Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sky was a bright, cloudless blue as Lee Seokmin sat under a tree, laughing with his friends—Boo Seungkwan, Chwe Hansol, and Kim Mingyu. The mood was light and carefree, just another peaceful day in the village nestled against the mighty walls that had shielded humanity for a century.

Seungkwan was in the middle of telling one of his dramatic stories when a deafening explosion shook the ground. The force of it nearly knocked Seokmin over, and the air was instantly filled with the terrifying roar of monsters breaching the wall. His laughter died, replaced by a sinking dread.

“What… was that?” Seungkwan’s voice trembled as he stood up, eyes wide in panic.

Seokmin’s heart pounded in his chest, the sound of the explosion still ringing in his ears. His mind screamed that it couldn’t be happening. The walls had always stood, protecting them from the Demonic—monstrous beings that haunted the edges of humanity’s history. But now, as they all turned toward the source of the sound, the truth was undeniable.

Hordes of Demonic creatures poured through a massive hole in the outer wall. Massive beasts with twisted horns and claws, moving in a blur of violence and chaos. They crashed through homes and tore through the streets, leaving destruction in their wake. Seokmin’s village was being torn apart.

Without a second thought, Seokmin bolted toward his home. His heart raced faster than his feet as he ran past crumbling buildings, his friends chasing after him. The screams of villagers rang in his ears, but all he could think of was his family.

When he reached his house, his breath hitched in his throat. There, in front of him, his parents stood frozen in fear. His younger sister was crying, clinging to their mother’s leg. And behind them, looming like death itself, was a Demonic.

“Mom! Dad! Get out of there!” Seokmin shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. He moved to rush toward them, to save them, but before he could take more than a step, he felt someone grab him—Mingyu.

“Seokmin, no!” Mingyu’s voice was filled with urgency. “We have to go! We have to get to the other wall!”

“No! My family—” Seokmin’s voice broke as he fought to free himself from Mingyu’s grip, but Mingyu held him back, stronger than ever. Tears blurred Seokmin’s vision as he saw the Demonic swipe its massive claw. His mother pushed his sister behind her, but it was futile. The beast's strike was swift, brutal, and final.

Seokmin screamed. His world crumbled as he watched the life leave his family's eyes, their bodies falling limp in the dirt. He struggled harder, trying to run to them, to do something—anything—but Mingyu pulled him away.

“We can’t stay here! They’re gone, Seokmin!” Mingyu’s voice was thick with emotion, but his grip didn’t waver. “If we stay, we’ll die too. We need to get to the ship, now!”

Seokmin couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground. His whole body trembled as he sobbed, his heart shattering with each second that passed. The weight of the loss was unbearable. His family—his whole world—was gone.

Hansol and Seungkwan caught up, their faces pale, filled with fear and sorrow as they took in the scene. “We have to go,” Hansol said quietly, his voice barely audible over the chaos. “The Demonic are everywhere.”

Mingyu hoisted Seokmin up, dragging him toward the docks where a ship was waiting to take the survivors to safety. Seokmin’s feet moved, but his mind was elsewhere, trapped in that moment—watching his family die, powerless to save them.

As they boarded the ship, Seokmin collapsed onto the deck, his body wracked with silent sobs. He stared blankly at the sky, his friends standing by his side, unsure of how to comfort him. They had all lost something today, but for Seokmin, the loss was everything.

And as the ship pulled away from the shore, heading toward the safety of the inner wall, Seokmin knew one thing for certain: the peace they had known for a hundred years was gone. The Demonic had returned, and nothing would ever be the same again.

Seokmin's breath hitched as his eyes locked on the distant figure. She was standing near the shore, her hand reaching out, her dark hair blowing in the wind. It was her. His mother. The only one he could see—there was no sign of his father, no trace of his sister—but his mother, she was there. Alive.

Without thinking, Seokmin screamed, “Mom!” His voice broke, raw with desperation. He stumbled forward, clawing at the railing as he tried to climb over, his heart thundering in his chest. “Mom! I’m coming! Hold on!”

He was ready to jump, ready to swim through the icy water if it meant reaching her. He needed to save her. He couldn’t lose her too, not like the others. Not after everything.

Suddenly, strong hands grabbed him from behind. It was Mingyu, pulling him back with all his strength. “Seokmin, stop!” Mingyu shouted, panic lacing his voice. “You’ll die if you jump!”

Seungkwan and Hansol rushed to help, all three of them trying to hold Seokmin down as he struggled, kicking and thrashing in their grasp. “Let go of me!” he screamed, tears blurring his vision. “She’s right there! I have to save her!”

“She’s gone, Seokmin! You can’t—” Mingyu tried to reason with him, but Seokmin’s mind was too consumed by panic to listen.

Just as Seokmin was about to break free from their grip, a loud whooshing sound filled the air. Dozens of figures soared overhead, cutting through the sky like arrows. They were soldiers—fully equipped with weapons and sleek uniforms, flying toward the village using strange gear attached to their bodies.

Seokmin froze, his struggles momentarily forgotten as he watched in awe. These people weren’t villagers—they were warriors, flying through the air with the ease of birds, their blades flashing as they dove into the horde of Demonic monsters. One by one, they struck the beasts down, carving a path through the chaos. The tide of destruction that had seemed unstoppable was being pushed back.

As Seokmin stood there, stunned, one of the soldiers broke away from the group, launching themselves toward the ship with incredible speed. Before Seokmin could react, the soldier landed directly in front of him, a powerful gust of wind following in their wake.

Seokmin blinked in shock, his gaze snapping to the soldier who now stood between him and the edge of the ship. The figure was tall, clad in a dark uniform with blades strapped to their back. Their face was partially hidden by a mask, but their eyes burned with intensity.

“Are you insane?!” the soldier snapped, their voice sharp and commanding. They pushed Seokmin back, away from the railing, with surprising force. “You can’t save her! If you jump, you’ll only get yourself killed.”

Seokmin’s chest heaved, his pulse racing. “But—my mom—she’s there!” he shouted, pointing toward the shore. “She’s alive!”

The soldier’s gaze softened for a brief moment, but their expression remained firm. “You think you’re the only one who’s lost someone? You think running into that chaos will bring her back? Use your head.”

Seokmin's knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the deck, tears streaming down his face. The soldier crouched beside him, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Stay here. Let us handle this. You can’t do anything from that water.”

His friends gathered around him, no longer holding him down but sitting close, their faces filled with sorrow and relief. They watched as the soldiers continued to fight, slicing through the Demonic with skill and precision, turning the tide of the battle.

Seokmin’s eyes flicked toward the shore one last time, searching for his mother, but she was gone. Whether she had been real or just a figment of his grief-stricken mind, he didn’t know. All he knew was the emptiness inside him—the same emptiness that had taken his family.

The soldier rose to their feet, glancing down at Seokmin one more time. “Stay on this ship. Don’t do anything stupid,” they warned before leaping back into the sky, joining the others in the ongoing battle.

Seokmin watched them disappear into the chaos, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he’d lost. The battle raged on behind him, but he could no longer bring himself to look. All he could do now was stay still, surrounded by his friends, the only people he had left.

Seokmin sat on the deck, his body trembling with the force of his grief. The reality of his loss was overwhelming, crushing him under its weight. He could no longer see the village, the figures flying through the sky, or the remnants of the battle. All he could focus on was the deep, aching void where his family used to be.

Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol sat close by, their faces etched with concern and sorrow. They had tried their best to hold Seokmin back, to keep him from making a tragic decision, but now their own grief mirrored his. They each bore their own personal losses and fears, and the gravity of the situation was almost too much to bear.

As the ship continued its journey toward the inner wall, the fighting on the shore became a distant rumble. The soldiers—those enigmatic, flying warriors—had managed to push back the Demonic horde. The once unstoppable force was now being driven away, though the damage had already been done.

Seokmin’s tears eventually slowed to a trickle, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. His friends sat in silence, giving him the space to process his pain. Each passing minute felt like an eternity as the ship moved further away from the village.

The soldier who had intervened came back to the ship, their face no longer concealed by the mask. They were a seasoned warrior, their expression filled with a mix of empathy and exhaustion. They approached Seokmin cautiously, kneeling beside him.

“I’m sorry,” the soldier said quietly, their voice is softer now. “I know this is hard. But if you had jumped, you would have only added to the loss.”

Seokmin looked up, his eyes red and puffy. “I thought… I thought she was still alive. I needed to—”

“I understand,” the soldier interrupted gently. “Sometimes hope can be our greatest strength, but it can also cloud our judgment. Right now, you need to focus on surviving and rebuilding. We will make sure the Demonic do not reach the inner wall. You have to trust that the fight is being fought.”

Seokmin nodded slowly, his head hanging in defeat. The soldier placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a rare gesture of comfort. “Stay strong. We’ll get through this.”

With that, the soldier walked away, rejoining the crew and preparing for the next steps. Seokmin’s friends continued to offer their silent support, understanding that no words could truly ease the pain he felt.

As the ship finally approached the safety of the inner wall, Seokmin took a deep breath, trying to find some semblance of peace amidst the turmoil. The city loomed large and imposing, a beacon of safety that seemed distant and hollow after the day’s events.

When the ship docked, Seokmin and his friends disembarked. The inner wall was bustling with activity—refugees pouring in, soldiers preparing for any further threats, and aid workers tending to those in need. It was a stark contrast to the devastation they had left behind, but it offered a glimmer of hope.

Seokmin stood at the edge of the dock, looking out over the safe haven that the inner wall represented. He knew that the battle against the Demonic wasn’t over. His grief was still raw, and his sense of loss was profound, but he also knew that he couldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever.

He turned to his friends, their faces weary but resolute. Together, they would face the uncertain future, honor the memories of those they lost, and work to protect what was left of their world. For Seokmin, the journey ahead was as much about finding a way to heal as it was about fighting for the survival of humanity.

The inner wall stood as a symbol of hope, and with his friends by his side, Seokmin took the first steps toward a new chapter, one where he would strive to make a difference and perhaps, find a way to move forward amidst the shadows of his past.

Chapter Text

The ship finally docked at the shore of the inner wall. As the gangplank lowered, Seokmin and his friends—Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol—disembarked along with the other survivors. The scene was one of organized chaos. The wounded were being quickly attended to by medical teams, while others, many of whom were in shock or grief, wandered about looking lost. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and the murmur of worried voices.

Seokmin and his friends found a spot on the grass, sitting in a small circle. They were exhausted, both physically and emotionally, watching the flurry of activity around them. The enormity of their loss hung heavy in the air, a silent testament to the horror they had fled from.

As they sat there, a voice suddenly cut through the noise, demanding attention. “Attention, everyone!”

Seokmin looked up to see the figure from the ship—the soldier who had pushed him back and told him to stay put, also the one who comforted him. He was standing with a group of seven others, all in similar uniforms and carrying an air of authority. One them, that was in the middle steps forward.

“Attention, everyone!” the soldier called again. “I am Lieutenant Seungcheol. What happened just now was unforeseen and devastating. None of us expected such a breach. We all know that many of you have lost loved ones today, and I understand the depth of your grief.”

Lieutenant Seungcheol’s voice was steady and commanding, cutting through the murmur of the crowd. He had a presence that drew the eyes and demanded respect. Behind him, the soldiers he had arrived with stood at attention, ready to assist as needed.

“First, I want to assure you that we are doing everything in our power to manage the situation. Medical teams are working around the clock to treat the injured. We are setting up temporary shelters and ensuring that everyone has access to food and water. We will do everything possible to make sure that you are safe and cared for during this time.”

He paused, allowing the words to sink in. Seokmin could see the weary but hopeful faces of the villagers as they listened. The promise of safety, however distant it seemed, was a small comfort in the face of such overwhelming loss.

“There’s one more thing,” Lieutenant Seungcheol continued, his tone shifting to one of determination. “In two days, we will begin searching for volunteers between the ages of 15 and 20 who wish to join us in serving and protecting everyone. We need individuals who are willing to stand up and fight for our safety and security.”

A murmur spread through the crowd at the mention of volunteers. Seokmin’s heart skipped a beat. The idea of fighting, of taking action in the face of the Demonic threat, stirred something deep inside him. It was a way to honor his family, to fight back against the horror that had taken everything from him.

Lieutenant Seungcheol raised his hand to quiet the crowd once more. “You will have one day to think about this decision. On the following day, those who are interested can gather here. We will provide more information about what the role entails, the training you will receive, and the commitments involved. We need brave souls to help us reclaim our safety and protect our future.”

Seokmin exchanged glances with Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol. The weight of the decision was palpable. The prospect of joining the fight was daunting, but it was also an opportunity to make a difference, to fight back against the Demonic that had ravaged their lives.

As Lieutenant Seungcheol concluded his announcement, the crowd began to disperse, some people heading to the makeshift medical tents, others simply finding a place to sit and rest. Seokmin and his friends remained where they were, the enormity of the decision weighing heavily on their minds.

Hansol finally broke the silence. “So, what do you guys think? Is this something we should consider?”

Seungkwan looked thoughtful, his eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and resolve. “It’s a huge risk. But if we don’t do something, if we don’t fight back, what’s going to stop them from coming after us again?”

Mingyu nodded, his face set with determination. “I don’t know about you all, but I can’t just sit around and do nothing. We need to do something to honor those we’ve lost.”

Seokmin’s heart pounded in his chest as he thought about the fight ahead. He remembered the chaos, the screams, the sight of his mother reaching out to him. He knew that he couldn’t let her death be in vain. He needed to be part of the fight, to stand up and protect others, just as he wished he could have protected his own family.

