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“They’re keeping up well. Honestly, they’re growing faster than I expected.”

Of course, this statement was premised on the fact that they had “little to start with.”

In any case, both Instructor Leonhark and the other unit members didn’t seem to view them as mere “connections” brought in through favoritism.

Even Paul, who joined later, began participating in the Caion Unit’s basic training.

“Huff… huff… huff…”

Paul gasped for breath.

He looked at his former comrades who had already collapsed on the ground.

His breath came in short, sharp gasps, and the intensity of the physical training was so extreme that he couldn’t even form words.

“How is it? Can you handle it?”

“Those guys… they’ve been doing… huff… huff… this kind of training every day?”

“Not every day. We do this level of physical training about three times a week. Don’t worry too much.”

Damian said it casually, but to Paul, it already felt like the world was spinning.

“Captain, maybe you should drink some water while you train.”

Paul glanced at Dianal, who had approached Damian.

The vice-captain of the Caion Unit.

Aside from his slightly labored breathing, he didn’t seem overly tired.

Swish

The other members were the same.

‘…Are they all monsters?’

Paul prided himself on his stamina. He had maintained his endurance and strength training even in the labor camp.

But…

His hands were trembling uncontrollably. Paul chuckled in disbelief as he stared at them.

Still, he couldn’t afford to indulge in such thoughts for long.

Beep!

At the sound of Instructor Leonhark’s whistle, the soldiers, who had collapsed like zombies, slowly rose to their feet.

Particularly, the group Norman had brought with him looked pale and sickly every time they went through physical training.

“Blaaagh!”

Some had even vomited in preparation for the next round of training.

“Phew… let’s endure another day.”

A whisper to himself.

Paul clenched his fists as he watched Norman and the others line up, mentally steeling himself.

‘This is what I wanted, after all.’

And he wanted it *a lot*.

Paul glanced back at Damian, then dashed toward the gathering soldiers.

“They’re impressive. Their starting point was so different from the others.”

“But they survived that hell. You might think they don’t have a strong foundation, but they’ve got an indomitable spirit.”

“Seems that way.”

Dianal nodded in agreement.

In fact, during the first physical training test—climbing a mountain with full gear—these guys took far longer than the average time of past recruits.

In truth, it seemed almost impossible for them to make it to the summit.

But Dianal, who had climbed the mountain with them to check on their progress, saw it.

The moment when one of them, his legs trembling and unable to move, used his hands to crawl upward, determined to reach the top.

Throughout the climb, they experienced dizziness and collapsed multiple times, but they never gave up and kept pushing forward.

—”The time limit is one hour. If you don’t make it, there won’t be another chance for you.”

—”The time’s already up. Give up and go back to where you came from. This isn’t a place you can handle.”

Dianal had coldly berated them, believing they wouldn’t be able to withstand Caion Unit’s training.

Yet, despite this, they completed the training without complaint and have continued to endure everything thrown at them.

‘…Indomitable spirit.’

That seemed to be the right description.

Plus, the muscular bald guy and the quiet, lean one both had their own distinct traits.

As Dianal watched them, Damian asked, “What do you think of Sandrun?”

“He’s quite exceptional. Out of the six of them, he’s definitely the best. His swordsmanship is unique… and pretty strong.”

“Is that so?”

Damian looked at Dianal in surprise. It wasn’t often that Dianal described someone as strong.

Dianal nodded. “It feels like the swordsmanship of a mercenary who’s fought through rough battlefields. It’s unorthodox and unpredictable.”

“You should work with him more. In his current state, he’ll struggle to fit into the unit.”

“Me?”

Dianal looked at Damian in surprise, but Damian simply nodded.

“You’re the best with a sword in the unit. Plus, your styles are similar.”

“…If he deserts, it won’t be my fault.”

“If he’s the type to desert, it’s better to just let him go,” Damian chuckled.

Dianal, it seemed, had quite the competitive streak.

Even as Damian laughed, Dianal kept his gaze fixed on Sandrun, his eyes serious.

Damian could only hope silently that Sandrun’s path would be blessed.

—

“Phew…”

Steadying his trembling hands, Sandrun drew his sword and faced the wooden training dummy before him.

‘That strike…’

Every day since joining the Caion Unit had been filled with surprises.

The unit members, who endured absurd levels of physical training daily, were impressive.

The structured formation drills were another thing that caught his attention.

Though Sandrun and his comrades had undergone formation drills under Damian’s guidance in Makstri, the level of detail in the Caion Unit’s training was on a whole other level.

But above all, what had captivated Sandrun the most was…

‘Vice-Captain Dianal…’

The unbelievable swordsmanship he had demonstrated during their sparring session.

Using two swords with perfect balance, his speed was so fast that it was hard to track with the eyes.

Swish

Sandrun raised his sword and stared ahead.

‘He struck from both sides almost simultaneously.’

Not with a single sword, but two.

