Chapter 13: Trying to make new friends

"I must have taken the wrong route to get here," Lionel cried as he slumped in exhaustion. "This doesn't seem like a camp at all."

1. Any usage of anima or magic must comply with the camp's regulations and guidelines and should only be used for official military purposes, such as defense, spying, or communication.

2. Unauthorized use of anima or magic, including using it for personal gain, entertainment, or in a manner that causes a threat to fellow soldiers or the camp's operations, is strictly prohibited and will result in severe disciplinary action.

"Nope, I'm not going to read that," Lionel complained, he would rather have a monster tear him into pieces than let his brain rot into a pile of junk.

Aside from the parchment, he could also see various items on the table, including a map of the surrounding terrain, a set of tactical diagrams, and a stack of reports and orders. Once he looked at the list of regulations in the military rulebook, he couldn't help but cry in tears.

At first, he was hesitant to take the parchment from the officer. But the officer's stern demeanor intimidated him, and he learned to comply. He found it challenging to relate to the military's rigid mindset and strict beliefs, making him feel like a stranger who's stranded in the woods.

Lionel struggled to keep up with their rigorous routine of constant exercise, which made him feel like he was crumbling under pressure. But even with all the exhaustion, he still spent two more days with them.

On the first morning, he ran with weights before breakfast. Then, he ate a large meal. Following that, there was a lecture that sounded mostly like propaganda to him. Their seven instructors schooled everyone in the field in hand-to-hand combat after the lecture. They were told if they lost a tooth, they should save it, and the magician could heal it back in place, but they would not waste anima in regrowing it. After hand combat, he had another meal. Once he was done, he was schooled in sword forms. He had to learn seven sword forms, each with seven segments. He practiced with the weighted swords, striving for perfect movements. If they were good, he would be given a heavier sword.

After spending a few hours honing with his sword, he felt a hurdle preventing his training and asked one of the instructors. After expressing his problem, the instructors taught him different weapons: dagger, axe, crossbow, short sword, two-handed sword, spear, and polearm. He was told that his goal was not to master another weapon but to learn enough to know how to fight effectively against someone with these weapons. So, before eating his lunch, he rotated every day between instructors in groups of 15. After the cross-weapon training, he did some more fitness training till sunset. After the exhausting training, he had a shower distilled by an aqueduct, received healing if needed, and more food.

Lionel had crunched every angle he could improve on to hone his skills, learning as the best as he could.

In the first few days of training, he found it difficult to move due to intense fatigue. His muscles ached, and every step felt like a tremendous effort. Unlike his mother, the instructors didn't scream and yell at him. Instead, they calmly threatened to send him to the army if he didn't keep going. By then, every morning, he would drag himself out of bed, his limbs cramped and exhausted.

During this time, he felt like a lost traveler who had stumbled upon a secret garden, where he could see life's chaos and beauty unraveling from different angles.

But in the end, he knew he didn't belong here. He was just a lost boy who had gotten lost along the way.

Once he stared at the jar of slime on his table, he smiled, finally getting a chance to take a break. The slime had a corrosive effect, dissolving whatever material it came into contact with, and he found it fascinating.

He had been using the resources from the camp to conduct experiments with the [Xenoslime] he was gifted the other day, trying to test its effects and potential uses. He tried different materials such as metals, fabrics, plant matter, and animal bones. The slime had proven to be a versatile substance, capable of dissolving most materials and transforming them into a semi-liquid state.

"The effect only lasts for a minute or so."

Lionel was happy to discover that soldiers who could create their own potions were entitled to an extra benefit. However, as with any organized group, there was a condition. Lionel had to brew a potion for them every hour he used their experimental lab. The camp had its own set of rules, and he had to abide by them if he wanted to keep conducting his experiments and using their resources.

The thrill of discovering something new ignited a spark of his creativity, fueling his mind with an insatiable desire for knowledge and its secrets.

Lionel fell on a slime that he mistakenly sprinkled from his experiment, from which he lost his balance, and hit his toes at the edge of a table. He screamed from the pain, and he hopped around, clutching his leg.

However, even with all of the slime splashed on him. He smiled as though it were just another day of his childhood. He could still remember laying a brick under his dad's bed, waiting for him to step on it at the first dawn of the morning. But as he thought of his current situation, he couldn't help but wallow in sadness. He missed the little moments he used to share with his father, playing saucers and laughing together.

With nothing to do, he focused his thoughts back on the table, but in an accidental mistake, a rush of emotions rushed through him. From there, he noticed a ribbon hanging from the end of the table, triggering the threads of his memories.

