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墨書 Inktalez
As the five laps came to an end, everyone collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath. Freyr's face was pale as he glanced at the sky, hesitating for a moment, thinking that this was not good; they were being pushed to their limits. Just moments ago, the weather had been fine, but suddenly dark clouds gathered, and a light drizzle began to fall.
"Alright, morning training is over. Everyone has... two minutes to rest," the officers' eyes gleamed with schadenfreude. Instructor Fang's lips twitched into a sinister smile; two minutes was enough for soldiers to recover their strength, but for ordinary people, it was far too short and rushed.
"Time's up! Next, everyone will do push-up combinations for three hours." After waiting for a while, Instructor Fang looked at his watch—ten seconds had passed. The time was nearly up, and he quickly saluted the three assistant instructors nearby.
"No way!" The students gasped in shock, quickly scrambling to their feet despite their exhausted bodies.
Instructor Fang spoke sternly, blowing his whistle coldly. "My word is law; didn't you understand? Formal training starts now." With that, the three officers forcibly pulled several students who were still sitting on the ground to their feet. Once they all had whistles in their mouths, they began to do push-ups in unison as the whistle blew.
One student shouted, "Three hours of this? You can't be serious!" With that, he jumped up and tried to run away.
Instructor Fang smiled slightly. "I forgot to mention that on the battlefield, deserters face severe punishment." In an instant, he moved like a ghost and grabbed the fleeing student's head, delivering two swift kicks to his waist. The student fell to his knees, clutching his backside and unable to speak. "Because of your actions, everyone will have to do an additional half hour of push-ups; reset the timer."
The three officers took turns blowing their whistles as the nightmarish military training continued fervently. Freyr struggled to keep himself upright while the sound of whistles echoed around him. "Posture must be correct! Follow my whistle and do it together!"
Xiong Tai looked on in disbelief and awkwardly chuckled. "You were right; ordinary people wouldn't endure this kind of punishment."
Hearing this, Freyr turned his head and rolled his eyes. "This is just the beginning. We signed a contract when we enrolled; if we can't get through this military training, we won't qualify for the final assessment. There are mysterious rewards for passing."
Xiong Tai smiled ingratiatingly and lowered his voice. "What kind of rewards? We love mysteries."
"That's a secret!"
...
The military training progressed vigorously with the morning schedule consisting of ten kilometers of push-ups for three hours and 100 vertical jumps per group. Lunch was only half an hour long before they rushed into the afternoon training: four hours of sit-ups, a ten-kilometer marathon run, followed by free combat until dinner.
This hellish routine continued for fourteen days. As they approached the end of this grueling period, everyone felt mentally drained. The past weeks had been tough with little time for meals or sleep; especially at night when disturbances often occurred—once even involving tear gas attacks.
Now, however, the devilish military training was nearing its conclusion.
Such a momentous occasion deserved celebration, but no one dared show their joy on their faces. Even if it was the last instructor or officer present, there would be no leniency; any lapse could lead to dire consequences in the future. Thus, this two-week military training had been established.
After completing the morning exercises, everyone felt a bit more relaxed as they lined up neatly. Instructor Fang approached in loose sportswear with a slight smile. After weeks together, when students saw him smile broadly, they knew it wasn't genuine warmth behind that grin; it concealed torturous methods that could strike at any moment. They had learned to remain vigilant whenever he smiled—never letting their guard down or making mistakes.
Instructor Fang scanned the group without missing a single detail and walked calmly around them before stopping directly in front of them. He felt impressed by these kids' high awareness and potential as soldiers. Smiling again at them made their expressions even more tense. Suddenly he spoke up: "Afternoon training is canceled; you should be happy about that."
"Happy?" Instructor Fang's cancellation was undoubtedly a smokescreen. Sometimes, canceling the morning run meant waking them up late at night for another run. After going back and forth several times, everyone was scratching their heads at the instructor's tactics. It was a dead end; anyone who nodded would surely face dire consequences. They were not enemies, yet they had to believe what he said.
Freyr guessed what Instructor Fang was thinking. The three sergeants in front of him were holding boxes—sturdy, square cardboard boxes. The boxes sat motionless on the ground. Instructor Fang smiled slightly and walked over, reaching into one of the boxes. When he pulled his hand out, he had two items that seemed perfectly normal: a red totem medal and a plastic mask from the Cosmic Worm, Cosmic Bug War, Joint Defense Heroes series depicting the Zerg.
"Cosmic Worm tribe!" someone among the students called out.
