On the morning of the Challenge, I was abruptly awoken by the thunderous toll of a bell.

DONG DONG DONG

Heart hammering, I sprang upright in a panic, head darting from side to side as I instinctively searched for danger. Adrenaline surged through my veins, my fists clenched, ready for a threat that wasn't there. A few of the nearby prisoners let out subdued chuckles, quickly muffled by the solemn air surrounding them as they quietly dressed.

"What's happening?" I asked Tom, trying and failing to hide my embarrassment.

"Wake-up bell," he grumbled irritably, his voice thick with exhaustion. He looked like he'd barely slept at all.

I blinked my eyes in confusion. "'Wake-up bell'? What wake-up bell? We've been here a week and not once has there been a bell."

I scanned the room, expecting at least one person to share my confusion, but everyone else was grimly going about their morning routines in silence, their expressions grave and resigned.

"Am I losing my mind?" I muttered, half to myself. "Why is everyone acting like this is normal?"

"Quiet down!" Tom snapped, his voice low but sharp. "Because it is normal. It's tradition to ring the bell on the day of the Challenge. They've been doing it forever."

"Oh," I said lamely, feeling incredibly foolish. "I suppose that makes sense."

Tom merely shook his head, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. Clearly with the mood he was in, he had no patience for my confusion.

I felt a wave of embarrassment surge up, followed quickly by defensiveness. "Well, you've got to admit, it's pretty scary being jolted awake by a bell out of nowhere," I whispered indignantly. "Anyone would be confused."

"Quiet," Tom hissed again, harsher this time. "We have to assemble in the courtyard with everyone else. It's not the time for chatter."

I opened my mouth to complain about the lack of warning because clearly everyone but me had gotten some memo about the wake-up call but Tom's glare silenced me. Looking around the dimly lit cells, I realised we were the only ones speaking at all. Everyone else moved mechanically, faces drawn and pale, lost in thoughts I couldn't begin to guess at. A deep sense of understanding and shame spread through me. I'd completely misread the mood. These men weren't silent out of irritation, or tiredness. No, they were preparing themselves mentally for what could easily be their final day alive. I'd just disturbed what little peace they had left. Feeling genuinely remorseful, I glanced around apologetically, nodding in silent contrition to anyone who caught my gaze. No one reacted harshly, but their expressions were distant, each man trapped in his own private dread. I hurriedly followed Tom out, keeping my head down.

Outside, dawn was just breaking over the horizon, a faint golden glow slowly illuminating the sky. The silence that had dominated the cells stretched out into the fort itself, enveloping everyone in a heavy, oppressive quiet. Wallowhackers, conscripts, and prisoners alike shuffled forward in solemn unity, yet not a single word passed between them. The usual clatter of armour and footsteps had softened into a hushed murmur of movement, as though the world itself had stopped breathing, waiting anxiously for the violence to come. It felt as if every soul in the fort was holding their breath, knowing full well that for many of them, this morning would mark the beginning of the end.

We took up positions towards the back of the courtyard after seeing people already lined up in their groups. Our position allowed us to be close enough to see and hear Sebastian in his positions at the head of the crowd, without disrupting any of the fighters' formations. The Wallowhackers had positioned themselves in the front, followed by the prisoners, and then the conscripts. There were still guards on the walls which prevented me from giving in to the temptation of running away whilst everyone was occupied.

We'd arrived fairly early, due to the lack of preparation time in our cells, leaving us standing in the sharp, biting chill of dawn as the fort occupants filtered into the courtyard. I took advantage of this wait to study those around me, closely examining the faces and demeanours of the men who'd soon be fighting for all our lives. It was the first time seeing everyone amassed and I was slightly taken aback by the numbers involved. It was clear to me that not everyone had been stationed in the fort at one time because I was sure I had never seen some of the faces before me. I reasoned that they must have been doing drills elsewhere in the time since I had arrived.

Though they were basically ordinary men, the conscripts looked surprisingly determined—even with the tense quiet that hung over them. Though clearly anxious, their eyes carried a resolute glint, as they readied themselves mentally for what lay ahead. They wore well-worn leather armour marked by what I hoped was training exercises and not past battles, but it was obviously well-maintained. They had their weapons strapped to their backs and sides—mostly spears and swords—and each looked equally serviceable, with edges sharpened and shafts firm. They didn't give me the impression they could stand long against a proper horde, but they might hold longer than I had originally expected.

The prisoner conscripts, however, painted a stark contrast. Every one of them carried defeat etched deeply into their faces, looking more like men walking to the gallows than soldiers marching into battle. It struck me as a losing tactic but fit well inline with my understanding of Sebastian's personality. It was extremely likely that he was getting off on the fact that they knew they were going to their deaths. The armour they had been equipped with was pathetic, cheap, patchy leather barely covering vital areas. Each set looked as though it had been pilfered from a corpse that had died due to a thousand cuts. The weapons they held seemed just as pitiful, with splintered shafts and blades barely good enough that even from my vantage point, I could tell they'd be just enough to pierce flesh. I didn't see a way in which those weapons would last longer than a single battle, which I figured was the point. The prisoners had shoulders hunched, their gazes constantly flickering toward the guards and Wallowhackers with an unmistakable fear. It seemed their real terror stemmed not from the invaders they would face, but from the brutal punishments awaiting if they refused or failed. Yet I wondered if their fear would shift once they saw what awaited them from beyond the Fracture.