"Dad... The outside world is too vast for me to understand." Lionel sobbed. He rested his arms on the table and closed his eyes, letting his emotions carry him through a sea of memories. In that home, he saw his mom's comforting smile and the warmth of her embrace. However, while recalling his happy days, a humming sound interrupted him, and a lantern emerged beside him, flickering in shades of blue.

Then, with a melodious voice, the space around him began to twist, transforming the entire room back to its previous appearance.

"Time's up," a voice boomed through the room.

Lionel reacted to the voice, staring at the tusk-like teeth sparkling before his eyes. The teeth belonged to an orc whose tusk was covered in gold assortments, giving him a fierce and intimidating appearance.

"Dang it, give me some time," Lionel pleaded.

Choppy sneered at Lionel, his eyes filled with contempt. "Time? You've had plenty of time already."

The orc, which everyone calls, Choppy, is known for his little frame and snobbish nature. Choppy often raises everyone's laughter with his sarcastic remarks and witty comments. Every time he intimidates someone, they would find it hard to laugh, knowing that his tiny frame wouldn't even scare a squirrel.

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Choppy grinned, revealing more of his gold-covered tusks. "You're lucky I like you, Lionel. Otherwise, I'd have dragged you out of here by now."

Lionel stifled a laugh, knowing that Choppy's threats were empty. He wasn't still used to seeing Choppy's miniature figure. He laughed as he imagined the orc trying to drag him out of the room.

Choppy caught Lionel's laughter, his face contorting into a scowl. "What's so funny?"

Lionel stared back, but the laughter kept gurgling out of him, "I'm sorry, Choppy."

"It's just that... you're an orc, and you're... well, not exactly the biggest one I've seen."

The orc's red face deepened, his tusk swirling with a sinister aura. "You dare mock me?"

"Guda! Ru! Dah!" Choppy grabs his axe, ready to attack.

But before it could reach Lionel, a slime suddenly conjured between them, its surface forming into a shield blocking the attack.

"Well, there's your experiment," Lionel said, knocking the impact away from the shield.

The shield appeared to be solid and tight. It can almost shoulder or withstand an impact from a hammer that can shatter a rock. He stared and studied the gooey substance as it tried to mend the cracks on the shield.

Unfortunately, the substance was made of liquid, only being able to withstand a limited amount of force before dispersing. There's also a problem with weapons made of sharp materials, such as swords and arrows, which can easily slice through the liquid shield.

However, due to the unique structure of the liquid, its attributes allow it to respond differently to various forces. For example, when friction is suddenly applied, such as a hammer striking it, its molecules can momentarily harden to resist the impact, amplifying the liquid to a much denser state. The adhesives would tighten upon impact, forcing the enemy's weapon to stick and get trapped, momentarily stalling their assault. This tactic could help him a lot in battle. It gives him a good defense and allows him to attack back and retreat.

But considering the nature of the slime. He would also need to constantly control the slime's form and density. This prevents it from dispersing and losing its defensive properties. He would also need to consider the limitations of the liquid shield, such as its vulnerability to heat and certain chemicals.

Lionel patted the shield with his hands, and the slime clung firmly to his skin before slowly sliding off. "I'm going to name this technique Aegis Shield," he declared, pleased with his invention.

"Bah! What could a stinky slime do against my beloved axe?" Choppy snarled, swinging his massive axe in the air.

"Well, for a beginner, you swing that axe pretty well," Lionel replied with a smirk.

Choppy grunted in anger, ready to strike his axe again. "This time, I'll show you what a real weapon can do!"

"Wait, wait!" Lionel raised his hands in surrender. "Before you do that, you might want to consider where we are currently."

"What's happening over there?" one of the camp patrols called out as he saw Choppy wielding his axe aggressively.

"Choppy! What are you doing here?" the patrol asked in confusion.

Choppy lowered his axe, scratching his head. "Uh, I got lost."

"Perhaps I could assist with the supplies," Lionel suggested with a subtle hint.

For a minute there, he almost thought that Choppy's poor excuse would get them into trouble. But luckily, he managed to distract the soldier with his quick thinking.

The soldier gave Choppy a curious look before relenting and considering Lionel's suggestion. "Fine," the patrol finally said.

"What, you don't trust me?" Choppy grunted. "I'm still your senior, fleshskin."

"Of course," Lionel chuckled. "If you hadn't treated the camp like your own personal piggy bank, you probably wouldn't have gotten lost in the first place."

"Everyone here knows you well, Choppy," Lionel added with a teasing grin.

***

"Psst, hey, you're new in this place, right?" a voice said.

"You could say that," Lionel replied, carrying a box of supplies.

