Nathan's POV
It's been three days, and my experience has been hell.
From the moment I stepped into the weapons quarter, I knew life here would be different — rough, cold, and harsh. The men barely spoke to me, and when they did, it was with orders or insults. I didn't fight back. I couldn't. I knew why I was here — Derrick sent me. And I had to survive it.
I spent my days scrubbing weapons, cleaning the floors, and hauling heavy boxes of iron and steel. My arms ached, my hands were covered in blisters, and sleep was almost impossible on the hard wooden bunk they gave me.
Still, I said nothing. No matter how tired or sore I was, I got up every morning and did what they asked. I couldn't show weakness. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
Today, I spent hours cleaning the entire forge room. There was soot everywhere — on the walls, on the floor, and in the air. It clung to my skin and made it hard to breathe. But I didn't stop. I cleaned and scrubbed until everything shined.
