[Military Zone 5, Military Sector 25]
In a private room, Hsuzel, Trafola, and his senior advisers were analyzing battle footage.
“There were eight milestones. He cleared three of them.”
“It’s impressive that he was able to defeat Joe. Shame we couldn’t see him fight Sophia as well.”
“She doesn’t even need a minute to beat Joe.”
“What should we do then?”
“I already have a plan. We’re just here to discuss the results,” Hsuzel jumped in.
“I see”
“That’s good.”
(Chatter)
Hsuzel dismissed the group and turned to Trafola.
“Sir?” Trafola asked.
“The government has its own line of battle-suits. They even use it differently. The students, they have a low opinion of our physicality. They’re very protective of their targets. You don’t need to shut them up. Just show her that you’re a normal person with excellent combat senses,” Hsuzel explained.
Second Lieutenant Grace Trafola was raised under military etiquette. When she was of age, her father immediately enlisted her in the military. She would slowly forget what civilian life entailed. Unexpectedly, she turned into a relatively average person. She wasn’t necessarily a military beauty but had her attractive points. It’d be more challenging for the students to drum up resistance if the target for their ire went against their beliefs. As for her female fans… was that even an issue?
Hsuzel knew this, which is why he saw it as an effective use of resources. He valued Honorary Private Sikhail GodFiend to such a degree that he had no trouble poking the hornet’s nest.
“Really? That just sounds like a cop-out. Don’t men respect strength and leadership? If I was busy on something, how were you planning on dealing with them?” Trafola said with a smile.
She wouldn’t be toyed around with like that, especially with the words he used. However, Hsuzel merely smiled in response.
His gaze became extremely vicious as he stood up, walking methodically towards her. Trafola was caught off guard as she took a deep breath. She tried to suppress the tremors in her body, but a terror from within the depths of her soul reached out. Useless. She didn’t know how the man before her reached such a rank with such obvious intent. She only gathered courage when his hand walked up her chest. She reached for her gun, only for the pressure to disappear. She looked up fearfully, only to see that he had already sat down.
“Major… do you have a good explanation for this?” Trafola asked shakily.
There was a lingering fear at the bottom of her heart. She needed to get out of the room.
“You and your peers, it was unheard of for an entire group to rank up, never lagging behind or widening the gap. You’re the only one that’s still a rookie officer. The rest have long since been promoted to higher ranks. Regardless of your thorough essays, you’re still stuck at the Second Lieutenant Rank,” Hsuzel began a tale.
He paced back and forth as silence dominated the room.
“No matter your rank, the military values exploration and self-discovery. Just think back to how you reacted just now. You’re a hardened veteran; can you imagine the reaction of a bunch of kids? Your words would be more effective if you were intimidating. You can fall back on stereotypes and cliches, but what if it was a male instead? You’d execute the order in a heartbeat. You’d even brag about having him hooked around your finger. I can appeal to your common sense or act more viciously, show you a statistical reality,” Hsuzel lectured in detail.
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Trafola’s body twitched. Was she really that weak? The results honestly showed for themselves.
“You want me to deal with the kids, right? It has nothing to do with the genius,” Trafola asked as she sighed.
Hsuzel only nodded.
“Alright,” Trafola replied as she stood up.
Just as her foot crossed the entrance to the room, a shiver went down her spine.
“The more overboard it’s considered to have someone handle a specific situation, the more likely that top brass will promote them. They look for impact because impact makes the world spin round,” Hsuzel said bluntly.
“Sir!” Trafola silently saluted her commander before leaving.
Hsuzel left the room and returned to his office, where he made a private call.
“Hello. It’s me. We should meet. I have an interesting proposition for you. It guarantees she gets a ticket into Golden 3 Paths Golden Age Academy,” Hsuzel offered.
——|——|—|—|——|——
Sikhail GodFiend had been in the military for two days. The first dealt with administrative tasks, and the second was an extended assessment. The third day was the beginning of the boot camp.
