The dawn in the barracks arrived not with a gentle glow, but with a cacophony of human frailty. Someone was snoring like an ancient, dying bear, another muttered feverishly in their sleep, while the more ambitious recruits were already thundering down the corridors, desperate to finish their ablutions before the morning roll call. I awoke to a shaft of relentless sunlight piercing my retinas. I attempted to retreat beneath the thin sanctuary of my blanket, but sleep had already fled. My mind was sharp, my senses peaked, which meant it was time to scrub away the night's grime and prepare for the farce ahead.
The queue for the showers was a testament to the disheveled state of the male initiates. Ignoring the line entirely, I walked toward the door marked with a sign that read Women's Hours. I gave two polite, perfunctory knocks. Receiving no answer, I stepped across the threshold.
"Hey!" Svetlana's shriek echoed off the tiles as she instinctively covered her mouth with both hands. "There are girls in here showering!"
Inside, a dozen female hunters stood frozen, shielding themselves with their hands in a futile attempt at modesty. It seemed the entire female battalion had gathered here in full force. I scanned their naked forms with the detached coldness of a statue before calmly shutting the door behind me. I was not there to watch, I was there to keep the door closed lest some actual pervert decided to linger.
"Hey, we're talking to you!" my neighbor barked, joined by a chorus of indignant voices. "Get out! Can't you read the schedule?"
"Your domestic schedules are of no concern to me," I snapped, walking to a basin and wrenching the cold water tap open. "This is a barracks. There is no room for communal gathering or modesty here."
As I scrubbed my teeth, I briefly considered disrobing for a full shower. However, after calculating the combat potential of a dozen female hunters currently channeling combat spells in my direction, I reconsidered. I would settle for a cold rinse of the face.
"What are you staring at?" I asked lazily, catching the murderous glares reflected in the mirror. "If you dislike being observed, perhaps you should pluck out my offending eyes. Or perhaps you would like to try dousing me in boiling water? Do you even have the courage for that? Or are you too terrified of the disciplinary repercussions for harming a fellow hunter?"
Svetlana's face flushed a deep, furious crimson. She began to stammer, her rage robbing her of speech. I smirked, preparing to exit, only to collide with Gromov in all his scarred, looming glory.
"Krivtsevich!" he bellowed. "Have you completely lost your mind? What are you doing in here?"
"Nothing special," I said with a shrug. "I merely wanted to wash before morning exercises. Is hygiene a crime now?"
"You are ignoring dormitory regulations! You are insulting these women! You are breaking every rule we have!" he shouted, spittle flying toward me.
"You should have considered that before forcing people into barracks," I said, folding my arms and rolling my eyes. "Who knows what goes through our minds? Perhaps I was simply looking for an excuse to share a room with a pretty girl."
"Have you truly gone mad, Krivtsevich?" His roar shook the very foundation of the building. I realized then that I had pushed him just far enough. "You will die in my training today. You will run with weights until your legs collapse from sheer exhaustion."
"Is that all? Intensive exercise? I thought that was the entire point of this gathering." The irony in my tone was thick enough to drown a man. Gromov, realizing that arguing with a recruit was a stain on his reputation, turned on his heel and stormed off.
I headed back to my room. It was time to prepare. My plan was simple. I would push myself until I appeared to collapse in front of everyone. I would lay the blame squarely at Gromov's feet. He promised my legs would fail, did he not. Let him explain to his superiors later why he drove a cadet to the point of total physiological failure.
Before meeting the instructor, I went to check on my charges. The barracks had a designated corner for tamers to leave their monsters overnight. Few hunters, after all, wished to sleep beside a beast. The familiar room was a peculiar sanctuary of the supernatural. The walls were etched with protective runes, and the air was a thick slurry of wet fur and feral emotion.
I pushed the door open and immediately felt the tension. It was the same electric stillness that preceded a magical storm in Hell. Hanako, my white-furred nekomata, was in her human form, sitting in the center of the room atop something soft and squeaky. It turned out to be a bear cub, the pet of some unfortunate newcomer. It looked more like a plush toy than a dangerous predator. The poor creature was whimpering piteously under Hanako's weight. Every time it tried to crawl away, Hanako's claws would flash before its eyes, and it would promptly play dead, even sticking its tongue out for dramatic effect.
The other familiars, a pair of wolf cubs, an ice-sting scorpion, and even a minor imp with a trident, were huddled in the corners, whining in submission. Only Irina, my second familiar, stood beside Hanako like a loyal sentinel, clutching her doll to her chest.
The sight brought a wide, dark grin to my face. My nekomata had clearly established herself as the sovereign of this menagerie. Since her pact with me, her instincts for dominance and territorial conquest had become sharpened to a lethal edge.