The Wallowhackers themselves stood apart, a stark image of battle-hardened confidence. These men exuded power and authority, standing tall and proud in their meticulously polished armour that glinted under the rising sun. Their ranks, tight and disciplined, boasted an array of finely honed weapons—spears, swords, shields, bows, and crossbows—each piece clearly cared for and ready for war. Signs of personalization adorned their weapons and armour. Many had distinctive touches, such as coloured threads woven around sword handles, intricate carvings along spear shafts, or engraved patterns decorating their armour. I even noticed some armour bore elaborate symbols that I took to be markers of victories past or family sigils etched proudly for all to see. If I didn't know who they were, I would be taken with their image. I couldn't deny that they projected an inspiring visage and seeing them like this made me understand how the stories around them had been formed. Unlike the others, the Wallowhackers seemed eager, almost impatient for the fight. They looked not only ready but hungry for battle, anticipating the challenge with confident, even arrogant grins.

The contrast between the groups was stark: we had the determined conscripts, hopeless prisoners, and fearless Wallowhackers. Seeing them like this made me understand why they were considered an elite fighting force, and I actually got a little bit excited at the prospect of seeing them in battle.

At the front of the gathered crowd stood Sebastian, surrounded by his inner circle made up of his most trusted and fearsome lieutenants. Grian stood close by, now transformed into a true officer of war, wearing a resplendent set of battle armour etched with intricate designs befitting the second-in-command of the Wallowhackers. Grey tassels streamed from his helmet and sword hilt, fluttering gently in the crisp morning breeze. His helmet was tucked confidently beneath one arm as he scanned the assembled forces, pride evident in his expression.

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Beside him stood the chef, Harold, a towering behemoth whose immense size was magnified even further by the suit of heavy plate armour that encased him head-to-toe. Each metal plate seemed thick enough to withstand blows that would fell a lesser man, and the sheer mass made him appear more like a living battering ram than a person. His helmet was solid and rounded, sitting atop his massive shoulders as if a boulder perched upon a mountain. In one gauntleted hand, Harold wielded a colossal warhammer. Its thick shaft was the height of a man, capped with a massive hammerhead on one side and a cruelly curved pick on the other. It was a weapon designed solely for destruction, capable of tearing through even the toughest foes. Whoever or whatever met Harold in battle was surely doomed to a grim fate.

Yet even Harold's imposing presence paled in comparison to Sebastian himself. He stood at the heart of the group, emanating a quiet and lethal authority. His armour was jet-black—whether enchanted, painted, or forged from some darkened metal, I couldn't tell—but it absorbed the dim sunlight, giving him an almost ethereal, shadowy presence. Like his brother, Sebastian carried his helmet in one hand, but his featured flowing golden tassels, setting him apart clearly as the commander of this elite force. His eyes surveyed the ranks methodically, cold and calculating, the eyes of a man who had orchestrated battles like these countless times before.

Sebastian allowed a few tense moments to pass as the last stragglers hurried into formation, taking their places among the rest of us. Silence blanketed the courtyard, tense and expectant. When Sebastian finally stepped forward, every eye locked onto him. He cleared his throat once, the sound echoing ominously around the hushed courtyard, before beginning to speak in a voice that carried easily, sharp and commanding:

"Today we face the Fracture once again," he began, voice resonating with power. "It is a day many dread, yet we Wallowhackers embrace it as our duty and our destiny. Our pride. Our joy!"

His declaration was met by the booming of weapons on shields, and armoured feet on the ground as the Wallowhackers responded to their leader.

"Beyond those walls, horrors will pour forth, creatures born of nightmares seeking nothing less than our annihilation."

He paused deliberately, letting the weight of his words sink in. The prisoner conscripts visibly flinched at his description, while the Wallowhackers stood straighter, their faces set in proud defiance. Sebastian's lips curved slightly as he took it all in.

"Our first line will hold firm. We have trained you up. Made sure you are ready for what is to come."

Knowing looks were sent the prison conscripts way from the people who knew what that really meant.

"You will be our shield, absorbing the brunt of this assault. Behind you stand your comrades, prepared to relieve you when your bodies tire or fall. Behind them, we wait—the guardians of this fort, the blade that strikes the enemy's heart."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed, his voice growing even sterner. "But make no mistake. Anyone who falters, who flees, who thinks cowardice might spare them—" he allowed a cold smile to spread slowly across his face, "will find that the enemy is not the worst thing waiting for you today."

A shiver rippled through the crowd at the veiled threat, and many glanced nervously at the imposing figures around Sebastian, Harold's monstrous bulk, and Grian's smirking confidence. Somehow the prison conscripts managed to look even more pitiful as they cringed away from Sebastian's words.

