methods like this to select talent, the Light Knights would likely have become history long ago!”
Saying that, his eyes went cold as he declared, “However, you have one more chance: kill the student you are about to face, take their place, and become an official trainee in the Blood Prison—perhaps even assume their identity. This may be your last night; enjoy it. Tomorrow morning you will face a battle of life and death. Whether you become a strong one or end up a corpse is up to you!”
…
After Luke left, the boys in the cage grew even quieter, some silently shedding tears.
Loran clenched his fists, still leaning silently against the wooden post, saying nothing. Inside the cage, some boys had already begun to break down mentally, fighting one another, which drew the guards’ furious shouts. They rushed in swinging their whips, beating indiscriminately; one lash even struck Loran’s face, leaving a burning mark. Yet Loran did not move. Any resistance would have brought even crueller blows. To him, every new wound meant a further weakening of his strength.
That night was unbearably long; some people even cried fitfully through it.
Loran sat quietly all night, missing his mother, unable to believe she had left him like that. He let tears fall silently and fell asleep crying without a sound. He woke slowly at dawn, feeling his shoulders no longer hurt as much, and the wounds on his palms had stopped bleeding and begun the process of healing.
…
“Dinner time!”
In the early morning, squads of guards came into the basement carrying buckets of vegetable soup and piles of steamed buns. The children swarmed immediately. Loran quickly grabbed two buns and a bowl of soup, hid in a corner and wolfed them down, then stood on guard in a corner, calmly watching the other children fight over the food.
After breakfast, driven by the guards, the boys were divided into more than twenty groups, each with nearly a hundred people. Loran was assigned to the sixth group. A very young knight-guard stepped forward; a gray cross badge hung on his shoulder—it was the symbol of a trainee knight. He gripped a spear, his gaze cold. “People of the sixth group, come with me. Do not try to resist, or you will be killed on the spot!”
…
Stepping out of the basement, harsh sunlight immediately poured down from the outside.
When Loran and the other youths looked up, they saw corpses hanging from the outer wall, some still stained with fresh blood. The knight leading them curled his lip and sneered, “This is the fate of those who try to escape.”
