[Wilderness out in the Middle of Nowhere, Rhombu]
(Whoosh)
(Whoosh)
(Whoosh)
(Whoosh)
(Whoosh)
Youngsters were dashing back and forth among the treetops, crawling through the bushes like they were running and fighting against a lake they were swimming across. To the average person, they were watching a completely random clusterf**k of things happening.
(Friiiiiiiiii)
The sound of a whistle ground everyone to a halt.
(Friiiiiiiiii)
The same sound made everyone explode with power.
"Ten-minute mark. Hurry up, or another set!!!"
Veins bulged as people ran faster, leapfrogged like a grenade was behind them, and swam faster. They were enraged, so they pushed even harder.
(Booooom)
(Boooooo)
(Boooooom)
(Boooooom)
When the gunshots rang out, everyone twisted at strange angles.
(Ahhhhhhhhh)
Many screams filled the sky as people expressed their frustration.
"Another lap"
"F**k"
"No swearing. Another two laps."
(Spoooosh)
One youngster locked onto two others who were sinking and pulled them up as she swam. She lifted them out of the water with herculean strength and placed them on the land. She assessed their conditions and gave one of them CPR. He started coughing within ten seconds and wheezed afterward.
"You there with the CPR. Return"
The youngster gave a salute and slipped into the observing crowd.
As time passed, the number of youngsters struggling to pull themselves together was less and less. Expressions of despair began to settle in, a prominent mark of their efforts. It would become a war scar that reminded them of the horrors they experienced.
They were taking their time breathing, conserving their energy when they noticed the officials in uniform standing a few feet away. They did not know if it was appropriate to get out or not.
They saw a young man step up. He had many decorations, probably high-ranking. The bad feeling turned worse. They noticed their fellow Cadets standing behind the officials, their solemn expressions exposing the mood.
"There isn't an easy way to say this. You're all officially front-of-the-line sacrificial degenerates unless something drastic happens in the next few months."
Many Cadets passed out on the spot. Many others swung back and forth uncontrollably before collapsing. Many still gritted their teeth, clenched their fists, and met the young man's gaze with resolute looks.
"Good. Good. The ones staring back with unwillingness. Come join the crowd. Your unrivaled fighting spirit is commendable."
The young man stepped back, and then he was gone. The group turned around and began to leave.
"Make sure the rest don't die. List them under degenerates. If nothing else happens, ship them to the front lines. Their fate is in their hands at that point. If they survive for a year, integrate them into the main force within the Military."
The voice was calm yet commanding. Powerful and wise.
"The ones that have ability and compassion. Start on the paperwork. If you have any preferences, let us know. The spots aren't limited, so you don't need to flatter us. As for a Golden Age Academy, continue working hard."
The voice was neither respectful nor casual, simply putting out a fact.
"Yes"
"Yes"
"Don't bother trying to hide within the crowd. Weakness stands out like a bent nail."
The youngsters in the crowd were excited. They clenched their fists with excitement, big wide smiles on their face. At first, they didn't understand the test. It was just like the reps, except harder. They didn't only have to fight against their bodies but also the environment. They just kept running, pushing, enduring. When the first of them fell, they all hesitated. No man left behind, but don't sacrifice your life so freely.
One didn't care, rushed forward anyways, and saved that person. They were known for being recklessly foolish, but they were praised and given a pass in this situation. That made them realize what the true purpose of the test was.
They were wrong.
One person seemed to get stronger and stronger, defying simple logic. He exploded with monstrous strength. Instead of reserving his energy, he let it flow without limit. Stamina seemed to work oppositely with him.
The more he exerted himself, the more pumped he became. He became more and more energetic. Eventually, he caused damage to the environment just by doing his thing, and at that time, he was praised and given a pass.
Strength. Willpower. Compassion.
They were looking for all of these things.
If you were strong, you were valuable.
If you were capable of saving others without any risk to yourself, you were valuable
If you were a monster, you were valuable
The mood erupted after that.