“I agree,” Seokmin said finally, his voice steady. “We need to take this chance. We need to fight.”

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the makeshift camp, Seokmin and his friends resolved to join the fight. It would be a long, difficult road ahead, but it was a path they were willing to take. For their families, for their homes, and for the future of humanity, they would rise to the challenge.

The next two days would be critical, filled with decisions and preparations. But for now, they could only wait and hope that their choice would lead them to a better future.

As night fell over the camp, the sky was a deep, dark blue, punctuated by the scattered glow of lanterns and the occasional flare of light from distant fires. The once serene night had transformed into a backdrop of urgency and despair. The survivors settled into the temporary shelters that had been hastily erected, while the medical teams continued their tireless work.

Seokmin and his friends huddled together under a makeshift canopy, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of a nearby lantern. The day's events weighed heavily on them, and the gravity of their upcoming decision was starting to settle in. They spoke in low tones, discussing the implications of Lieutenant Seungcheol’s announcement.

“Have you thought about what it will mean to join them?” Mingyu asked, his gaze fixed on the ground. “It’s not just about fighting; it’s a commitment to something bigger, something dangerous.”

Seungkwan rubbed his temples, clearly exhausted. “Yeah, and what if we get injured or worse? We’re still so young. Do we really have the strength for this?”

Hansol, usually the more optimistic of the group, looked pensive. “But think about it. If we join, we’re taking a stand. We’re doing something about the threat instead of waiting for it to come back and destroy more of our lives.”

Seokmin’s mind was racing. His thoughts kept drifting back to the sight of his village burning, the screams of those who had been left behind. The sense of helplessness was overwhelming, but the idea of taking action provided a glimmer of purpose amidst the grief.

“I think Hansol is right,” Seokmin said quietly. “We need to do this. It’s not just about revenge. It’s about making sure this never happens again, to us or anyone else.”

The conversation tapered off as the friends sat in reflective silence. The noise of the camp—whispers, the clatter of utensils, the distant sobs of other survivors—seemed distant and muted. Each of them wrestled with their own fears and motivations, but a shared resolve began to form among them.

Two Days Later

The following morning, the sun rose over the horizon, casting its warm light over the camp and the remnants of the village. The day was filled with a flurry of activity as the survivors continued to settle in and adjust to their new reality. The soldiers moved through the camp, checking on the wounded and providing reassurance where they could.

As promised, Lieutenant Seungcheol and his team set up an information booth near the center of the camp. A large sign reading “Volunteer Registration” was displayed prominently. It was clear that the call for volunteers was taken seriously, with a dedicated team ready to answer questions and provide more details about the program.

Seokmin and his friends made their way to the booth, their hearts pounding with a mix of anxiety and determination. The area was bustling with others who, like them, were considering the dangerous path ahead. The atmosphere was a blend of apprehension and resolve, each person weighing the risk against the potential to make a difference.

Lieutenant Seungcheol was there, now in a more casual stance but still exuding authority and professionalism. He addressed the group of potential volunteers with a calm, reassuring presence.

“Good morning,” he began, his voice carrying easily over the crowd. “Thank you all for coming. I know this is a difficult time, and the decision to join us is not one to be made lightly. We’re here to provide you with as much information as possible so you can make an informed choice.”

He went on to explain the structure of the volunteer program. “You will undergo rigorous training, both physical and tactical. This is essential to ensure that you are prepared to face the Demonic and protect our people effectively. You will also be given basic education on survival, first aid, and strategic planning.”

The details were overwhelming, but Seokmin tried to absorb as much as he could. He glanced at his friends, all of them looking equally determined.

After the briefing, potential volunteers were invited to sign up if they were ready to commit. Seokmin took a deep breath and stepped forward, filling out the necessary forms. Mingyu, Hansol, and Seungkwan followed suit, their expressions resolute. Each signature was a step toward an uncertain future, but also toward taking control of their destiny.

As the day wore on, the registration process continued. The camp was alive with a mix of hope and apprehension. Seokmin found some solace in the fact that he was not alone in his decision. Many others were stepping up, driven by their own personal losses and the desire to protect those they still had.

That evening, Seokmin and his friends returned to their temporary quarters, their minds racing with the weight of their new reality. The camp had settled into a quieter rhythm, the bustle of the day giving way to a more subdued atmosphere. They gathered around a small fire, the warmth a stark contrast to the chill of the night air.

“I think we did the right thing,” Seungkwan said, staring into the fire. “It’s going to be tough, but at least we’re doing something to fight back.”

“I agree,” Hansol said softly. “It’s not just about us anymore. It’s about everyone who’s lost something. We have to fight for them too.”

Mingyu looked at Seokmin, his eyes reflecting both support and concern. “Are you okay with this? I know it’s a lot to take in.”

Seokmin nodded, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “I am. It feels like the only way to make things right. To honor my family and everyone else who’s been hurt.”

They sat in silence, each of them lost in their thoughts. The path ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but they were united in their resolve. They had chosen to stand up and fight, to be a part of something larger than themselves.

As they prepared for the challenges ahead, they found comfort in their friendship and the strength they drew from one another. The days of training loomed on the horizon, and with them, the promise of a new beginning—one forged in the fires of their shared determination and the hope for a future free from the terror of the Demonic.

The camp settled into a rhythm of preparation and vigilance, the volunteers working alongside the soldiers to ready themselves for the trials ahead. Seokmin and his friends embraced their new roles, their spirits steeled for the battles to come. Together, they faced an uncertain future, but they did so with the knowledge that they were no longer passive victims but active participants in the fight for survival and justice.

Chapter Text

The following day dawned with a somber mood as the volunteers gathered, ready to depart for the training camp. Tearful goodbyes were exchanged between friends and family members. The weight of leaving behind everything familiar hung heavy in the air, but the volunteers carried a mix of determination and hope in their hearts. They knew that what lay ahead would test them in ways they couldn’t yet imagine, but it was a path they had chosen.

Seokmin stood among the other volunteers, hugging his friends tightly. He held onto the memory of his family, promising himself once more that he would honor them with his actions. Soon, the moment came, and they boarded the convoy that would take them to the training camp, leaving behind the safety of the inner walls.

The journey felt long, the landscape outside a blur as they traveled further from the comforts of home. Seokmin kept glancing at his friends—Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol—grateful that they were all together. It was easier to face the unknown with them by his side.

When they arrived at the training camp, the atmosphere immediately shifted. The camp was a sprawling facility, surrounded by high walls and filled with recruits in various stages of training. The air was thick with the sound of drills, the clashing of weapons, and orders being barked by commanding officers.

The volunteers were ushered into a large open space where they were instructed to stand in rows. Standing before them was Lieutenant Seungcheol, the soldier who had first called for volunteers. He was flanked by seven other figures—each of them looked seasoned and strong, exuding the authority of experience.

Lieutenant Seungcheol stepped forward, his sharp gaze sweeping across the group. "Before we begin, let’s start with introductions. It’s important you know who your leaders are, and what roles we each play."

He straightened, his presence commanding attention. "As most of you already know, I am Lieutenant Choi Seungcheol. I serve as the head lieutenant and First Captain here at the camp. You may call me Captain Choi." His voice was firm, but there was a calm confidence in the way he spoke.

The soldier beside him, with long, flowing hair and a cold expression, took a step forward next. His demeanor was almost intimidating. "Lieutenant Yoon Jeonghan," he said, his voice smooth yet commanding. "I am the Second Captain. You may call me Captain Yoon." His sharp eyes scanned the crowd, and Seokmin couldn’t help but feel a chill run down his spine. Captain Yoon’s aura was undeniably cold, almost dangerous.

Next in line was a soldier with a warm, confident smile. He stepped forward with a bit more enthusiasm than the others. "Lieutenant Kwon Soonyoung," he introduced himself. "I’m the Third Captain. You can call me Captain Kwon." He grinned at the recruits, his energy lighter than Captain Yoon’s. There was something reassuring in his demeanor, as though he would push them hard, but with a smile.

The fourth soldier stepped forward, and Seokmin’s heart skipped a beat when he recognized the man. It was the one who had saved him on the ship during the chaos—the soldier who had stopped him from jumping overboard. His expression was kind but serious as he spoke. "I’m Lieutenant Jisoo, also known as Joshua. I’m the head medic here. You can call me Sergeant Hong." Seokmin felt a flicker of gratitude, remembering that moment clearly. Sergeant Hong had kept him alive that day, and now, seeing him again, Seokmin felt a renewed sense of respect.

Next, another lieutenant stepped forward, his face composed, but there was something about him that made him seem approachable despite his sharp features. "Lieutenant Lee Jihoon," he said in a quiet, serious tone. "You may call me Sergeant Lee." His aura, like Captain Yoon’s, was somewhat cold, but there was a quiet strength in him that drew Seokmin’s attention. He seemed like someone who would lead with precision and discipline.

The sixth soldier, towering with broad shoulders, exuded a sense of calm power. He had a strong, stoic presence that made him stand out. "Lieutenant Jeon Wonwoo," he introduced himself, his voice deep and steady. "You can call me Sergeant Jeon." His posture and build were imposing, and Seokmin imagined that Sergeant Jeon would be the type of leader who let his actions speak louder than his words.

After him came another lieutenant who looked far more friendly and approachable than the others. He waved with a light smile, his eyes shining with warmth. "Hello, recruits. I’m Lieutenant Wen Junhui," he said cheerfully. "You can call me Sergeant Wen." His tone was light and friendly, and Seokmin immediately felt that Sergeant Wen was the kind of leader who could boost morale, even in the darkest times.

Finally, the last lieutenant stepped forward, a young-looking man with a bright, almost youthful energy. He grinned at the crowd, clearly more enthusiastic than the others. "Oh, it’s my turn! Hello, everyone, I’m Lieutenant Lee Chan," he announced, his voice full of excitement. "But you can just call me Sergeant Chan." There was a ripple of surprise among the recruits. He looked young—far younger than the rest of the captains and sergeants—and Seokmin couldn’t help but wonder how someone so youthful had earned such a high rank.

Once the introductions were complete, Lieutenant Seungcheol—Captain Choi—stepped forward again, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the new recruits. "Each of these lieutenants and sergeants will play a vital role in your training. You will be divided into squads, and each squad will be assigned to one of us. We will train you in all aspects of combat, survival, and tactical warfare. You will be pushed to your limits, both physically and mentally. Make no mistake—this will not be easy. But if you give it your all, you will come out of this stronger and more capable than you ever imagined."

His words were measured, each one landing with a weight that made the recruits shift uneasily. Seokmin swallowed hard, realizing the seriousness of what lay ahead. They weren’t just here to learn—they were here to be forged into something stronger.

"You’ll also undergo specific training depending on your strengths," Captain Choi continued. "Whether it’s combat, strategy, or medical skills, we’ll find where you excel. We’re not just building soldiers here—we’re building a team. Each of you has something to offer, and it’s our job to bring that out."

The other lieutenants stood silently behind him, their eyes fixed on the recruits. Seokmin could feel their presence like a pressure bearing down on them. This was going to be hard—perhaps the hardest thing he had ever done. But as he looked at his friends standing beside him, he knew they were ready for the challenge. This was the beginning of something much larger than themselves.

Captain Choi gave a final nod. "Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow, your training begins."

Chapter Text

The night had settled over the camp, and the recruits gathered inside the large dining tent for dinner. The air was thick with tension from the day’s introductions, but for the moment, the recruits enjoyed the rare quiet. Plates clattered, the sound of spoons against metal trays filled the air, and murmured conversations flowed among the newly formed squads.

Seokmin sat with Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol, quietly discussing their nerves about the upcoming training. The atmosphere inside the tent was warm and relaxed, a brief reprieve from the intensity that awaited them in the coming days.

Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted from outside the tent, drawing everyone’s attention. The sound of raised voices, followed by the crash of a tray hitting the ground, shattered the peaceful atmosphere. Seokmin turned in his seat, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out the figures through the tent flaps.

Curiosity got the better of him, and along with his friends, he stood up and stepped outside to see what was happening. The source of the disturbance was clear—a fight had broken out near the edge of the dining area.

One of the combatants was Yunmin, a tall and arrogant figure that Seokmin immediately recognized. Yunmin had always been known as the spoiled rich kid back in the village, the kind of person who used his wealth to bully others. He stood with his chest puffed out, laughing alongside a group of his lackeys, his cocky grin irritating as ever. His shirt was immaculate, while the boy standing in front of him, clearly the victim, was drenched in milk and food.

"Hey! Look at what you just did!" the boy yelled, his face red with anger. He wiped at the mess on his clothes, but it only seemed to make things worse. The boy was tall and strong-looking, but Seokmin didn’t recognize him—he must have been from another village.

Yunmin sneered and casually kicked a piece of the spilled food aside with his boot. “Maybe you should’ve been more careful where you were standing,” Yunmin mocked, his voice dripping with arrogance. His friends laughed behind him, egging him on.

The boy clenched his fists, his anger flaring. “You think you can just walk all over people because of your money?!” His voice was fierce, and it was clear that he wasn’t backing down, despite the odds stacked against him.

Without warning, the boy lunged forward, landing a solid punch to Yunmin’s jaw. The crack of the hit echoed in the night, silencing the onlookers for a moment. Yunmin stumbled back, momentarily shocked that someone had actually hit him. His friends fell quiet, watching to see what would happen next.

