Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 4: Recruitment

"Stop right there!"

As Kyrian eyed the guard lifting his hand to strike, he whipped his head toward the shout. Heavy footsteps pounded closer to him.

The kneeling soldier and his companion immediately straightened up upon hearing the voice, faces tight with strain.

"Captain Rurik!" they chorused together, bowing deeply in respect.

Ignoring the pair, the man fixed an intrigued gaze on Kyrian before stepping forward to halt just a meter away.

Kyrian sized up Rurik, who loomed taller than anyone in Frosty Village—the biggest figure he'd ever encountered. Broad-shouldered with scarred bare arms, his plain face framed by short dark brown hair stood as the only unscathed spot amid a body riddled with marks.

Locking eyes with him, Kyrian saw a chilly stare sparked with curiosity, and that sufficed.

"Brat, do you truly believe you possess the power to serve as a soldier?" Rurik demanded, folding his arms.

Kyrian responded without a second's delay.

"Yes, since I’m stronger than those two. Test me however you like," Kyrian declared, jabbing a finger at the bowing soldiers.

The duo scowled, eager to retort, but held back as Rurik abruptly...

"HAHAHA, truly intriguing! Boy, what’s your name?" Captain Rurik bellowed, his raspy guffaw ringing along the barren, hushed morning avenue as the chill in his eyes softened slightly.

"Kyrian. I’m four years old," he replied straightforwardly.

Captain Rurik's astonishment grew; he examined the boy intently for a moment.

His gaze settled on Kyrian’s blank gray pupils, lacking any iris.

’Where did this kid hail from? Strong enough to drop one of my soldiers before he could even twitch.’

’On top of that, he displays zero fear or doubt before me. Brims with total self-assurance.’ Rurik mulled rapidly before opening his mouth.

"Why on earth does a kid like you crave to join the city guard at such a tender age?"

"To grow strong. Incredibly strong. Soldiers fill the city everywhere. They’re powerful, well-fed, and always training. Perfect for powering up." Kyrian answered candidly.

Success here meant the ultimate win. He'd dive into training and battle skills right after city entry. No more stressing over meals or a roof overhead.

Though dwarfed by the captain, the boy's iron will far outstripped his years, leaving Rurik pleased.

"Fine, kid, you’ve swayed me. Join the recruitment. But prove your worth as soldier material." Rurik stated, a uncommon grin cracking his features.

Kyrian sensed unexplained delight in the towering man—ideal. A slight smile tugged at his own lips.

"Follow me inside and prove you’re more than hot air." Rurik commanded, pivoting to stride into the barracks.

Without delay, Kyrian hurried after, brushing past the entrance guards without a backward look.

The pair swapped uneasy glances.

The soldier who'd mocked Kyrian's claim burst out suddenly.

"This makes no sense, it’s wrong. How can the captain allow a four-year-old into recruitment? If he gets injured and word spreads citywide, it’ll be a disaster."

"Quiet! What do you know? That... that ain’t kid strength, it’s a tiny monster..." The soldier who'd tasted Kyrian’s might firsthand grumbled, gut churning in humiliation. He couldn’t accept weakness to a child, yet replaying the clash confirmed it: any fight ended with him kneeling, gripped by the boy.

...

Trailing Rurik into the barracks, Kyrian noted two striking main structures.

They skirted past until reaching a stone-paved square courtyard. Right away, he spotted the ground crisscrossed with red lines.

Certain lines had dulled with age, while others gleamed fresh, like they'd just been redrawn.

Heeding Captain Rurik’s order, Kyrian settled at the foremost line.

"Recruitment starts in two hours once all arrive. Stay put at your spot," he instructed before striding off, vanishing into a barracks edifice.

Kyrian tracked the captain's form until it faded from sight, then shut his eyes for a brief snooze till the event kicked off.

Up on the second floor, Rurik observed Kyrian through a narrow window slit.

’Let’s see if you’ve got the grit and control to hold position for two hours straight. Or if you’ll start wandering,’ Rurik pondered with a sly smirk while eyeing the boy.

He'd already resolved to take on Kyrian no matter what—this was a genius unlike any he'd ever witnessed. At long last, someone fueled by real ambition, echoing his own fire. Yet he still craved to witness the full scope of what this rascal could achieve.

*********************************

Half an hour since Kyrian stepped inside the barracks, youths of every sort started gathering outside, forming a queue before the entrance.

