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Chapter 27
Chapter 27: From Now On, It’s Special Training (3)
The Maw mercenaries lined up in a row, each carrying a log on their shoulders.
Compared to two weeks ago, they all looked much more disciplined.
Hardin, who had been watching them, slowly raised the corners of his mouth into a grin.
"Alright, move out!"
W̆ е b̌ńо̂ v̂ e.l Е̄nu̇.m̂а́
He raised his hand high and shouted.
"Eeeek!"
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"Let’s goooo!"
Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat!
At Hardin’s signal, the mercenaries dashed forward.
Their entire bodies were soaked in sweat, but their movements were steady.
Е ǹu mа
It was a world of difference from the first day, when they tripped over their own feet and tumbled over rocks.
"They’ve definitely improved."
It was obvious to the eye that their muscles had grown larger.
Thanks to that, their overall balance and strength had noticeably improved.
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This was the effect of imposing the mana prohibition and driving them solely with the power of pure flesh.
One by one, the mercenaries reached the stone wall.
En̊ū m̀.а̀
Kwaaaang! Kwaaang!
"Ura-cha-cha-cha!"
"Ajaaaa!"
The logs slammed powerfully into the wall, making it shudder as fragments scattered into the air.
At a glance, it looked quite formidable.
But that was nothing yet.
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"Ura-cha-cha-cha-cha!"
"Brother Beryl, please slow down a bit!"
Beryl, the boss who had started late, and the youngest, Mikkelsen, came up behind and struck the stone wall almost at the same moment with their logs.
Kwaaaaang!
With a roar even louder than when the others hit it, the wall trembled violently.
And when the two stepped back,
Ẃ е ḃn̆ оv̇ é l̆ Еn u m̆ӓ
The stone wall was dented so deeply it was obvious even at a glance.
"Yeah, that’s about the level that makes it worth raising them."
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If they kept this up, within the time I had in mind… it would be possible.
A grin spread wide across Hardin’s lips.
---
Kwaaaang! Kwaaaang!
Ẇ ӗb̃ n̈о̆ v̈ е l Е̃ń um̃ӓ
"Waaaaaa!"
Even after that day, the human battering ram training continued.
Starting at dawn and ending only when the sun fell.
Over and over again, they ran with the logs and smashed them into the wall.
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At this point, it was hard to tell…
"Am I hitting the wall with the log, is the wall hitting me… or is the log hitting me?"
Е̇ ǹ.ū m̊а . і̀d
Mikkelsen’s eyes rolled as he held up the log.
Compared to when he first started, he definitely had learned the knack of it, and his body had gained muscle, but…
The problem was that the more they improved, the longer the training sessions became, and the higher the intensity Hardin demanded.
They still didn’t know why they had to do this in the first place, and repeating it endlessly was driving them crazy.
Just then, Hardin shouted.
"Take a break."
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"Hu… Hushiiik!"
Damn… I survived.
The mercenaries set down the logs and groaned in pain.
Their bodies were trembling, and every muscle screamed.
"This is really going to kill me."
Mikkelsen let out a heavy sigh, then glanced at Beryl sitting beside him.
Ẁ e b ňо̂ v́é ĺ Е́ ǹ ů mа
"Brother Beryl."
"What is it?"
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"Wouldn’t it have been better to just… go to prison instead of living like this?"
"…I agree."
Beryl weakly agreed.
Then Mikkelsen glanced around cautiously and whispered.
W е́ bn̄ о́ v̈ е̌.l̄ .Е̂ nù m̆ ă
"If we’re going to keep living like this… how about we just rebel once?"
"Rebel?"
"Yes, if we all rise up together, no matter how much he’s Young Master Hardin, he’d have to ease up a little, wouldn’t he?"
"That’s…"
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Beryl couldn’t easily finish his sentence and hesitated. Just then—
"Hey, move aside."
Ŵ еb̈_n̊o vе̄l̊ Еn üm̄ а̇
"Ah… yes!"
At the voice coming from behind them, the two quickly stepped apart.
Between them, Hardin walked out, a log slung over his shoulder.
"He didn’t hear that, did he?"
"That was close."
Beryl and Mikkelsen hid their momentary look of dread and backed away a few more steps as Hardin took a deep breath.
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"Huuuuuu…"
Once he steadied his breathing, Hardin gripped the log, stretching it forward like a spear.
Tatat!
He began to sprint.
His posture looked so stable it was as if he were running on flat ground, without the slightest sway.
And the moment Hardin collided with the stone wall—
W̊ е b̂n̊ оv̆е l̈ Е.ǹ û mа
Kwaaaaaang!
The wall quaked, and the spot where the log struck caved in deeply.
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The watching Maw mercenaries all turned deathly pale.
"Crazy… What the hell is that."
"How can he have that kind of power in that body?"
The impact seemed at least twice as strong as when Hardin had first demonstrated.