Yunmin’s expression shifted from surprise to fury. "You’re going to regret that," he growled, wiping at his split lip. He swung back hard, his fist connecting with the boy’s side. The impact sent the boy staggering, but he regained his footing quickly, his face twisted in defiance.

A flurry of punches and kicks followed, each hit fueled by Yunmin’s rage and the boy’s determination not to be humiliated. Despite his size, the boy fought back with surprising strength and speed, matching Yunmin blow for blow. The two of them became a blur of fists and kicks, each hit sounding heavier and more desperate than the last.

Seokmin felt his heart race as he watched the fight escalate, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and the grunts of exertion filling the air. This wasn’t a simple argument anymore—it was a full-on brawl. Seungkwan’s eyes were wide with concern, while Hansol glanced nervously back toward the tent.

“We should stop this before someone gets seriously hurt,” Seokmin muttered, already moving forward.

Just as the boy seemed to lose his footing, stumbling to the ground, Yunmin took advantage of the moment. He raised his fist, ready to deliver a brutal punch to the boy’s face. But before Yunmin could strike, a hand shot out, gripping his wrist with surprising force.

Mingyu had arrived. His tall, muscular frame loomed over Yunmin, his expression calm yet firm. "That’s enough," Mingyu said quietly, his voice low but filled with authority. Yunmin, despite his anger, hesitated under the strength of Mingyu’s grip.

Mingyu was well-known for his strength, even back in the village. He had always been the protector in their group, and now, even in the middle of this chaos, his presence demanded respect.

"Let it go," Mingyu warned, tightening his grip just enough to make Yunmin wince. Yunmin’s anger flickered, but with Mingyu’s hold on him, he couldn’t do much. The tension between the two was palpable, but Yunmin finally let out a frustrated growl and lowered his fist.

Seokmin and Seungkwan rushed over to help the boy to his feet, while Hansol darted off, presumably to find one of the lieutenants. The boy winced as he stood, his face bruised from the fight, but he was still standing tall, glaring at Yunmin with defiant eyes.

"Come on, let’s get you cleaned up," Seungkwan said softly, his arm supporting the boy as they began walking him back toward the dining tent. Seokmin followed closely behind, glancing back at Mingyu, who had just let go of Yunmin’s wrist.

For a moment, it seemed like the fight was over. Mingyu turned to follow them, but out of nowhere, Yunmin, fueled by his wounded pride and rage, launched himself toward Mingyu in a blind attack. His fist flew forward, aiming for the back of Mingyu’s head.

Seokmin’s heart leaped into his throat as he saw Yunmin charging. Without thinking, he stepped between them, his instincts screaming to protect his friend and the injured boy.

The punch that Yunmin intended for Mingyu landed squarely on Seokmin’s face instead. The force of the blow sent him crashing to the ground. His back hit the hard dirt, and a sharp pain shot up his spine, making him wince. As he tried to catch his breath, his hand accidentally landed on a jagged rock, slicing his palm open. Blood welled up immediately, the sharp sting a secondary concern compared to the throbbing in his head.

Mingyu spun around, eyes wide with shock and anger as he saw Seokmin lying on the ground, his hand bleeding. Seungkwan rushed back to Seokmin’s side, his face pale with worry.

"Seokmin!" Mingyu’s voice was tight with anger as he turned to face Yunmin, his fists clenched, but before things could escalate further, a loud voice cut through the chaos.

"Enough!" The commanding tone of Lieutenant Seungcheol rang out as he and a few other lieutenants stormed onto the scene, their faces set in grim lines.

Everyone froze in place, the tension still thick in the air, as the lieutenants approached. Captain Choi’s eyes swept over the scene, taking in the blood, the bruises, and the chaos that had erupted.

The tense silence hung thick in the air as Lieutenants Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Wonwoo approached the scene, their expressions unreadable but filled with authority. All eyes were on them, the recruits holding their breath, sensing that the situation had taken a much more serious turn. Yunmin, who had been so full of arrogance moments before, now looked tense, his bravado faltering under the lieutenants' scrutiny.

Jeonghan’s sharp gaze swept over the scene, but his attention immediately zeroed in on Seokmin, who was struggling to keep his composure. His face was pale, his hand bleeding, and he was clearly in a lot of pain. The sight of Seokmin, on the verge of tears, tugged at something in Jeonghan’s heart. His cold demeanor softened slightly, and without hesitation, he knelt beside the injured recruit.

"Are you alright?" Jeonghan asked, his voice quiet but filled with concern. Seokmin bit his lip and tried to nod, but the pain in his back and hand made it impossible to hide his discomfort.

Jeonghan glanced at Seokmin’s hand, the blood seeping through his fingers, and then back to his face. "We need to get you to the med tent. Can you stand?"

Seokmin, determined to stay strong, braced himself and tried to rise. The moment he put weight on his leg, however, a sharp pain shot through him, and he winced, stumbling back. His leg had been twisted when he fell, and it was clear that walking would be near impossible.

Without a second thought, Jeonghan reached out, grabbed Seokmin’s uninjured hand, and hoisted him up onto his back. The motion was quick, fluid, and shockingly easy for someone who had such a lean frame. Seokmin gasped in surprise, his arms instinctively wrapping around Jeonghan’s shoulders as he was lifted.

Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol stood there, stunned for a moment, not expecting Jeonghan to act so quickly—or so gently. There was a quiet strength in the way Jeonghan carried Seokmin, as if he had done this a thousand times before and didn’t even consider it a burden.

"You three," Jeonghan called over his shoulder, his voice firm, "follow me. And bring the other injured boy."

Seungkwan and Mingyu exchanged a quick glance, while Hansol helped the bruised and battered boy—who still hadn’t said a word—stand. They nodded and moved to follow, but Jeonghan hadn’t left just yet. His eyes shifted, landing on Yunmin and his group of friends.

Jeonghan’s face, which had been soft with concern for Seokmin moments earlier, now darkened with barely controlled anger. His eyes were sharp, almost burning, as he fixed Yunmin with a glare that could have frozen fire. Yunmin visibly shrank under the intensity of Jeonghan’s gaze, his earlier smugness completely gone.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything, but the look he gave Yunmin spoke volumes. It was a promise—there would be consequences.

Jeonghan’s gaze then flicked toward Seungcheol, whose jaw was clenched tight. Seungcheol hadn’t said anything since arriving, but his presence was enough to keep everyone silent. His eyes were locked on Yunmin, and there was a tension in his posture that suggested he was holding back a great deal of frustration.

Wonwoo, who had remained silent until now, slowly walked around the scene, his eyes taking in every detail. His expression was calm, almost emotionless, but his sharp eyes missed nothing—the spilled food, the blood on Seokmin’s hand, the disarray among the recruits, and Yunmin standing at the center of it all.

Wonwoo stopped beside Seungcheol, his gaze lingering on Yunmin for a moment before he turned back to the recruits. "Captain Choi," he said quietly, his deep voice carrying an air of finality, "I think it’s clear who started this."

Seungcheol’s eyes flicked to Yunmin, his face hardening. He crossed his arms over his chest, and for a moment, the entire camp seemed to hold its breath.

"Yunmin," Seungcheol said, his voice steady but cold. "You and your friends, report to my office immediately after the recruits are dismissed. You’ll explain what happened, and we’ll determine the consequences from there."

Yunmin opened his mouth to protest, but one sharp look from Seungcheol silenced him. He swallowed hard and nodded, his arrogance crumbling completely. His friends stood behind him, looking nervous, clearly realizing they were in deep trouble as well.

Jeonghan adjusted Seokmin on his back, ensuring he was secure before giving Seungcheol a nod. "I’ll take him to the med tent," Jeonghan said quietly, his tone still laced with anger. Seokmin’s face was pale, and his breathing had grown uneven as the pain from his injuries began to settle in more heavily.

Seungcheol gave Jeonghan a curt nod, his gaze softening slightly as it landed on Seokmin. "Take care of him. We’ll deal with this mess."

With that, Jeonghan turned and began to walk, carrying Seokmin effortlessly toward the med tent. Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol followed closely behind, the injured boy limping alongside them, his face still a mixture of shock and pain.

As they walked, Seokmin rested his head against Jeonghan’s shoulder, his body trembling from both the pain and the overwhelming emotion of the night. He was grateful for Jeonghan’s strength and care, but his mind kept replaying the moment when Yunmin’s punch had landed on him instead of Mingyu.

He clenched his bleeding hand, wincing at the pain. "I’m sorry," Seokmin whispered, his voice barely audible.

Jeonghan glanced back slightly, his expression softening as he walked. "You have nothing to apologize for," he said quietly. "Rest. We’ll get you patched up."

Seokmin nodded weakly, his eyelids growing heavy as exhaustion began to set in. The night had taken so much out of him, both physically and emotionally, and now that the adrenaline was wearing off, all he wanted was to close his eyes and forget the pain.

Behind them, Seungkwan and Mingyu exchanged worried glances. Hansol kept his eyes on the boy they were helping, but his thoughts were clearly with Seokmin. None of them spoke as they followed Jeonghan’s lead, the weight of the night pressing down on all of them.

As they neared the med tent, Seokmin’s thoughts drifted to his family—the memories of his parents and sister flashed before him, mixing with the pain in his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out. But even as Jeonghan carried him to safety, Seokmin knew that the pain from losing his family would be far harder to heal than any wound on his body.

Chapter Text

Inside the med tent, Joshua was leaning casually against one of the tables, chatting with Jihoon and Soonyoung. The tent was dimly lit, the soft glow of lanterns casting long shadows across the room. The conversation between the three had been lighthearted, a brief escape from the grueling tasks of the day. Jihoon sat with his arms crossed, nodding at something Joshua had said, while Soonyoung laughed softly at a joke.

But when Jeonghan arrived, carrying Seokmin on his back and followed by Mingyu, Seungkwan, Hansol, and the injured boy, the mood in the tent shifted instantly. All eyes turned toward them, the lighthearted conversation coming to an abrupt halt. The other medics, scattered throughout the tent, also turned to look, their faces growing serious as they saw the injured recruits.

Joshua’s expression changed immediately, his usually calm demeanor sharpening into one of concern and professionalism. He pushed off from the table and stepped forward, his eyes locking onto Seokmin. Jihoon and Soonyoung exchanged glances before standing as well, ready to assist.

“What happened?” Joshua asked, his voice steady but laced with urgency as he quickly moved toward Jeonghan and Seokmin.

Jeonghan gently lowered Seokmin onto one of the cots, careful not to jostle him too much. "He took a hard fall," Jeonghan explained, his tone clipped but calm. "His hand’s cut, and I think his leg is sprained. He also hit his back pretty hard."

Joshua’s eyes quickly assessed Seokmin’s condition as he knelt beside him, gently lifting Seokmin’s injured hand to examine the bleeding. "This looks pretty deep," he murmured, before turning his attention to the rest of the injuries.

Jihoon stepped forward, his cold, analytical gaze sweeping over the scene. "What about his leg?" he asked, glancing at Seokmin’s slightly twisted ankle.

Seungkwan, who had been hovering nearby with a worried expression, quickly piped up. "He tried to stand earlier, but he winced in pain. I think it’s sprained, Sergeant Lee."

Jihoon nodded, already moving to check Seokmin’s ankle. Meanwhile, Soonyoung, who had been standing quietly by, stepped up to help with the injured boy, guiding him to another cot. He waved over one of the other medics, who immediately began tending to the boy’s bruises.

"Let me handle Seokmin’s hand," Joshua said as he gathered bandages and disinfectant, his hands moving with practiced precision. "Jihoon, you focus on his leg."

Jeonghan, who had been standing back, watching with a tense expression, finally let out a quiet breath. He glanced at Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol. "Stay with him," he told them. "Make sure he’s okay. I’ll handle the situation with Seungcheol and Yunmin."

Mingyu nodded, his eyes still dark with anger over the earlier fight, but he turned his attention to Seokmin, his protective instincts kicking in. Seungkwan and Hansol stood close by as well, their concern evident.

Joshua worked quickly, cleaning Seokmin’s hand and applying pressure to stop the bleeding. His movements were gentle, but his face was serious. "You’re lucky this didn’t hit anything too deep," he said quietly to Seokmin. "But you’ll need to take it easy for a while."

Seokmin winced slightly as Joshua applied the disinfectant, the sting cutting through the dull ache in his back and leg. His eyes were still glassy with exhaustion, and the weight of the night’s events seemed to press down on him all at once. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

Joshua must have sensed his hesitation because he gave him a small, reassuring smile. "You’re alright, Seokmin. Just focus on healing. We’ll take care of the rest."

As Jihoon finished examining Seokmin’s leg, he looked up at Joshua. "The sprain’s not too bad," Jihoon said. "He’ll need to stay off it for a few days, but it’ll heal quickly if he rests."

Soonyoung, who had been overseeing the other injured boy’s treatment, chimed in with a grin. "Don’t worry, Seokmin. You’re in good hands with us. We’ll have you back on your feet in no time."

Seokmin, though still overwhelmed by everything, managed a weak smile. The pain was still there, throbbing in his hand, back, and leg, but there was something comforting about being surrounded by his friends—and by the lieutenants who seemed genuinely concerned about him.

Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol stayed by Seokmin’s side, offering silent support as the medics continued their work.

Joshua, finishing with Seokmin’s hand, glanced over at Jeonghan, who was lingering near the entrance of the tent, his eyes still burning with a mix of anger and frustration over the fight. "Jeonghan," Joshua said softly, catching his attention. "I’ll take care of him from here. Go do what you need to do."

