It's been one week since the small group- a fire team- approached us. They showed us to our barracks. The barracks reminded me of father's hospital, bunk-beds across from each other. A total of forty enlisted/drafted soldiers in our specific barrack.
I sat on the top bunk with Lea as my bunk buddy.
Excluding the day we arrived, every day has been the same.
In the morning, a bugle call will go off to signal the sunrise. Then, we'd have a roll call where the officers would give us…advice, you could say.
Tuesday: "I've seen more discipline in a kindergarten class. Is this the best our country has to offer?"
Wednesday: "I don't care about your feelings. I care about your ability to follow orders and keep your fellow Marines alive."
Thursday: "Complacency has no place here. We strive for excellence in everything we do."
Friday: "You think you can just waltz in here and play soldier? This is real life, maggot!"
Saturday: "You're not special. You're not unique. You're just another Marine, and you'll earn your place."
After we received our lovely advice, we'd move onto exercises. We simply did calisthenics and ran every morning. Lea and I helped each other whilst doing those, engaging in conversation too. At first, I was skeptical, but I don't mind it too much now.
This was followed by breakfast, then unit training. Amongst the forty of us, we were split into six units of which four shared the same amount of people-that being four.
My unit, the Viper Squad. Out of the other three people, I only knew of Lea. One of my teammates, Yami Kurogane, a japanese-Amerithian, had a black ponytail and a clean-shaven face. His buddy, our other partner, Ellie Mitchell was a year younger than him and the team leader at nineteen years old. Her hair was a warm, golden blonde with hints of red resembling the color of ripe strawberries.
Giovanni, Aika, and Nolan were all on the same squad. The Phoenix squad.
Elara was all by herself, a part of the Thunderbolt fire team.
When we were first given our units, we were told by the officers our intended duties. My squad was being trained to be a part of a large regiment that is soon planning on executing a supposedly crippling attack against Montag, somewhere on their eastern border.
So, in order to get ready for that, we had more or less learned the art of shooting a gun. Depending on your class, you can even enhance the strength of the bullets. Of course, for an assassin like me, it's impossible. At least, that's what everybody thinks.
To train in marksmanship, we shot at dummies with targets on them or golems summoned by military mages, both of which gave exp. Not much, but we'd take what we can get.
After that, we spent roughly an hour learning martial arts. In Heaven, when we were created, us angels had no problem with fighting knowledge. There were no names for martial arts, we simply knew how to fight. However, here on Avaloria the humans take pride in naming their martial arts.
I of course still knew how to fight, but human techniques were much different. Most were created with the intention of beauty as compared to the ruthlessness I was used to. That's not to say there aren't martial arts here that were created with the intention of killing. After all, that's what we've been learning here, a martial art known as Leithwei.
We chose a partner every day and practiced against each other outside on a field with ten thousand other recruits every day. And if you were lucky, you'd get one of the mats to practice on. One thing we all unanimously shared though, was how we fought with no protection, bare handed.
The small handful of people with experience, such as Ellie, tended to crush the newer recruits.
And our only view was the mountains.
"Get up maggot!" An officer commanded me. "You're gonna let Private Dubois whoop your ass? For God's sake, get the hell up! Either shape up or ship out! What'll it be, Private Sombra?!"
As the first rays of dawn painted the training grounds in hues of amber, I laid at the center, my bare feet gripping the worn canvas mat. The air crackled with anticipation, and the aroma of sweat and determination lingered.
I groaned and coughed, holding my stomach in pain as it felt like a relentless cascade of biting insects. I reached out with my other hand, Lea helping me up. The officer walked away, and I glanced to my right where our teacher stood. Instructor Zeya. He was shorter than most people, but that didn't stop him from undeniably being the strongest in hand-to-hand combat. He was a berserker, except nobody here other than some officers have ever seen him go into berserker mode.
He looked at Lea and slightly bowed his head, "I'll be his opponent now, Lea. Make sure to not miss anything."
"Understood instructor Zeya." She stepped off the mat.
Knowing how he operates, I immediately readied myself. On the battlefield, there's no ready signal, you just kill or be killed.
Zeya, the seasoned Lethwei instructor, moved gracefully around me, a living embodiment of the martial arts heritage. Each step carried an echo of discipline, and his calloused hands demonstrated years of relentless training. "Stance is the foundation," he boomed, his voice carrying across the open space.
I mirrored the instructor, adopting the traditional Lethwei stance. My body became a coiled spring, ready to unleash controlled aggression. Instructor Zeya circled me, adjusting angles and postures with a discerning eye. "Feel the ground beneath you. It's your ally and your foundation."
The sound of fists meeting fists echoed through the quiet morning as I unleashed a series of rapid jabs and crosses. Instructor Zeya, with a sage nod, encouraged more power. "Lethwei is not for the faint-hearted. Channel your strength from the earth, through your limbs, and into your opponent."
'I'm growing tired of his calmness.' I thought.
Elbow strikes followed, sharp and calculated. His words were a continuous stream of guidance, weaving through the rhythm of movement. "The elbows are your secret weapon. Use them wisely, and they become a force of nature."
I hopped forward, twisting my body and attempting a roundhouse kick. Instructor Zeya easily blocked it, forcing my own leg to slightly twitch. Closing the distance, I tried to get my hands over his shoulders, a palm strike hitting me under my shoulder, a gushing scream sounding out of me.
"Enough. Lea, you're back in."
As the session progressed, I engaged in clinch work, locking arms against Lea. Sweating and breathless, I absorbed the essence of Lethwei's close-quarters combat. The atmosphere was charged with intensity. As if she were a new person, Lea even began to grin and smile.
"Conditioning is the key," Zeya emphasized, leading us through drills that tested our endurance and mental resilience. The thud of kicks against each other reverberated, marking the relentless pursuit of perfection.
Everybody's instructors trained them until the hour ended. Instead, Instructor Zeya ended off our sessions with historical lessons behind the martial art. To be honest, it's actually quite interesting.
Today's lesson was quick, but Lea and I learned that Lethwei originated from an ancient kingdom whose name was erased throughout time. And a major thing that historians have managed to figure out about it is that it came somewhere from the Eastern continent.
Once that was done, the next thing varied. Sometimes it was field exercises, but other times it was training in one's individual class.
First thing in the evening was lunch. Just like breakfast, I sat with the people I came to his base with.
And to end the day before lights out, we had personal and free time, doing whatever we so wished.
Many wrote letters.
Not me.
I spent that time training more. My goal was till exhaustion, but the bugle call for lights out would happen before I could. A good thing, you could say.
"Private Sombra, this is for you. Good day now." A man handed me an envelope right after I got out of the shower. Compared to mages, us other classes have to take normal showers.
I went to the barracks and climbed onto my bed, noticing Lea already slumped. I opened it up.
Reading in the dark was an easy feat for an assassin.
I murmured to myself as I read, my soul nearly dropping at the last line: "See you Monday little brother!"
"…"