Jaxon awoke to the blaring of klaxons. For a brief moment, he forgot where he was—his mind expecting the scent of home, the warmth of a familiar bed. Instead, he was met with the stiff mattress beneath him, the cold artificial air, and the distant murmur of groggy orphans stirring awake.

  Around him, dozens of orphans moved. Some were already pulling on their jumpsuits, lacing their boots with practiced efficiency. Others groaned, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, still not accustomed to the rigid schedule. The younger ones hesitated, their minds slow to catch up to the sudden, brutal awakening.

  Then, a deep, sharp voice cut through the air.

  “On your feet. Now!”

  Jaxon snapped his head toward the entrance. A tall man in a black uniform stood in the doorway, arms clasped behind his back. His cold gaze swept over them, assessing.

  Legionnaire makon .

  The very air in the room seemed to drop in temperature at his presence.

  “The Imperium’s gracious hospitality ended yesterday,” the man continued, voice devoid of emotion. “Today, your proper service begins.”

  Jaxon felt a nudge from behind.

  “Come on,” Holt muttered. He was already dressed, adjusting his boots with casual ease. “Unless you want to get on Makon’s bad side.”

  Jaxon forced himself to move, ignoring the soreness in his limbs. He was still adjusting to the brutal physical strain of training, his muscles screaming in protest with every movement.

  He hadn’t even taken off his jumpsuit from yesterday, so all he had to do was lace up his boots and fall in line beside Holt. The rest of the recruits shuffled out of the barracks, moving into the massive corridor beyond.

  The air outside was cold. Not natural cold—sharp and mechanical, biting against his skin. It stung his eyes, making him blink rapidly. The artificial sky above was still dark, illuminated only by distant floodlights.

  New Canaan had no sunrises. No warmth.

  Just an endless, gray expanse.

  As they marched, Jaxon glanced around. In the far distance, he could see other buildings—large, identical structures looming in the dim light.

  More facilities like this one? Were they also filled with orphans, just like him? Or were they something else entirely?

  No time to think about it.

  They reached the training grounds, where rows of children were already assembled. The cold metal flooring beneath them sent chills through Jaxon’s boots as he lined up next to Holt.

  Makon, paced before them.

  “Standard drills,” he barked. “Running first. Then formations. Then endurance.” His eyes scanned over them, sharp and calculating. “Weakness will not be tolerated.”

  Then the drills began.

  Jaxon ran, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His lungs burned. His legs ached. But he forced himself to keep moving.

  Beside him, Holt kept pace effortlessly, his breathing steady.

  Jaxon shot him a look. “How… are you not… out of breath?” he gasped.

  Holt smirked. “Well, if you ignore the fact that I’ve been here for four years and I’m already used to this…” He shrugged. “I guess I’m just really good at it.”

  Jaxon nearly stumbled. “Four years?!”

  His lungs felt like they were about to burst. He winced. “How old are you now?”

  Holt thought for a second. “Let’s see… I was eight when they brought me here, so—yeah. Twelve.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Twelve?!" You're my age! Jaxon slowed slightly, catching the glare of a nearby instructor. He quickly picked up the pace. Lowering his voice, he muttered, "I could've sworn you were at least fifteen."

  Holt laughed. “Nope. They take us before we hit 15. That’s the cutoff.”

  Jaxon frowned. Why? He thought

  Before he could ask, a harsh voice rang out.

  “Faster! Move like you mean it!”

  Jaxon clenched his jaw and pushed forward.

  By the time they finished, Jaxon could barely stand. His body screamed in protest, every muscle aching.

  Makon paced before them again.

  “Pathetic,” he muttered. “If you cannot handle this, you will not survive what’s to come.”

  He stopped in front of a boy who had collapsed earlier. The child stood stiffly, trembling.

  Makon tilted his head. “Do you think this is difficult?”

  The boy hesitated. “N-No, sir.”

  Makon smiled. It was not a kind smile.

  “Good. Then you won’t mind doing it again.”

  A few orphans stiffened.

  Makon turned sharply. “All of you. Again.”

  A quiet groan rippled through the group, but no one dared to protest.

  Holt sighed. “Told you he was a helspawn .”

  Jaxon exhaled shakily. I hate this place.

  Holt smirked. “You’re supposed to.”

  Later, in the mess hall, Jaxon slumped over his tray, staring at the gray, glue-like paste in front of him.