Jeonghan nodded, his jaw tight. Without another word, he turned and exited the med tent, no doubt heading back to deal with Yunmin and his lackeys, who were surely in for a harsh reckoning.

As Seokmin lay back on the cot, exhaustion finally beginning to take over, he could hear the quiet murmur of his friends talking beside him and the sound of the medics moving about the tent. He was safe, at least for now. But deep down, he knew that the real battles were only just beginning.

The med tent was filled with the quiet sounds of bandages being wrapped and the occasional murmur of conversation. Seokmin lay still on his cot, eyes half-closed in exhaustion, while his friends stayed close, offering their silent support.

On the other bed beside him sat the other boy, his expression conflicted. He had been nursing his injuries in silence, his thoughts swirling with guilt and frustration as he glanced at Seokmin, who was clearly in worse shape than him. The boy’s hand, the same one he had used to strike Yunmin earlier, clenched into a tight fist, his knuckles turning white.

Soonyoung, who had been quietly attending to his injuries, noticed the gesture. He paused for a moment, his usual upbeat demeanor tempered with understanding. Without looking directly at the boy, Soonyoung casually asked, "What’s your name?"

The boy, startled out of his thoughts, blinked and looked up at Soonyoung, who was finishing wrapping the bandage around his bruised knuckles. There was no judgment in Soonyoung’s voice, just a simple question—one that made the boy feel less invisible than he had moments ago.

He hesitated for a second before answering, his voice quieter than before. "Minghao... Xu Minghao..."

Soonyoung nodded, his eyes softening as he met the boy’s gaze. "Minghao," he repeated, as if committing the name to memory. "Nice to meet you, even though it’s under less-than-ideal circumstances." He smiled, though it was a bit restrained given the situation. "You fought hard out there."

Minghao looked down again, the guilt settling deeper in his chest. His fist loosened slightly, but his shoulders remained tense. "It wasn’t supposed to happen like that," he muttered. "I didn’t want... I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. Not like this."

Soonyoung tilted his head, his expression curious but gentle. "Yunmin deserved it, if that’s what you’re worried about," he said. "He’s been causing trouble from day one, since the day he arrives here n the mid wall where the demonic attack the other wall. You stood up for yourself—and probably for a lot of others, too."

Minghao shook his head, his voice tightening with regret. "Maybe, but now Seokmin’s hurt because of it." He glanced over at Seokmin, who was lying with his eyes closed but still clearly in pain. "If I hadn’t fought back, maybe things wouldn’t have gotten this bad."

Soonyoung sat back on his heels, his hands resting lightly on his knees as he regarded Minghao thoughtfully. "Fights happen, especially in a place like this," he said after a moment. "It’s a tough environment. Tensions are high, and people like Yunmin push others around because they think they can get away with it. But you didn’t let him."

Minghao’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. His eyes remained focused on the floor, clearly troubled by the chain of events. He knew that standing up to Yunmin had been the right thing to do, but seeing Seokmin in pain because of it weighed heavily on him.

Soonyoung seemed to sense the boy’s inner turmoil. "Listen," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "You didn’t cause this. Yunmin did. He’s the one who escalated things, not you. And Seokmin..." He glanced at the injured boy on the next cot, "Seokmin chose to help. That’s who he is—he’s a protector, just like you were trying to be."

Minghao’s eyes flicked up, meeting Soonyoung’s for the first time since the fight. There was something in Soonyoung’s tone that struck a chord with him, something that made him feel understood.

"You’ve got a good heart," Soonyoung continued, standing up and stretching slightly. "I can see that. Don’t beat yourself up over this. Seokmin’s going to be okay. And as for Yunmin..." His eyes darkened slightly with a knowing glint. "Well, he’ll have to face the consequences soon enough."

Just then, Jihoon approached, carrying a clipboard in one hand and a set of fresh bandages in the other. He glanced between Minghao and Soonyoung, raising an eyebrow at the lingering tension in the air. "Everything okay here?" Jihoon asked, his tone brisk but not unkind.

Soonyoung grinned, giving a thumbs-up. "All good, love. Just having a little chat."

Jihoon nodded, but his sharp eyes lingered on Minghao for a second longer, as if he were trying to assess the boy’s state of mind. Satisfied, he moved over to check on Seokmin’s condition, his efficient movements making it clear that he didn’t have time for small talk.

Minghao watched Jihoon for a moment, then looked back at Soonyoung, who had already moved on to helping one of the other medics with a supply tray. The words Soonyoung had spoken echoed in his mind, offering him a small measure of comfort.

Minghao wasn’t sure what would happen next, but at least, for now, he knew he wasn’t alone. The guilt still lingered, but it was softer now, no longer a crushing weight. And though the path ahead was uncertain, he had a feeling that this was just the beginning of something much bigger than any of them could have imagined.

Chapter Text

The med tent was a whirlwind of activity and emotion as night fell. Soonyoung, with a cheery disposition that seemed to cut through the tension, had instructed one of the medics to fetch spare clothes for Minghao. Minghao had been quietly sitting on the cot, his gaze flickering between Seokmin’s sleeping form and his own hands, still stained from the fight. He was clearly lost in thought, the guilt evident in his eyes.

Mingyu, who had been silently keeping watch over Seokmin, noticed Minghao’s troubled expression. His own feelings were conflicted, but he chose to remain silent, allowing Minghao space to process his emotions. Seungkwan and Hansol, meanwhile, engaged in a quiet conversation, trying to keep the mood light in the midst of the chaos.

The tent's flaps rustled as Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and Jeonghan entered, their presence commanding immediate attention. Junhui and Chan followed behind them, Chan’s small but imposing figure dragging Yunmin, who was clearly struggling to break free. Despite his smaller stature, Chan’s strength was undeniable. His grip on Yunmin was firm, almost effortless, as he maneuvered the larger, struggling figure into the tent.

Yunmin, his clothes disheveled and his face smeared with dirt and blood, fought against Chan’s hold. His attempts to wriggle free were futile against the sergeant’s determined grip. Chan, unfazed by Yunmin’s resistance, continued his casual conversation with Junhui as if he were merely escorting a misbehaving child.

“So, did you finish the report?” Chan asked Junhui, his tone light and conversational, even as he dragged Yunmin towards an empty cot. “I’ve been dying to hear if the new supplies came in.”

Junhui, with a smile that belied the seriousness of the situation, responded. “Not yet, but I’ll make sure to follow up tomorrow. For now, let’s get this troublemaker settled.”

Chan finally reached an empty cot and, with a deft motion, dropped Yunmin onto it. The impact wasn’t gentle, but Yunmin was too worn out to protest much. Chan quickly stepped back, leaving Yunmin to sit dazed and disheveled on the cot.

Junhui, ever the careful observer, made sure Yunmin wouldn’t cause any more trouble. He stood nearby, his gaze sharp as he monitored Yunmin’s movements. Satisfied that Yunmin wasn’t trying anything foolish, Junhui turned his attention to his husband, Wonwoo, who had been following closely behind.

Wonwoo, his expression a mix of stern authority and concern, approached Junhui. The two exchanged a brief but meaningful look, their silent communication speaking volumes. Junhui leaned in for a quick kiss, a small gesture of reassurance amidst the chaos. Wonwoo’s eyes softened, and he gave Junhui a nod before turning his focus back to the med tent.

Meanwhile, Soonyoung and Jihoon, who had been sharing a lighthearted moment amidst the medical duties, watched the unfolding scene with a mix of amusement and professionalism. Jihoon, ever the focused medic, continued checking supplies while Soonyoung, his affection for Jihoon evident in his every glance, moved to help with the new arrivals.

As Seokmin lay on his cot, fast asleep despite the commotion, his friends kept watch. Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol had settled into a quieter part of the tent, their earlier conversations having faded into a more subdued tone.

Joshua, taking a brief respite from his own duties, joined Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol, his presence a comforting one amid the unrest. He spoke to them in hushed tones, his calm demeanor helping to ease the tension that still lingered in the tent.

As the medics continued their work and the lieutenants dealt with Yunmin, the med tent slowly began to settle into a semblance of order. Minghao, still grappling with his guilt and fatigue, tried to rest on his cot. The night was far from peaceful, but for now, there was a tentative calm as the medics and lieutenants worked to restore some semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos.

Chapter Text

Seokmin jolted awake, his body drenched in sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. The nightmare clung to him like a thick fog, the images still fresh and vivid in his mind. He had been back in the village, standing in the middle of the chaos as the Demonic tore through the streets. The screams of his family rang in his ears, their terrified faces etched into his memory. He had watched, helpless, as the monstrous creatures ripped through the village—his home—destroying everything he held dear. His mother, his father, his sister… all lost in a blur of violence and blood, while Seokmin stood paralyzed, unable to save them.

He sat up quickly, gasping for air, his chest tight with fear and grief. His hands were trembling, and his head felt heavy with the weight of the memories. The nightmare was over, but the pain felt real, as if he were still living through it. Seokmin buried his face in his hands, trying to push the images away, but they lingered, making his breath come in shallow, uneven gasps. The familiar ache of loss gnawed at him, sharp and unforgiving.

His body was tense, his muscles still coiled from the dream, as if he had been running in his sleep. The sound of shouts outside the tent slowly brought him back to the present, grounding him in the reality of the camp. They weren’t panicked screams like those in his dream—these were the sharp, authoritative commands of the lieutenants, urging the recruits through morning drills. Seokmin could hear the rhythmic pounding of footsteps as they ran on the field, the distant echoes of their labored breathing mixing with the occasional barked order.

Seokmin blinked, trying to focus, and slowly turned his head. His gaze fell on the figure lying in the cot beside him—Minghao, still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. Unlike Seokmin, Minghao seemed undisturbed, lost in a deep slumber. The quiet in the tent felt oddly comforting in contrast to the chaos outside.

Seokmin sighed and rubbed his eyes. His friends—Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol—were nowhere to be seen, likely already out on the field with the other recruits. The familiar dull ache in his leg from the sprain reminded him that he wouldn’t be joining them anytime soon. He hated feeling weak, hated that he couldn’t be out there training with his friends, hated that even now, after everything, he still felt powerless.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing slightly as his foot touched the cold ground. His back still ached from where he had fallen the day before, and his bandaged hand throbbed lightly. Gritting his teeth, Seokmin tried to stand, determined to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. But just as he started to move, the flap of the tent opened.

Joshua entered, his usual calm demeanor intact, though his eyes quickly scanned the room, taking note of Seokmin’s attempts to get up. Walking beside him was an assistant Seokmin didn’t recognize, a younger boy who carried a tray of medical supplies. Joshua’s sharp gaze settled on Seokmin, and he raised an eyebrow in mild disapproval.

"Whoa, where do you think you’re going?" Joshua asked, his tone light but firm as he approached Seokmin’s bed.

Seokmin froze for a moment, caught in the act. "I-I was just… trying to get outside," he stammered, his voice still shaky from the nightmare.

Joshua sighed, placing the tray of supplies down on a nearby table. "You’re not ready to be moving around yet, especially not after what happened yesterday. Your leg needs more rest." He gestured toward the cot. "Sit back down."

Reluctantly, Seokmin obeyed, lowering himself back onto the bed. His body protested the movement, every muscle sore from the previous day’s injuries.

Joshua glanced over at the still-sleeping Minghao before sitting down on the edge of Seokmin’s bed. His usual cheerful expression was softer now, more concerned as he looked at the younger boy. "How are you feeling? You looked pretty out of it when I came in."

Seokmin hesitated, unsure if he should mention the nightmare. He didn’t want to seem weak or like a burden, especially with everything that had happened. But Joshua’s gaze was patient, the kind of look that made it hard to hide anything.

"I… had a nightmare," Seokmin finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "About the village. About the Demonic."

Joshua’s expression softened further, and he nodded, as if understanding exactly what Seokmin was going through. "It’s not surprising," he said gently. "After everything you’ve been through, your mind is going to replay those memories. It’s how trauma works."

Seokmin swallowed hard, his throat tight as he tried to hold back the emotions threatening to rise. "I keep seeing them," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "My family… I couldn’t do anything. I just watched."

Joshua’s face grew more serious, his usual lightheartedness replaced with a deep empathy. "It wasn’t your fault, Seokmin," he said softly. "You couldn’t have stopped what happened. None of us could."

Seokmin shook his head, the guilt heavy in his chest. "But I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve—"

"Stop," Joshua interrupted, his voice firm but kind. "Don’t do that to yourself. You were just a kid caught in something none of us were prepared for. It’s easy to think about what you should’ve done, but that’s not going to help you move forward."

Seokmin looked down at his hands, his fingers twisting in the sheets. He wanted to believe Joshua’s words, but the weight of his loss still pressed down on him, suffocating in its intensity.

Joshua reached out, gently placing a hand on Seokmin’s shoulder. "You’re not alone in this," he said quietly. "We’re all here to help you, okay? It’s going to take time, but you’ll get through this. And your friends—they’re going to be with you every step of the way."

Seokmin nodded, though the knot in his chest remained tight. He appreciated Joshua’s kindness, but the pain felt too deep, too raw to let go of just yet.

The afternoon sun filtered gently through the med tent, casting soft shadows across the floor. Seokmin sat on his cot, idly picking at the bandages on his hand. Beside him, Minghao was still fast asleep, his breathing slow and even. The tent was mostly quiet except for the distant sounds of recruits training outside.

Suddenly, the entrance flap rustled, and Seokmin looked up to see his friends—Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol—enter the tent with wide smiles on their faces.

