The room slled like old air-conditioning and wet socks.
Samuel dropped onto his bed with a groan. "This place feels like my old school hostel—with trauma flashbacks included."
Danny kicked off his shoes and flopped backward. "The AC works like it's dying in slow motion."
After wrestling their bedsheets into submission and scarfing down sad cafeteria sandwiches, the boys collapsed. The last thing they saw was the cursed schedule Agent Vick handed them:
Thursday Titable
CALL TI: 4:30 AM — Underground GYM
INSTRUCTOR: Agent Nick
LATE/ABSENT PENALTY: Toilet Cleaning Duty — all floors, from X-Mart to X-Division, for two days.
"So basically," Danny mumbled before sleep yanked him under, "we wake up… or we mop the sins of this place."
Samuel mumbled back, "Hell's Order… wake us at 4 AM. Hook, crook, slap—just make sure we're up… clearheaded, okay."
Order received.
Big mistake.
04:00 AM – Execution by Wake-Up
TI CHECK: 04:00. ENFORCERS REQUESTED WAKE-UP SERVICE. INITIATING PHASE TWO.
ZAAAAAAAAP.
"GAHHHH—WHAT THE—!"
Both boys shot upright like they'd been tasered by a ghost. Because they had.
Danny grabbed his chest. "Holy hell! Hell's Order just defibrillated my soul!"
Samuel blinked through static. "What happened to Phase ONE?!"
Phase One skipped. No asurable urgency in subconscious patterns. Efficiency override initiated.
"Never again," Danny wheezed. "Never ever using Hell's Order as an alarm."
"Agreed," Samuel coughed. "I think I saw my ancestor open his arms to welco ."
By 4:25 AM, they were in the gym, jittery and warming up like caffeinated flamingos.
Exactly at 4:30, Agent Nick entered with five other agents—long-ti X-Division veterans. They were mid-protein chew, fully armored in smug superiority. Their grins faltered when they spotted the boys already stretching.
"Damn," one muttered under his breath. "They actually showed."
Those six agents were comrades in arms for a long ti. Offending one of them was equal to offending all of them.
Samuel t their eyes and offered a lazy salute. Danny just grinned.
Agent Nick's smirk didn't last long—but sothing sly crept in.
"Change of plans," he announced, clapping. "Today's run isn't the usual 10K."
The gym fell silent.
"We're doing Track-5 Special. Uphill jungle route. Twenty-five kiloters. One hour. No excuses."
The other agents groaned. Danny's face twisted. "Did he say twenty-five?"
"Yeah," Samuel whispered. "I think we just got drafted into scenic hell."
Nick pulled out a box of sleek black smartwatches—X-Division issued. These weren't your casual Fitbits. They tracked vitals, GPS, heartbeat spikes, oxygen levels, and even suspicious stops-for-breathing. If you collapsed mid-route, at least your corpse would be properly logged.
"These will track your stats. Don't try shortcuts. GPS is locked."
He chucked the watches over like Halloween candy. No tutorial. No rcy.
Danny squinted at his. "Okay, so… how do we—"
"Not your babysitter," Nick snapped, already turning away.
Fortunately, one female agent sighed and stepped forward, monotone as a vending machine.
"Wrap it snug around your wrist. Tap the side button. nu > Track Route 5. It's preloaded. Tap START once the countdown ends. Finish in sixty. Last one back? Enjoy mop duty."
She jogged off. Danny blinked after her. "…Thanks?"
Usually, they only took this track every two months as part of their physical fitness test. This was the hardest and longest of all training routes. Since Agent Nick made the decision, no one opposed it. All agreed—to teach the rookies a lesson. Not to ss with them.
Top-tier marathon runners can complete 19–21KM within an hour. This 25KM track was well within the agents' capacity, given their stamina and physical endurance. Their record ti was 45 minutes. They ran at a standard speed and fixed rhythm like marching soldiers, usually competing among themselves at the final 3KM checkpoint to determine a winner.
They erged outside X-Store at 4:50 AM. Cold air bit their cheeks. The jungle in front of them looked half-asleep and half-possessed.
Warm-ups comnced. The boys copied the others like confused extras on a stunt set.
At exactly 5:00 AM, they stood at the mouth of the jungle. Roots twisted like they wanted blood.
Nick raised a hand. "Tirs ready?"
"Wait, we don't even—"
"5… 4… 3…"
Samuel mashed a button. Danny fumbled his. Late by one second.
"2… 1—GO."
The agents exploded forward like a coordinated ghost army. The boys were… still standing.
Danny's watch beeped belatedly. "We're already losing."
Samuel jogged slowly. "We've done worse. Rember Maya's training?"
"Barely."
"Hell's Order," Samuel said between breaths, "analyze their speed and estimate our victory chance."
Analyzing… Complete.
Opponent Speed: Normal human tier.
Victory Probability: 200%.
They both stopped jogging.
"…200 percent?" Danny blinked. "What kind of overconfident analysis is that?"
Clarification: Enforcer bodies have undergone forced evolution post–Trial by Fire. Strength, stamina, and speed levels have doubled. Aura resistance increased.
You may confirm via personal stat request.
After a few seconds of silence, both boys replied in instant robotic harmony:
"Request personal stat."
Processing… Displaying core attributes:
Strength: 3.1x baseline
Stamina: 3.4x baseline
Speed: 3.5x baseline
Aura Resistance: 2.6x baseline
Emotional Stability: Under continuous review
Subclass: D-tier Hell-Blessed Operative. Physical limiters suspended.
Danny stared at his screen. "…We're cracked."
Samuel's grin stretched wide. "Bro…"
Danny returned the look. "Let's show them what a HELL ENFORCER looks like."
They took off—explosive, light-footed, slicing through the trees like they'd trained for years in the underworld's version of a cross-country team. The jungle terrain wasn't slowing them at all.
The boys hadn't fully realized the changes in their stamina or strength. More accurately, they hadn't had the chance to test them—until now. The farther they ran, the faster they moved. Their bodies felt lighter. Their lungs burned cleaner.
Samuel's breath was steady. Danny's heartbeat slamd like a war drum in perfect tempo. Checkpoint one. Checkpoint two.
Then—
"Rookies?" gasped an agent as the boys passed them with ease.
Danny and Samuel smiled and waved teasingly as they overtook.
One agent squinted. "Were they... smiling and waving at us? Did they just look down on us?"
Agent Nick smirked. "Don't bother. Running this fast in the early phase just shows how immature these rookies are. Stick to the rhythm."
He had chosen this track to humiliate them—to break them. Twenty-five kiloters of punishing inclines, twisted terrain, and ghost-infested vines. Even seasoned agents staggered here.
But what happened next would haunt him for days.
Because he didn't realize yet…
He'd just challenged two Hell-touched beasts to a stamina and speed war.
And he was about to lose.
To Be Continued.
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