Chapter Eight: The Newcomer's Ordeal

“All right, I’ve said just about all I need to! For the rest, you can ask the other apprentice warriors yourself!”
“Farewell, young man!”
Having finished his guidance, the steward waved to Yin Seventeen and retraced his steps along the path by which he had come. These stewards were not apprentice warriors and had no need to suffer alongside these ascetics, so they did not reside in the crude encampment.

“Thank you, sir!”
Watching the steward disappear into the distance, Yin Seventeen finally turned and entered his own stone hut.

Inside, there was only a simple stone bed, a stone table, and two stone stools—nothing else at all. It truly was the barest accommodation imaginable!

He brushed his hand lightly over the stone bed and, seeing the dust that coated his palm, couldn’t help but smile wryly. “Even the legendary ascetics couldn’t have had it rougher than this.”

Despite the harsh conditions, he felt not the slightest urge to retreat. It was not a matter of faith; he simply did not wish to waste his life in mediocrity.

Back in his previous world—a mundane Earth where gods and immortals had vanished and no supernatural power existed—everyone lived simply for survival, a dull and ordinary existence.

Now, in this Earth ruled by myth, he had the chance to awaken the miraculous power known as the Small Cosmos. He had no intention of giving up easily.

Even if it meant death, he had to try! He would not resign himself to another life of monotony and obscurity.

That was why he had gone to such lengths to remain in the Sanctuary. Once he left, it would be nearly impossible to acquire the power of the Small Cosmos.

In this world, Athena was the steward of the earth, Poseidon ruled the seas, Hades governed the underworld, and Zeus reigned supreme on Olympus. For mortals, there were only two paths to the Small Cosmos: to join the retinues of the gods, or to seek out the remnants of the so-called “evil gods,” clinging to survival in Olympus’ shadow.

But neither the heights of Olympus, nor the depths of the underworld, nor the vastness of the sea were places a commoner could enter. As for the “evil gods,” who eked out their existence between the cracks left by the Olympians, Yin Seventeen had no desire to take such a reckless risk. Who knew when the Sanctuary might brand him a heretic and eradicate him? And finding those “evil gods” was, in itself, a daunting uncertainty.

Thus, his best choice was to join the Greek Sanctuary openly.

With Moses’ help, he had achieved that goal. From here on, everything depended on his own cultivation.

After cleaning the stone bed, table, and stools, Yin Seventeen left his hut to wander the encampment and get his bearings. Perhaps it was not yet mealtime, for the camp was deathly quiet—apart from the rows of low stone huts, there was hardly a soul to be seen.

He supposed the apprentice warriors must all be out training.

Suddenly, rounding a small stone dwelling, he came upon two buildings far larger and more finely crafted than the others. The wall of the one on the left bore a carved emblem of armor; the one on the right, a staff entwined with serpents.

“The building with the armor emblem must be the armory, and the other, with the serpent staff, should be the infirmary,” Yin Seventeen murmured to himself. Though the serpent staff was unfamiliar, the armor emblem was an obvious sign. Combined with what the steward had told him, he could easily deduce the functions of the two buildings.

“Since I’m here, I might as well collect a set of protective gear.” He made his way towards the armory.

The armor given to apprentice warriors was a far cry from the sacred cloths—merely simple leather and metal protection. But it was better than nothing.

Once his identity as an apprentice was confirmed, the armory’s steward fetched a small set of gear for him without much ado.

Yet, just as Yin Seventeen was about to accept the equipment, a sudden, urgent clanging rang out not far away—as if someone were striking a gong.

“Young man, you’d best hurry. The first trial of the training camp has arrived!” The steward glanced at him with an unkind glee. “But seeing you’re a newcomer, I doubt you’ll make it in time.”

“Better luck next time!”

“Huh?” Yin Seventeen, utterly baffled by the steward’s cryptic words, hurriedly asked, “What do you mean, sir?”

The steward grinned. “That gong you just heard? It’s the meal signal for the training camp. First come, first served—the more you get, the more you eat. Arrive late, and you may find nothing left at all.”

With that, he spread his hands and shrugged—though his mischievous smile was anything but consoling.

“What?!” Yin Seventeen stared in shock. So even meals had to be fought for?

No wonder the previous steward had looked at him so strangely and warned that there’d be nothing left if he was late. Now it all made sense.

He was a newcomer, after all, with no hope of competing against apprentice warriors who’d been training here for some time—especially since he hadn’t rushed to the meal at the first signal. At this rate, he’d be lucky to get even the leftovers.

“If someone can’t even get enough to eat, how can they have the strength to train? Isn’t this competition a bit too harsh?” Yin Seventeen asked, perplexed, glancing at the armory steward.

For a newcomer like him, this kind of food competition was a truly unfriendly trial. He could already imagine that those who failed to secure meals would be eliminated by hunger within a few days.

The steward squinted and countered, “If someone can’t overcome even this small hardship, how could they possibly become a Saint Warrior?”

Yin Seventeen had no answer.

After a moment’s silence, he took his gear and left the armory, his feelings mixed. It was lunchtime now, but there would be another meal in the evening; if he failed again then, he’d have to go hungry all night.

For now, though, the most important thing was to learn the exact timing of the three daily meals, so that he could be ready in advance.

Returning to his quarters, he was about to enter when a voice called out to him.

“Hey, you’re new here, aren’t you?”

Turning, he saw a youth of about seventeen or eighteen smiling at him. The boy’s arms were full of five or six white bread rolls—clearly, he’d fared well in the scramble.

“Yes, I just entered the camp today,” Yin Seventeen replied with a nod.

“I wondered why that hut suddenly had an occupant! Here—catch!” The youth grinned and tossed him two bread rolls from his stash.

Perplexed but swift, Yin Seventeen caught the rolls securely—after all, it would be a shame to let food fall to the ground and get dirty.

Sensing his confusion, the youth laughed and explained, “Helping newcomers is also one of the camp’s rules. Every new arrival can choose an experienced senior as a guide for a year. After a year, the newcomer must adapt to living independently here, or else face elimination.”