"Ugh."
"The display from you candidates on the very first day is utterly disappointing! Drop and give me push-ups!"
In the end, it's push-ups.
Heaving a silent sigh, he pressed both hands to the floor.
"While your fellow trainees were fighting sleep in their chairs, you candidates were lounging in your beds. How selfish can you get?"
How the hell is lying in bed selfish?
It was nonsense he couldn't comprehend, but the military was a place where irrationality was enforced by rank anyway.
"Eyes on one, mind on two. If I catch you slacking, you'd better brace yourselves. One!"
"Eyes front!!"
"Listen to those voices! And you there—lower! Are you messing with your instructor right now?"
The instructor stormed over to Pluto and grabbed him by the hair.
"I said lower! You think I'm joking because I'm asking nicely? You worthless lot. Two!"
"Mind sharp!!"
"You want to be officers, but you can't even conquer a little drowsiness—what do you think you'll achieve? One!"
"Eyes front!!"
"Think and reflect on how weak and scatterbrained you are. Two!"
"Mind sharp!!"
.
.
.
He'd thought it would end after thirty like before, but the instructor was furious—no sign of stopping.
"Hold it! Think of this as the responsibility and duty you'll bear ahead—don't you dare collapse."
You psycho, how is physical torture a 'responsibility and duty'?
If there were a contest for spouting the most absurd bullshit with a straight face, this guy would win hands down.
"Two!"
"Mind sharp!!"
Fuck! This is the limit! Stop already!
It hurt so bad he could barely move his arms.
"Final set—lower until your chest touches the ground. One!"
He'd thought it impossible now, but the word "final" squeezed out every last drop of strength.
Tremble, tremble.
His arms shook like aspen leaves.
If hell existed, this was it.
"Burn this pain into your minds—the result of your selfish actions. Understood?"
"Yes… under…stood!!"
They raised their voices with one desperate wish: just end it.
"Candidates, that's a two-point deduction per regulations. Don't let your instructor catch you lounging again."
The instructor glared daggers at each one before storming out.
"Ugh."
Thud.
The moment he left, the dorm mates collapsed to the floor.
Palan's strength had drained too—he couldn't even stand.
The pain's one thing, but two points docked? That sucks.
He'd aimed for zero deductions, and day one shattered it.
"If we stay down like this, he might chew us out again. Let's all get up for now."
Normally, someone would've whined why bother, but after that punishment?
Exhausted as they were, everyone dragged themselves to their chairs.
"What the hell—lying on the bed for a bit, and we end up like this?!"
Pluto vented his frustration in a pissed-off voice.
Yeah, I get it.
Human rights clearly didn't exist in this godforsaken army.
"Never thought I'd see a day like this… Sigh, I wanna go home."
Ion, who'd never complained before, finally mentioned home.
His old life was the polar opposite, so the reality hit hard.
These guys need some mental care.
They seemed okay now, but this shit would keep happening.
If they cracked, it'd be game over.
"Just two weeks to endure. We got unlucky this time—don't sweat it."
The key to comfort: two weeks.
Thank god it was really just two.
If I had to stick with these idiots for twelve, I'd lose it first.
"Yeah. Let's tough it out, like Palan said. Just two weeks."
Ion lifted his drooping head and pulled himself together.
The mood rallied again.
But keeping it that way wouldn't be easy.
Especially in training camp.
BROADCAST TO ALL DORMS: Assemble immediately at the small parade ground by platoon. End of transmission.
The dorm mates bolted up the second it ended.
"Let's go wash away that bad image."
Finally.
Their instructors had snapped out of it.
Two points might be a bargain.
Someone might say: Just handle yourself—why care about others?
That works in society, not here.
Training camp ran on guilt by association.
I wasn't even lying down, but I still got docked.
So if these guys fucked up, he'd get dragged in too.
"If you're on the ground, run! Who's walking?!"
"This ain't the neighborhood park! Move those feet!!!"
Instructors and assistants herded the candidates like shepherd boys with sheep.
"Straighten the line! Don't look sideways—just the head in front!"
"Who's rolling their eyes?!"
They'd ignored details like spacing earlier, but now? Total shift.
"Candidate, name."
"Teruk Gabius, sir!"
"Shoelace undone. Uniform violation—one point deduction."
Assistants circled, docking points like shopping for deals.
