SS rank Xalvathar: The Soulweaver

Dinner had just begun in the bustling bar room, filled with the clatter of trays and the murmur of tired voices. Zanele slumped into her seat, only to realize she was forced to sit beside Amandla. A rule of the camp, "first days with first days," dictated this arrangement, and Zanele wasn't thrilled. Around them, the room divided naturally into groups. Those who had endured tough "bad first days" sat together, while the "good first days" cadets seemed worlds apart in both confidence and ease.

For Zanele, today had been exhausting. They had spent hours training relentlessly—three grueling hours just to start. Sweat clung to her, and her limbs ached, but they were far from done. The schedule was harsh: three hours of training, thirty minutes to clean up, an hour for meals, a hundred-meter sprint for three more hours, followed by two hours of work to "earn" their place in the camp. Teammate bonding activities were scheduled, but with dangerous tasks that kept them on edge. Then came another two hours of grueling labor in the mines under the scorching sun, swordsman training for five hours, and only now was it time for dinner, which they had two hours to finish before heading to bed for what would hopefully be a full eight hours of sleep.

Takumi, sitting nearby, was speaking softly with Liyana, clearly trying to enlist her help to mend things with Zanele. But Zanele overheard him and cut in, her tone sharp and unyielding. "Never," she said, her voice full of scorn. "Your apology is just a waste of words."

Liyana looked between them, clearly uncomfortable, but determined to intervene. "You can't talk about your brother like that, Zanele," she said firmly.

"Stay out of this, Liyana," Zanele replied, her tone icy. "I don't want us to have a problem."

Liyana didn't back down. "I'm already in this, Zanele," she replied, her expression resolute.

Zanele's patience snapped. She muttered an apology just before closing her eyes and swinging her fist. Her punch connected with Liyana's face, shocking everyone nearby. Liyana, now furious, grabbed Zanele, and the two girls began wrestling, pulling each other fiercely. Sparks of anger flew between them, but thankfully, neither of them had the ability to use magic. If they did, the entire bar room or even the camp itself might have been reduced to rubble by the sheer force of their fight.

Amandla, sitting nearby, watched the chaos unfold with a look of satisfaction. She found herself entertained by the conflict, thinking this camp might not be as boring as she'd originally thought. She suddenly got up and ran over to Takumi, delivering a swift punch to his face followed by a harsh kick to his side. Takumi staggered, too slow and too weak to defend himself effectively. Blood trickled from his nose as he tried to steady himself.

Seeing Takumi hurt brought Zanele and Liyana's fight to a sudden halt. They looked up just as Amandla ran toward them, fists clenched, ready to fight anyone in her way. Zanele and Liyana exchanged a glance, temporarily united against a common enemy. Together, they faced Amandla, and the three launched into a fierce brawl. Amandla, though outnumbered, was slightly stronger than both Zanele and Liyana combined, giving her an advantage.

The skirmish didn't last long. Ishara, one of the camp's trainers, stormed into the bar room, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Stop this fight, you pitiful animals!" he shouted. "Save your killing instincts for the battlefield, not here!"

The three girls froze, releasing each other reluctantly. Ishara glared at them and, without further discussion, pulled Zanele and Amandla out of the room. "Since you can't rest, you'll spend the night mining camp gold," he said, his tone final and merciless.

The next morning, everyone awoke to the unexpected sight of Zanele and Amandla returning from the mines, covered in dirt, exhaustion plain on their faces. Liyana approached Zanele, an apology on her lips, but Zanele was the first to speak.

"Sorry about yesterday," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the ground.

Before Liyana could respond, Ishara's voice boomed across the camp. "Weak life forms! Gather up! Time to train your Vera."

Haruto, confused, asked, "What is Vera, sir?"

Ishara's expression softened slightly as he explained. "Vera is your life energy," he said. "Everyone has it, even your parents, though they probably don't know it. For most people, Vera is weak—usually around six to ten. But if you can use magic, it's higher, between twenty and fifty. An E-class fighter's Vera can be as high as a hundred to four hundred. But an SS-class fighter? That's in the range of five thousand to eight thousand Vera."

The trainees looked at each other, wide-eyed. Zanele felt a surge of determination; this training was her chance to become truly powerful.

"If your Vera drops to zero, you're dead because your body cannot function without it," Ishara concluded. "Do you understand, class?"

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison.

"Good," he said. "To strengthen your Vera, we need to train both your mind and body. We'll start with the body. Give me a hundred push-ups in five minutes."

Everyone dropped to the ground and began pushing. Some were faster than others, but all struggled to complete the task. Liyana, not naturally strong, was among the last to finish. Ishara watched her, unimpressed.

When they were finally done, Ishara pointed toward a row of horses nearby. "You see those horses? You'll be carrying them to House Five. We sold them to buy your food, so get moving. If you don't finish, you're not eating today."

Grumbling under their breath, the trainees approached the horses, shocked at their weight. They struggled to lift them onto their backs, trudging to House Five and back, their muscles straining with each step. When they finally returned to camp, they were allowed a break for dinner. For a brief moment, peace settled over them—until Amandla, once again stirring trouble, threw her food at Liyana's face.

The dining area erupted in laughter, some cadets egging them on as the two girls glared at each other. But instead of fighting, they remembered the harsh penalties from last time and managed to hold back.

Their last task of the day was a hundred-meter race, and they completed it with a sense of accomplishment, each of them reflecting on the intense, exhausting day. They had met every challenge, and though they felt battered and weary, they understood they were growing stronger, more resilient.

As they settled into their bunks, exhausted but proud, they knew they were one step closer to their ultimate goals: revenge, power, protection, and, above all, survival.