"Instructor!" Tigait snapped to attention, his posture flawless. A year ago, he had been an inquisitor of the Holy See—a rigid, self-righteous zealot. Now, despite his origins, he stood with the disciplined presence of a soldier.
Darius didn't look away. "Your information was correct. The final exam is a combat trial."
A ripple of excitement surged through the room.
"Yes! I knew it!"
"This is going to be glorious."
Darius's expression remained impassive. "Don't celebrate yet." His voice was cold, cutting through their enthusiasm like a blade. "Your opponents this time… are not the bandits you hunted before. Not criminals. Not minor threats in the slums." The room stilled. "This time, you will face true killers."
That only made them more excited.
"Oh?" someone muttered. "Now it's getting interesting."
"Bloodthirsty enemies?" A grin. "I like it."
Darius ignored their reactions and continued. "Seventeen of you will enter this exam. I hope all seventeen of you return." His gaze darkened. "This will be your mission. You will enter the Death Jungle in the dead of winter." A pause. "You will hunt velociraptors."
The final exam of their first year reduced their number from seventeen to fourteen. Two did not return. Their hunt became a battle of predator versus predator, and the raptors proved superior. Another warrior survived the battle but was forced to withdraw—his body ravaged by frostbite. Those who endured the trial emerged stronger. But they did not emerge unscathed.
At the end of their second year, Kayvaan did not set them against beasts. He threw them into a war. A mercenary contract—one he had personally accepted. Fourteen students. One thousand enemies. This time, their numbers fell again. Only one student died—a crossbow bolt fired from the shadows took his life in an instant. But now, at the dawn of their third year, only thirteen remained.
Time moved forward, relentless and unyielding. The students did not notice the days passing—not in the way ordinary people did. They lived in a constant state of preparation, of training, of becoming. Until, suddenly, three years had passed. Kayvaan stood in the great hall, his gaze sweeping over them. They had changed. Once, they had been raw and reckless. Now, they were refined—sharpened into something deadly. No longer impulsive children, but true warriors. Smart. Brave. Loyal. Perfect. And they would only become more so.
Kayvaan inhaled. Then, calmly, he spoke. "Step forward, my children. Kneel." The warriors closed in around him, forming a loose semi-circle. One by one, they knelt.
Kayvaan's voice remained steady. "Very good." He let the silence stretch for a moment. Then, with a slight smile, he said, "For now, there will be no more training." A shift in the air. "No trials." Some of them frowned, uncertain. "I know you are warriors," Kayvaan continued. "I know you have the courage to face any challenge, regardless of the cost. You have learned to obey, to execute orders without hesitation—whether those orders make sense or not." His voice carried through the hall. "You are my students." His gaze swept over them. "You are Templars." The words settled in. "You are the finest warriors this world has ever seen. And one day, you will become something greater."
The warriors knelt in silence, their eyes locked on him. In perfect unison, they spoke. "We have nothing to fear."
Kayvaan's smirk widened. "No. You do not." Because fear was for those with uncertain futures. And these warriors? Their fate had already been decided.
Kayvaan exhaled. "Your growth has exceeded my expectations. Three years ago, I set out to forge you into something beyond human—and I have succeeded." A slow pause. "The enemies you once feared are nothing to you now. Do you remember the raptors? Once, you hunted them as a group, cautious, careful. Now?" He tilted his head. "Any one of you could walk into that jungle and slaughter an entire pack alone." His voice deepened. "The thousand-man army you once fought?" He scoffed. "They would fall faster now. You have transcended them." His expression turned serious. "I am proud of you."
A rare moment of sincerity. A rare admission. He let the words sink in before continuing. "You have graduated." A flicker of relief passed over some of them. But he wasn't finished. "However…" He took a step forward, eyes burning. "For some of you—there remains one final trial." The air in the hall grew heavier. "This trial is far beyond what you have faced before. It will be brutal. It will be unforgiving. And for those who accept it, survival is not guaranteed." The warriors did not flinch. "This trial… is voluntary." He looked at them. "I will not force you."
"What you mean, Mentor?"
Kayvaan's gaze swept across the assembled warriors. "Volunteers," he said, his voice carrying a weight that settled heavily upon them. "I mean those who choose to stand above mortals. Those who would embrace the path of the Knights Templar. Those willing to fight under the light of the God-Emperor, to face the horrors that lurk in the void, to sacrifice for mankind. "This is the path of the Adeptus Astartes." The hall was silent. "Understand what it means to make this choice," Kayvaan continued. "You will not only gain honor but also the burden that comes with it. The battles ahead will be unlike anything you have faced before. The enemies are far greater than you can imagine, and you will never walk away. There is no resignation. No retreat. If you enter this path, you will serve the Imperium until death takes you." His expression darkened. "This is not a decision to be made lightly. You do have other paths—ones that still serve mankind, but without the same demands. However…" His voice grew quieter, more intense. "If you choose this path, you will undergo a trial unlike any before. You will face it alone. Even I cannot aid you. Pass, and you will stand as my brother. Fail, and you will die."
A pause. "So think. Consider what you are stepping into." Then, without another word, Kayvaan turned. He meant to leave them time to choose. But before he could take a single step— Every single warrior stepped forward. In perfect unison. Without hesitation. Kayvaan halted, blinking once before shaking his head. "Idiots. Are you so eager to die?"
A low growl rose from the warriors, deep and unshaken, "We have nothing to fear!"
Kayvaan let the moment linger, studying them. Then, with a nod, he spoke again. "Very well," he said. "But…" His gaze locked onto one among them. "Jomina." The tall, lean woman from the Two Rivers Jungle stiffened under his scrutiny. "I'm afraid," Kayvaan continued, "you need to take a step back."