Demons in the flesh.
"Entire formation, attention."
Once aligned, an instructor took the podium.
"Your instructor watched you candidates without rest for half a day."
Ominous tone.
Bad vibes.
'Watched you.' That's what they say before hazing newbies.
No clue why, but 'cleaning' was army slang for beating down rookies.
"Result? You're the worst class I've seen. Ignoring ranks with your noble status, constant complaints."
Red-hat rants were usually hard to agree with, but this time? Nod.
We're hopeless.
His dorm had wised up, but others? Buttons undone.
"Asking to call maids for cleaning? It pains me we must commission officers after just two weeks with trash like you."
Long buildup.
His limbs started shaking.
"But we can't defy higher command. First, fix those rotten minds! All, squat!"
Fuck. We're screwed.
Squatting nearly made him curse aloud.
Why?
If it's what I think, this is hell.
Worse than push-ups.
"Squat? What's he planning?"
"This ain't so bad if we just hold it."
Candidates clueless about their fate whispered.
"From now, waddle to the warehouse and back in that pose."
"Wha…?"
"Wait, like this?!"
Denial everywhere, but impossible didn't exist in the army.
"What! 1st Company, 1st Platoon first—entire formation, forward march!"
Who'd defy the instructor's point-wielding power?
Waddle, waddle.
Slower than walking, candidates shuffled.
1st Platoon went; Palan followed.
Goddamn it! Goddamn it!
Lucky it was legs, not wrecked arms—but duck-walking?
Memories of camp and unit bullshit made him tremble.
"I'm dying already… to the warehouse like this?"
"What kinda bullshit order is this?!"
Wails all around.
But quitting? Instructors got violent.
"Up in three! 3, 2, 1! Candidate, three-point deduction!"
"Can't you see you're inconveniencing the ones behind with your snail pace?!"
Any fatigue? Yelled at. Collapse? Instant dock.
Satan would bow to this guy.
"Huff! Huff!"
He reached the warehouse somehow, but muscle cramps made steps agony.
Training starts tomorrow, my ass. Goddamn red-hats.
Lying mouths.
"Agh."
Halfway back from stamping the warehouse.
Muscle pain dropped him.
At least post-stamp, instructors just yelled—no more docks.
* * *
"Ugh, I'm really dying here."
After showers, legal bedtime.
Everyone sounded and looked half-dead.
Going straight to the auditorium after that was insane.
Class till 2 a.m.
First-day basics—useless soldier crap. In one ear, out the other.
"Today ends at two points docked, right?"
Ion scribbled in his notebook.
"Yeah, no deductions from the duck walk?"
"None. Derek even got a merit point."
"Heh, lucky break. Who knew they'd award points for that."
Completers got one merit point.
Small, but merits were rare—big deal.
"I glanced around—about 250 docked for duck walk and uniform issues."
That many?
Expected some, not three digits.
"If deductions keep piling but we survive, two points is recoverable."
Ion still fretted over the bedtime dock.
Good. Keep that mindset.
Palan smiled unwittingly.
"Hey, can I suggest something?"
Derek spoke as sleep set in.
"Suggestion?"
"Yeah. We're training together—drop the formal 'hyung/nim' stuff? I'm eighteen, by the way."
Scrap honorifics.
Palan loved it instantly.
Yeah, bonding the dorm helps survival.
One team in this hell.
"Sounds good. And eighteen? Younger than I thought. I'm nineteen."
Top dog Ion agreed, revealing his age.
Palan next.
They might've forgotten, but by noble rank, he tied for second.
"Me too. Nineteen."
High nobles approved.
No need for others.
"Twenty."
"Nineteen."
Ages: Baby was iron-bodied Derek.
Nineteen: Palan, Ion, two others—four total.
Twenty: Taylor, Pluto.
Eldest: Twenty-one Crush El Castle.
"Alright then… casual talk from now. Ion."
"Much better."
Palan started; sorting done quick.
"Brothers, let's push hard tomorrow too."
Derek pumped a fist, full energy.
Too wiped to respond.
"Yeah, yawn. Lights out, guys. Wake-up's at 6:30 a.m.—not much time."
Exhausted Ion closed first.
Thus ended training camp's grueling first day.
REVEILLE! REVEILLE!
"Fuck!"
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Read 194 more chapters ahead on NovelDex!
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