The courtyard buzzed with activity. All around, warriors and soldiers trained in perfect rhythm—some sparring in intense duels, others immersed in rigorous workouts, sharpening their bodies like weapons forged through sweat and discipline.
Aamir walked into the center of the field, flanked by Seenu, Riya, Meera, Raj, and Kunal. The murmurs didn't take long to start. Soldiers glanced at the boy in the center with mixed expressions—confused, amused, and dismissive.
Without hesitation, Aamir stepped forward and raised his voice.
"Listen up, everyone!"
The courtyard stilled. All eyes were on him.
"My name is Aamir Singh. I, along with my comrades, am here to pick the best of the best from among you."
A few soldiers frowned. Some looked at each other, bewildered. Then, one of them—a tall, well-built man with a scar running down his left eye—scoffed and stepped forward.
"And why the hell should we follow a kid? What's next? You want us to walk you to your mom?"
