2 January, 2019, Wednesday, Time:??.??
The sound of water dripping from the ceiling echoed soul-piercingly in the darkness and within a prison-like structure. The number of cells inside the structure exceeded 500. It was a five-section structure, with 100 cells in each section. In the cells within the sections were children ranging in age from 8 to 12. Most of the children seemed to have lost the will to live in their eyes. No one made a sound. Only burly men patrolling outside the cells moved back and forth with weapons in their hands, their footsteps echoing in the section.
Suddenly, the cell doors opened, and 100 children, as if they had done this many times before, exited their cells in a coordinated manner and walked ten steps forward. The section door opened, and a bald, obese man in his 40s entered. The bald man had two burly men to his right and left, and they, like the others, were armed. The bald man said something to the man on his right, and the man, along with the other patrolling men, led the children to a large garden-like area at the back of the section. Here, there were various obstacle courses and training dummies. When the children entered the garden, everyone in a specific order divided into two, half lining up at the obstacle course and half in front of the training dummies.
One of the burly men took a wooden training knife from a box next to the training dummies and stood in front of the dummies. He gripped the knife and ran towards a dummy, making a swift stabbing motion towards its stomach. Then, he immediately made a cutting motion towards its throat. He then stepped back and handed the knife in his hand to the child at the front of the line. The child took a deep breath; there was an unidentifiable fear in their eyes. As soon as the whistle blew, they lunged forward and tried to do what the burly man had done, but unfortunately, they closed their eyes just as they made the stabbing motion, causing them to miss the target. Before the child could even recover from their surprise, a gunshot was heard, and the surprise in the child's eyes turned into tears, and the child collapsed to the ground. The burly man, the moment the child missed, had drawn the pistol from behind him and, without hesitation, aimed at the child's head and fired. The child, covered in blood on the ground, bid farewell to life. The burly man called two men over, and they carried the child and took them elsewhere. The burly man picked up the knife from the ground, gave it to the next child, and continued the training.
The situation on the obstacle course on the other side was not much different. The children had to climb a 12-meter-high protruding wall and come back down. After descending, they had to run 100 meters, cross a piranha-filled pond by swinging on ropes, and then survive by taking cover from three men shooting at them. Children who failed were shot without a second chance.
The training continued, and on the obstacle course, it was the turn of a blond-haired child. The child looked no older than 8, but had mature and cold eyes that contrasted with his small appearance. This child, unlike the others, had not lost the light in his eyes and was constantly scanning his surroundings. As soon as the whistle blew, the child began to climb, passing the obstacles with impressive speed. The child completed all the obstacles in a short time of 2 minutes. The astonishment in the eyes of some of the burly men who saw this showed how difficult this was; this course was a challenge even for the most trained adults, and it was almost impossible for an eight-year-old child to complete it at this speed. The blond-haired child wasn't even out of breath; his chest rose and fell calmly. A murmur spread among the other waiting children; a sound mixed with fear and admiration. The bald man watching from the entrance kept his gaze on him for a moment longer than on the other children; the expression in his eyes was impossible to read. The burly overseer roared,
"Next!"
breaking the spell. The blond-haired child, without saying a word, walked to the designated waiting area, his gaze never fixed, constantly evaluating his surroundings. In this cruel place, the cold-blooded efficiency he displayed with his small body set him apart from the others.
The horrifying elimination on the obstacle course and at the training dummies continued. Every whistle sound was interrupted by a gunshot, signifying the end of a child's life. The smell of blood mixed with the dusty garden air, making the already pale faces of the children even paler. The overseers, emotionlessly, dragged away a corpse and continued with a new one. It was as if the children there were not alive, but merely inanimate dummies for testing. The blond-haired child watched the other children while waiting. There was neither pity nor pride in his eyes, only a cold analysis. He was examining why the failed children had failed and what the survivors had done correctly. For him, this was less a training and more a survival equation, and he was quite good at calculating the variables. When it was his turn in front of the training dummies, he took the wooden knife in his hand. There was not the slightest hesitation on his face. The moment the whistle blew, he lunged towards the dummy with the agility he had displayed in his previous attempt. His movements were sharp, fast, and accurate. The wooden knife, with millimeter precision, performed the stabbing and cutting motions in the dummy's stomach and throat areas. His eyes neither closed for a moment nor lost their focus. When he stepped back, the burly man silently took the knife from him and
"Okay,"
he said, his voice less threatening than the others, perhaps a forced acceptance. The child quietly moved to the end of the line. The first training session of the day was approaching its end. The sun was hitting the gray walls, struggling to illuminate the darkness inside. Many children had been eliminated in this first test of the day. There was fear and exhaustion on the faces of the survivors. The blond-haired child was different. He showed no signs of fatigue and continued to scan his surroundings with his cold gaze. For him, this was not just a training area; this was a place where the struggle for survival was fought, a place where one had to be on alert every moment, and he seemed to have grasped this reality better than the others. The bald man walked towards the area where the children were gathered. There was an expression of dissatisfaction on his face, as if the number of deaths was higher than he expected.
"The first session of the day is over,"
his voice boomed, echoing.
"Those who survived will prepare for the afternoon training. Return to your cells."
The children, in the same coordinated order, silently began to move back towards their cells. The blond-haired child, silently separating from them, was guided under the watchful eyes of the burly men in a different direction, towards where the bald man stood. For him, the day's training was not yet over.
"Aras!"
Aras was pulled back from his thoughts by his teacher calling his name, the cold expression in his eyes disappeared, and he focused on his teacher as if asking what he wanted.
"May I ask where you drifted off to in the middle of the lesson, Aras? Come and solve this problem."
Aras nodded and got up from his desk, heading towards the blackboard. Some students' giggles reached Aras's ears. As he walked towards the board, his steps were determined, and his usual indifferent expression began to reappear on his face. When he reached the teacher, he quickly scanned the math problem on the board. The problem was a complex equation requiring several steps, which the class was likely stuck on. Aras picked up the chalk. Just like his movements when striking the training dummies, his motions were economical and purposeful. Without drawing a single unnecessary line, he began to list the steps to solve the equation. Numbers and symbols appeared on the board clearly and quickly. The whispers in the classroom ceased, the giggles stopped. The students and the teacher silently watched Aras's fluid solution on the board. In just a few seconds, the problem was solved flawlessly. Aras placed the chalk back and, without saying a word, turned and began to walk back to his desk. The teacher looked at the solution on the board with astonishment, then turned to Aras.
"Correct... Completely correct,"
he said, there was clear admiration in his voice.
"I didn't expect it that fast, Aras. Thank you."
Aras did not react. When he sat down at his desk, Can turned to him, there was both surprise and a little curiosity in his eyes.
"Wow... How did you do that?"
he whispered. Aras's green eyes briefly met Can's face, there was a thin line left from the brutal memory of moments before, but it quickly vanished.
"It was just a problem,"
he murmured, his voice as calm as ever. The teacher continued the lesson, but the atmosphere of the class had changed. The looks directed at Aras no longer contained just curiosity or admiration; a small amount of respect and incomprehension had been added to them. Aras, as if he had built an invisible wall between himself and the outside world, turned back to face the front. However, in a corner of his mind, those dark cells echoing with the sound of dripping water and the blood-scented garden still remained. The golden cage of Atlas College seemed unable to completely erase the shadows of his past.