"Seokmin, you’re awake!" Mingyu grinned, setting down a small tray of food on the bedside table. The others followed suit, bringing in lunch for Seokmin and themselves.

"Yeah, I woke up a little while ago," Seokmin replied, his mood lifting slightly at the sight of his friends.

Seungkwan plopped down on the cot at the foot of Seokmin’s bed, pulling out a bread roll and taking a big bite. "We brought you some food! Figured you’d be starving by now."

"Thanks, I didn’t realize how hungry I was," Seokmin said, glancing at the food they had brought him.

As they all settled in, Seokmin looked at his friends, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "So... how was training?"

Mingyu was the first to respond, shrugging casually as he tore into his bread. "Not too bad, honestly. Mostly just running drills today. They’re getting us ready for more endurance training, but it wasn’t hard. Just a lot of laps."

Seungkwan nodded in agreement, his mouth still full of food. "Yeah, they had us running around the field for hours. It’s like they’re testing our stamina or something."

Hansol chimed in, "I think they want to see how well we hold up in long-distance runs. We’re going to need the stamina if we’re going to be out in the field for extended periods."

Seokmin nodded along, relieved that the training wasn’t too intense just yet. His mind, however, kept drifting back to the incident with Yunmin the night before. He glanced at his hand, the one that had been injured during the fight, and winced slightly. The pain had dulled since the morning, but the memory of that punch still lingered.

As the conversation flowed, Seokmin noticed Minghao stirring in the bed beside him. The boy shifted, sitting up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He seemed momentarily disoriented but quickly gathered his bearings, glancing around the tent.

Seokmin turned to him with a small smile. "Oh, you’re awake. Good afternoon, I guess?"

Minghao blinked a few times, his wide eyes locking onto Seokmin and the others. For a brief moment, he seemed startled, but then he relaxed, offering a small nod in return. His eyes darted to the tray of food on the small table beside his bed.

"That’s your lunch over there," Seokmin continued, gesturing to the untouched meal. "We brought it for you earlier. You should eat it."

Minghao’s gaze lingered on the food before he looked back at Seokmin and the others. He nodded again, a little slower this time, as if he was still processing everything. Quietly, he picked up the tray and began eating in small bites, though Seokmin noticed he seemed distant, like something was weighing heavily on his mind.

They all continued their conversation, laughing and chatting about training, their thoughts on the lieutenants, and speculations about what might come next in their journey. The energy was light, but Seokmin could feel a tension building from Minghao’s side of the tent. The boy had hardly spoken since waking up, his eyes downcast as he nibbled at his food.

Suddenly, Minghao’s voice cut through the conversation.

"Hey..." Minghao called out softly, his voice hesitant but clear enough to catch their attention.

Mingyu, still chewing on his bread, was the first to respond, his eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"

Minghao swallowed, his eyes darting between the four of them. He looked nervous, almost as if he was debating whether or not to say what was on his mind. Finally, he took a deep breath, his gaze landing on Seokmin. "I just... I just wanted to say thank you. And... I’m sorry for yesterday."

The words hung in the air for a moment, and Seokmin felt the weight of Minghao’s guilt. His apology wasn’t just for the fight—it was for everything, for being the reason Seokmin got hurt. The boy had clearly been struggling with it.

Seokmin blinked, surprised. "You don’t have to apologize, Minghao. It wasn’t your fault. Yunmin was the one who started everything."

Minghao shook his head. "No, it was my fault. If I hadn’t fought back... if I hadn’t lost my temper... you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I should’ve just ignored him."

Seokmin exchanged a glance with Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol, who all remained silent for a moment, letting Minghao’s words sink in.

Mingyu, leaning back in his chair, was the first to break the silence. "Look, Minghao. You stood up for yourself, and there’s no shame in that. Yunmin was the one acting like an idiot. Don’t blame yourself for his actions."

Seungkwan nodded in agreement, his usually upbeat demeanor softening. "Yeah, besides, we’ve all been there. People like Yunmin think they can push others around just because they’re rich or popular. You did what you had to."

Minghao looked down at his hands, fidgeting slightly. "I still feel like I should’ve handled it better," Minghao muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I let my anger get the best of me. And Seokmin... you got hurt because of it." His fingers clenched around the edge of his blanket, guilt flickering in his eyes.

Seokmin, seeing the sincerity in Minghao’s expression, shook his head. "You couldn’t have known what would happen. Yunmin pushed you too far, and anyone in your position would’ve fought back. I just reacted when I saw him coming at you. It’s not your fault."

Minghao still seemed unconvinced, his guilt evident in the way his shoulders slumped. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Mingyu cut him off with a gentle nudge on the arm.

"Listen, man. We’ve all been in situations where things got heated. The important thing is you stood up for yourself, and more importantly, we’ve got your back now. Yunmin won’t be bothering anyone like that again after last night."

Seungkwan, ever the optimist, added with a grin, "And hey, if he does, he’ll have to answer to us—and Lieutenant Chan, of course. Did you see how easily he dragged Yunmin to the med tent? That was hilarious."

Hansol, who had been mostly quiet, smirked. "I thought Yunmin was going to pass out from embarrassment. He had no idea what hit him"

Minghao’s lips curled into a small, hesitant smile at Hansol’s remark. It was clear he still felt guilty, but the atmosphere was slowly easing, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to loosen.

"Yeah, Chan didn’t even break a sweat," Seungkwan chuckled. "One second Yunmin’s all high and mighty, the next he’s being hauled like a sack of potatoes to the med tent. Talk about getting knocked down a peg."

Mingyu leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You should’ve seen Chan afterward. He was chatting with Junhui like nothing happened, completely unfazed. Meanwhile, Yunmin looked like he was trying to melt into the ground."

Seokmin, despite the pain in his back and the lingering memories of the Demonic attack, couldn’t help but crack a smile. He could picture Yunmin’s humbling, and for a moment, the weight of the nightmare he had woken from earlier lifted just a little. There was something reassuring about the fact that, no matter how dire things seemed, there was always room for moments like these—moments where friendship and lightheartedness cut through the heaviness.

"Honestly, after last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if Yunmin keeps his distance from all of us," Hansol said, his tone more serious. "But Minghao, don’t let him get under your skin again. You’ve got us now."

Minghao glanced at Seokmin, then at the others, a glimmer of something like gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks, guys. I won’t forget that."

As the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, Minghao quietly began eating his lunch, and Seokmin felt a strange sense of unity between them all. Despite everything that had happened—the attack, the Demonic, the trauma of losing so many—they were all still here. And in that moment, he felt a surge of determination rising within him. The guilt, the nightmares, and the haunting images of his family’s deaths—they were still there, but somehow, being surrounded by his friends, it was a little easier to bear.

The afternoon passed in peaceful conversation, the sounds of recruits training outside becoming a distant backdrop to their chatter. Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol were describing some of the more ridiculous things that had happened during training when the flap of the tent rustled again, and in walked Lieutenant Kwon.

"Well, look who’s finally up and about," Soonyoung teased, his eyes twinkling as he looked at Seokmin. "How’s the pain? You feel like you’re ready to run some laps with the others?"

Seokmin grimaced but laughed. "Not even close. My back’s still sore, and my leg feels like it got twisted in the wrong direction."

Soonyoung smirked, kneeling beside Seokmin’s bed to check his bandages. "Sounds about right. You took quite the tumble last night. Don’t push yourself too hard, though. You need time to heal properly."

Seokmin nodded, watching as Soonyoung expertly examined his wounds. For a moment, he felt a pang of frustration at his own weakness. He wanted to be out there, training with his friends, getting stronger, preparing to fight back against the Demonic. But his body had other ideas, and it reminded him of just how fragile he still was.

"You’ll be back on your feet soon," Soonyoung said, sensing Seokmin’s thoughts. "Just don’t rush it. We’ve all been there before—wanting to get back into the action, feeling like time is slipping away. But trust me, it’s better to heal right than to push yourself and get injured worse."

Seokmin sighed but smiled gratefully. "Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, Captain."

Soonyoung patted him on the shoulder and stood up, his gaze shifting to Minghao. "And how’s our other patient doing?"

Minghao straightened up a little, setting down his half-eaten lunch. "I’m fine, sir. Just... still a little sore."

"Good," Soonyoung replied, offering him a kind smile. "Take it easy today. You’ll both be back out there soon enough."

With that, Soonyoung left the tent, leaving the boys to finish their meal in a comfortable silence. For a while, the only sounds were the clinking of dishes and the faint murmur of voices outside.

After a long pause, Minghao spoke again, his voice softer this time. "I wasn’t really part of a group before I came here. Back in my village, I mostly kept to myself. But... it’s nice, having people to rely on."

Seokmin looked at him, catching the vulnerability in his tone. "Well, you’ve got us now," he said simply. "You don’t have to go through anything alone anymore."

Minghao met his gaze, and for the first time since they’d met, there was a genuine warmth in his expression. "Thanks."

The rest of the day passed slowly, with Seokmin and Minghao resting while their friends came and went between training sessions. The med tent became a sort of quiet refuge from the intensity of camp life, and by evening, Seokmin’s pain had dulled enough that he could move around more comfortably.

But as the night fell and the camp grew quieter, Seokmin found himself lying awake in bed, the familiar darkness of his thoughts creeping back in. His mind returned to the nightmares—the image of his family’s broken bodies, the Demonic tearing through the village, the helplessness he had felt as he watched it all happen.

He swallowed hard, clenching his fists as the memories resurfaced. No matter how much time passed, he knew the weight of that day would always be with him. But now, surrounded by his friends, he also knew he didn’t have to carry that weight alone.

With that thought, Seokmin closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep, knowing that tomorrow would bring new challenges—but also, the strength to face them together.

Chapter Text

The sun was already high in the sky as Seokmin and the other recruits gathered in the training grounds, their muscles aching from the morning’s intense session. Today was the first day Seokmin could finally walk without wincing, and he was determined to push through the pain. Beside him, Minghao stretched effortlessly, showing no signs of struggle. He was a natural, and it showed in the way he carried himself during training. Seokmin couldn't help but admire how composed he remained, even as the drills became more difficult.

Mingyu, standing on Seokmin’s other side, gave a confident nod to both of them. "This kind of training’s not too bad, right? Just hand-to-hand combat."

Seokmin smiled, feeling a bit better about his progress. "Yeah, it’s manageable. At least we’re not fighting Demonic today."

The three lieutenants overseeing the training—Seungcheol, Jihoon, and Wonwoo—walked among the recruits, correcting their stances and movements as they practiced basic fighting techniques. Seungcheol, ever the leader, barked out commands with precision, his eyes constantly scanning for mistakes. Wonwoo demonstrated a series of fluid motions, showing how to defend against different types of attacks. Jihoon, though smaller in stature, had a sharp eye for detail and ensured everyone’s movements were on point.

"Remember!" Seungcheol’s voice boomed across the training grounds. "Your stance is the foundation of everything. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, and keep your balance. If you’re not steady, you’re an easy target."

He walked over to Seokmin and lightly tapped his ankle with a wooden staff. "Spread your feet a little more, Seokmin. You need to stay grounded."

Seokmin adjusted his stance, nodding as he felt the difference. "Like this?"

"Perfect," Seungcheol said, giving a rare, approving smile.

Across the field, Wonwoo was demonstrating how to properly block an opponent’s punch. His movements were precise and almost effortless as he sidestepped an invisible blow and brought his arm up in a smooth arc. "Always watch your opponent’s shoulders," Wonwoo explained. "That’s where the movement starts. If you can read their shoulders, you can anticipate their attacks."

He turned to Minghao, who was standing nearby, watching attentively. "Minghao, try it. Throw a punch at me."

Minghao hesitated for a second but then stepped forward, throwing a quick punch aimed at Wonwoo’s shoulder. In a flash, Wonwoo sidestepped and brought his arm up, deflecting the punch with minimal effort.

"See?" Wonwoo said, nodding at Minghao’s form. "You need to keep your eyes sharp, but your body relaxed. Fighting is about control, not brute force."

Jihoon, who had been observing the recruits from a slight distance, stepped forward to address everyone. His expression was serious, but there was a hint of anticipation in his voice. "Alright, recruits, listen up. You’ve been learning the basics, but there’s more to fighting than just technique. You need to know how to react under pressure."

He paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. "After lunch, we’re going to pair you up, and you’ll fight each other in sparring matches. This isn’t just about winning—this is about applying what you’ve learned. But before we get to that, I want you all to see how it’s done properly."

The recruits straightened up, their attention fully focused on Jihoon now.

"We’ve got two of our finest lieutenants who are going to demonstrate a fight for you," Jihoon continued. "Captain Kwon and Sergeant Jeon. Watch them closely. Pay attention to their technique, their movements, how they read each other. This is how a real fight looks."

There was a ripple of excitement among the recruits. Seokmin could feel the anticipation building in the air. Kwon Soonyoung, with his playful yet sharp demeanor, was known for his agility and unpredictability in combat. On the other hand, Wonwoo, with his calm and calculating approach, was all about precision and strategy. Watching them fight would be like seeing two completely different styles clash.

Soonyoung, who had been standing near the edge of the training field, stepped forward with a grin. "Alright, recruits, get ready to see some real action."

Wonwoo followed, his expression calm but focused. "This isn’t a show," he said quietly, his voice carrying authority. "We’re not here to entertain you. We’re here to teach you how to survive. So watch closely."

The recruits gathered around as Jihoon took the center of the field, signaling for Soonyoung and Wonwoo to take their positions. He turned to the recruits one last time.

