The sun burned relentlessly over the training grounds. The course was a wide dirt path that cut deep into a dense jungle before looping back in a large circle.
Several recruits—boys barely thirteen to fifteen years old—ran in a line, one after another. The ground was littered with roots, stones, and damp leaves, making every step a potential hazard.
Most of them were panting. Sweat streamed down their faces, soaking their clothes.
Some jogged with effort, legs heavy, breathing ragged.
Others barely lifted their feet, pretending to run while actually moving at a crawl.
An instructor walked inside the circuit, along a clear strip where he could see them pass again and again.
Despite keeping pace with them, he wasn't sweating. He didn't look tired at all.
He moved with firm, steady steps, as if the heat meant nothing to him.
The instructor's expression was hard, his eyes sweeping over the recruits as if he were tallying up mistakes.
Every time someone passed, he judged posture, pace, breathing—
And among all the recruits he observed…
…
'This training is complete bullshit…' Gabriel thought as his lungs began to fail him.
Still, he had to endure.
'Maybe I should… slow down…'
The instructor stopped, took a deep breath, and his voice exploded through the air.
"Gabriel!"
Gabriel felt his heart jump into his throat.
He was already at his limit. His legs burned, his lungs screamed with every breath, and the world spun around him.
He honestly thought he might collapse at any moment and never get back up.
The instructor kept yelling, his volume unchanged.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Gabriel!?" he barked. "Do you think this is a damn walk in the park? Are you slowing down because you got sleepy!? Move your ass!"
Gabriel couldn't help it. A small, bitter smile crept onto his face.
'This bastard…' he thought angrily.
For a brief moment, Gabriel truly believed he was going to fall right there. That he wouldn't be able to take another step.
But still… he kept going.
The instructor moved to the edge of the circuit and walked alongside it, watching him closely. His gaze was locked onto Gabriel, as if no one else existed.
Gabriel swallowed hard, nearly choking. He wanted to respond, but there was no air left in him. All he managed was a short, breathless laugh—more desperation than humor. His mouth twisted into a smile that held no joy at all.
The instructor continued, every word dripping with contempt.
"I saw you. I saw you slack off. I saw you trying to jog like some old man. Is this how you plan to represent the empire in war?"
Gabriel clenched his teeth.
He wanted to say he wasn't slacking off by choice—that he hadn't rested properly in days…
But he knew none of that mattered.
'Damn you…' he thought, still wearing that involuntary smile.
Then, without saying a word, he forced his body harder.
It wasn't a noble or brave decision. He just did it. Gabriel tightened his core, lifted his knees a little higher, and pushed forward.
The change was brutal. The pain sharpened instantly. His breath caught in his chest.
But he accelerated.
His stride grew steadier.
He passed one boy who was barely moving, overtaking him without even looking.
Then another.
And another.
The recruits who were faking their jogs watched him pass with annoyance or surprise, as if it irritated them that someone was still taking it seriously.
That sight made Gabriel angry.
'Why is he yelling at me?' he thought. 'Why doesn't he say anything to them? What's his problem with me?'
The thought burned inside him.
He didn't understand. He didn't accept it. It felt like the instructor had singled him out to dump all his frustration on him.
Gabriel completed another lap. On the next one, he noticed something that made his jaw tighten.
A girl was walking.
Not jogging badly. Not pretending. Walking calmly, like the training meant nothing to her. Her back was straight, her face serious, and she didn't even look at the instructor.
Gabriel stared at her in disbelief.
At first, he thought he must be mistaken.
Then… he realized he wasn't hallucinating.
She really was just walking.
'She's not even pretending, the bitch!' he thought.
But distracted, Gabriel failed to see a tree root.
His foot struck something hard, and his body pitched forward.
He tried to regain his balance, but he was too exhausted.
Splash!
Gabriel fell pathetically—no control, no dignity.
Laughter erupted around him. Not one or two voices. Many.
He stayed on the ground for a second, gasping for air.
He felt the mud on his palms. The pain in his knees. His heart pounding like it was about to burst out of his chest.
Then he heard footsteps approaching.
It was the instructor.
"Was that serious?" he said, his voice showing no surprise—only disgust.
Gabriel lifted his head slightly. His face was filthy. He was too exhausted to fake pride.
Still, he frowned. Anger beat out fatigue.
"There are others—" Gabriel tried to say, but his voice came out broken, weak. He coughed, then tried again. "There are others who aren't even running, sir."
He pointed with a trembling hand toward the circuit—to the recruits barely moving, to the girl walking shamelessly.
Gabriel opened his mouth to continue, to explain, to finally be heard.
Smack!
A blow.
The instructor's slap cracked through the air.
Gabriel's head snapped to the side from the force, and for a moment, nothing made sense.
A burning pain spread across his cheek, and he tasted blood.
The instructor leaned down, looked at him from above, and spoke slowly, as if he wanted Gabriel to remember every word.
"Excuses?" he said. "Are you giving me excuses?"
Gabriel stared at him wide-eyed. Not in fear—but disbelief.
"Get up," the instructor ordered. "Now."
Gabriel dug his hands into the mud, trying to push himself up. His body trembled. His legs protested.
Everything hurt.
But the instructor didn't wait.
"Listen carefully, boy," he continued coldly. "If this were a battlefield, you'd already be dead. Not because you lack muscle… but because you're an idiot. Stop getting distracted."
Gabriel swallowed.
He wanted to reply.
He wanted to say he was exhausted.
He wanted to say it was unfair.
He wanted to say anything.
Nothing came out.
"And I'll tell you something else…" the instructor went on, bringing his face closer to Gabriel's. "If you make the same mistake again… I'll personally make sure you're dead before your first mission. I won't let a useless brat embarrass the empire on the battlefield."
That sentence briefly sparked something in Gabriel's mind… and he saw a vision.
A vision of a different world.
A world where teachers never hit their students.
A peaceful world.
But this place wasn't like that.
Gabriel let out a quiet laugh.
'I must be losing my mind…'
"Get up!" the instructor suddenly shouted.
Gabriel blinked, as if waking from a dream.
His body reacted before his mind did. One knee down. Then the other. He stood up with difficulty, legs threatening to give out.
His knees throbbed from the fall.
His cheek burned.
The instructor looked at him with contempt but said nothing more. He simply turned away, as if finished with him.
Gabriel took a step.
Then another.
Until finally… he returned to the circuit and started jogging again.
At first, it was a disaster. His legs refused to cooperate. His body begged him to stop.
But he kept going.
Gabriel breathed hard, nearly panting. Sweat ran down his face, mixing with mud.
The other recruits watched him pass.
Some were still laughing, as if his fall had been the highlight of the day.
Others looked at him with pity, as if thinking it must be miserable to be him.
Some avoided looking at him altogether, unwilling to risk trouble by reacting.
And others simply ignored him, focused on their own survival.
Gabriel clenched his teeth.
Being there was humiliating beyond words.
And only one thought filled his mind.
'I have to escape.'
Even though the empire was the most prosperous nation of all…
Even though serving it was considered a great honor…
Even with the wealth or status he might one day gain…
Gabriel just wanted to get as far away from this place as possible.