If our training from before felt like hell, our training now felt like Satan was violating you. Everything was especially designed to break our will, and then make it stronger.
"To become a face of pure stone, first you must be broken down into shape." one of our captains said when one of us complained about our treatment. After a couple of months of relentless torture, our chains were finally loosened a little. We were treated like human beings instead of farm animals.
From then on our training shifted from breaking us apart to building us up. We were taught how to hone in on our traits. The T1s were taught how to command and how to manage troops.
T2s were taught hand to hand combat, how to use their strength, and most of the things you would expect a special forces soldier to be trained on. T3s were trained how to best use their psychic abilities. T4s were individually trained.
There I was, sitting in a small dark room with a man who looked like he smoked too much and drank just enough to smell like liquor. He looked to be around the age of 50 or 60 and had a silky white beard and glassy blue eyes, and he wore what looked to be an old army uniform. He cut the silence out of the air and began to talk.
"So you're the T4 that has been assigned to me huh,?" he spoke, his voice danced into my ears.
"Indeed I am",I tried to respond in a soft tone but only led to me sounding like a scared kitten.
The man looked at me with his eyes, with an expression that I could only image the meaning of.
He let out a long sigh and pulled a bottle of schnapps out from his uniform. I watched as the light yellow liquid drained from the bottle into his mouth. When he finished the bottle, he quickly shifted his gaze to me.
"What makes you a T4?" He asked in a plain manner.
I took a long breath and said my response. "If I told you what it was I would be shot out of fear." was the answer my mind went with. Surely they would realize that someone that could tear reality apart is far too dangerous to be used as a weapon.
Instead he looked at me and simply bellowed a deep laugh.
"Do you have any idea how many people with the potential to end the world I've trained?" He said as he continued laughing.
"But if you're confident with that statement, then show me what you can do. If I believe it is too much, then I can tell them you're really a T1 or T2."
His attitude comforted me, in a strange sort of way, as if I was scared of an animal outside of my home, but someone came and put its corpse on my front porch.
I stood out my chair and focused on the empty bottle of schnapps in front of me. I watched as its very being was seemingly transported back into time. When I stopped, a pile of sand stood where the bottle once was. I looked back at the old man, his facial expression was one of awe, surprise, and most of all confusion. He took another bottle out from his uniform and drank it all.
"I don't think we've exchanged names yet, have we? My name is Ulrich Heyse." He extended his hand, and like clockwork I shook it.
"Kumonami Sieg, or just Sieg." I said. He allowed himself a slight grin.
"Let us see where your path goes." He said before getting up from his seat. "Come back here at 9:00am sharp."
"I said the one thing that needed to be said, "Jawohl!"