Everyone turned to look, and sure enough, there were two playful props.
Instructor Fang donned the ugly Zerg mask and smiled lightly. "Have you all played the Cosmic Worm tribe's Cosmic Bug War superhero game?"
Freyr's heart sank at those words.
When he regained his composure, he saw several sergeants walking around with boxes in three rows. They then stopped in front of the students at the head of each row and handed them the open cardboard boxes.
"Draw!" A long-lost smile appeared on the sergeant's face. Freyr glanced at the square-faced sergeant in front of him and reached into the cardboard box, pulling out a blue totem medal.
Seeing the blue totem medal made the sergeant's mouth twitch slightly, revealing a hint of a smile!
Classmates around him began drawing their lots one after another. As time passed, the red and blue medals began to separate into two factions, causing subtle changes among the students. The fourteen devils' training brought everyone’s minds and bodies into perfect harmony. Freyr's expression grew serious as he looked at the blue medal on his chest. Suddenly, someone patted him on the back. He turned around to see Xiong Tai smiling at him, with a blue medal on his chest as well.
Instructor Fang observed the two factions and couldn't help but nod with a smile.
Freyr understood roughly how the game rules worked upon seeing this medal. Instructor Fang hesitated before stepping left; it seemed he had no intention of continuing anything but rather waiting for time to pass. On the field, both factions stood tall in military posture, not making a sound because they all knew that disturbing Instructor Fang could lead to serious consequences.
"Alright, I've made up my mind!" Instructor Fang clapped his hands together.
The students froze, their eyes wide open, not daring to move an inch.
Freyr took a deep breath, clenched his fists tightly, his emotions clearly tense.
Instructor Fang steadied himself, hands clasped behind his back, and simply said two words: "Time to eat!"
Upon hearing the command for food, everyone felt a slight tremor in their hearts but didn’t move an inch. The students were used to this instructor’s habit of leaving half of his sentences hanging; it was precisely that second half that held significance. They held their breath and focused intently on him.
A cool breeze swept through the quiet playground.
Instructor Fang furrowed his brow as he examined his trained students closely before bursting into laughter. "Alright, children, do you think you understand my temperament? There are no traps; go eat."
As soon as the words were spoken, the students began to whisper among themselves, casting puzzled glances at Instructor Fang.
Normally, he would have shouted and cursed at any behavior that felt out of place, but today he appeared approachable.
"It seems to be true!" Students in the line exchanged looks, and suddenly someone noticed a clue.
"No, let's not jump to conclusions just yet. Let me ask again—if it's true, can you swear? Swear on your dignity as a soldier," a sharp-faced teenager with a side-swept fringe said, scratching his nose as he sought a suitable solution amidst the many doubts.
"You don't need to swear; my words today are just trivial nonsense," Instructor Fang replied with a friendly smile. He walked over to the kitchen area, picked up a croissant with his fingers, and began to chew it vigorously. "Now do you think I'm lying? Everyone, come eat."
Freya was startled and cautiously approached the stove. He reached for a croissant on the plate and, after successfully grabbing one, stuffed it into his mouth and chewed hard. Turning around, he quickly twisted open a bottle of high-calcium milk and tilted his head back to gulp down several mouthfuls, the creamy flavor spreading delightfully in his mouth.
After turning back and slowly walking away while continuing to eat another croissant, he noticed that many people had gathered around the edge of the stove. The plate of croissants was quickly emptied, as if starving ghosts had been reborn. Hands reached toward the pot on the stove, which contained chunks of fatty beef sizzling in oil.
Beef was indeed a rare commodity in this post-apocalyptic world. Inland areas faced severe shortages of supplies. Scientists in Biology had made rapid breakthroughs in genetics, creating four-legged cattle with high protein content that bred at an increased rate. Soldiers needed beef for strength; thus, most of it was reserved for military rations. Civilians had only seen pictures of it and could hardly imagine what it would taste like when placed in their mouths.
The students' eyes gleamed with hunger as they pounced like starving tigers on their prey. Just then, a figure suddenly darted past the stove with incredible speed—so fast that no one could catch a clear glimpse of who it was.
It was Instructor Fang. If he hadn't shown such genuine delight on his face, others might have rushed forward to push him aside and seize the meat. However, the cold light in Instructor Fang's eyes deterred anyone from taking a step closer. They stared at the pot and inhaled the aroma of the meat, their mouths watering with longing; just smelling it without being able to taste it was pure agony.
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