“Goddammit… I swear that woman is the devil incarnate!” Sam exclaimed as he fell onto his back, ignoring the cold snow beneath him. His breath formed a mist in the frigid air, but he didn’t care.
“It was supposed to be three… I said three laps!” Yovan joined in, collapsing beside Sam, the exhaustion evident in his voice.
“It’s all his fault…” Einar pointed at Damian, who stood to the side, yawning and stretching as if the strenuous activity had barely affected him.
“What?” Damian asked, puzzled, as he noticed everyone glaring at him.
“Because of you, she raised it to seven laps today! Show some guilt, you heartless bastard!” Sam yelled, and everyone around him nodded in agreement, even those who weren’t part of the conversation.
“I said sorry, didn’t I? How was I supposed to know she’d get that mad over a simple laugh?” Damian argued back, shrugging his shoulders.
It had been ten days since they started training. As Damian had anticipated, the pugilist captain added an extra lap every few days, making life increasingly difficult for the recruits who had barely managed to adapt to three laps. Today, when she saw many struggling, she initially reduced one lap, which made Damian chuckle.
Unfortunately, this chuckle didn’t go unnoticed, and as a result, she added two more laps, pushing half the kids to their limits. Sam, however, had been improving every day and managed to complete five laps before collapsing. Yovan had endured until the fourth lap before falling into the snow, his last words being, ‘F*ck the war… Let me just die in peace.’
“But you didn’t have to laugh right in front of her face…” Einar added, falling to his knees beside everyone else. Despite his exhaustion, he had managed to complete all six laps, showing the most significant improvement of the group.
“What are you even made of? Even we have trouble doing six laps, and you don’t even look tired…” Geldric remarked, with Jorven nodding in agreement, his expression incredulous.
“What are you talking about? I am tired… See?” Damian attempted to show signs of exhaustion, but it wasn’t convincing enough. The group collectively gave him a stink eye before changing the subject.
Ten days of rigorous training had somewhat acclimated them to the ways of the soldiers and life in the army. It wasn’t entirely pleasant, but it was manageable. The schedule had remained consistent since day one: exercise, running, weapons training, more running, and then theory lessons before they were finally allowed to rest.
There had been no variations, and the routine was beginning to feel almost normal. Through shared hardships, their little group had grown closer, and they had become more familiar with the other recruits as well.
Naturally, as with any community, groups had formed within the camp. People from the same regions stuck together; those from Pyron City had their own group, as did those related to knights, or had rich parents who considered themselves superior to others. Mages banded together, and spellswords formed another group.
Those who had remained alone during the first few days found it increasingly difficult to integrate into any group as time passed. Their group was the only one which did not have any similarities except their pain.
After the customary complaints following their run, everyone stood up, grumbling and groaning as they made their way towards the bath, then to breakfast. Damian helped Sam and the others to their feet, and they headed to the sleeping tent to get a change of fresh clothes.
However, as soon as they entered the tent, Damian noticed a crowd of kids gathered around one of the beds, their attention focused on something unfolding.
From the voices, it seemed like the usual arrogant group of green- and white-haired kids flaunting their superiority over some unfortunate kid. Bullies existed everywhere, and this world was no exception. Damian wasn’t surprised.
These kids, offspring of knights or far relatives of nobility, often mixed with those of wealthy parents, had been taught from a young age to order others around and flaunt their prestigious bloodlines whenever possible. Usually, their antics were ignored, but today, something different was happening.
The rest of Damian’s friends rushed toward the commotion, so he followed, curious to see what was going on.
“Come on, friend… All you have to do is remove them, and it’s yours…” Damian heard the oldest green-haired kid say to a skinny boy who typically kept to himself, staying out of everyone’s way.
The five others behind him laughed as if the statement was the most amusing thing they’d ever heard. Even the plus-sized white-haired kid, who Damian had seen desperately trying to fit in with the group, joined in the laughter.
“Yeah, let us see that majestic little pecker of yours…” Another white-haired kid chimed in, prompting another volley of laughter.
This was new. While they had always been rude and threatening, going this far was a first. True to the captain’s words, there was no one supervising them in the tent, and even when complaints were made, they were either ignored, or the captains would offer a few empty words during training the next day, which, of course, had no real effect.
“He won’t do it just like that… Let’s give him some motivation…” said the plus-sized white-haired boy, and almost in sync, three of them started chanting the water ball spell.
“Stop this nonsense at once!” yelled a familiar voice.
Damian climbed onto someone’s bed to get a better view, and sure enough, it was his blonde-haired, somewhat foolish assistant stepping into the fray. Now things were getting interesting. Two of the three boys shifted their focus to Sam and continued chanting.
‘I hope he gets punched…’
Damian was half-amused by the unfolding drama.
Before the chanting could finish, Yovan and the cousins stepped behind Sam, and Einar moved closer as well, all of them staring down the five bullies. Their numbers no longer advantageous, the bullies hesitated, stopping their chanting.
“You sure you want to do this, outsider?” the oldest boy threatened, his voice wavering slightly.
“What has he done to you lot? Why are you making his life difficult?” Sam demanded, stepping forward protectively.
The skinny boy, who had already removed his top, slowly stood up and positioned himself beside Sam, his eyes filled with gratitude.
“We want to see his little pecker… The bastard thinks he can get away with running in front of us,” one of the green-haired boys explained, revealing the absurd reason for their harassment.
“He can run wherever he wants… You don’t own the land,” Sam retorted, his voice firm.
“Don’t we…?” the oldest boy sneered, a malicious grin spreading across his face.
“Handle the pugilists and the mage; I’ll deal with these two useless ones…” he barked an order to his group of brats.
Instantly, two of them grabbed swords from nearby beds and charged at the cousins, while a green-haired mage chanted behind them, providing cover. The other mages aimed at Yovan, and the oldest among them drew his sword, stepping closer to Sam and Einar.
‘Hah! Disappointing! What happened to good old fist fights?’
Seeing things getting out of hand, Damian jumped down from the bunk bed he had been watching from, landing near Sam.
“Took you long enough,” Sam muttered under his breath.
The older boy hesitated for a moment upon seeing Damian, but when he noticed everyone around them watching, he continued his attack. He swung his sword in a wide arc toward Damian’s hands. Damian stepped aside, letting the sword come close before grabbing its handle with one hand.
With his other hand, he struck the boy’s right shoulder with enough force to make him scream, causing him to release his grip on the sword.
The cousins also disarmed their attackers, landing a few well-placed punches on their perfect, fair faces. However, the spells aimed at Yovan couldn’t be stopped. They appeared to be water and air blades—were these guys for real? Did they genuinely want to kill them?
Damian quickly formed a runic circle with his hands, casting the fastest and simplest spell he could without causing harm. To maintain the charade, he muttered random Japanese words aloud, pretending to chant. Fortunately, the chanting in this world was language-specific, allowing him to disguise his chantless spells.
A powerful gust of wind erupted from the runes, blowing all four of them off their feet and crashing them into the beds behind, interrupting their chants. Modified simple air runes were excellent for both mana efficiency and disrupting enemies. The oldest boy looked at Damian in confusion, just as Sam sucker-punched him in the face, sending him flying onto one of the beds.
“Next time, I want no delays in my breakfast time,” Damian warned loudly before walking off, leaving the stunned crowd behind.
Half the kids stared at him as if seeing him for the first time, while the other half watched the handsome bullies moaning on the ground.
“I knew it! That bastard is not normal at all…” Geldric remarked with a grin.
Everyone else nodded in agreement as they watched Damian’s back retreating from the scene.