Ẽn um̃ ǎ. і̃ ď
He clearly wasn’t using mana, so no one could figure out how he managed it.
Hardin had trained in the exact same way as them, and yet—why was the result so different?
Gulp.
Beryl swallowed and spoke to Mikkelsen.
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"Forget it, just forget it. I’m not avoiding that bastard because he’s filthy, it’s because I’m scared."
"Isn’t that backwards, Brother?"
Еn̈.ú ḿ_а̀
"That guy… He’s terrifying."
"Ah… You’re right about that."
Mikkelsen nodded, fully agreeing.
The problem was, the thing that tormented the Maw mercenaries wasn’t just the physical exhaustion.
At that moment—
Kururung! Kurung! Kurururung!
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"Damn it."
A loud noise rumbled from Beryl’s belly.
After hours of Hardin’s torture—no, this insane training—their stomachs were stuck to their spines.
"I’m starving…"
Beryl gently rubbed his empty stomach, tears nearly welling up.
If he didn’t get something to eat soon, he really might die.
W е̂b̀n ӧ v ёl Ӗ ǹ ù m̄ а
The same went for the other mercenaries.
"Damn it, when’s the food coming."
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"I need to eat something to stay alive."
Grrrrk! Grrrk!
Loud growling came from all around.
Everyone stared blankly into space with desperate faces.
Е.ñ ǔ m̌à . іd̆
Then, a voice called from far off.
"Food is here, delicious food is here!"
Taak!
All their heads snapped around like lightning.
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"Uh?"
When the mercenaries turned their heads, they saw three people approaching.
Е̃n um а́ . ĭd̂_
It was Gadolph and two servants, each carrying baskets in both hands.
"Ugh…"
The moment their eyes met the mercenaries’, all three flinched back as if a chill had run down their spines.
"Food… It’s food?"
"They’ve come… our food friends."
The mercenaries’ mouths fell open, drool beginning to drip, their eyes turning bloodshot.
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It was like watching predators that had found prey.
"Food… foooood…"
"I’m hungry… fooood…"
Thump. Thump.
The mercenaries began to shuffle forward, one slow step at a time.
Their bodies swayed unsteadily, arms stretched out in front like zombies.
Е ňu_mа̄_.і d
"Their… their eyes."
"They’ve lost it."
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Thud. Thud.
As the mercenaries advanced—
"Alright, alright, please come slowly!"
Gadolph and the servants stepped back to match their pace.
Wẽ b n̈ о vӗl̇ Е̃ń u̇m а̃
"We will hand out rations one by one, so don’t rush and line up properly!"
"Hurry… hurryyyy."
"If I don’t eat, I’m gonna diiie…"
Their stomachs churned, and their vision spun.
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All that remained was a single desire: to stuff something into their bellies right this instant.
Whooosh!
W̃е̃ b̆ ñ о̃v̌ е̇l Ӗ ṅûm̄ ӓ
Just then, a breeze blew past Gadolph’s basket of bread and wafted the scent straight to the mercenaries.
Sniff. Sniff.
In that instant, Beryl flared his nostrils.
"Foooooood!"
"Geh-hehek!"
Swoosh!
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He lunged forward, knocking the nearby mercenaries aside.
"O-out of the wayyyy!"
Thud! Thud! Thud!
His sunken cheeks trembling, Beryl sprinted ahead with bloodshot eyes.
His shark-like teeth glinted, a shadow fell across his savage face, and white breaths spilled from his mouth.
He looked so monstrous you could have mistaken him for a troll or ogre.
W е̇ b n о̀ v e l̆. Е̃ň u̇m̂ ӑ
"Eeeek!"
Gadolph and the servants turned pale.
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Their instincts screamed that this… this was dangerous.
"Lord Gadolph! What do we do?!"
"What do you mean what—run!"
Gulp.
Ẅ e b̊n.о v ě l _Е ṅ ûm а
"Calm down… They say if you keep your wits about you, you can survive even if you’re caught by a manticore!"
Gadolph swallowed hard, clenching the basket in his hands.
The next moment—
"Here! Take your food!"
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He hurled the basket with all his might over Beryl’s head.
Dozens of loaves scattered through the air.
Ŵ e ḃ ń о̃ ṽе l En̊ üm a
"Foooooood!"
Splat!
Beryl sprang up, shoving the mercenaries aside in all directions.
"Uoooh!"
The others behind him stretched their arms wide and mouths agape.
Thud-thud-thud!
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Aside from a few lucky ones who managed to snatch some, the bread tumbled to the ground.
"Food! Foooood!"
"Uhehehe… eat! Eaaat!"
The mercenaries who hadn’t managed to grab anything dove in belatedly, grabbing the dirt-covered bread and stuffing it into their mouths without a care.
"Haa… haa… I—I survived."
"Th-this is terrifying, Lord Gadolph."
