Chapter 342: Induction - I

"Next!"

Bram stepped onto the training ground carrying a padded practice weapon shaped like his old machete.

Across from him stood an Army Soldier wearing ordinary training clothes. The man was taller than Bram, with a broad frame and a relaxed expression.

He wasn’t even holding a weapon.

"Whenever you’re ready," the soldier said.

Bram took a deep breath and settled into his stance, holding the padded machete in front of him.

For weeks, the instructors drilled him in footwork, combinations, and defense. They also worked on his habit of charging straight at an opponent, something he picked up fighting infected on the rooftops.

After being thrown around in their previous sparring sessions, Bram knew better than to underestimate the man.

He advanced with short steps, keeping his weapon between them, then lunged forward with a quick diagonal strike. As he withdrew the weapon, he attacked from the opposite direction.

The soldier slipped outside the first strike. As Bram followed with the second, the man stepped inside his reach and caught his wrist.

Bram reacted at once, lowering his weight and turning his arm to escape the grip, just as he had been taught. But the soldier turned his wrist first, dragging the weapon down and pulling Bram off balance. His feet left the ground.

"Whoa—!"

THUD!

Bram landed on the padded floor.

"One point. Again."

The soldier released his wrist and stepped away.

Bram rolled onto his side and recovered to his feet.

"Come on, Bram!" Tomas called from the waiting area. "You said you were going to beat him!"

Bram tightened his grip on the weapon. It wasn’t the first time the man had thrown him. Bram had sparred with several soldiers over the past weeks, and he had yet to land a clean strike on any of them.

At least he could recognize some of their movements now. That was more than he’d managed at the start.

This time, he approached more carefully. The soldier remained in place.

Bram shifted his weight forward, making a short swing toward the man’s upper body before changing direction and attacking his leg instead.

He followed the movement with a quick step to the side, intending to keep the soldier from moving around him. The soldier turned with him. Bram recognized the movement and brought his weapon back into guard.

Before he could finish, the soldier tapped the back of his shoulder. He stumbled forward, and the soldier caught him before he fell.

"Second point."

"Argh, not again!"

"You’re leaving yourself open."

"You don’t have to remind me about that!"

The Army Soldier simply smirked before gesturing for Bram to start again.

Mara watched from the waiting area, where several other applicants were waiting for their turns. She had seen Bram fight before.

Back when they were trapped inside the commercial building, he was the one who kept rushing toward anything that threatened them.

His machete wasn’t much of a weapon against the stronger infected, but he had managed to keep several ordinary ones away long enough for the others to escape. He had learned to fight better since then, yet the instructor kept slipping past him.

Bram attacked again. This time, he stopped trying to overwhelm the instructor with combinations.

He approached from an angle, testing the man’s guard with two short attacks before pulling back. When the soldier followed, Bram shifted to his left and attempted another strike.

He pulled back before the soldier could catch his wrist. But the instructor was waiting for that step. The man moved around Bram’s guard and tapped him on the back.

"Third point. That’s enough."

"Wait! One more!"

"Assessment’s over, candidate."

"But—"

"Bram."

The soldier’s voice hadn’t changed, but something about the way he said his name made Bram stop.

"Put the weapon down."

Bram hesitated, then handed back the practice weapon.

"Fine."

He walked back toward the others, looking as though he wanted to kick something. Tomas was already smiling.

"That was impressive."

"Fuck off."

"Three attacks. Three losses."

"You talk as if you could hit him. Want me to hit you instead?"

"No, thanks. I saw what happened to the last guy who tried."

Mara shook her head.

"You’re both idiots."

...

The assessments continued.

The four teenagers were among dozens of applicants taking their final physical evaluations. Some were former soldiers or security personnel; others came from civilian backgrounds. Applicants with military or security experience lasted longer than most.

Every soldier stationed at the Main Base was a three-star veteran. Under Hans’s policy, those who earned their stars rotated back from the front while newly produced soldiers filled the forward formations. Their instructors had survived enough fighting to earn those promotions, along with the improvements that came with them.

The applicants had learned proper techniques, and several were making good progress. But when those same instructors sparred against them, the difference was ridiculous. Even while holding back, the veterans were faster, stronger, and more precise.

Some applicants could recognize the attacks and respond with the right technique. None of them could land a clean hit.

...

Niko was the next of their group to be called. He approached the training area and accepted a padded practice stick.

"Can I keep my distance?" he asked.

"As long as you stay inside the marked area."

Niko nodded. Unlike Bram, he didn’t rush forward. He stood a few meters away, keeping the weapon in front of him while watching the soldier’s hands and feet.

"Go ahead," the instructor said.

Niko began circling to the right, using short steps to maintain his distance. The instructor followed. Niko changed direction twice, watching how the instructor shifted his weight.

His feet stayed beneath him, ready to retreat without turning his back.

Mara understood what he was doing.

Niko had always preferred to fight from a distance. During their time on the rooftops, he used his short bow to attack infected approaching the barricades.

He wasn’t particularly strong, but he could remain patient when the others started panicking. The training had helped him turn that caution into better footwork.

The problem was that this wasn’t a rooftop, and the soldier wasn’t an infected.

Niko darted in, struck toward the instructor’s upper body, and pulled back. The soldier followed. Niko stepped back and struck again, aiming for the man’s arm.

The instructor caught the practice stick.

"Huh?"

Niko tried pulling it back, but it didn’t budge. He shifted his grip, intending to free the weapon by turning it against the man’s thumb. Before Niko could turn it, the soldier twisted his wrist the other way. The weapon slipped from Niko’s hand.

"Point."

Niko backed away. His second attempt lasted longer. He used more of the training area this time, moving from side to side and changing his pace whenever the instructor approached.

The soldier followed him without difficulty. Niko made another short attack, withdrew, and shifted toward the man’s exposed side.

For a moment, the instructor’s side looked open. Niko stepped toward it, but the soldier was already moving. Before Niko could extend his weapon, the gap had closed. A padded hand touched his shoulder.

"Second point."

Niko looked toward the boundary markings.

"You’re kidding. How can I even react to that?"

"Enough excuses. Again."

"Do I have a choice?"

Niko tried one more time, feinting high before stepping to the instructor’s left. The soldier turned with him and tapped his chest before Niko could bring the stick around.

"Third point. That’s all."