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墨書 Inktalez
Freyr ignored the captain's orders. To him, even an unjust decision was inconsequential; he was simply on a path to become stronger.
Perhaps he would give up his playtime and the time spent socializing. The current stage was merely a result of their lack of communication.
No matter where he went, his demeanor only made him appear as someone who was bullied, but he did not dwell on such matters.
Without constraints, there was no motivation. He swiftly covered more than ten kilometers, but at that moment, he felt lightheaded due to dehydration. This was a sign of fatigue, and in the afternoon, Long Xingchen and Freya had not prepared water for him because they never expected him to be late when he usually arrived early.
The training process was tedious and monotonous, with each exercise capable of exhausting an ordinary person to the point of nausea.
Freyr felt as if he were in a sauna; even his hair was damp. However, on this basis, he had truly become a water person, leaving puddles of sweat on the plastic track.
"Go get him some water," Long Xingchen said with a slight frown as he took out a bottle of ice water from his ring.
"Captain?" Freya quickly understood Long Xingchen's protective measures for his subordinates. She took the ice water and hurried over to Freyr's side.
At this point, Freyr's consciousness was barely hanging on. What should have been an easy twenty kilometers felt like a monumental task. Who would have thought that the previously cool air would suddenly be replaced by the sun's heat? The temperature rose sharply, causing his physical condition to decline rapidly. The early signs of exhaustion indicated that he was not suited for intense exercise in such a hot environment.
In his thoughts, he could distinctly feel the coldness emanating from the ice water. At that moment, Freyr's vision blurred as he teetered between fainting and heatstroke. He murmured, "Give me water, quickly."
Freya nodded and stopped to pour the ice water into his mouth.
"Is there more? Is there more?" After drinking the water, Freyr visibly perked up. However, that little bit of ice water merely alleviated his thirst temporarily; it also ignited a strong desire within him. The water he drank quickly seeped through his skin and turned into sweat.
"There isn't any left. You need to finish running quickly to get more water," Freya said with a shake of her head and a smile.
Freyr forced a bitter smile and shook his head. "This is really terrible." His vision cleared up, and his speed began to increase again. With only a quarter of the distance left, he shouldn't have needed to exert himself so much. Yet even in the final sprint phase, he couldn't afford to run like this; twenty kilometers was merely warm-up training.
As training progressed deeper into the session, running became part of the warm-up routine. Only under the sun did signs of weakness become apparent due to dehydration caused by Sunlight evaporating moisture from within him. He needed to constantly replenish fluids to combat the oppressive heat.
Finally completing the long twenty kilometers, Long Xingchen showed no signs of stopping and called for him to move to a shaded area.
"Take a three-minute break, get your mindset under control, and drink some water to replenish the lost fluids. The afternoon training will continue as usual," Long Xingchen said, pulling out a bottle of ice water and handing it to Freyr.
"Mm~" Freyr watched as Long Xingchen magically produced a bottle of water from his ring. He took the water, gulped it down in one go, and collapsed onto the ground, motionless.
Minutes passed in the blink of an eye before Long Xingchen called out to Freyr.
"The afternoon training will be changed to close combat lessons. You need to learn how to take down your opponent in an instant. I will be your opponent, and we will train until dark." As he finished speaking, some Protective Gear and boxing gloves appeared in front of them.
The boxing gloves contained lead weights, which significantly reduced the power behind each punch. Therefore, every strike required a considerable amount of force. Moreover, for a warrior, simply knowing how to hit the opponent was meaningless; defending against attacks during combat was equally important. Achieving a balance between offense and defense was evidently quite challenging.
Regarding the Protective Gear, aside from a large helmet shaped like a loaf of bread on their heads, there was only a chest guard filled with sponge material. Any impact on the chest guard would absorb some force, so even experienced opponents would hesitate when attempting quick takedowns.
The three of them walked for a while until they arrived at an empty room. They had come here to train without anyone watching and without additional protective measures.
Freya quickly pulled over four blankets and arranged them into a square shape resembling an arena. Long Xingchen said, "Just hitting isn't enough; let's set some rules. Five points for hitting the face, three points for hitting the chest guard, two points for hitting the chin, legs, or knees. Attacking special Targets won't earn you any points but will deduct five points instead. Each round will last until all points are counted. The loser will have to do five hundred push-ups and run fifty laps around this room."