Of course, not everyone was fit for duty. Major injuries. Fatal injuries. Inescapable death. This was a reality on the front lines and was equally a reality here.
If you perished before ever meeting the enemy, you weren't surviving more than a minute in the real thing.
This boot camp was, in fact, a checkpoint, as they eventually realized. A screening to gain a rough understanding of how you'd do in the final assessment. The real one was much harder; if you were struggling with this, you wouldn't pass the official one.
Now that it was over, they were relieved but more stressed. Even after transforming their physiques, this was still a struggle. However, thinking about University and how much they would gain after surviving in the military, their hope was lit once more.
Unknowingly, one person came to mind. Cadet Sikhail GodFiend. They wondered how he was doing. They knew that he, and a few others, had been sent off for personal training. The gains he made were already monstrous to begin with.
How explosive was his growth now?
"All of you are thinking about Cadet Sikhail GodFiend and the others, right?"
The timing was too perfect, almost like their minds were being read. They knew someone had read the mood and struck at the right time. They turned to look, only to see the young man from earlier. He grabbed the decorations on his chest and tossed them to the side.
As he took off his hat, everyone went into an uproar. It was Sikhail Godfiend, but they recognized him.
Cadet Michael Furesmo.
"You're the one with a boxer for a father, right?"
"I heard you didn't get personal training but more fine-tuned training from the veterans."
"You had the devastating punches, right? Enough to rip a light sandbag off the hinges."
"Quiet. I don't have a lot to say. I see that most of you are quite talented. I honestly just made it in by the skin of my teeth. I feel pressure looking at some of you," Michael said calmly and assertively.
(Silence)
"I overheard some of the seniors on base referencing Cadet Sikhail GodFiend and the others. He came back recently, shortly after the rest of us. I didn't see the spar, but the results of it still struck a hammer in my heart. Private Sophia pestered him until he agreed. He won without taking any hits in under ten moves. I inquired about it, and if I went all out, it would take me around 180 moves just to get close, provided I had endless stamina. The crowd estimates that he held back significantly. His face was just too calm the entire time, despite the power seen in his blows," Michael explained.
(Silence)
(Hufffffffffffffffff)
(Tissssssssssss)
"Any of the seniors could easily pass this screening. Even if they were tired to the point that their bones were breaking, they would still be able to rescue others without an issue," Michael dropped the critical point.
Yells broke out, and some cheers. Cadets like Michael, considered above average in their group, did well. A bit of specialized training, and he already had such a formidable aura.
This was extremely motivating, an uplift from a moment ago.
"None of us are brats anymore. In some ways, this training is no different from the real thing. We used to be the recipients of it, but people always die in war. The ones that come out, those messages are shared. For every 1 that survives and becomes a hero, 10 more die to pave their path. Keep that in mind," Michael spoke solemnly.
Silence
"I'm coming back with the rest of you. So are the others. I don't know about Cadet Sikhail Godfiend and a few others, but the training will only become tougher. Are you expendable, or are you an invaluable asset? Prove to yourself your worth. No one else will," Michael concluded his speech.
The Cadets erupted once more as the senior officials nodded in approval. They said nothing more as they led everyone back to the base.
The military valued strength the most, but it would be ridiculous if they didn't have any technique. They just took a different route. Strategy, tactics, and positional warfare. Some understood it better than others and applied it in ingenious ways. Now that the foundation was built, it was time to add some substance and flair.
However, none of this would be spoken about. It needed to be realized. This was the unspoken rule in the military. No coddling. Discipline would be enforced to keep people on the right path, but if they were stubborn or clueless, no amount of lecturing would help.
The officials didn't have to speak to communicate that. It was all in the eyes, the posture, the small minuscule movements.
It was an invaluable skill on the battlefield, where noises often drowned you out, where the enemy could be right on top of you, where your comrades were miles away from you, and where you were isolated and only had yourself to rely on.