A bit more than an hour later, thirty-nine sixteen-year-olds stood in impeccable rows.

Their attire marked most as kids from affluent homes, while others showed calluses from grueling work on their arms.

One soldier from the pair ushered them into the yard and commanded them to form a line, which they swiftly did. Moments later, he went back to his station.

The initial five minutes passed in hush, then faint whispers stirred. Kids their age simply couldn't keep quiet, above all with recruitment jitters gnawing at them.

Gradually, chatter spread among the crowd, though the dominant subject stayed unmistakably uniform.

Right upon entering the yard, all eyes had turned in bewilderment to the boy at the head of the first row.

"Who do you think that little one is? Why is he here with us?" a striking blond youth inquired.

"I have no idea, he hasn’t moved even a bit since we got here. He’s so still that if I didn’t see him, I’d say he was a ghost," someone nearby replied.

"Hey... maybe he’s the son of a soldier, or even the captain... for him to be here without that soldier who brought us saying anything, then he must be the child of someone important." A lanky boy with a shy face suggested.

Before long, the group embraced that as the top possibility.

About fifteen minutes earlier, Kyrian had roused from his doze. His eyes stayed shut. The nearby buzz held zero relevance.

Only one purpose brought him there, and nothing else signified.

Right then, Captain Rurik strode into view, advancing leisurely toward the group before pausing several meters off.

Four spear-bearing soldiers trailed him. The captain clutched his own spear, nearly rivaling his stature.

Kyrian at last unveiled his eyes.

"Welcome to recruitment!" Rurik’s commanding tone resounded through every ear.

"The city of Falk, as the last city of the country of Valor, is extremely far from the others and therefore practically independent. It is up to us to protect ourselves from the fierce beasts and the bandits that plague our peace."

"You are here to become strong and capable, to protect those in need. Weakness here is not an option. UNDERSTOOD?" Rurik declared, eyeing the entire lot.

"UNDERSTOOD, CAPTAIN RURIK!"

Voices boomed in unison. Kyrian alone held silent, oblivious to the need to reply. His mind now mulled the captain's mention of Country of Valor, revealing the name of his current realm.

"You will face three tests. Strength, endurance, and finally, you will fight. If you fail any, you’re out. If you pass..."

’Well, then the fun begins,’ Rurik kept that final bit to his thoughts.

"Follow me, let’s go to the place for the first test."

The four soldiers stepped up, directing the youths into lines.

Four neat rows of ten formed quickly, then they trailed Captain Rurik to a separate yard.

"First, lift and carry for twenty meters. If you drop it, you’re eliminated," Rurik announced, indicating the lineup of huge cubic stone slabs.

Recruits swapped glances, nerves gripping some, assurance others. Kyrian, positioned first in the rear line, simply awaited his go.

Next to the taller ones, his short frame looked downright ridiculous.

One by one, they started the challenge.

Those prepped and drilled for this moment triumphed, sweat pouring and pained grunts escaping as they made the distance. Seven youths pulled it off.

The rest tripped up or fell short on power, dropping the stones with resounding thuds upon the dirt.

At last, Kyrian's turn came. Captain Rurik folded his arms, gaze fixed upon him.

Kyrian drew near the slab, bent his knees, and hoisted it with scant strain. Actually, he furrowed his brow—it felt far lighter than expected.

’What’s become of my body? No way this power feels ordinary. The others strained so fiercely—what did those particles achieve?’ Kyrian pondered while striding, unknowingly covering the twenty meters effortlessly.

He placed it down. The yard's utter stillness broke with the stone's impact, snapping the stunned crowd from their trance into the here and now.

When Kyrian first stirred, all puzzled over his actions. His crouch sparked laughs anticipating the sight of him wrestling a block half his height.

But instead, in that instant, every last breath caught in collective astonishment.

The captain remained silent, a faint smile tugging at his lips while his fingers gripped the spear's shaft a touch tighter.

Before long, all had completed the test—some elated, others bearing grim faces.

"The first test is over, eight passed. The rest failed, but don’t worry, you’re not out yet."

"You will take all three tests, and we will decide at the end if you stay or not, even if you fail one of them. But if we notice that one of you is hiding your strength to be out, you can be sure you’ll spend the rest of your life in the barracks cleaning the courtyard." Captain Rurik declared, casting a menacing glare over the group as some shuddered in fear.

"Next test," he commanded then, as if the moment had never occurred.