  Holt was already halfway through his meal.

  “Eat.”

  Jaxon wrinkled his nose. “This isn’t food—I asked you for food not poison”

  “It is if you’re hungry enough.” Holt took another bite. “And You get used to it.”

  Jaxon forced himself to take a bite. It was as awful as it looked.

  Across the hall, a group of older recruits whispered among themselves. Lucian was among them, smirking as he spoke. Occasionally, his gaze flicked toward Jaxon.

  Jaxon tensed. “He’s going to come after me, isn’t he?”

  Holt followed his gaze and shrugged. “Probably.”

  “Great.”

  “Just don’t let him corner you alone,” Holt muttered. “He likes making examples out of people.”

  Jaxon exhaled, forcing himself to take another bite. Then, his stomach twisted.

  Something felt wrong.

  He glanced around again. And that’s when he noticed it.

  There were no girls.

  Every single orphan in the mess hall was male.

  Jaxon frowned. “Holt.”

  Holt raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

  Jaxon leaned in slightly. “Where are all the girls?”

  Holt smirked. “Took you long enough to notice.”

  Jaxon shot him a look. “I’ve been busy trying not to die from exhaustion .”

  Holt chuckled. “Fair. Anyway, they’re here. Just… not with us.”

  Jaxon frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Holt lowered his voice. “New Canaan has multiple training facilities. This one? Just for us. The females have their’s.”

  “Why separate them?”

  Holt exhaled. “Back when New Canaan was first set up, they kept everyone together. Then…” He hesitated. “Something happened. No one knows the full story. Fights broke out. They did things and well people went missing to sum it up it got bad.”

  Jaxon didn’t like the way Holt said missing.

  Still, he had bigger concerns.

  He forced himself to focus. “So… about Lucian.”

  Holt sighed. “You just won’t let that go, huh?”

  Jaxon shot him a look. “You brought him up first.”

  “Fair.” Holt smirked. “Look, just stay out of his way. Lucian’s different. His family didn’t perish like ours—his family sent him here. He thinks he’s better than the rest of us because of it.”

  Jaxon frowned. “Sent? You mean his family gave him away?”

  “More like ‘donated’ him.” Holt’s voice was laced with amusement, but there was a sharpness behind it. “Lucian comes from a noble house—house varik one of the old families from before the Imperium fully took over. His parents are still alive, still powerful, but they sent him here to be forged into something better.”

  Jaxon scoffed. “Sounds like they didn’t want him.”

  Holt shrugged. “Depends on how you look at it. For the nobility, having a son trained in a place like New Canaan is a badge of honor. The Imperium’s elite want their heirs to be strong, disciplined, and ruthless. They don’t want soft politicians—they want warriors. So they throw their kids in here, knowing full well that only the strongest survive.” He jabbed his spoon into his meal. “And Lucian? He thinks he’s better than the rest of us because of it.”

  Jaxon glanced across the mess hall, spotting Lucian sitting at a table near the center. He wasn’t alone. A few other older children sat with him, all of them dressed in the same gray jumpsuits, but their postures were different—calm, collected, exuding a quiet sense of superiority.

  “They all nobles too?” Jaxon asked.

  Holt followed his gaze before nodding. nope. Others just latched onto him because he’s powerful. Lucian’s got this whole ‘future great person’ aura about him, and people like that tend to attract followers. Doesn’t hurt that his family’s name still carries weight, even out here.”

  Jaxon narrowed his eyes. “So that’s why he thinks he can push people around.”

  Exactly.” Holt sighed. “Look, I get it—you want to fight back. But trust me, picking a fight with Lucian isn’t like fighting some street thug. He’s 14 he’s bigger he’s trained, you just got lucky Jax. And He’s been here for years. And more importantly—” he gestured around the room, “—he has allies.”

  Jaxon clenched his jaw. He hated the idea of letting someone like Lucian get away with treating people like trash. But he wasn’t stupid. He needed to be smart about this.

  He forced himself to relax, exhaling slowly. “Noted.”

  Holt grinned. “Good. Now hurry up and eat. We’ve got another round of training and lectures after this.”

  Lectures!!!

  Jaxon groaned but shoveled another spoonful of protein paste into his mouth. His body still ached from the morning drills, and the idea of going back out there so soon made his stomach twist. But he didn’t have a choice.