Sebastian raised his helmet high, his voice rising like a clarion call. "But if you fight with bravery, if you stand firm against the horde, then your actions will be remembered. Your sacrifice—our sacrifice—will be spoken of with reverence. For Radan, for honour, and for victory!"

A resounding roar erupted from the ranks of the Wallowhackers, their fists and weapons raised high in fierce solidarity. Even the conscripts seemed to rally somewhat, swept up by the raw power of Sebastian's speech.

"Wallowhackers, are you with me?!"

"Yes!" came the booming chorus.

"I said ARE YOU WITH ME?!"

A cacophony of noise sounded in response as screams and shouts accompanied the banging of shields and the stomping of feet.

"Take your positions!" Sebastian ordered, placing his helmet firmly atop his head, the golden tassels swaying dramatically as he turned toward the walls. "The Challenge waits for no one!"

With his command, the gathered soldiers dispersed swiftly, each man moving toward their assigned positions. As I followed Tom toward our spot along the wall, my heart pounded heavily in my chest. Sebastian's speech had done exactly as intended, it had filled us with urgency, a sense of grim purpose, and the chilling certainty that no matter what came through the Fracture today, there would be no mercy.

Tom and I stood side-by-side, anxiously watching the soldiers stream out from the fortress, assembling into formation behind the rows of sharpened wooden stakes driven into the field. The ranks quickly solidified, each conscript gripping their spears with nervous intensity, while the Wallowhackers barked orders, their voices crisp and commanding. The tension grew palpable, spreading rapidly from the soldiers down in the fields up to those of us who remained behind on the walls.

Realising the front battlements were too crowded for my liking, I nudged Tom lightly. "Let's head to the back walls. We can stack up a few blocks, get a view above everyone else."

Tom looked hesitantly between me and the walls.

"I dunno, it's not a nice sight."

Tom's face twisted uncomfortably, his reluctance evident. "I dunno, Brandon. It ain't a pleasant sight, what's comin'."

"Come on," I urged quietly, glancing at the watchful guards along the front wall. "You don't even have to look. In fact, the back walls might be better for you anyway because you'll be on the opposite end to the invaders, and you-know-who."

He hesitated briefly, glancing from me to the tense soldiers lining the battlements. Eventually, he sighed deeply. "Fine," he muttered, relenting to my request.

With that settled, we moved quietly along the battlements towards the opposite side of the fortress, away from the Fracture's direct gaze. The few guards stationed there offered only fleeting glances in our direction, their focus wavering as their eyes continually flicked toward the Fracture, anxiously awaiting the first signs of battle. The further we moved, the more distracted the guards appeared. All of them clearly unable to resist peering at the spectacle unfolding in the distance.

Perfect, I thought to myself. Their distraction was exactly what I needed. Now that the day had arrived, I was looking for the ideal opportunity to escape.

We eventually reached a section of wall that seemed solid enough to bear our weight, though that was always a gamble in a place like this. We stacked a few loose stone blocks atop each other, creating a makeshift perch. I climbed carefully, positioning myself between two sturdy-looking crenelations, testing their strength by gently shifting my weight. Surprisingly, the stone held firm beneath me. From this new vantage point, I looked out across the fort and toward the ominous Fracture. Tom, still hesitant, positioned himself below me, leaning against the wall, looking resolutely in the opposite direction. Even though I could sense his tension, I appreciated that he'd accompanied me anyway.

Around us, the fortress was again silent, save for the distant, muffled sounds of shifting armour and nervous breathing. Every soldier, conscript, and Wallowhacker was poised, their eyes locked firmly on the Fracture. I felt the tension coil tighter and tighter, the atmosphere thickening with anticipation. Even the guards near us now paid no attention to me or Tom, their discipline faltering entirely as the spectacle took their full attention.

As the sun rose higher, the sky shifted through shades of orange and gold, eventually bathing the landscape in brilliant crimson hues reflected from the unnatural red light emanating from the Fracture itself. The air seemed charged, the entire field now bathed in a sinister, blood-red glow. The Demon's Bane orchids stood tall, eerily beautiful yet ominous in their deadly potency, swaying gently as though they too anticipated what would come next.

A distant shout erupted from one of the fortresses further around the circumference of the Fracture. The sound echoed sharply, cascading around the ring of defensive forts in rapid succession, each one taking up the call in turn until finally reaching the Invader's Gate. The warcry built in strength and volume as it neared us, an undulating roar of defiance, dread, and grim determination. The soldiers below our fortress took up the cry, their voices merging into a single unified shout that shook me to my bones.

Then, bursting from the swirling red depths of the Fracture, the first wave of creatures appeared. Beasts, twisted and monstrous, surged forward, their shapes distorted by distance and speed. They moved rapidly, pouring across the boundary from their otherworldly origin and spreading out like a dark flood over the landscape, heading straight towards our positions.

The Challenge had begun.

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