At exactly 0500 hours, the barracks lights flickered to life with a buzzing hum that felt like a needle to the brain. Before anyone could even groan, the heavy wooden doors were kicked open.
A deafening metallic clang echoed through the room as acting sergeants Rellon Grayson and Emmanuel Hollister entered, slamming metal trash can lids against the iron bed frames.
"Wake up! Wake up!" Grayson's voice boomed, louder than any beastfolk Jack had ever heard. "Feet on the floor! Dress up and change into your PT gear! You have two minutes to be in formation! Move! Move! Move!"
Jack bolted upright, his heart hammering against his ribs. His head throbbed slightly from the sudden spike in adrenaline. Next to him, Kenlil was tangled in his wool blanket, looking like a confused bird.
"Wha—? Is it a raid?" Kenlil stammered, his glasses sliding off his nightstand.
"It's the start of your life, elf! Move it!" Hollister shouted, banging the lid right next to Kenlil's ear.
Most of the recruits were moving like they were underwater, half-asleep and fumbling with their laces. Jack noticed the sergeants were already fully dressed in their athletic shorts and white undershirts, not a hint of shaking despite the freezing morning air.
Lieutenant Mary Poppings stepped into the center of the room, her eyes sharp and unforgiving. "Come on, 2nd Platoon! I want to see dust kicking up behind you! Fall in!"
The urgency shifted into high gear. The female recruits—humans, elves, and beastfolk alike—didn't spare a second of modesty, stripping out of their sleepwear to pull on their PT gear in the same rows as the men.
Jay Rool, who was struggling with a jammed locker, let his eyes stray toward Emily Randell as she pulled on her undershirt.
"Keep your eyes on your own business, Rool, or I'll give you something else to look at," Emily snapped, not even glancing her way as she tightened her laces.
Jay snapped his head back to his locker as if he'd been burned. "Sorry! I'm—I'm just looking for my sock!"
"Two minutes is up! Outside! Now!" Hollister roared.
Easy Company formed up on the gravel outside, a sea of white shirts and dark shorts trembling in the biting mountain twilight. The fog from their breath hung heavy in the air.
Captain Snow was already there, standing perfectly still. He was wearing the same thin PT gear as the recruits, but he wasn't shivering. He clicked a timer on his wrist and looked at the formation.
"Five minutes on the first day," Snow said. His voice was calm, but it carried clearly. "Not good. Not bad. But in the 3rd Marines, if you weren't in formation in three, you didn't get breakfast."
The recruits remained silent, their teeth chattering. The platoon leaders—Chase, Poppings, and Murenn—were also visibly shivering, their arms crossed tightly over their chests. Snow, however, looked like he was standing in a summer meadow. He looked at them and actually smiled.
"Alright, since you're all trembling, let's start with a warm-up," Snow said. "100 count push-ups. I'll lead."
Snow dropped to the gravel. The recruits followed suit, the cold ground biting into their palms.
"Together! One!" Snow shouted, his chest hitting the dirt and snapping back up with the speed of a piston.
"ONE!" the company roared back.
By count thirty, the smaller recruits were already shaking. Jack glanced over and saw Kenlil's arms vibrating like guitar strings. Snow, despite being smaller than Jack, had shoulders that looked like they were carved from stone. His triceps flared with every rep, showing a level of lean muscle that made Jack realize the Captain wasn't just an officer—he was a professional athlete.
"Thirty-five! Thirty-six!"
A few recruits collapsed, their faces hitting the gravel. Snow didn't yell. He simply stood up and wiped the dust from his hands.
"Alright. If you're dropping at thirty, you're in for a very long morning. Stand up. Next exercise."
The recruits stood, their arms leaden and trembling. Snow then demonstrated a movement that looked like a burpee, but involved a wide leg spread and a deep push-up at the bottom.
"Twenty-five reps. Begin!"
"Move, 1st Squad! Get those legs out!" Sergeant Grayson shouted, hovering over Tavros.
Tavros was huffing, his massive frame making the ground shake every time he jumped. "I feel... like a... falling mountain," he gasped.
"Less talking, more jumping, Mulligan!" Grayson barked.
Thirty minutes later, the warm-up ended, leaving the recruits gasping for air. Snow pointed toward three different courses set up near the edge of the woods.
"We have three obstacle courses. You will go through them over and over for the next thirty minutes," Snow explained. "First is the rope maze. A twenty-by-twenty grid, eight inches off the ground. High knees only. Touch a rope, and you start the whole course over."
Snow moved through the maze like a dancer, his knees hitting his chest with every stride. He cleared it in seconds.
"Go!"
The chaos was immediate. "Get your knees up, Rool!" Mary Poppings shouted as Jay tripped on the third row of ropes and went face-first into the dirt.
"Shit!" Jack cursed as his toe caught a line. He managed to stumble through, but his lungs were starting to burn from the thin mountain air.
