Drago: The Beginning Of Darkness

Another day, Safal woke up in the dimly lit cell, relieved to see Ram sleeping peacefully in the corner. Despite their similar ages, Safal had grown to think of Ram as his brother-in-arms—a bond forged in the fires of their shared trials. His brief respite ended when Nishan, the enigmatic leader of the thieves, arrived to compliment him.

"You've got guts, Safal," Nishan said, a rare smirk on his face. "Yesterday, you showed bravery. But bravery alone won't be enough for what lies ahead. Training begins today. Don't disappoint me."

Safal's heart pounded as Nishan left. Today would mark the beginning of a new chapter—a grueling one.

He was soon escorted to the training ground, a vast expanse of rugged terrain surrounded by thick jungle. There, he met a towering man whose presence demanded attention. His muscular frame was covered by a cloak of lion fur, giving him an aura of both savagery and wisdom.

"So, you're Safal," the man rumbled. His deep voice carried across the field like distant thunder. "I'm Varun. Remember that name. I'm in charge of shaping you into something useful."

Safal gulped but held his ground, nodding firmly.

Varun studied him for a moment before asking, "Tell me, what do you think is the most basic skill needed to become a thief?"

Safal thought for a moment. "Strength. Or maybe intelligence?"

Varun chuckled, a deep, growling sound. "Not bad, but not good enough either. You're missing the most important thing: the ability to run. Anywhere. Anytime."

Safal frowned in confusion. "Run? Why? Shouldn't a thief be able to stand and fight?"

Varun's expression darkened, and he leaned in close, his sharp eyes locking onto Safal's. "And what happens when it's not one person you're fighting, but a hundred? A thousand? Tell me, can you win then? No. A true thief survives by escaping, by running faster and farther than anyone else. It's not just about speed; it's about endurance and adaptability. You have to run on roads, through jungles, across rivers, and even up mountains. If you can't run, you're dead."

Safal nodded slowly, the weight of Varun's words sinking in.

"But don't think running is easy," Varun continued, gesturing toward the group of trainees gathered nearby. Most of them were around Safal's age, some even younger. "You're all beginners, every single one of you. And beginners start with the basics."

He turned to the group and raised his voice. "For the next month, all you're going to do is run. Not just any run—you'll circle this entire island. It's roughly 100 kilometers. And don't look so shocked! This is the harsh world we live in. If you want to survive, you'll have to endure harsher trials than this."

The trainees exchanged nervous glances, whispers of disbelief spreading among them.

"Some of you might think of using shortcuts," Varun said, his voice dripping with menace. "Maybe even using your sea powers to make it easier. Let me be clear: don't. If you do, you'll answer to me, and I promise you won't like that."

He clapped his hands, the sound echoing across the training ground. "Now, let the show begin!"

The trainees set off, their footsteps a chaotic rhythm against the dirt road. Safal felt the strain almost immediately. His legs burned, and his breaths came in ragged gasps, but he pushed forward. The words of Varun and Nishan echoed in his mind, driving him onward.

As they ran, the terrain shifted constantly. Smooth dirt paths gave way to jagged rocks, muddy trails, and dense undergrowth that clawed at their clothes and skin. Safal's shoes were soon soaked as he waded through a shallow river. He stumbled several times, scraping his knees and hands, but he refused to stop.

By the time night fell, most of the trainees were sprawled across the ground, utterly exhausted. Safal collapsed beside Ram, who had barely managed to keep up. They shared a small portion of stale bread, the only food provided for the day.

"This is insane," Ram muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think we can really survive this?"

Safal didn't answer immediately. He looked up at the star-filled sky, his mind racing with thoughts of their village, of the people they had lost, and the promise he had made to himself. Finally, he spoke. "We don't have a choice. We have to become stronger. No matter what it takes."

The next morning, Varun's booming voice jolted them awake. "Up, you lazy brats! Day two begins now. Move it!"

The second day was worse than the first. Blisters formed on Safal's feet, each step sending jolts of pain through his body. His muscles screamed in protest, and his stomach growled incessantly. But he kept going, fueled by sheer determination.

On the fifth day, a storm rolled in, drenching the trainees in icy rain. The muddy trails became treacherous, and several trainees slipped and fell, their cries lost in the howling wind. Safal helped Ram up more than once, his own body trembling from the cold.

By the end of the week, nearly half the trainees had dropped out, unable to endure the relentless pace. But Safal pressed on, his resolve growing stronger with each passing day. He began to notice changes in himself—his strides became longer, his breaths steadier, and his endurance greater.

One night, as Safal and Ram rested by a fire, Varun approached them. "Not bad," he said, his tone almost approving. "You're tougher than I thought."

Safal looked up at him, his eyes reflecting the flames. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect the things and people I love. Even if it means selling my soul to a demon or becoming one myself."

Varun's lips curled into a wolfish grin. "Good. Because that's exactly what it'll take."

The month-long trial continued, each day pushing Safal and the remaining trainees closer to their limits. But Safal's spirit never wavered. He was determined to emerge stronger, no matter the cost. For the sake of Ram. For the sake of his village. And for the sake of the promise he had made to himself.