In the Legio Bellarium, training was more than a regimen; it was the very crucible of mind, body, and soul. It was the relentless accumulation of experience, etched deep into each recruit, forging preemptive adaptation and reflexive conditioning. This sacred process elevated the human form to its ultimate state of readiness, preparing it for the trials it was destined to face. Such understanding was not merely a lesson, but a foundational doctrine, one that every Sergeant of the Men-at-Arms was sworn to understand, embody, and master.
Sergeant Elena Skarn was no exception; otherwise, she would never have been a sergeant, nor would she have been able to lead the Trench Dogs into battle.
But unlike the recruits she had trained in her ten years as a sergeant, she was now faced with a situation for which she lacked any method of dealing.
"This is hopeless!"
And that was an understatement.
One hundred push-ups? What's difficult about that? Thirty laps around the base? She calls that taking a break. Relocating sandbag covers? Venuxian recruits start their first day as masters of that field.
As for those half-dead human things?
"No wonder this world was doomed."
She couldn't do much but cover her face at the sight of them, but Adam's orders were clear: "Never execute anyone just to set an example!"
Elena was itching to kill that girl with an accent. She was the weak link anyway. One shot to the head and the rest would simply work like donkeys.
For the first time in a while, Elena missed having a Justiciar breathing down their necks. As for these recruits, she just needed to be patient and know how to motivate them.
Where to begin?
The British social media girl (Yvonne): Absolutely terrible; she failed at everything, complained about a broken nail, fell down the moment she carried a sandbag, and needed two others to help her up.
The elderly care assistant (Daniel): The second most terrible; he still took it seriously and didn't give up despite losing his footing; at least he knew how to hide the pain, but his stamina was dog shit.
The fitness instructor (Luke): Showed promise for the first couple of minutes, but ran out of steam and wore himself down by audibly complaining to the others, further diminishing their morale.
The elderly taxi driver (Steve): Actually, the best of the four, despite being their senior and having the most unfit physique of the group; still, he wasn't fit for this sort of training, and his aged body wasn't recovering fast.
The kid who never stops talking (Toby): A fighter, but mostly distracted by what's around him; he babbles a lot and wants to take everything as a laugh. Still, he's working hard and actually made a decent lap time, but lost his steam soon after.
The other kid, who is silent and watching others (Qasim): Weak, unfit, can't regulate his pace right, and is about to faint at any second. Still, he wasn't listening to any of the murmur and not participating in audible complaints.
The youngest kid with an attitude (Tommy): Boasts a lot, is arrogant, doesn't back down when challenged, and wants to challenge authority; but when his training was scaled down for his age, he showed some promise at first, but ended up injuring himself badly.
His sister, the Commander's mistress (Megan): Shows promise but is always looking over her shoulder; she is competitive but easily distracted. Half her attention is on training, and the other half is on her brother. She almost made a fatal error and caused herself injury while moving the sandbags.
Lastly, there was a guest who requested to take part in the training, the soon-to-be-appointed lawman (John Reeves): The best so far, but still subpar in every aspect except focus; that was his sharpest tool, and he regulated his stamina well.
Joining them was her personal toy boy (Kave): He had been drilled before and had performed well; his attention was sharp, but his body was weak. He knew what to prepare for and conserved his stamina well. Still, it's a wonder he was walking well after last night.
After three hours of hellish drilling had passed, none of these recruits even realized that they were being evaluated, not drilled properly, just yet. Somehow, even Elena was now considering doing some more conditioning.
"None of you is fit to take the Auxiliary Test." And that was her final verdict that crushed their hopes as she even added, "Not by a short run, not by a long run, not by any sort of runs I have seen before. Usually, all recruits, conscripted or levied, have at least gone through some sort of training and passed a standard evaluation. The best of you would need a couple of months if it were all bright and sunny."
The recruits, who were all sitting or crouching on the ground, looked at Elena with wronged gazes, a murmur of dissatisfaction rising among them, to which Elena met calmly:
"I understand that this conscription was abrupt, but the Commander asked for troops, and the Commander will get troops. You will be assigned the following schedule." Elena looked through the list she had made and then announced, "Starting from 0400, you get one hour for presentation and a meal, six hours of training, one hour of rest and a meal, four hours of construction duty, one hour for rest and a meal, six hours of training, one hour of rest and prayer, and five hours of sleep."
As a murmur of voices started to rise, Elena looked at whoever raised their voice—Toby and Luke—and singled them out for punishment. Stone came and took the two to the other side of the Command Center, along with Jazz and Patch, for a few more intimate rounds of drilling.
An hour passed, after which the two rejoined the group with their appearances haggard, shoe prints on their backs, and looking as if they had been crawling on dirt.
The treatment they got was not what they expected; in true military fashion, they were being drilled with no regard for their humanity or dignity. Examples needed to be made, and the two of them were being victims of their own mouths.
Sergeant Elena reminded the group again that they were being treated fairer than any Venuxian soldier had ever been treated in drills. And one more thing was added regarding the auxiliary test.
"Usually, a promotion to auxiliary from a mere recruit has a one-week window for preparation. But since you'd all die if you were to experience it, the period of your training has been extended. It means you will be shoveling dirt, carrying scrap, and cleaning the shitter for the whole camp."
Elena announced and noticed how the recruits were starting to have sour faces, so she went for an even meaner strategy.
"From now on, each of you will have to forget your names. You're nothing but a number, and since there are ten of you, you are going to be assigned a new number between one and ten every night by ranking your performance. Naturally, the one with the lowest number shall be on shit duty the next day. But…" She then looked at them with a sinister smile, "If I catch any of you rebelling, the one with the lowest number shall be the shit shoveller. Did I make myself clear?"
"Yes." "Yes, ma'am." "… Yes." "SIR!"
"Did you hear how Recruit Kave replied? He didn't say 'Ma'am'! He said 'Sir'! That's how you address your drill officer, you maggots!"
""Sir!""
""Louder, in a full sentence!""
""Sir, yes, sir!""
""DO I HEAR A BUNCH OF GIRLS YELLING BACK AT ME?""
""SIR, NO, SIR!""
"YOU SAY NO TO ME, RECRUITS? DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?"
"… SIR!" "NEGATIVE, SIR!"
"THEN THIS MEANS YOU LOVE AND RESPECT ME, MAGGOTS?"
"SIR, YES, SIR!"
"FINE! SINCE YOU LOVE YOUR DRILL INSTRUCTOR THIS MUCH, MORE HOURS WILL BE ALLOCATED FROM YOUR SLEEP TO YOUR TRAINING. THAT'S HOW YOU GET TO SPEND MORE TIME WITH THE DRILL SERGEANT YOU ALL LOVE."
"…" "…" "…"
"WHAT DO YOU SAY, MAGGOTS?"
"SIR, YES, SIR!"
"WE'LL MAKE SOMETHING WORTHWHILE OUT OF YOU YET, YOU WORTHLESS MAGGOTS. TWENTY MORE LAPS! ON THE DOUBLE!" Left! Left! Left, right, left!""
The recruits ran, Elena screaming, insulting, and dominating them to her heart's content, which was the heart of a pure dominatrix.
She took one look at the Command Center, looking forward to the day the auxiliary training module would be completed.
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