As Rico's voice rang out, his sharp command snapped his subordinates out of hesitation.
"Not enough wits!" he shouted, his tone filled with fiery resolve.
"Come at me already! If you flinch, you die!"
They were in the thick of day two, and Rico's group was already dripping with sweat, their clothes, freshly washed the night before, now torn and ragged.
Despite the exhaustion on their faces, there was a newfound resilience in their eyes, a fierceness that hadn't been there before.
Some among them had begun to manifest the Shield of Fortitude, only to have it shattered by Rico's relentless strikes.
A few dodged one or two of his attacks, proving their growth, while others were learning to evade more frequently.
Anyone watching might have mistaken this for a real battle, as each trainee faced off with genuine intensity, pushing themselves to keep up with their commanding officer.
Rico's taunts only drove them harder, silencing any fleeting thoughts of undermining him.
Those harboring even a sliver of doubt about overthrowing him as their commander saw those thoughts vanish in the heat of combat.
His seemingly unassuming, lean frame was deceptive; his strength, wits, and unyielding will were becoming legend among his subordinates.
They came to see him as the formidable Commander Tiyaga—a man who could hold his ground with a presence that demanded both respect and fear.
The training continued day after day as Rico molded his squad, introducing them to skills like the Shield of Fortitude, Wrathful Strikes of Ares, and Divine Power Harnessing.
He taught with precision and patience, ensuring each skill sank in gradually but effectively.
Each day, Rico himself grew stronger, his physique slowly transforming.
His once lean frame filled out with hard, defined muscle, and he even seemed to stand a bit taller.
His group, once viewed as the weakest, now carried an aura of intimidation that set them apart.
Which the other group got used to not realizing that Rico's group were barely holding it in.
And what was visible was just a tip of an iceberg.
While other groups struggled to master even a few skills from the manuals,
Rico's squad pushed themselves to their limits, training during every available hour, becoming stronger and sharper.
---
Finally, a new morning dawned on the training grounds.
The high walls lowered, revealing the senior commanders standing above, observing with eyes keen to judge the growth of the recruits below.
Rico's group stood out among the trainees, bearing torn but clean clothing, each with a sharp, focused gaze, listening intently without so much as a flinch.
Commander Demetrius stepped forward, his presence commanding, and the trainees hailed him with respect.
"You have been here, training and becoming sharper with each passing day," he began, his voice echoing across the field.
"Some of you have shown significant growth, while others are still on the path. As we said, it is the responsibility of the commander to train his subordinates."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the crowd.
"You had only 30 days for close combat training. The fortunate among you seized this opportunity, while others squandered it."
His tone was stern, and murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"All leaders are to return the manuals given for close combat training, as this portion has come to an end."
"Those who have truly grasped three skills to the point of second nature will find themselves well-prepared."
Rico, his expression steady, did not react, while several other novice commanders visibly flinched.
Demetrius continued,
"We shall now move to the next phase of your training. This time, you will not be handed manuals."
"Instead, you will select a weapon of your choice and learn its use over the next two months, with guidance from your commanders."
With that, Demetrius led the group to the armory.
Inside, they found a display of divine weapons that shimmered with an otherworldly aura, sparking awe among the trainees.
However, they were not meant to choose from these; instead, they were led to a second room, where the true purpose awaited.
The room held rows of large, dormant ores—each one reflecting a faint, mystical glow.
Demetrius gestured to the trainees.
"Stand before an ore," he commanded.
"These ores are in hibernation, forged by Hephaestus himself and awaiting a final touch."
"By imbuing them with a bit of divine energy and a drop of your blood, you will awaken your weapon—a weapon that will reflect your true self."
He paced before them, his words solemn.
"Be mindful, as your thoughts will shape this weapon."
"What you envision will become your reality, and this weapon will stand by you forever. As it awakens, you will also name it."
One by one, the trainees stepped forward, each pressing their hand to an ore and watching as their weapon materialized,
each one mirroring their commander's own weapon of choice, a testament to the bond they'd built and the trust they held in their leaders.
It was both an impressive and humbling sight as each weapon emerged, sharp and gleaming.
Finally, Rico approached his ore, his eyes focused.
Placing his hand on the stone, he envisioned the kampilan—a traditional Filipino weapon.