The level of precision and skill Dianal had shown was far beyond anything Sandrun had seen before.

‘I can do it, too.’

Sandrun hadn’t been idle during this time.

He hadn’t been wielding a sword for long, but he had been giving it everything he had, fighting as if his life depended on it.

“Haaap!”

With a shout, Sandrun swung his sword swiftly toward the wooden dummy.

Whack, whack, whack!

A three-hit combo.

But the speed of the strikes fell far short of what Dianal had demonstrated.

Smack! Thud! Crack! Boom!

With his body barely able to support him, Sandrun’s form collapsed further with every swing of his sword.

Eventually…

Thud.

“…Damn it.”

Completely drained of strength, Sandrun collapsed in front of the wooden training dummy, bowing his head in frustration.

His mind was racing, but his body simply couldn’t keep up.

At the same time…

“Ugh! I’m dying here!”

Norman slumped onto the ground, glancing at the comrades who had collapsed beside him.

Though even the veteran members looked exhausted, the three who had come with Norman were truly at their limits, on the verge of passing out.

They had thought their previous training was tough, but the difficulty of the Caion Unit’s training was on a whole different level.

“Hey, you alright?” Norman asked, looking at Balk, who could only shake his head.

“I’m… losing confidence. If we go through this training a few more times… I think it might break me.”

Slap!

“Argh!”

Balk’s defeatist words earned him a fierce slap across the face from Lutvil, hard enough for everyone in the barracks to turn and stare.

Lutvil snapped, “If you’re going to talk like that, you might as well crawl into a gutter and die. Do you know how hard we fought for this chance, and you’re whining like that?”

Everyone, including Lutvil, knew that they had barely scraped by to remain in the Caion Unit.

Their training performance had been below the passing criteria, and the only reason they were allowed to stay was that they had ‘endured’ the hellish regimen. So, to them, Balk’s words sounded utterly ungrateful.

Balk, now sitting up, shouted back, “Damn it! I was just talking! I didn’t mean it!”

“Don’t even say it. Don’t let yourself think like that. Just stop thinking and keep enduring, however you can.”

“…Lutvil’s right. We’re getting used to it, bit by bit.”

The first day, they had nearly passed out after a single physical training session. But now…

“At least now, we can talk this much, eh?” Norman laughed.

One thing was certain: they were growing stronger, and they could continue to improve.

Norman patted Balk on the shoulder. “If we can’t handle this, Captain Damian might actually kill us. You ready for that?”

“…”

Images from Makstri flashed through Balk’s mind.

Sure, Damian was treating them kindly now, but back in Makstri…

‘He was the devil incarnate.’

The cold, unrelenting gaze that had promised death to anyone who wished for it still haunted him.

Balk gulped and nodded. “I’ll give it my all.”

“By the way, I noticed Paul finally joined us. Where is he, anyway?”

“I heard he’s got a different kind of training.”

“…Different training?”

Everyone looked at each other in confusion.

Thunk!

At that same moment, Paul loosed an arrow toward a distant target.

He calmly nocked another arrow and drew the string back slowly.

Creak.

It had been a long time since Paul had held a bow.

Moreover, the bow in his hands was no ordinary issue.

Groooan.

As the bow bent, it made a distinctive sound, and the tension in the string made his hand tremble slightly.

‘This bow’s got some serious weight.’

Because of that, the arrows flew faster and with greater consistency.

Paul exhaled slowly and released the string.

Fwoosh!

Thud!

Another arrow embedded itself in the center of the target.

Its speed and trajectory were flawless.

“Nice.”

Damian offered a brief assessment.

There was no need for long-winded praise.

‘He hasn’t touched a bow in months, but after only a few shots, he’s already recalibrated it perfectly.’

Paul’s talent with the bow was the real deal.

But Paul, looking slightly dissatisfied, flicked the string lightly before turning to Damian.

“This bow is excellent, but I’ll need time to adjust to it. What kind of bow is this?”

The design was noticeably different from the standard-issue bows. The bowstring had engravings, making it stand out.

Damian explained, “It’s your new bow. I had a friend craft it, a good one.”

Through Diel, Damian had received this bow from Torrel. While it wasn’t made with the same top-tier materials as Damian’s own spear, it was far superior to any ordinary bow sold in stores.

Paul raised the bow with a faint smile. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it.”

“I’m planning to form an archer unit soon. Of course, leadership will be based on merit, so you may not necessarily end up as the captain.”

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

“No, that’s not why I’m telling you this.”

“…Pardon?”

Paul looked at Damian in confusion, and Damian continued, “I want you to earn the captain’s position with overwhelming skill. That’s your task.”

Paul’s expression hardened at Damian’s words.

He could feel the weight of Damian’s expectations pressing on him.

Paul nodded. “Understood.”

I will not… disappoint you.

“Good.”

With that short exchange, Paul stood determined, meeting Damian’s gaze with a look of resolution.

A few days later, the official tests to form the archer unit began.