The military placed importance on internal strength. The battle-suit was not invulnerable. There was no better proof than the hundreds of soldiers that had perished on the battlefield or in covert missions. Only Warriors, Magicians, and Rogues were considered *invincible*. Extraordinary means meant extraordinary durability.
Push-ups, pull-ups, curl-ups, bicep curls, sandbags, and jogs. This was the backbone of the military. This was the foundation of a soldier’s strength!
The standard formation was an 8x8 person square, with a few feet separating each formation. The horns blared at 5:30 A.M., attendance was at 6:00 A.M., boot camp started at 6:30 A.M., and lunch wasn’t a thing until the basics were done.
100 push-ups, pull-ups, curl-ups, bicep curls, sandbag punches, and a mile-long jog across 5 sets. The silence and crying went through deaf ears. The first couple were fine, but struggling with no fuel was the worst.
Somewhere in the crowd, Sikhail was a speck of dust in a sea of unpolished gems. He didn’t have any issue putting in the work to achieve his dreams. His inhumane tenacity and resilience gave him a leg up, but doing so many reps was boring. Sometimes he would pause in the middle of a rep, trying to remember what count he was on. This led to countless misinterpretations. The most common one was that he was pushing himself.
As his muscles tore down, as his reserves were nearing empty, he knew that was the best time to continue pushing. The real gains started when he felt the micro fractures in his bones.
He pushed through all five sets, taking a break in-between each set. He was the first to have breakfast, with a poker face, in front of everyone. The hot but savory fragrance stimulated everyone, in contrast to the instructor’s expectations.
They were unwilling to believe this inhumane exercise could be completed, but seeing a real breakfast motivated them to continue pushing.
They were sore at the end of the day and always asked for rest, but they had little choice but to continue. The other option was a feast for the senses.
It was painful, and the 2nd and 3rd day took longer to complete, but they made it to the end of the week. They slept all weekend, the original plan to have some fun tossed to the back of their mind. They only got up to relieve themselves, complain, cry, and sleep more.
Just like that, a week went by as the dawn of another week crept up from behind.
Day by day, their blood, muscles, and bones gradually became numb to the pain. They were being shaped, forged with persistent effort. Lean muscle took over useless fat. The grind became a fine-tuned machine. Push-ups turned into one-arm push-ups, which became single-finger push-ups. Pull-ups became muscle-ups. Sit-ups turned into holds. Bicep curls increased in weight. Jogs quickly transformed into longer sprints.
Cadets woke up independently in the 3rd week, starting the routine without getting reprimanded. They added hundreds of reps, an additional mile. They did this not because they wanted to but because they didn’t want to fall behind Sikhail GodFiend. His drive motivated them to finish the sets, and now he motivated them to push past their limits. It was a natural progression that happened smoothly. Of course, as the workload increased, so did the differences between individuals.
At some point, the males stopped wearing shirts, as the females switched to crop tops. They employed tools to push deeper and exceed their natural body weight.
As the Cadets gained muscle mass, Sikhail stayed lean and mean.
The 3rd week went by just like that, and the last week followed similarly.
——|——|—|—|——|——
It was the Friday of the 4th week. Everyone was in formation as the instructors walked around, checking each Cadet’s progress. The scrawny bunch of kids seemed more like adults now. Some had developed an intimidating demeanor, and others had a formidable aura.
Cadet Sikhail GodFiend was the only one who defied logic. He was physically similar to when he had started, but the toughness of his muscles was equivalent to steel. They were rendered speechless after knocking on it for fun. They actually heard a clang.
Everyone did the same thing, so why were his results very different? The lead instructor only smiled bizarrely as he stepped up to the crowd.
“Everyone, we’ve had three full weeks of training. I’m sure you all want to showcase your strength. Any questions?”
Despite the poker faces, their eyes revealed endless excitement.
——|——|—|—|——|——
Inside a large building was a long padded wall cordoned off into ten sections, ten lines, and ten instructors waiting in the front.
The first ten Cadets stepped up. One by one, the wind whistled as tremors were felt.