Charon shook his head as another orphan stepped off the stage, despair evident in his eyes.
'Poor bastard.'
The flash of light that had accompanied him was so dim and lifeless, he must have earned an ability near worthless. With the way the war had been going, he would be thrown on the front lines and expected to either adapt or die.
The odds leaned towards the latter.
Hushed whispers and conversations filled the cramped corridor, each orphan hoping to find some solace before their fates, too, were sealed. It filled the air with a strangely muted cacophony of voices, too vague to identify what was being said but still noticeable all the same.
The lieutenant assigned to their group shook the kid's hand, offering him a few empty words of congratulations, before ushering the next in line up the stairs.
Charon thought he recognized him, possibly someone he had worked with to steal food, or a book, or whatever else caught his fancy that day.
He was one of the few who still looked energetic despite their situation. His hands had a slight tremor, but his face had a smile.
Choosing to take a risk, Charon directed a question at the lieutenant, knowing what the answer would be.
"Do you know the odds of getting an element good enough for the officer corps?"
With a stiff turn, the military man faced him and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"The inductees are to remain silent and respectful to the gods! If you continue to make your presence known, you shall be restrained and punished accordingly!"
Finishing, the lieutenant turned back to await the returning orphan.
Charon cocked an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk at the mans energetic response.
'You'd think I had blasphemed against the gods, not asked a simple question. He takes his job too seriously.'
Living on the streets had taught him many things, but an undying respect for authority had not been one of them. It wasn't that he disliked power structures and everything about them; he just preferred being left alone to do as he saw fit.
Not that the government cared much for what he thought.
'Only three more, then it's my turn. I'll finally know exactly what the gods think of me, for better or for worse. It had better be good, or I'm taking the first opportunity to get out of here.'
When Charon had first heard that his orphanage had been selected to join the military and receive their magic elements, he had been excited.
Everyone dreamed of gaining powers beyond their imaginations, of summoning walls of fire or spears of light. Orphans were no different, Charon among them.
If anything, Charon was a larger dreamer than most, stolen books having filled his head with stories of heroes facing terrifying foes, conquering distant lands, and bringing home treasures beyond their wildest dreams.
Now, only a few hours later, he prayed to all ten gods that he would be exempt from the order.
That was due to the debrief they were all given before arriving at the ceremony hall, where the lieutenant explained in excruciating detail that the gods would be the judge of what powers they received.
He also informed them that the gods disliked those of weak mind or body, and had a preference for those of higher bloodlines.
Orphans were not known for having any of the three, let alone in high enough quantities for the gods to favor them.
To make matters worse, their element would determine their future in the army.
A bad element meant the military was a death sentence.
The only hope he had was for pity from the deities, to be given a powerful element. If that happened, he would be made an officer, or better.
He would lead men in battle, be given respect, and have access to the wide resources available to the Human Empire.
He could become something more than just another street rat.
A dim glow suddenly began to emanate from the stage, followed by the lieutenant sighing.
"Another kid sent to an early grave."
Charon had heard the disgruntled man whisper that statement over a dozen times that afternoon, yet he never stopped sending more teenagers up.
All he did was check a box on his clipboard, earning him a glare from Charon.
'Funny. We aren't allowed to speak, but he is allowed to talk to the voices in his head. Prick.'
The poor sod who had just earned his element blankly turned around and walked back towards them, his eyes hollow and devoid of the hope he had shown just minutes ago.
Charon exhaled slowly, trying to harden his resolve as destiny inched closer.
'It will be okay. I may not be very strong, but I am smarter than most of these kids. Surely, I have to warrant a decent element, right?'
He breathed in deeply, hoping for fresh air to calm his nerves, but all the tunnel provided was musky fumes tinged with the sweat of dozens crammed into a small space.
Unwilling to relent, his eyes darted from left to right as he tried to spot some kind of exit.
Only tall walls of sheet metal flanked him. Dimly lit fluorescent bulbs lined the ceiling and floor, a guide leading only to the stage, and back down the tunnel they currently stood in.
A few drops of sweat collected on his forehead as the next orphan walked up the steps to the stage.
He thought back on the sixteen years of life he had lived, hoping to remember something that could help him.
Despite his best efforts, there was little in the way of experience that would be applicable.
'I wonder if I could make a run for it? Try and get past the lieutenant and figure out what's actually on the stage. Maybe there are more exits?'
If the ceremony had been held in an alley, maybe he could use his lanky frame to squeeze through a corridor or leap a short wall, but there wasn't anything like that here.
It was just the lieutenant, the other orphans, and a few soldiers spread throughout their ranks to keep things orderly.
Not that anyone had the energy to resist. The government had seen to that by making them march from the edge of the city to the center, declaring that their physical effort would help appease the gods and make them more likely to receive powerful elements.
To Charon's shock, another glow came from the stage, but this time it was actually powerful enough to be considered bright.
'What?'
Even the lieutenant seemed surprised, his eyes wide as he lowered his clipboard a few inches.
Unlike what had usually occurred, the lieutenant marched up the steps and roughly grabbed the orphan's hand, shaking it a few times before gesturing somewhere to the right.
The dazed youth just nodded and walked away from everyone else.
Charon, like everyone else, could hardly believe what he had just seen.