The next thirty-five minutes were a blur of staggered tires, sand-crawling under low ropes, and "sand walks" where they had to drag their bodies forward using only their forearms.
"Keep your head down, Sterling! You want to lose an ear?" Hollister yelled as Jack tried to look up during the crawl.
Then came the run.
"Formation! On me!" Snow shouted, already breaking into a steady, rhythmic jog.
They ran across the camp, their boots drumming a steady beat. Across the wide parade grounds, Jack could see Able and Baker companies already out, their white shirts appearing like ghosts in the morning mist. Fox Company was further up the hill, their drill sergeants' screams echoing off the barracks walls.
As they hit the three-mile mark, the "slow-burn" turned into a furnace. Recruits began to flag. Teller, a lean guy from 2nd Platoon, stumbled, his knees buckling.
"Pick him up!" Lieutenant Chase roared from the flank of 1st Platoon. "No one stops! If he can't run, you carry him!"
Hachen and Randell grabbed Teller by the armpits, practically dragging him along as his boots scuffed the gravel. Jack reached out and shoved Kenlil forward when the elf started to drift toward the back.
"Keep your eyes on the Captain's neck, Ken," Jack hissed, his own breath coming in ragged stabs. "Don't look at the ground."
"I... can't... see... the neck," Kenlil wheezed. "I only see... the Aether... calling me home."
Captain Snow was at the lead, his pace perfectly consistent. He didn't even look like he was trying. Every few minutes, he'd glance back over his shoulder, a mocking smirk playing on his lips as he watched them struggle.
"Is that the best Marmello has to offer?" Snow called out, his voice smooth and untroubled by the exertion. "I've seen grandmothers at the fish market move faster than this! Maybe I should call the 3rd Marines to come show you how to walk!"
"SING LOUDER!" Snow commanded, launching into the cadence again.
"I don't know but I've been told!" Snow sang out. "I DON'T KNOW BUT I'VE BEEN TOLD!"
"The 98th is mighty bold!" "THE 98TH IS MIGHTY BOLD!"
"Captain says it's fun to fly!" "CAPTAIN SAYS IT'S FUN TO FLY!"
"But I'm too young and cute to die!" "BUT I'M TOO YOUNG AND CUTE TO DIE!"
By mile five, the formation was a mess of heaving chests and dragging feet. Emily Randell was stumbling, her face ashen. Natalia moved in beside her, hooking an arm through Emily's.
"Stay with me, Emily," Natalia said, her voice strained but firm. "One foot. Then the other."
Fifty minutes later, they crossed the final marker. They had covered six miles.
Most of the recruits collapsed instantly, literally falling where they stood. Kenlil was flat on his back, his glasses fogged over, chest heaving so hard it looked painful. Tavros sat heavily on a rock, his fur soaked with sweat, his head hanging between his knees.
Snow stood in the center of the carnage. He wasn't panting. He wasn't even sweating through his shirt. He looked at his watch, then at the piles of exhausted bodies, and shook his head in mock disappointment.
"Fifty minutes for six miles. You guys look like you just survived a shipwreck," Snow said, checking his perfectly dry palms. "I didn't even break a sweat. Do we need to go around again so I can get a workout in?"
A collective groan rose from the dirt.
"I'll meet you at the combat obstacle course at 0900 hours," Snow said, his tone turning sharp. "First Sergeant Lewis will be inspecting your barracks at 0800. If he finds a single sock out of place, you'll be doing that run again before lunch. Company dismissed."
Snow turned and walked away toward the officers' quarters, his stride light and bouncy.
Jack sat down next to Kenlil, wiping sweat from his forehead. "You okay, Ken?"
Kenlil didn't look up. "I feel... like I'm going... to die. My soul... has already left... my body. Did you hear him? He wanted... to go again."
"How did he... keep going?" Jay Rool panted from the grass, his face a bright shade of purple. "He's half the size of Tavros and he was singing the whole time."
"He's a monster," Pollux groaned from a few feet away. "A tiny, terrifying monster."
"He's a 3rd Marine," Natalia corrected, standing over them and wiping a thin sheen of sweat from her lip. "And he's right. If we can't handle a morning jog, we won't handle the jump."
"Alright, 1st Platoon! Let's go!" Lieutenant Chase shouted, his own voice sounding a bit hoarse. "Mess hall! Rest later!"
"2nd Platoon, follow behind 1st!" Mary added. She looked at Jack and Kenlil, her eyes softening for just a fraction of a second before hardening again. "Move it, Sterling. Get him up."
Jack grabbed Kenlil's arm and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, Ken. If we don't move now, we'll miss the mystery stew. And honestly? I think I'm hungry enough to actually enjoy it."
"I'd eat the tree the Captain sang about," Kenlil muttered, leaning heavily on Jack as they joined the slow, limping procession toward the Mess Hall.