"I'm Ivan," the voice continued. "I noticed you talking to the patrol earlier. You seem to be doing some heavy lifting there."

"I got into some trouble, but it's not that bad," Lionel shrugged. "I'm Lionel."

"Hey, you're not perhaps an Apron, right? I've seen you hanging out with those guys." Ivan paused for a second, trying to recall something. "You've even managed to convince Choppy to help you out."

"Apron? Oh, that's why that orc kept giving me extra time for the lantern," Lionel held his chin thoughtfully. "It's a bit more complicated than that."

"Lantern? So you're an Apron," Ivan noted.

Lionel shuddered, thinking how huge the misunderstanding was. "This is bad... How am I going to explain this?"

"One after another, seriously?"

Aprons are part of an integral ranking system designed to fully train recruits to their highest potential as they advance amongst the ranks. Those who shoulder the title of Apron are known for their unique talent and exceptional skills, giving them the utmost importance in their training and development. Their abilities are often highly regarded, even going so far as to drag them to exhaustion during their training.

From a safe distance, Lionel noticed Darius and Ariel immersed in their training exercises. Darius was working on mastering his swordsmanship, skillfully swinging his sword with grace. He closed his eyes and held his sword peacefully, imagining the path of a falling leaf in front of him.

Suddenly, the leaf split in half, leaving only a pair of leaves floating in the air. Darius exhaled slowly, releasing the tension in his body. He sheathed his sword back and turned his head to Ariel, who was practicing his archery. Darius clenched his fist, his eyes glued with hostility, and without saying a word, he left the training grounds and steered toward the woods.

Ivan noticed Lionel's confused expression and smiled as he looked at Darius walking away. "If I'm not mistaken, you have already met those two before coming here," he said.

Lionel shivered, thinking of the circumstances that brought him to this place. "Yep, not even one good first impression."

After placing the last box in the storage room, Lionel turned to Ivan and asked, "So, what's the deal between those two?"

"Ariel isn't usually the problem here. It's Darius," Ivan replied while his stomach grumbled with hunger. "Ayoo, I haven't eaten since yesterday."

Suddenly, Ivan's eyes lit up as he saw the carriage of supplies filled with food. "Great, just what I need."

Lionel chuckled, "Help yourself out. Just don't eat everything."

Ivan grinned and quickly rummaged through the supplies, grabbing some bread, cheese, and dried meat. "So, about those two," he continued while munching a mouthful of food.

"They used to be good friends, but something happened a week ago. No one knows what happened, but since then, they've been avoiding each other, barely even talking." Ivan burped as a piece of stale bread fell from his mouth. "It's a shame, really."

Ivan took a bite of an apple, "That's one good apple."

"Anyway, I gotta leave. It's not that big of a deal." Ivan made a sign of farewell before leaving the storage room, still munching on his food.

"Oh, I forgot something," Ivan grabbed a package of bandages from the shelf before quickly leaving the room. "Hey, if you happened to be an Apron, you'll eventually meet the lot of us."

"Cya later!" Ivan said with a grin while casting a spell of haste to increase his speed, a trail of dust following his steps.

Lionel watched as Ivan disappeared into the distance. He stood there for a while, twirling a ribbon between his fingers and contemplating Ivan's words. "An apron, huh? I wonder what that means," he muttered.

Lionel felt a strange stirring in his emotions. "Friendship?" he wondered. "Is it really that simple?" Confusion clouded his eyes as he thought about the meaning behind the word. He reached for a small booklet from his pocket, a small dictionary that he carried with him most of the time, providing him with a wealth of knowledge and vocabulary.

Flipping through the pages, Lionel soon found the definition of the word he was looking for. "Friendship: the act of being friends, the condition of having mutual trust and support between individuals."

However, for some odd reason, there was still a trace of uncertainty residing in his heart. He had always been able to share his thoughts and feelings with his close friends. He thought of her friend, Rhiene, and how she always brought out the best in him, laughing and teasing beside him, making him feel comfortable enough to open up about his worries and fears.

The memories of their conversations and laughter brought a small smile to his face. He still remembered his mother nagging him about having a girl as a friend and that it would only end up breaking his heart. But he never believed her, telling her that his friendship with Rhiene was nothing more than that. They were just kids playing in the fields, pretending to be heroes and warriors.

But now, in this unfamiliar place, he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was different. Perhaps it was this strange feeling he was far from home, or he had yet to establish real connections with the people around him. The uncomfortable taste lingered in his mouth.

"Come to think of it, I've only had two real friends in my life," Lionel thought of his father, who had only books as his companion.

"I suppose things will have to stay like this for a while," he smiled bitterly.