"Look for three things," Jihoon instructed. "First, their stances. How they move their feet. You’ll see that they’re always balanced, always ready to react. Second, their timing. They won’t waste a single move. Every strike, every block has a purpose. And third, their control. This isn’t about wild punches or kicks. It’s about precision and reading your opponent. Understand?"

The recruits nodded in unison, eyes wide with anticipation.

Seokmin could feel his pulse quicken as he watched the two lieutenants take their places. Minghao leaned in slightly, his attention laser-focused on the upcoming fight. Even Mingyu, who was usually confident about his fighting skills, seemed particularly interested in what was about to unfold.

Jihoon stepped back, his voice carrying over the field. "Now, watch and learn."

And with that, the fight was about to begin.

As Jihoon’s voice echoed across the training field, the recruits straightened up, eager to watch the demonstration. Sergeant Kwon Soonyoung and Sergeant Jeon Wonwoo stood across from each other in the middle of the field, both rolling their shoulders and stretching their limbs, preparing for the fight. There was an air of anticipation, tension building as everyone gathered around, forming a loose circle to witness what was bound to be an impressive display of skill.

The two sergeants faced off, each giving a slight bow out of respect before taking their stances. Wonwoo stood tall and steady, his movements deliberate and grounded, while Soonyoung, in contrast, seemed lighter on his feet, bouncing slightly as though anticipating every possible opening.

The fight began with a sudden burst of movement. Soonyoung lunged forward, quick as a flash, throwing a low kick aimed at Wonwoo’s legs. Wonwoo sidestepped it smoothly, barely moving his upper body, his sharp eyes trained on Soonyoung’s every movement.

Without hesitation, Soonyoung followed up with a series of rapid punches, but Wonwoo blocked them effortlessly, his arms moving with precision, deflecting every strike with minimal movement. It was clear Wonwoo was conserving his energy, while Soonyoung, known for his speed, was trying to overwhelm him with quick attacks.

"See that?" Jihoon pointed out to the recruits. "Wonwoo is staying calm. He’s reading Soonyoung, reacting only when necessary. That’s control. He’s not wasting energy with unnecessary moves."

As if on cue, Soonyoung launched himself into a spinning kick, his body twisting in midair, aiming for Wonwoo’s head. But just before the kick could connect, Wonwoo ducked, his body fluid and relaxed. He used the momentum of Soonyoung’s missed kick to step in close, grabbing Soonyoung’s wrist in a firm lock.

The recruits gasped as Wonwoo twisted Soonyoung’s arm, bringing him down to one knee. It looked like the fight was over, but Soonyoung wasn’t done. With a swift move, he twisted his body, breaking free from Wonwoo’s grip, and rolled to the side, coming back to his feet in one smooth motion.

"That’s what I mean by adaptability," Seungcheol added, crossing his arms as he watched the fight. "When you’re in a tough spot, don’t panic. Find a way out and keep moving."

Soonyoung and Wonwoo circled each other again, their eyes locked. This time, it was Wonwoo who moved first, stepping forward with a powerful punch aimed at Soonyoung’s midsection. But Soonyoung, quick as ever, sidestepped and countered with a swift elbow to Wonwoo’s ribs, making contact.

Wonwoo grunted but didn’t back down. He spun on his heel, using his larger frame to his advantage, and grabbed Soonyoung by the waist, lifting him off the ground in a powerful takedown. The recruits watched in awe as Soonyoung hit the ground hard, but instead of staying down, he immediately kicked out, forcing Wonwoo to release him.

They both sprang to their feet again, breathing heavier now, but neither showing signs of backing down.

Mingyu, who had been watching closely, leaned toward Seokmin. "They’re both crazy skilled. Wonwoo’s strength is unreal, but Soonyoung’s speed is something else. This is a real fight, not just a show."

Seokmin nodded, his eyes glued to the two sergeants as they continued to spar. This wasn’t just about brute force—there was a level of discipline and understanding behind every move they made. It was mesmerizing.

The next exchange was even faster. Soonyoung ducked low and swept his leg under Wonwoo, trying to trip him, but Wonwoo jumped at the last second, bringing his fist down in a powerful arc. Soonyoung rolled away just in time, barely avoiding the strike. He was on his feet again, but Wonwoo didn’t give him a second to breathe. He closed the distance, grabbing Soonyoung’s arm and locking it behind his back in a tight grip.

For a moment, it looked like Wonwoo had won, but Soonyoung, refusing to give in, used the last of his strength to throw his weight forward, flipping Wonwoo over his shoulder and slamming him into the ground. The recruits let out a collective gasp as Soonyoung, panting and drenched in sweat, stood over Wonwoo.

There was a brief moment of silence, tension thick in the air, before Soonyoung extended a hand to help Wonwoo to his feet. Wonwoo accepted, and the two exchanged a nod of mutual respect.

Jihoon clapped his hands sharply, breaking the tension. "That’s enough. Everyone, I hope you paid attention. What you saw wasn’t just raw power or speed—it was strategy. That’s what makes a good fighter."

Seokmin could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The fight had been intense, every move deliberate and calculated. It was clear now why Soonyoung and Wonwoo were the best—both had different strengths, but they complemented each other perfectly. He glanced at Minghao, who seemed as impressed as he was, though Minghao’s calm demeanor didn’t waver.

"After lunch," Jihoon continued, "you’ll all be paired up. Take what you’ve learned from this fight and apply it. No one expects you to be perfect, but we expect you to give it your all."

As the recruits began to disperse for lunch, Seokmin exchanged glances with his friends. Today’s training was just the beginning, and after seeing the level of skill required to survive, he knew he had a long way to go. But one thing was certain—he was ready to face whatever came next.

Chapter Text

As the recruits dispersed for lunch, the energy in the air was palpable. Seokmin could feel his own excitement bubbling beneath the surface after watching the incredible fight between Sergeant Kwon and Sergeant Jeon. It wasn’t just about physical prowess—it was about reading your opponent, adapting, and staying calm under pressure. He knew that if he wanted to survive the rigorous training ahead, he’d have to embody those same principles.

After lunch, the recruits gathered back on the training field. The sun was still high, beating down on them, but no one seemed to mind. The excitement from the earlier demonstration hadn’t worn off, and now it was time to test their own abilities.

Jihoon, standing in the center of the field again, called for the recruits’ attention. "Alright, listen up! You’ll each be paired with another recruit. This isn’t just about winning—this is about applying what you learned this morning. Keep your focus, stay disciplined, and don’t get reckless."

Seokmin was paired with a recruit he didn’t know well, a tall, lanky boy who seemed more nervous than aggressive. The two exchanged a respectful nod before taking their stances. Nearby, Seungkwan and Hansol were also paired with other recruits, and Seokmin could already hear Seungkwan offering loud words of encouragement, which earned a chuckle from Hansol.

As Seokmin sparred with his partner, he tried to remember what he had seen earlier—the calm control of Wonwoo and the quick adaptability of Soonyoung. His movements were slower and less precise, but he was trying his best to keep a steady stance, block his partner’s attacks, and throw a few punches of his own.

But across the field, something else was happening. Mingyu and Minghao had been paired together, and what had started as a simple spar quickly escalated. The two of them were equally skilled, and the sparring match that unfolded between them was anything but ordinary.

At first, it seemed like a normal bout. Mingyu threw a few quick punches, and Minghao deflected them effortlessly, moving with the same grace and precision he’d shown earlier. But as the match continued, their movements became sharper, faster, more intense. Each time one attacked, the other countered with equal skill, and soon, the recruits nearby couldn’t help but stop and watch.

Seokmin, noticing the growing crowd around Mingyu and Minghao, paused in his own sparring to glance over. What he saw stunned him.

Mingyu and Minghao moved as if they were dancing—a perfect combination of speed, strength, and strategy. Mingyu, with his tall and muscular frame, fought with raw power, each punch and kick carrying weight behind it. But Minghao, though smaller, was impossibly fast. He ducked and weaved around Mingyu’s attacks with an ease that left the recruits in awe. It was as if the two had been training together for years, knowing each other’s next move before it even happened.

Jihoon, who had been overseeing the sparring matches, noticed the growing tension between the two and stepped closer to observe. Seungcheol and Wonwoo joined him, their eyes fixed on the match. It wasn’t long before the entire group of recruits had gathered around to watch, captivated by the intense sparring session.

Minghao dodged a powerful punch from Mingyu, spinning on his heel and delivering a quick strike to Mingyu’s side. Mingyu grunted but didn’t back down, retaliating with a heavy kick aimed at Minghao’s legs. But Minghao jumped, twisting his body mid-air and landing gracefully, immediately launching a counterattack.

The crowd murmured in awe. This wasn’t just a spar anymore—it was a real fight, one that mirrored the level of intensity and skill they had witnessed between the lieutenants earlier that day.

"Look at them go," Seokmin whispered to Hansol, who had also stopped his sparring to watch. "It’s like watching Kwon and Jeon all over again."

Hansol nodded, his eyes wide with admiration. "Yeah, but Mingyu’s got so much power, and Minghao’s just too fast. I can’t believe how intense this is."

Minghao threw a rapid series of punches, all of which Mingyu managed to block, but barely. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, Mingyu charged forward, grabbing Minghao by the arm and attempting to throw him to the ground. But Minghao twisted his body at the last second, slipping out of Mingyu’s grip and rolling away.

The crowd of recruits gasped in unison. Even the lieutenants exchanged impressed glances.

Jihoon stepped forward, clearing his throat to catch their attention. "Alright, that’s enough!" he called, but there was a hint of pride in his voice. "Mingyu, Minghao—well done. That was exactly the kind of control and skill we’re looking for. But don’t overdo it in sparring. You still have a full day of training ahead."

Mingyu and Minghao, both panting from exertion, exchanged a glance. Despite the intensity of their match, there was mutual respect in their eyes. They each gave a slight nod before stepping back into the crowd.

As the recruits slowly dispersed to return to their training, Seokmin couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of determination. Watching Mingyu and Minghao spar had been like witnessing the next generation of leaders in the making. There was no doubt in his mind that, with enough hard work, he and his friends could reach that same level of skill.

But for now, there was still much to learn. And as the training day continued, Seokmin resolved to give it his all—just as he had seen Mingyu and Minghao do.

As the afternoon sun blazed down, the training resumed with the same intensity. The recruits, still buzzing from the excitement of Mingyu and Minghao’s spar, now found themselves even more determined to improve. Jihoon, Seungcheol, and Wonwoo paced around the field, correcting stances, demonstrating moves, and occasionally sparring with the recruits themselves.

Seokmin, though still recovering from his injuries, pushed himself hard. His legs ached, but he didn’t want to fall behind. His earlier spar had been basic, but now he was eager to absorb everything he had seen from the more advanced fighters.

As the recruits lined up for their next drill, Jihoon stood in front of them, arms crossed. "You all saw what happens when skill meets focus. Now we’re going to break it down, piece by piece."

He turned to Seungcheol. "You’re up first."

Seungcheol stepped forward and raised his fists, his expression serious but calm. "First thing you need to know is control. Your strength is nothing without it." He threw a slow punch, demonstrating how to maintain balance and proper stance. "Watch the way my body moves. I’m not just swinging wildly—every movement has purpose."

He then called up a recruit and had them throw a punch at him. With ease, Seungcheol deflected the punch, grabbed the recruit’s arm, and twisted them down to the ground in one fluid motion.

"See? It’s not about power—it’s about knowing how to use it," Seungcheol explained. "If you’re wild and reckless, your opponent will take advantage of that."

Next, Jihoon nodded at Wonwoo, who stepped forward. "Now, speed." Wonwoo’s movements were fast but deliberate as he demonstrated how to attack while remaining agile. He showed the recruits how to keep their body light, moving from foot to foot without wasting energy.

Minghao watched intently. He had a natural affinity for speed and agility, but seeing Wonwoo’s precision and calculated movements gave him new insight. He could tell that this was something he needed to master if he wanted to elevate his own fighting style.

Wonwoo’s demonstration was followed by a few more recruits being called up to try and land hits on him, all of which he avoided with minimal effort. "This isn’t about being flashy," Wonwoo said calmly. "It’s about anticipation. You need to learn how to read your opponent."

Lastly, Jihoon took his turn. He stood before the recruits and cracked his neck, a subtle but intimidating gesture. "And finally, strategy."

Jihoon moved with calculated intent, his body coiled with energy but never wasted. "When you fight, you don’t just throw punches. You need to think three steps ahead. Where is your opponent weakest? What are they not expecting?"

He called for Mingyu to step forward. The two faced off briefly, and in a blink, Jihoon ducked under Mingyu’s guard and landed a solid strike to his ribs. Mingyu grunted but managed to block the follow-up kick. Jihoon smiled, stepping back.

"See? I didn’t just attack blindly. I saw an opening, and I took it," Jihoon explained. "But when you do, you have to be ready for your opponent’s counter. Always stay two steps ahead."

The recruits nodded, absorbing every word. Seokmin, in particular, found himself reflecting on his own approach to sparring. He realized that while he might lack the raw speed of Minghao or the power of Mingyu, he could focus on strategy and control. That was something he could develop.

"Alright," Jihoon said, clapping his hands once. "Pair up again. This time, I want you to apply what you’ve learned. No reckless attacks. Be smart. Use control, speed, and strategy."