Hanako noticed me, and the predatory glint in her single green eye shifted to an eager anticipation of praise. She had established the hierarchy, and she was waiting for her master to acknowledge her work. I gave a satisfied nod. Hanako leaped up, finally liberating the traumatized bear cub, and sprinted toward me. I scratched behind her ears as the other familiars scrambled further into the shadows, their hearts heavy with terror.
The door behind me burst open. Three hunters from another squad charged in, their faces distorted with rage. One, a burly man with the lineage of a bear, rushed forward, pointing a trembling finger at Hanako. His aura flared, heavy and suffocating.
"What the hell is this, Krivtsevich?" he screamed. "Your creature is mauling my pet. My grizzly is crying like a cub while you stand there smirking. This is animal cruelty. I will report you. I will tear you apart."
The others joined the chorus, their accusations flying like arrows. The conflict escalated instantly. Fists were clenched, auras flickered like dying embers. We moved out into the corridor where a crowd of spectators had already begun to gather.
"Familiar relations are none of our business," I said, my voice dropping to a cold, wintry calm. "They are not lapdogs to be coddled. Hanako established a hierarchy, and your bear lost. If you want to protect it, step into the cage yourself and fight for it. Or are you afraid she will break you too?"
They froze. My tone was like a Siberian gale. The bear-tamer stepped closer, looming over me like a mountain, but I did not flinch. Hanako growled, her claws unsheathed. I turned my back on them, ignoring their cries of cowardice as I walked away.
The morning air outside was fresh, smelling of wet earth after the night's rain. Hanako strutted ahead of me, her nose held high in triumph, while Irina followed like a silent shadow. It seemed Hanako had successfully cowed her into submission as well.
The formation was slowly taking shape on the parade ground. The sun was blinding, as if a child with a laser pointer were aiming it directly at our eyes. I ordered my familiars to sit on a nearby bench and joined the ranks. Before doing so, I donned the excessive weights the instructor had provided.
I spotted Dima in the center of his group, surrounded by hunters who looked at him with newfound reverence. One man beside him had a spectacular purple bruise around his eye. It was clear that the familiars were not the only ones establishing a hierarchy last night. Dima caught my eye and winked.
Oleg Gromov marched to the front. His scars looked deeper in the harsh morning light.
"Attention!" he roared. "Today is about teamwork in real conditions. No excuses. If you fail your team, you will face double the workload tomorrow. Move out!"
The formation shifted like an ant nest disturbed by rain. My squad, Artyom, Svetlana, Igor, and the others, gathered around me, their glances wary. The previous night's board games and the morning's bathroom incident had left them unsure of where I stood.
We spread out across the training arena, a dusty field filled with barriers and monster mannequins. Artyom, our self-appointed leader, waved his arms frantically, trying to organize us into a formation that was neither a shield wall nor a proper defense.
"Protect the left flank. Sveta, firewall at sixty degrees," he shouted, his voice cracking with exertion.
I moved with them, the weights on my limbs turning every step into a battle against gravity. My legs felt like lead, sweat pouring down my back, but I maintained the facade of struggle. The others were failing miserably. Igor tripped over his own shield, Svetlana's firewall was so close it nearly singed our swordsman, and Artyom's commands only sowed further chaos.
"Shields forward. Mages behind. Zhenya, you and your familiars take the rear," Artyom barked.
I nodded silently. The rear was fine, less running involved. But internally, I was sneering. Artyom had the charisma to sell ice to an Eskimo, but his tactical leadership was a circus act.
"Enough with the formations," Gromov whistled, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. "We are moving to one on one sparring. Squad against squad. The losers clean the latrines all week."
The stakes were suddenly real. I stripped off my jacket, leaving only my t-shirt and shorts. The weights on my body shimmered in the sun like shackles.
"Krivtsevich versus Petrov," Gromov announced. "Show me how you handle a monster against another monster."
I stepped into the arena. Petrov stood waiting, gripping a leash attached to a demon. A small, agile creature from the Pit with broken horns and eyes burning with yellow fire.
"Begin. And remember, no killing," Oleg commanded.
Petrov activated the slave mark. The demon screamed. Its body convulsed as it was forced forward.
I did not move.
My eyes flared with a subtle golden light. The demon saw.
Die.
The command was not spoken. It resonated from the core of my being.
The demon froze, then turned.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as it drove its own claws into its throat. Once. Twice. Three times. Black blood sprayed across the arena.
It collapsed.
Its body twitched, then went still.
You are free now, little one. Ask our Mother for a kind afterlife. You earned it.