After casually explaining this, before Freyr could fully grasp what was happening, Long Xingchen called him closer. With Freyr hesitating, Long Xingchen swiftly struck between his legs with his left foot and pushed him down with his shoulder into his chest. Using one hand to grab Freyr's wrist, he executed an over-the-shoulder throw that sent Freyr crashing onto the mat.
"Ouch~" In that instant, Freyr felt immense pain as he landed face-first on the mat. A soft object cushioned him slightly; otherwise, if he had fallen onto concrete or another hard surface, it could have easily broken bones.
His face hit the mat in an unflattering position reminiscent of a dog digging in dirt. For a moment, he couldn't react; his physical condition was simply too poor. Three months of training hadn't significantly improved their differences in ability.
At that moment, Long Xingchen walked around Freyr with indifferent eyes and said calmly, "That last move earned me eight points since I hit multiple Targets and knocked you down. This gives me plenty of points. However, since you seem not to understand the rules yet, I gave you a practical demonstration. Now it seems you have an idea of what's going on. Time is long but can still run out quickly; bring your best state."
At that moment, Freyr's mind exploded like a nuclear bomb going off. He donned his gloves and stood up with a fierce expression.
Freyr had considerable skill in fighting but lacked scientific guidance; most of the sparring coaches from his era had nearly vanished. He relied on his own insights into combat strategies. With his previous abilities, he didn't need to think much about tactics; even recklessly charging into Zerg territory often yielded significant rewards.
Compared to hand-to-hand combat, he excelled at dual-wielding swords. His swordsmanship was characterized by speed and precision; he retained certain techniques while integrating them into his style. Relying solely on brute force wouldn't suffice for causing damage now; he needed to adapt his sword techniques to suit himself—keeping what worked and discarding what didn't. His swordsmanship teacher disliked this approach but also appreciated it for its innovation and adaptability; thus, he passed on his understanding of swordsmanship to Freyr.
"The training method is to take down your opponent; hitting a Target earns you points. If you can't hit me, then you lack the ability to inflict serious damage on your enemy—you are worthless and have no reason to exist."
A harsh voice echoed in Freyr's ears, and though he usually wouldn't bother to remember such annoying sounds, the pain ignited a surge of anger within him. The agony made him forget who he was, driving him to act without thinking of the consequences. In an instant, a powerful punch struck his jaw, causing his head to snap back. A sweeping kick then knocked his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.
"Get up!" Long Xingchen had transformed, resembling a ruthless god of slaughter on the battlefield. He stood bare-chested, his voice hoarse and filled with fury, a stark contrast to his usual cold demeanor. If not for the rules prohibiting attacks on downed opponents, he would have already lunged forward with fists and feet.
"I'm not out yet." Freyr rose again, forcefully patting the spot where he had just been hit, indicating that the attack had barely affected him.
"Yes, you're not out yet; you've only lost four points. There's still a chance for victory. But you've let the punches and pain cloud your mind with thoughts of revenge. This wildfire of vengeance will only leave your heart in turmoil. Forget that fire and return to your original state of mind if you want to perform at your best."
"Shut up."
As soon as he finished speaking, Freyr lunged forward with a fierce tackle, delivering a heavy straight punch.
Long Xingchen narrowed his eyes and quickly stepped back to create some distance.
He unleashed a flurry of punches to Freyr's chest before grabbing his head with both hands and driving his knee into Freyr's vulnerable abdomen. Despite the padding on his chest, the force of the knee strike was far greater than that of any punch. Instantly, Freyr's abdomen took a severe blow; he released his grip and fell to his knees, trembling as he supported himself on the ground.
"You didn't learn from what just happened. You needed to experience the consequences of ignoring my words. This pain is much greater than before. If you continue like this, I won't hold back next time; the pain will be even more intense."
"Shut up! Didn't you say I'm not out yet? Even if you beat me to a pulp, when I stand up again, my flame of life will continue to burn. For you, fighting is a competition; for me, it's different. Combat determines life and death—only one of us can survive. Pain is merely a sensation in the body; all I need to do is one thing: make sure you can't stand anymore—that will be my victory."
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