Seokmin found himself paired with a different recruit this time, a stockier boy with a determined expression. As they squared off, Seokmin kept Jihoon’s advice in mind. He wasn’t as fast as his opponent, but he focused on watching the boy’s movements, anticipating his next strike. When the boy lunged at him, Seokmin managed to sidestep and land a light punch on the side of his arm. It wasn’t much, but it was progress.

Nearby, Seungkwan and Hansol were sparring with their partners, both of them showing improvement from earlier. Seungkwan, always vocal, called out a triumphant cheer every time he managed to land a hit, while Hansol kept his focus, his eyes sharp and determined.

But once again, it was Mingyu and Minghao who stole the attention of everyone on the field.

Their sparring had become even more intense, their movements more refined. Each strike, each dodge was a perfect blend of power and speed. Mingyu’s strength seemed unstoppable, but Minghao’s agility kept him one step ahead, constantly evading Mingyu’s heavy hits while landing precise strikes of his own.

Even the lieutenants couldn’t help but watch. Jihoon, Seungcheol, and Wonwoo stood to the side, their expressions serious as they observed the two recruits.

Mingyu threw a powerful kick aimed at Minghao’s midsection, but Minghao blocked it with his arm, the force of the blow making him slide back slightly. He quickly countered with a sharp punch, but Mingyu grabbed his wrist, twisting him around in an attempt to throw him to the ground.

Minghao, however, was ready. Using the momentum, he spun out of Mingyu’s grip and landed a kick to his shoulder, causing Mingyu to stumble. The crowd of recruits murmured in awe as the fight continued, each movement more precise than the last.

It was as if the two had stepped into their own world, the rest of the field fading away as they pushed each other to their limits.

Finally, Jihoon raised his hand. "Alright, enough!" he called, stepping forward. "Mingyu, Minghao—you two are done for today."

Breathing heavily, both Mingyu and Minghao stepped back, their gazes locked for a moment longer before they exchanged a nod. The tension between them eased as they both smiled slightly, knowing they had pushed each other to new heights.

As the recruits finished their sparring sessions, Jihoon gathered them together once more. "Good work today. You’ve made progress, but there’s still a long way to go. Keep training hard, and remember—skill comes with time and effort."

Seokmin, tired but inspired, glanced over at his friends. They all shared the same determined expression, knowing that this was just the beginning.

Chapter Text

The past few weeks had been grueling. Training from sunrise to sunset, pushing their bodies and minds beyond their limits. It was exhausting. But even with all the progress they had made, Seokmin couldn’t shake the growing weight pressing against his chest.

Seungkwan had discovered a talent for medicine, excelling in treating wounds and understanding the human body better than most. Hansol had proven himself a natural at handling aerial combat and ranged attacks, mastering the use of flying contraptions with ease. Mingyu and Minghao, of course, were an unstoppable force when it came to hand-to-hand combat, their skill and speed making them some of the most formidable recruits in the camp.

Seokmin? He wasn’t sure where he fit in.

He wasn’t the fastest like Minghao. He didn’t have the brute strength of Mingyu. He wasn’t as tactical as Hansol or as sharp as Seungkwan. And when paired with Mingyu and Minghao for sparring, he always found himself struggling to keep up, their movements too swift, their reflexes too sharp. It was as if every fight was a lesson in his own shortcomings. He forced himself to act fine in front of them, smiling, laughing, pretending it didn’t bother him. But deep down, doubt festered like a wound that refused to heal.

And now, as the entire camp lay in slumber, Seokmin found himself awake, his mind restless.

It was just past 2 AM when he stirred from his cot, realizing his need to relieve himself. The dormitory was silent, save for the soft sounds of his fellow recruits breathing in their sleep. Careful not to wake anyone, he slipped out of bed, pulled on his boots, and stepped outside into the cool night air.

The moon hung high above the camp, casting a silver glow over the training field. The air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of rustling leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. Seokmin made his way toward the latrines, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

After finishing, he started back toward his dorm, until something caught his attention.

A faint sound. The unmistakable clash of metal against metal.

His heart skipped a beat. Was someone fighting? At this hour?

His curiosity got the better of him, and instead of heading back, he quietly followed the noise. He weaved through the trees surrounding the field, his steps light against the earth. The sounds grew clearer. The sharp whistle of blades cutting through the air, the dull thud of feet hitting the ground, the grunts of exertion.

Finally, he reached a clearing, ducking behind the thick trunk of an old tree. What he saw made his breath hitch in his throat.

Captain Yoon and Lieutenant Hong.

They weren’t just standing there. They were fighting. No, training.

Seokmin’s eyes widened as he watched them move.

Captain Yoon— aka Jeonghan, dressed in his usual dark combat attire, moved with power and precision, his sword cutting through the air in deliberate, controlled arcs. Every step was measured, every strike executed with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before.

Lieutenant Hong— aka Joshua, in contrast, was fluid and unpredictable, his movements swift as he dodged and countered. His twin daggers gleamed under the moonlight, spinning in his hands like extensions of his own body. He didn’t stand still for even a second, always moving, always adapting.

They clashed again, and the force of the impact sent a sharp ring echoing through the night.

Seokmin watched in awe as their fight unfolded.

Jeonghan stepped forward, bringing his sword down in a powerful overhead strike, but Joshua sidestepped at the last second, twisting his body and slashing at Jeonghan's exposed side. But Jeonghan was ready. He spun his blade at the last moment, deflecting the dagger with an effortless flick of his wrist.

The counter sent Joshua skidding backward, but he recovered instantly, lunging forward in a blur of motion. His daggers flashed, one aiming high and the other low, forcing Jeonghan to block both simultaneously. The force of the impact pushed them apart, but neither hesitated.

Jeonghan was the first to move this time, his sword slicing through the air in a brutal arc. Joshua ducked low, barely missing the blade as he twisted his body, using the momentum to kick out at Jeonghan’s legs. Jeonghan jumped back just in time, avoiding the trip but leaving an opening, one that Joshua exploited immediately.

With lightning speed, he closed the distance, aiming his dagger toward Jeonghan's ribs.

At the last second, Jeonghan twisted his body, catching Joshua's wrist in a vice-like grip. Before Joshua could react, Jeonghan pivoted, using his superior strength to hurl the lieutenant to the ground. But instead of slamming against the dirt, Joshua twisted mid-fall, landing on his feet like a cat.

They faced each other again, breathing heavily.

Then, Jeonghan smirked. “Not bad.”

Joshua chuckled, spinning his daggers between his fingers. “You’re holding back.”

“Maybe.” Jeonghan lifted his sword. “One more round?”

Joshua grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They lunged at each other again, their weapons clashing with renewed intensity. Seokmin was so mesmerized that he didn’t notice how much time had passed.

He didn’t realize how long he had been standing there.

Only when the fight finally ended did he snap out of his trance. Both men straightened, lowering their weapons. Jeonghan wiped sweat from his brow, while Joshua sheathed his daggers with a satisfied sigh.

Seokmin knew he should leave.

But the second he turned—

CRACK.

A dry twig snapped under his boot.

Seokmin froze.

The sound was deafening in the quiet night.

Both men whipped around.

“Who’s there?!” Jeonghan’s voice was sharp, commanding.

Seokmin’s breath caught in his throat. He was done for.

He considered running, but he knew that wouldn’t end well. So, swallowing hard, he stepped out from behind the tree, his hands raised slightly in surrender.

“U-Um… it’s me...” he stammered.

Joshua narrowed his eyes. “Seokmin?”

Joshua crossed his arms. “What are you doing here?”

Seokmin felt his face burn with embarrassment. “I-I was just heading back from the restroom and… I heard noises… I didn’t mean to spy! I swear!”

There was a moment of silence before Jeonghan sighed, shaking his head. “You should be sleeping.”

“I-I know, I just—” Seokmin hesitated, then looked at them with genuine admiration. “That was… amazing.”

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “You were watching the whole time?”

Seokmin nodded shyly. “I couldn’t look away.”

For a long moment, neither of the two officers spoke. Then, to Seokmin’s surprise, Jeonghan’s lips quirked into a small smirk.

“Come here.”

Seokmin blinked. “Huh?”

Joshua nodded toward the clearing. “Since you’re already awake, why don’t you show us what you’ve learned?”

Seokmin’s stomach dropped.

Oh, no.

This was not what he expected.

Seokmin swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest.

He had been ready to refuse. He wanted to refuse. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Jeonghan and Joshua, two of the highest-ranking officers in the camp. They had just finished an intense spar, and there was no way he could measure up to their level.

But before he could even get the words out, Jeonghan’s voice rang sharp and undeniable.

“It’s an order. Come here.”

Seokmin stiffened. “B-but, Captain—”

“It’s an order, Seokmin-ssi.” Jeonghan’s voice was firm, unyielding. His sharp gaze pinned Seokmin in place, leaving no room for argument. “Come here, or you’ll be getting a punishment tomorrow for wandering around at midnight.”

Seokmin felt the weight of those words settle on his shoulders. Punishment.

His throat went dry. He knew exactly what that meant. Extra drills, endless laps under the scorching sun, or worse, being assigned to the worst cleaning duties in the entire camp.

His body reacted before his mind could catch up. With heavy steps, he walked forward.

The moment he stepped into the clearing, he felt the air shift. The moonlight cast long shadows over the training ground, making it feel isolated, detached from the rest of the world. It was just him, Jeonghan, and Joshua, and there was no escape.

Joshua crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “You don’t seem very confident.”

Seokmin lowered his gaze, fists clenching at his sides. “That’s because I’m not…”

Jeonghan let out a small hum. “And why is that?”

Seokmin hesitated, then sighed. “I’m not strong enough.”

There. He said it.

It was something that had been eating at him for weeks. Watching Mingyu and Minghao dominate in combat, seeing Seungkwan and Hansol excel in their own areas—it had made Seokmin realize just how far behind he really was.

He was just average.

And in a place like this, average wasn’t good enough.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then suddenly —

A sharp, sudden movement.

Before Seokmin could react, Joshua stepped forward, his foot sweeping toward Seokmin’s leg.

Seokmin barely had time to register the attack before his balance was stolen from him.

THUD.

His back hit the ground hard.

Seokmin gasped, the air knocked from his lungs as he stared up at the night sky. His entire body shook with the force of the fall.

Joshua stood over him, arms still crossed. His face was unreadable, but his tone was calm. “That’s exactly why you’re weak.”

Seokmin’s breath came in quick, shallow bursts as he tried to process what had just happened.

Jeonghan stepped beside Joshua, looking down at Seokmin. “Get up.”

Seokmin swallowed and pushed himself to his feet, legs unsteady. His pride stung more than his body.

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly. “Again.”

Seokmin barely had time to brace himself before Joshua moved again, this time, faster.

Another sweep, another fall.

THUD.

Seokmin groaned, wincing at the impact.

Joshua let out a sigh. “You fall too easily.”

Seokmin clenched his jaw. Of course I do! You’re one of the best fighters in the entire camp! But he didn’t dare say it out loud.

“Get up.” Jeonghan’s voice was calm, but there was an edge of expectation in it.

Seokmin gritted his teeth and forced himself up again.

And again.

And again.

Each time, Joshua took him down with minimal effort.

Each time, Jeonghan ordered him to stand.

Seokmin’s body ached, his muscles screaming in protest, but he refused to stop. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing him break.

Jeonghan watched him closely, arms behind his back. “Tell me, Seokmin-ssi.”

Seokmin wiped the sweat from his brow, breathing hard. “Y-yes!”

Jeonghan’s next words were sharp as a blade.

“Do you want to be weak forever?”

Seokmin froze. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.

Weak.

He hated that word.

And yet… wasn’t that exactly what he was?

He sucked in a shaky breath. “No.”

Jeonghan’s lips quirked slightly. “Then fight back.”

Seokmin’s breath caught.

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “You’re not trying.”

“I am—”

“No, you’re not.” Joshua’s voice was calm, but there was an undeniable challenge in his eyes. “You’re just waiting to lose.”

Seokmin stiffened.

Joshua took a slow step forward. “Fight back.”

Seokmin swallowed. He couldn’t win. That was obvious. Joshua was too fast, too skilled.

But…

He wasn’t asking him to win.

He was asking him to fight.

Something inside Seokmin snapped.

He exhaled sharply, adjusting his stance. His feet planted firmly into the ground, shoulders squared. This time, he was ready.

Joshua moved.

Seokmin saw it, the subtle shift in weight, the flicker of motion before the attack. Instead of hesitating, he reacted.

When Joshua’s leg swept toward him, Seokmin didn’t dodge. He countered.

He pivoted, shifting his weight to the opposite side, and instead of falling, he twisted his body just enough to stay upright. His foot shot forward in an instinctive counterattack, aiming low.

It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t fast.

But at least, it was something.

Joshua stopped.

Seokmin’s breath was ragged as he held his stance, fists clenched. He didn’t expect his attack to land but he also hadn’t fallen.

The silence stretched.

Then, Jeonghan smirked.

“That’s more like it.”

Joshua dusted off his sleeves, nodding slightly. “Not bad.”

Seokmin blinked. “…Huh?”

Joshua turned away, already stepping toward the barracks. “Training is over. Go to sleep.”

Seokmin stared. That was it?

Jeonghan watched him for a long moment before speaking again. “You’re not as weak as you think.”

Seokmin’s eyes widened slightly.

Jeonghan turned away. “Don’t make me repeat this lesson.”

With that, both officers left, leaving Seokmin standing alone in the moonlit clearing.

His body ached, his mind was spinning, but for now...

He didn’t feel weak.

