"One shot. Just one shot." He said in harsh whisper, his eyes training straight at the target ahead. "Straight into the head and you are done for the day."

He took a step back and crossed his arms, eyeing on the trembling trainee. Silence blanketed over the duo. The trainee aimed his rifle at the target, his arms trembling and his palms clammy.

"Sir." He stuttered, not daring to look at his mentor. "May I please change target?"

His voice was small, as small as his confidence level, but he had to ask nevertheless. However, his mentor remained silent. Slowly, he dared to take a peek at his mentor, only to be shot back by the ferocious glare. He turned his eyes towards the target. He could see the target clearly through his scope. Open, tied and vulnerable. Not even a slight fidget as 'it' waited for 'its' death.

He wanted to scoff. It. That's right. They were simply it. Just an it. No name, no rights, not even a number or a tag. He wanted to revolt at this thought. How could anyone be this merciless? How could anyone be this cold blooded? The questions he had wondered the past few days of training. He had seen many broke down, many reluctantly pressed the trigger only to collapse right after. Nights after nights, he had suffered silently, thinking he would not be that 'lucky', but no, as fate would have it, of course, he had to go through the same test.

He trained his eyes at the target carefully, his mentor's words ringing in his ears. This is an animal kingdom. Only the strongest will survive. Pursing his lips, he trained his finger at the trigger and took aim. Closing his eyes tightly and praying silently to the gods, he pressed down on the trigger quickly.

The rifle went off with a loud "bang", smoke emitting from its nose. Claps rang out as he shivered from the coldness. He opened his eyes. The target was down. Lifeless. Dead. He turned to his mentor who smiled at him for the first time in the few days.

"Well done. You are allowed to rest." His mentor patted him on his head as he walked off, disappearing into the darkness.

He turned back to the pit, swinging his rifle over his shoulder as he walked towards the target, the path shone by the moonlight. With each step, he muttered prayers, his heart pounding furiously against his chest.

"I'm sorry." He knelt on the ground, ignoring the splatter of blood and body tissues that was surrounding him. He fought the urge to puke as the strong stench of blood choked him. After all, he owed him this. It was too late for regrets, no turning back.

"I'm sorry, brother."

Indeed, only the strongest will survive.