'An orphan actually received a good element?'
Without noticing, a smile had spread across his face. He combed his dark hair back with his hand and let out a short chuckle.
'Maybe all hope isn't lost! If the gods looked favorably upon one of us, why wouldn't they do the same for me?'
Everyone around him seemed to be thinking something similar. Multiple laughs, and even a few half-hearted cheers, broke out.
The two kids in front of Charon seemed to be the most excited out of anyone, having clearly surrendered themselves to the inevitable until another possibility was revealed.
'Maybe I won't die in that forsaken city?'
The thought was like a bite of food after days of starvation, limiting Charon's fears and reinvigorating his muscles.
When the next was sent up the steps, Charon took a long, purposeful step forward, determined to stand strong in the face of his terrors.
All that hope vanished when the next glow was barely brighter than the flame of a candle.
As if they had all been doused with cold water, the mood instantly soured, the excitement being replaced with the reality of the situation.
Even the lieutenant seemed disappointed, limply shaking another hand before marking another box.
As the boy shuffled past, Charon couldn't help but utter a sentence of goodwill to him.
"Good luck in Creed."
He shut his mouth almost as fast as he opened it, shocked by his own actions.
Everyone around him turned and shot him a dirty look, their judgment clear as day. The poor boy only shook his head and continued his half-hearted walk back down the tunnel.
Charon lowered his head till his chin hit his chest, embarrassed not only by his statement but by his inability to properly say what he meant.
His goal was to encourage him, but all he did was remind him of his fate.
To fight and die in the city of Creed.
It was the reason the orphans were being drafted, after all. Too many men had died in the battle already, and more were needed to fill the gaps. Usually, that meant asking for aid from other sectors, but the government had decided that orphans could be sent out faster.
Despite the cruel situation, they had at least decided to grant them elements before being sent to their deaths, an honor usually reserved for the upper classes.
Granting magic abilities wasn't cheap, after all, and required the participation of all ten gods.
As far as Charon was concerned, it was like salt in the wound.
'Not only do they send us to die, they give us elements we could only dream about beforehand, as if to show us the life we could have lived if we were only born into a better family.'
His hands balled into fists as he considered the injustice of it all.
'It's a big joke, isn't it?'
Although his anger rose, he knew that it was pointless. There was nothing he could do about it; luck had seen to that.
All he could do was march forward and let destiny spit in his face one last time before he died and entered the embrace of Death.
'Maybe I'll meet the bastards that let me grow up on the street.'
Charon didn't even notice when another dim light burst from the stage, only realizing when the lieutenant sighed once more.
The orphan never look up as he walked down the tunnel.
'Okay, I guess this is it. I might not have done much with my life, but at least I'll die in glory, right? A battlefield isn't the worst way to go…'
The thought was little comfort.
With a nod from the lieutenant, Charon forced his stiff legs to walk up the metal steps, arriving on the edge of a circular stage.
Now that he was looking down on it, he saw thousands of intricate carvings covering almost every inch of the platform. It was split into ten segments, with each having a strangely unique pattern.
If not for the circumstances, he may have found it beautiful.
'It kind of reminds me of those tapestries the Mistress likes to paint. What did she call the symbols? Runes, I think? I guess these are also runes.'
Glancing up with trepidation, he noted ten robed figures standing around the center, each wearing a different color.
Nine of them had their faces revealed, while the tenth did not, his hood filled with an inky pool of darkness.
'What kind of ritual is this? Am I being offered to a cult? This better not be a sacrifice, I'll go down kicking and screaming if it is!'
He had never seen the ceremony firsthand, only the flashes entering the corridor behind him.
Without a word, the closest figure pointed to the center of the stage, his intent clear.
Charon complied, not wanting to upset any of the priests before their gods judged him.
'Every little bit of favor can't hurt. It's not like things can get much worse. I wonder if I converted to the God of Life, he would offer me mercy?'
The moment he had the thought, one of the robed figures spoke.
"My god has heard your pleas, and he wishes for you to know that although he bears you no ill will, your destiny has already been seen. Life will not intervene."
The priest who had addressed him gave him a slight smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
The others gave only a strange glance at the man before turning back to Charon, who was dumbfounded at actually getting a response.
"Your god spoke to you, to tell me? They actually listened?"
The priest nodded slightly.
"The gods always listen, Charon, even if they do not always deign to respond. The will of the gods is beyond us all, you would do well to remember that. Now speak no more, our common tongue dilutes the sanctity of this space."
Opening his mouth to respond despite the warning, the withering gaze all ten priests gave him cut any comment short.
'So the one time the gods actually care enough to respond, they tell me no. Just my friggin' luck.'
He frowned deeply as he realized how little they must care to damn him to this kind of life, and do so knowingly.
Without any warning, the ten priests splayed their arms out and began to pray, their voices barely more than a whisper.
The words they spoke were alien and hard to listen to, let alone understand. With every line, he felt his body grow weaker, then stronger, as if it were responding to the call of the invocation.
He began to sway, his vision growing dimmer and dimmer until all he saw was darkness, before that too seemed to vanish.
The last thing that Charon saw was a sudden flash of light, followed by a few sentences of words.
[A god has selected you for a trial.]
[Prepare yourself.]