Hell Week Training (2)

In large-scale battles, stamina is truly a crucial factor.

Especially if the opposing commander has military experience, it's obvious they'll use tactics that drain stamina.

Half of Hell Week training was spent focused on physical conditioning.

Of course, we didn't forget to build camaraderie among the squad members in the meantime.

On the fourth day of Hell Week, the weaknesses of this ragtag unit, made up of mercenaries from various guilds, began to show.

The squads always had to move as a unit, but the skill and stamina differences between members were huge.

It was unavoidable, since these people hadn't trained together for long.

During maneuvers, everyone could only keep pace with the weakest, and in battle, they had to rely on the strongest.

There was just no helping it.

However.

If there was a flaw that needed to be corrected, I couldn't just let it go.

Right now, the problem that needed fixing most was—

"Hey! What the hell do you expect me to do?"

"What did you say, punk? Did you forget I'm the squad leader?"

"Yeah, right, little brat as squad leader, give me a break."

That.

The biggest issue at the moment.

Bastian's second squad.

A few members had realized they were stronger than their squad leader.

Of course, not every commander has to be the strongest.

But that only works in a properly disciplined military.

In reality, even there, it often doesn't work out very well.

Let alone in a ragtag band of mercenaries.

A twelve-year-old brat weaker than them as squad leader?

If I left things as they were, a huge problem would inevitably occur.

If it happened during training, I could handle it.

But in battle, the entire squad would die.

I quietly glared at the guy who had talked back to Bastian.

Maybe he felt my gaze, because he ducked his head sheepishly.

"Bastian, come with me."

"Huh? Oh. Evan."

The only tent set up in our temporary training grounds for the week.

It was the commander's quarters that I was using.

"About your second squad. What do you think?"

"Well..."

"You need to establish some discipline."

"Right? Evan, maybe you could—"

"What are you saying? You're the squad leader."

Bastian hung his head, looking embarrassed.

"That's true, but... At least three of them are clearly stronger than me."

"Who's the strongest among them?"

Of course, I already knew.

But I needed to check if Bastian knew exactly as well.

"That'd be Grain."

He's well aware, then.

"Have a match with him. Flatten his nose. That's the only way the squad will respect your discipline."

"Evan, did you see Grain's arms? If I fight him and just get beaten up, won't that make things even worse?"

"Of course you'll get beaten. You're weaker than Grain."

"Then how am I supposed to flatten his nose?"

Bastian...

No, humans in general...

Really are hard to understand.

"You didn't act like this when you escaped the bandit gang with me, or when you infiltrated the thieves' group, defeated Prin Dagon, or climbed that high cliff."

"That was different—if I hadn't, I'd have died escaping the bandits. When we infiltrated the thieves, I trusted you, Evan. Prin Dagon tried to kill us first. As for the cliff—if I didn't keep climbing, I'd have fallen and died."

Such specific excuses.

"So now, since it's not life-or-death and you don't trust me to handle it, you can't fight Grain?"

Maybe he realized I was winding him up.

Bastian shouted irritably.

"I'm not saying I can't fight! I'm just worried about what might happen if I lose."

"That's just an excuse."

"Yeah, sorry, Evan."

"You said your dream is to become a military officer. Then think carefully about what you should say to me right now and answer properly."

After a moment of thought, Bastian clenched his fists tightly.

"Teach me how to beat Grain!"

A bit roundabout, but...

Still, it was an answer I could be satisfied with.

"That's why you're my companion. You're different from those mercenaries out there. You're a companion who will join the military with me and shake up the world. You got that?"

"Yes! Evan!"

"Draw your sword."

Screeng.

Bastian drew his sword with surprising confidence.

"If you want to take on someone bigger and stronger than you..."

* * *

The next day at noon.

Thanks to the Roider Knight Order's potions, all fifty members could keep moving without sleep or food.

But to supply the nutrients needed for battle, I personally hunted wild animals and held a barbecue party.

As everyone gathered in squads, devouring the meat,

"Attention, everyone."

"Attention!"

Four days and nights without sleep had established some military discipline.

"Second squad, Bastian and Grain. Step forward."

Bastian sprang up.

Grain rose reluctantly, wearing a look that said, "What's this about?"

"Grain. What do you think is the most important quality for a squad leader?"

As if waiting for this moment, Grain glanced at Bastian, then thumped his chest with a fist.

"That's got to be strength!"

"Is that so?"

"You need strength to lead your squad! Respect and trust all come from that strength!"

"Good. Then, as the representative of your squad, face your squad leader in a match."

"Eh? Really?"

"Yes. Test whether your squad leader has the quality you think is necessary for a leader."

"Hahaha, this is exactly what I wanted to hear!"

This time, I looked at Bastian.