Divine energy surged from his hand, wrapping around the ore as it began to shift and solidify, transforming into the weapon he had imagined.
As it took form, he spoke with reverence,
"I, Tiyaga, behold my weapon before the Creator Elohim and in the name of my Lord Ares. I name you Anito."
The weapon shimmered as it fully awakened, a black blade with a lining of silver along its edge.
The blade itself bore tiny white spots around the hilt, like stars against the night, and a short rope extended from the hilt, bearing the banner of Ares.
Near the hilt, in delicate engraving, was the mark of Hephaestus, affirming its divine origin.
The sight was mesmerizing—a weapon uniquely his, resonating with power and purpose, crafted through divine will.
The weapon solidified in Rico's hand, gleaming with a faint, divine light that pulsed as if alive.
Just as he marveled at Anito, a system display flashed before his eyes in translucent, otherworldly text, visible only to him:
[Weapon has been forged based on the will of Tiyaga]
[Weapon has been named: Anito]
[Integration in progress… 20% complete]
Additional Stats: Locked until full integration.
Below the progress message, a list of potential but locked attributes appeared, teasing at the future capabilities of Anito.
These were hidden, their descriptions grayed out and unreadable, though Rico could sense that with full integration,
Anito would reveal these traits, harnessing the full power that came from his spirit and his allegiance to Ares.
Rico looked up from his weapon, observing his subordinates who had not yet chosen their weapons.
With a steady expression, he slowly raised a fist to his chest and tapped it in a deliberate motion, signaling his trust and his challenge to them.
To an onlooker, it might have appeared to be a simple gesture, but to his group,
it was a reminder of everything Rico embodied—the courage to believe in themselves and the determination to rise to their potential.
With renewed focus, his subordinates each stepped forward to the ores.
Two distinct groups began to emerge.
Four of his subordinates forged spears—though each spear had its own unique design,
some thicker or longer, with intricate engravings or faint divine symbols etched along the shaft.
The remaining members of his group crafted swords, equally diverse in appearance;
some bore elaborate guards, while others had slender, sharp blades designed for speed and precision.
As each trainee's weapon manifested, a spark of excitement and pride lit their faces.
They gripped their newly forged partners with reverence, each understanding the significance of this bond, a weapon born of their own spirit and will.
Demetrius watched with satisfaction, his voice carrying over the crowd,
"With this, you all have your partners," he announced, his tone both solemn and empowering.
"Each of you shall protect your weapon and your comrades, growing together in skill and strength."
With that, he turned, signaling for the group to follow as he led them back to the training field,
where new challenges awaited, armed not only with the skills they'd honed but now with weapons forged by their own resolve.
As Demetrius reached the training field and opened his mouth to address the trainees, Lysander stepped forward, his expression set and unyielding.
"I, Lysander the Brut, challenge Tiyaga's group to a duel,"
he declared, his voice steady and filled with the iron resolve of a warrior who had already committed his heart and mind to victory.
The aura around him seemed to solidify, and his subordinates mirrored his stance, every one of them brimming with unspoken determination.
It was clear that this challenge wasn't a mere spectacle—it was a battle of pride, one Lysander intended to win.
Demetrius took in Lysander's stance, noting the unshakable resolve radiating from him.
He's truly serious about this, he thought, sensing the energy and tension within Lysander's group.
Then, his gaze shifted to Rico and his subordinates.
!!!
Rico's group stood unphased, unblinking, with expressions as composed as stone.
They looked as though nothing had been said at all.
Their demeanor was fierce and unwavering, their focus grounded in their purpose, with no signs of doubt or surprise rippling through their ranks.
Rico, in particular, stood at the front, his face neutral, with a quiet confidence that bordered on indifference.
It was clear that he regarded this challenge as neither intimidating nor unexpected.
Rico's fingers rested calmly on the hilt of his newly forged weapon, Anito, and he gave no indication of even acknowledging Lysander's challenge.
His subordinates mirrored his attitude, their eyes fixed and serious,
each one displaying a demeanor that spoke to the discipline and resolve instilled in them during their days of intense training.
Demetrius raised a brow, his curiosity piqued at the tension between the two groups.
Let's see how this will play out, he thought, silently permitting the challenge to proceed, awaiting the response from Rico and his group.