Second Life as a Soldier

The trip to City Hall was quiet. Ben didn’t say much, just walked with his usual half-bored, half-watchful look, like he was already juggling a dozen other things in his head.

When we reached the wide stone steps of the building, he glanced at me. “Wait here. I’ll get someone from inside.”

He disappeared through the doors, leaving me alone in the crowded marble atrium. Citizens argued about taxes. A merchant waved papers in a clerk’s face. A nearby guard yawned so hard I thought he’d fall asleep standing up.

A few minutes later, Ben returned with a man in rumpled robes and ink-stained fingers. His hair was thinning, and his expression screamed, “I should’ve retired last year.”

“Okay,” the man said, voice flat and tired. “Let’s get this over with.”

He didn’t even look up from his clipboard.

“My name is Steve. I’ll be conducting your registration and preliminary examination. Follow me.”

I followed him down a narrow hallway into a small stone room. A single green orb floated quietly in the center. It pulsed faintly, casting a ghostly light on the dull stone walls. A wooden desk sat in the corner, buried in forms.

Steve pointed lazily at the orb. “Drop a bit of blood on that. It checks for criminal history, assault, theft, any offenses reported to the city watch or kingdom authorities.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What happens if someone has a record?”“Then they’re still recruited,” Steve replied without emotion. “We just don’t bother being nice about it. Criminals don’t go through the recruit program, they’re thrown straight into service units. No bonus, no barracks, no support. If they survive, great. If not, one less problem.”

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I suddenly became very aware of how polite everyone had been to me so far, the food, the paperwork, even Ben’s casual friendliness.

So that was conditional.

I nodded quietly, pricked my finger, and let a drop of blood fall onto the orb.

The green light flared for a moment, then returned to its calm, slow pulse.

“No red glow, no flashes. Looks clean,” Steve said with a shrug. “You’re good.”

He handed me a few forms. “The rest is just paperwork. Army handles training records from here. You’ll get your orientation tomorrow.”

With that, he turned and shuffled off, leaving me standing in the room alone with Ben.

We stepped out into the warm late-afternoon sun.

Ben exhaled. “Alright, let’s get your physical stats logged. Don’t need it exact, just enough to build your training plan.”

I hesitated.

He caught it. “Look, it’s not for ranking or judgment. Just honest input. Undersell and you get injured. Oversell and you get killed. So...?”

I sighed. “Strength: six. Constitution: six. Agility: six.”

Ben blinked. “Six across the board?”

I nodded.

He winced. “Damn. I’ve seen slum kids with more muscle and grit than that. And they haven’t had a decent meal in years.”

I stayed silent, jaw tight.

Ben let out a slow breath. “Alright. Here’s the truth: if you stay this weak, you’re not gonna make it past your Awakening. In eleven months, when you turn sixteen, you’re eligible for active deployment. That’s not training, that’s real. Monsters. Raiders. Beasts. War. You’ll die before you even understand how.”

I nodded again.

I know.

That’s why I joined the army.

I’ve already died one and a half times.

Once on Earth. Once again in this body.

Next time… if there is a next time…

I’ll die on my own terms.

Or better yet, I’ll die while training, improving.

I have one year.

I’m going to use it.

Ben gave me a nod.

“You’ll start training with the town guards tomorrow morning,” he said, stepping off the curb. “Be ready at first light.”

“Already?”

“Yep. Better get used to early mornings. We’ll leave for Stonegate City in three or four days. That’s where your real training begins.”

He paused mid-step and looked back over his shoulder.

“Oh, and watch your back around the other new recruits.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”