The Moment He Decided to Change

The night air was cool and crisp, wrapping around Seokmin’s sore body as he stood frozen in place, watching Jeonghan and Joshua walk away. Their words still echoed in his mind.

"You're not as weak as you think."

That single sentence struck deep, deeper than any of the countless times he had been knocked to the ground tonight.

Seokmin’s breath was uneven, his heart still pounding from the training session. His legs felt like they might give out at any moment, and yet—

He didn’t want this to end here.

His lips parted before he could stop himself.

“W-wait!”

His voice cut through the silence, breaking the rhythm of the crickets and rustling leaves. The two older men halted mid-step, their backs still turned to him.

Seokmin’s heart raced. His mind screamed at him to shut up, to just go back to the tent and let the night end. But his body wouldn’t listen.

This was his chance.

He hesitated, swallowing down the nervous lump in his throat. “Captain, Sir… can I…”

He clenched his fists at his sides.

Say it! Say it!

He had already made up his mind, hadn’t he? He had already felt it. That spark, that desire to change.

No more excuses. No more running away.

Seokmin inhaled deeply.

“Can we do it again tomorrow?”

The moment the words left his lips, he felt his pulse quicken.

Would they reject him? Would they laugh? Would they say he wasn’t worth their time?

For a few seconds, there was no response.

And then—

Jeonghan chuckled, low and amused. Though Seokmin couldn’t see it, a knowing smirk tugged at the captain’s lips, mirrored by Joshua beside him.

Jeonghan finally spoke. “Meet us here again tomorrow.”

He raised a hand in the air without turning around, a lazy wave as he resumed walking.

Seokmin’s eyes widened.

His chest felt lighter.

A grin spread across his face before he even realized it. His heart, once heavy with self-doubt, now felt lighter than air.

“Yes! Thank you, Captain!”

He bowed deeply, not caring if they couldn’t see it. His entire body buzzed with something new, something warm. Something like hope.

Chapter Text

The moment the sun dipped below the horizon, Seokmin found himself restless.

All day, he had waited for this moment. Every second had felt like an eternity as he completed his daily drills, helped out in the mess hall, and endured Mingyu and Minghao teasing him about looking so distracted.

Now, as the clock approached midnight, he was already at the training grounds.

Waiting.

The air was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the trees above. The moon bathed the clearing in a silver glow, casting long shadows against the dirt.

Seokmin inhaled deeply, rolling his shoulders. Tonight, he wouldn’t hesitate.

Tonight, he would fight back.

The faint sound of footsteps made him straighten.

They were here.

Jeonghan and Joshua emerged from the darkness, their silhouettes sharp against the moonlight.

Seokmin swallowed his nerves and stepped forward.

Joshua glanced him up and down, arms crossed. “You’re early.”

Seokmin nodded. “I was waiting.”

Jeonghan smirked. “Good. That means you’re ready.”

Without another word, Joshua moved.

Seokmin barely had time to react before Joshua’s leg swept forward the same attack as last night.

But this time...

Seokmin anticipated it.

He braced himself, shifting his weight before Joshua could make contact. Instead of letting himself fall, he pivoted, feet steady, movements sharper than before.

Joshua’s eyes narrowed slightly, a glimmer of approval flashing across his face.

Seokmin exhaled, steadying himself.

I didn’t fall.

That small victory ignited something inside him.

Joshua didn’t give him time to celebrate, he struck again, this time faster.

Seokmin’s reflexes were too slow to counter completely, but instead of landing on his back, he rolled with the fall, pushing himself up in one fluid motion.

Jeonghan let out a low whistle. “That’s better.”

Seokmin’s chest heaved, but he grinned despite the sweat on his forehead. “Again.”

Joshua smirked. “Don’t beg for more if you can’t handle it.”

Seokmin just grinned wider.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to prove that I can.”

The fight continued, the moon watching over them as Seokmin pushed himself further than he ever had before.

The days that followed fell into a familiar rhythm.

Each morning, Seokmin would wake up with aching muscles and bruises in places he never knew could hurt, but he would still drag himself out of bed and push through the daily training.

During the day, he trained alongside the others, sparring, running drills, and learning the fundamentals of combat. It was clear he still lacked the skill and experience of Minghao, Mingyu, or even some of the other recruits, but he didn’t let that discourage him.

He had made up his mind.

And at night, long after most had gone to sleep. He would meet Jeonghan and Joshua in the clearing behind the training grounds.

The first few nights were the hardest.

Despite his determination, Seokmin found himself falling again and again, hitting the ground with a force that knocked the breath out of him. His legs trembled, his arms burned, and his body felt like it might collapse from exhaustion.

But every time he fell, he got back up.

Joshua would stand over him, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. "You’re slow. Again."

Jeonghan, watching from the side, would smirk. "You keep hesitating. Think less, react faster."

And so he would try again.

Again.

Again.

And again.

The nights blurred into one another, each session pushing him further. The bruises on his arms and legs multiplied, but so did his confidence.

Whenever he struggled with a technique during the day, he would seek out Joshua or Jeonghan at night, asking questions until he understood.

And without realizing it, he was growing closer to them.

.

.

.

One afternoon, after training, Joshua approached him.

"How’s your wrist?" Joshua asked casually, nodding toward Seokmin’s arm, which he had landed on awkwardly the night before.

Seokmin blinked in surprise before flexing his fingers. "It’s fine! Barely hurts at all."

Joshua raised an eyebrow. "So, you’re saying you don’t need to visit the medic tent?"

Seokmin hesitated.

"...Maybe just to be sure?"

Joshua smirked. "Thought so. Come with me."

Seokmin followed him into the medic tent, expecting a quick check-up. Instead, Joshua sat him down and started explaining the basics of medical treatment.

"Since you’re always getting hurt, might as well teach you how to patch yourself up." Joshua said dryly as he wrapped Seokmin’s wrist with a bandage.

Seokmin chuckled. "That bad, huh?"

"Let’s just say you’re predictable." Joshua replied, lips twitching in amusement.

The conversation shifted into a comfortable one, Joshua casually teaching him about pressure points, wound care, and how to recognize serious injuries.

Eventually, Jeonghan joined them, lazily draping himself across a chair.

"You two are bonding. How cute," Jeonghan teased, resting his chin on his palm.

"I’m teaching him first aid." Joshua said casual.

Jeonghan grinned. "So cute."

Seokmin laughed, feeling something warm settle in his chest.

Even during the day, Jeonghan would casually check in. If he noticed Seokmin struggling during training, he’d make a quick comment like,

"Bend your knees more unless you want to fall on your face again."

Or

"If you drop your guard like that, even a kid could knock you down."

At first, it felt like endless criticism, but over time, Seokmin realized something.

They were paying attention.

They were invested in him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Seokmin found himself more eager than ever for the nighttime sessions.

What had once felt like an impossible challenge was now something he looked forward to.

"Let’s see if you’ve actually improved." Jeonghan mused one night, stepping onto the training field with a smirk.

Seokmin grinned, his body already shifting into a defensive stance.

Joshua watched from the sidelines, arms crossed. "Try not to embarrass yourself this time."

"Wow, so much confidence in me." Seokmin said sarcastically before lunging forward.

He still wasn’t perfect.

There were still moments where he slipped, where he hesitated a second too long, giving Jeonghan the perfect opening to send him sprawling onto the ground.

But...

He got up faster.

His movements were sharper.

He didn’t let failure weigh him down.

As the training continued, Jeonghan’s smirk grew wider. Joshua nodded in approval.

Seokmin wiped the sweat from his brow and grinned.

Chapter Text

Five Months in the Camp. Without realizing it, five months had passed since they had arrived at the camp.

And for Seokmin, it had been nearly four months since he started his secret training with Joshua and Jeonghan.

Over time, his body had toughened. His reflexes had sharpened. The once overwhelming fatigue had become familiar, something he could endure. He had fallen countless times, but he had always gotten back up.

However, despite the progress, the tension in the air was heavier than ever.

They only had one more month before the camp officially ended.

And in just two weeks, the final selection would take place.

Even though there were still dozens of recruits left, the Armed Forces would only select seventy of them. Those who weren’t chosen would be sent elsewhere.

Everyone knew this.

They could feel it in every moment of training, every exhausted breath, every bruise and ache that they endured.

In the past five months, they had seen many recruits quit.

Some had walked away in the middle of the night, never returning. Some had collapsed from sheer exhaustion, unable to go on. Some had simply given up, unable to withstand the brutal routine.

And if they were being honest with themselves, even they had moments where they wanted to quit.

But they didn’t.

They refused to.

And now, with the selection so close, they had no choice but to keep going.

.

.

.

For the first time in months, the recruits had been given a rare moment of free time.

The captains and lieutenants were having an important meeting, leaving them without training for the afternoon.

Some recruits took this time to sleep, exhausted from the past weeks of training. Others continued practicing on their own, pushing themselves harder, afraid of falling behind. Some still remained in the food tent, eating slowly, taking their time with their meals.

And then there was Seokmin and his friends. Seungkwan, Hansol, Mingyu, and Minghao who had taken shelter in one of the small wooden huts, a half-eaten watermelon sitting in the middle of them.

It was a rare moment for them to just sit, rest, and talk.

Seokmin took a big bite of his watermelon, sighing in satisfaction as the cold juice dripped down his chin.

"This is heaven." he murmured, leaning back against the wooden wall.

"Agreed." Mingyu groaned, lying flat on his back with his arms stretched out, too full and too tired to move.

Hansol was lazily chewing on a piece of fruit, his fork spinning between his fingers. Minghao sat next to him, silent as usual, though his eyes were focused on Seokmin, as if observing something.

Seungkwan, on the other hand, was the first to break the silence.

"Oh yeah, Seok." he started, licking the watermelon juice off his fingers.

Seokmin hummed in response, still chewing.

"What’s been going on with you, Captain Yoon and Lieutenant Hong?"

At those words, Mingyu who had been lying down immediately sat up.

Minghao and Hansol also turned to look at Seokmin, their curiosity now fully directed at him.

"What’s with me and them?" Seokmin asked, still chewing, blinking at them in confusion.

"Aeee c'mon, Seok. Everyone's noticed how close you are with them." Mingyu said, narrowing his eyes.

"You’ve been spending a lot of time with them." Seungkwan added, taking another bite of his watermelon.

"Are you hiding something?" Hansol leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing playfully.

Seokmin looked between them, then laughed.

"What? No! There’s nothing weird going on. They just... helped me a lot during training." he admitted with a sheepish smile.

Mingyu squinted at him.

"But when? You’re always with us during the day! Unless you were in the med tent, I never saw you train with them."

"Yeah." Seungkwan added. "It’s not like we ever saw you doing extra training..."

Hansol, who had been quietly observing, suddenly pointed his fork at Seokmin.

"Well, I can’t lie, you have gotten stronger," he admitted. "You move better now. Faster. Precise."

Seokmin’s eyes widened in pure delight.

"Really?" His face lit up, a wide grin spreading across his lips.

He loved getting compliments.

The others nodded in agreement.

Even Minghao, who had been silent until now, finally spoke.

"Is it when you always sneak out at night?"

The entire group froze.

Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Hansol stared at Seokmin, eyes wide in shock.

"You sneak out?!" Mingyu gaped.

Seokmin blinked and he just laughed awkwardly.

"You knew?" he asked, looking at Minghao.

Minghao nodded, taking a slow bite of his watermelon. "Yeah."

"Wait, wait, wait! you knew this whole time, hao?!" Seungkwan turned to him, eyes filled with betrayal.

Minghao shrugged. "It was obvious."

"Obvious?!" Mingyu nearly choked. "You mean to tell me you’ve been sneaking out at night, and Minghao knew, and we didn’t?!"

Seokmin giggled at their reactions, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oops?"

Mingyu groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the floor.

"Unbelievable. I thought we were friends, Seok."

"We are friends!" Seokmin laughed.

"Friends don’t keep secrets like this!" Seungkwan crossed his arms, pouting.

Hansol leaned back, shaking his head in amusement. "Okay, but why were you sneaking out?"

Seokmin exhaled, deciding there was no point in hiding it anymore.

"I’ve been training with Captain Yoon and Sir Hong at night." he admitted.

The four of them gasped.

"You WHAT?!" Seungkwan shouted.

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" Seokmin hissed, waving his hands.

Mingyu sat up so fast he nearly knocked over the watermelon.

"Wait—you mean to tell me you’ve been getting special training with those two this entire time?!"

"That’s why you’ve been improving so fast." Hansol muttered, realization dawning on him.

Seungkwan looked offended.

"Seok, I’ve been struggling to survive this camp, and here you are training with the best officers in secret?!"

Seokmin chuckled nervously.

"It wasn’t like that! I just... I didn’t plan for it to happen. It just happened one night, and then it kept going," he explained.

Minghao sighed. "I knew something was up. I could see the bruises that weren’t from regular training."

Mingyu threw his hands up. "I can’t believe this."

Seokmin grinned.

"Well... now you know."

Seungkwan narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, we know. And now, you owe us an explanation for every single detail."

Seokmin laughed.

"Fine, fine. I’ll tell you everything."

And so, he did.

As they sat together, eating watermelon under the warm afternoon sun, Seokmin told them everything. About the night he got caught, about the brutal training, about the lessons he learned, and about the bond he had unknowingly formed with Jeonghan and Joshua.

Little did they know...this was only the beginning.

Chapter Text

Guys sorry, I think I might change the ship from soonhoon to jicheol!

Soonyoung didn't have anyone, same as chan since he's too young.