W êb n̈о v̂ё l̃ Ё n̊uḿ ȧ
Cold sweat poured down Gadolph and the servants’ faces as they watched.
Gadolph turned his ashen face to the side and spoke.
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"Young Master… couldn’t you do something about this? At this rate, someone’s going to end up dead…"
But before Gadolph could even finish—
A shadow shot forward.
"Uoooh! Out of my way, you bastards!"
Еn_u ṁ а̂ .і d̆
He shoved Gadolph and the servants aside and squeezed into the crowd of mercenaries.
"Geh-hehek!"
Mercenaries flew off in every direction as a brawl broke out.
Gadolph, watching the scene from behind, wore a strange expression.
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"You bastards! I haven’t even eaten yet—what the hell are you doing?!"
Because Hardin was picking bread up off the ground and cramming it into his mouth.
Е_ṅ um̀_а
"…."
Gadolph stared blankly for a moment, then turned to the servants.
"Shall we… head back now?"
"Yes…."
…No one here is in their right mind.
The three let out a deep sigh and turned to leave.
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"Give me the bread!"
"Uooooh!"
Meanwhile, right in the middle of the dust cloud where the mercenaries were fighting for bread—
"Bread! Foooood!"
"Get lost! Get lost, you bastards!"
Thud! Thud!
W̌ êb́n о̄ v̀_е l Еńu ṁӑ
Hardin, with both arms full of bread, kicked and elbowed the ones rushing at him as he retreated toward the edge of the training yard.
Then he slumped down under the shade of a tree and began munching on the bread.
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"Damn it… Why is eating harder than the training itself?"
Hardin sighed and looked out at the chaos unfolding in the yard.
"You bastard!"
"Gimme that!"
Е̊ n ŭ ṁ а .ĭď
Paaak! Paaak!
The mercenaries punching and shoving each other looked like pure pandemonium, a complete mess moments before an explosion.
"Someone seeing this would think I’m starving them."
Just to be clear—there was plenty of food. No—more than enough.
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In fact, the supply officer from the house had come to me several times with concerns.
[Young Master, you’re taking all this food?]
Wе b ṅоṽ е̇ l̈ Еnũm̈ а̄
[Yeah, it’s for the ones in training.]
[But… isn’t this too much?]
[Eh-hey, let’s not get stingy about meals.]
Even with all this provided, they still caused this kind of uproar.
Did those bastards have beggars living in their guts or something…
"Well, even so, it’s better than seeing them slouch around like half-dead."
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Though he said that, there was a satisfied smile tugging at Hardin’s lips.
"Eeeek! Give me the bread!"
"It’s mine!"
They didn’t even seem tired as they fought and clawed at each other.
If you wanted to put it nicely, you could say they were overflowing with fighting spirit—and that was much better than them looking defeated during training.
"Not bad. Not bad at all."
Ӗn̆ üm̆ а̀
Gulp.
Hardin swallowed the last piece of bread and dusted off his hands.
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It was right then.
"Eeeek! Hand it over!"
"I said no!"
A couple of mercenaries were locked in a tug-of-war over a single loaf.
E n̊ umȧ . i d̀
For a moment, it looked like neither side would give in.
Thunk!
"Aaah!"
Then one of them lost balance, and the bread popped up into the air, flying across to the opposite side of the training ground.
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"My bread!"
"Dammit!"
Ẁе̄ b n о̀ v е_l Ёn̈ū m̃ å
The mercenaries’ eyes went round as saucers.
Taaaat!
A shadow bolted toward the opposite end.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Every step made the ground seem to tremble—that massive frame belonged to Beryl.
"It’s mine!"
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Drooling, Beryl charged after the bread.
As the loaf slowly started to descend—
Taat!
"Waaaaah!"
Beryl flung himself forward without a second thought, arms stretching out.
Thud!
Е̃ň u̇ m̈ а́ . ї d̃
"Got it!"
The bread smacked into Beryl’s hands just right.
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But there was something Beryl had failed to consider: once airborne, there was no way to slow down.
With all that momentum, he crashed straight to the ground.
Rooooll! Rooooll! Rooooll!
"Uooooh!"
Ѐňú m̌ȧ..i d̈
He tumbled in the dust for a good while.
The problem was… the direction Beryl’s body was rolling happened to be straight toward the Daphne Knights, who were deep in their training.
And soon enough—
Thud!
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"Aaaargh!"
A dull impact, followed by a scream.
Ŵ ёbnо̂ v̇ël̂ Ӗ ǹ ũm̈ а
Beryl lifted his head gingerly.
A young man, probably in his late twenties, stood there with an expression full of irritation.
Thick eyebrows, a broad face, a solid physique.
Manton Tolgis.
He was the Daphne Knight Order’s training instructor and practically the man in charge.
"Oh, shit."
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Of all people… why did it have to be him…
An expression of pure dread spread across Beryl’s face.
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