"Well? Ready to show if you have that squad leader quality Grain values?"

"Yes! I mean, yeah!"

"Good. Bastian, Grain. Draw your swords."

Screeng.

Bastian drew the sword at his waist without hesitation.

In contrast, Grain looked at me nervously.

"W-with real swords?"

"What, did you think we'd settle this like some back-alley mercenary brawl? Or should I go whittle out some wooden swords for you?"

After a moment's thought, Grain let out a hearty laugh again.

"Hahaha! Fine by me!"

Screeng.

He drew a sword almost as big as Bastian's torso.

I showed off the potion I had prepared ahead of time.

"It's a top-rank trauma healing potion. Don't worry and go all out."

"Hahaha! So our guildmaster has a bold side after all. Good! Hey, kid squad leader! Don't come whining to me if you get hurt. Watch yourself."

Bastian silently readied his sword and took his stance, facing Grain.

"I'm going first, squad leader! Hrah!"

Whoosh.

Grain's huge sword cut through the air.

Without blinking, Bastian watched the tip of the sword, then dodged by rolling away.

"Huh? Not bad?"

Whoosh.

Again Bastian dodged with ease.

Naturally.

Even for a twelve-year-old, he had some real skill.

Not to mention, together we drank the elixir from Kendrick's treasure vault, which enhanced our internal power by another level.

You'd rarely find such an elixir even in the royal vault.

Most importantly,
he was steadily learning how to breathe with nature.

Whoosh!

Frustrated, Grain's movements grew more exaggerated.

At first, he kept some defense in mind, but now, it was like someone trying to catch a mouse with a broomstick—
just focused on swinging at the opponent in front of him.

Honestly,
what an idiot.

Whoosh!

Roll.

Bastian curled up his body and rolled until he reached Grain's feet.

He then drew the dagger strapped to his shin.

Crack!

He stabbed it into Grain's foot.

"Aaargh! You little rat bastard!"

Fool.

Grain, your opponent isn't a rat.

As Grain reached down with his thick arms to grab Bastian, Bastian didn't even bother pulling the dagger out—he just rolled further away to widen the distance.

Grain yanked out the dagger from his foot, shouting in frustration,

"You just carry that sword for show? Is that dagger trick all you can do?"

No answer.

Bastian just kept his stance, watching the tip of Grain's sword.

"Hoo..."

I couldn't help but murmur in admiration.

He's got the right attitude to face a fight as a real battle now.
Honestly,
even if we hadn't done special training yesterday,
maybe he would have won anyway?

Whoosh!

But his opponent was a hardened mercenary who had survived countless brushes with death.

Just because he'd taken a dagger in the foot, he didn't give up so easily.

Whoosh!

And from the start, Grain wasn't one to use fast footwork, so his movement style hadn't changed much.

If anything, the sound of his sword cutting the air grew louder and sharper.

Whoosh!
Clang!

This time, Bastian failed to dodge bare-handed and blocked Grain's attack with his sword.

The impact knocked Bastian back.

"Urgh!"

"Hahaha! You're dead now!"

As Bastian was thrown far back, Grain rushed in.

He'd just been swinging his sword mindlessly before, but now he went for a thrust.

So he does know how to do that, at least.

Desperately, Bastian raised his sword, redirecting Grain's thrust to the side.

He hooked his right leg around Grain's left from the inside, and pushed with all his might using his shoulder.

Wobble.

If their builds had been similar, it would have sent his opponent tumbling—a great move.

But toppling him was a failure; the size difference was just too great.

However,
this much was enough.

"Huh? What? You little rat!"

As Grain flailed to regain his posture—

Thud.

Bastian's sword stabbed into Grain's side.

"Grrr! Y-you—!"

The sword was sunk deep into his side, yet Grain managed to grab Bastian's torso with his left hand.

"Hraaah!"

Thud, thud.

Bastian's body was flung helplessly, rolling across the dirt.

Even then, his right hand maintained a fierce grip on his sword.

That sword was now drenched in bright red blood.

"Aaaagh!"

It was Bastian who had been thrown,
but Grain was the one screaming.

If Bastian had let go of his sword when Grain tossed him,
then it would have been Grain's victory.

After that, Grain's big sword might have cut Bastian in two.

But even while being flung, Bastian hadn't let go of his sword.

As a result, Grain's wound had been torn open even wider.

Thud.

Grain collapsed to his knees.

"Ugh... Potion... Potion... Please..."

I threw the potion toward Bastian.

Thud.

Bastian caught the potion, tilting his head.

The injured one was over there, wasn't he?

His expression seemed to say so.

"Go pour it on his wound. You're the second squad leader."

"Ah, yes!"

Bastian looked at Grain.

"Squad leader... Please... Spare me..."

After that,
three more days passed,
and Hell Week training ended.