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墨書 Inktalez
The Colonel's voice rang out once more, prompting everyone to put down their chopsticks. Those still chewing their food halted mid-bite, and after a moment of mental struggle, they followed him out of the cafeteria.
In the afternoon, they entered the most crucial part of their training program.
"One hundred consecutive squats."
Upon hearing this command, everyone's eyes widened in disbelief, unsure if they had misheard. Yet, amidst the confusion, many faces showed a glimmer of joy. After all, for an average young person, one hundred consecutive squats didn't seem like much!
However, their thoughts were quickly pierced through as Colonel Cousins paced before them and said in a deep voice, "There’s no such thing as a free lunch in this world. I’m not so easily fooled. I know exactly what you’re thinking. Hmph." Before his cold voice could finish, a Jeep swiftly pulled up behind him. Cousins scanned the newcomers with a gaze reminiscent of an emperor inspecting his guard, then added sternly, "You have one minute to put on your weighted vests."
As they approached the Jeep, one person grabbed a black leather vest and ducked behind the vehicle to change. Freyr, tall and sturdy, couldn’t afford to skimp on size; he carefully selected the largest size available. As he held it in his hands, he couldn’t help but tremble slightly.
"This must weigh at least a hundred kilograms."
Astonished, he slipped the vest on. Sure enough, within moments he felt an overwhelming pressure evenly spreading across his muscles. It seemed that a bit of weight was beneficial; with a hundred kilograms distributed across every muscle group, even taking a single step felt incredibly difficult.
Yet once they donned these leather vests, the previously arrogant expressions on everyone’s faces turned to indifference. Two girls were rooted in place, unable to move at all; they could barely manage to breathe as they struggled to walk.
"This is your training. It may not seem effective at first glance, but now that you bear a hundred kilograms of weight, your physical abilities will return to square one. You must cast aside all past pride and confidence. I won’t even call you by name; just listen for my whistle. Each time I blow a low descending note, you must perform one squat. If you can’t keep up, you can leave right now..."
"Beep!"
With that sharp sound from the whistle, everyone sprang into action. Veins bulged from their necks as they pushed themselves harder; initially only a few managed to keep pace. However, after completing twenty squats or so, even those who started strong began gasping for breath—something that typically only happened after around seventy squats in regular training.
But this was just the beginning; this training method was far more grueling than anything an athlete would endure. By the time they reached fifty squats, each movement pushed their physiological limits to the ultimate degree. Freyr had been a key player in basketball and soccer for over four years at school and was accustomed to Spartan-like training methods. Yet with the hundred-kilogram vest strapped on him now, he realized that his previous training results felt inadequate—it was as if he had been thrown back to square one before liberation.
Perhaps it was due to the meal they had earlier, many were struggling to hold on. By the time they reached seventy repetitions, most of their faces had turned a deep purple, blood pooling in their facial muscles and extending down to their necks. After enduring ten more deep squats, at that moment, the muscles began to twitch slightly. Freyr forced himself to let out a loud roar, his body slowly sinking down. Just as he felt his muscles and ligaments on the verge of tearing, it seemed as if a deep-seated restraint cracked open, and immediately afterward, a surge of excess energy coursed through his body.
At this point, Freyr found he still had enough stamina to continue with the squats. A few others managed to keep going, but among the twenty elite participants, only a handful could endure.
"Those who complete one hundred can rest. Once everyone finishes, we will move on to the next exercise."
Although Cousins' training regimen was rough, as one of the few thinkers among the brutish types, he clearly understood that cultivation must be gradual. Overexerting any particular physical ability could easily disrupt the body's balance. His next training focus would target the upper body, which had not yet been developed.
Cousins smirked slightly; he knew that after enduring one hundred deep squats, they had clearly surpassed a physiological limit. However, mental fatigue was also nearing its peak. The greatest benefit of such training was that both body and mind could achieve corresponding improvements simultaneously.
Thus, breakthroughs in upper body strength were essential, and this kind of training required perseverance. Even within the regular ranks of the Crimson Dragon Army, warm-up exercises were mandatory to maintain the precious balance of the body. Any random cell proliferation or slight weight gain could lead to unpredictable side effects.
The girls were panting heavily as they continued squatting through sweat and exhaustion. Despite the pain of the process, from their astonished expressions, it was clear they had likely surpassed a physiological limit as well. Breaking through such limits was akin to unearthing new energy from their genes. Clearly, using brute force could yield unpredictable consequences for their bodies; however, one must not forget where they were—the most elite unit within the human army: the Crimson Dragon Army.
When the entire new recruits team was gathered for training, they were unaware of the countless surveillance cameras hidden in corners. Meanwhile, in another building, a group of Master Nutritionists and Gold Medal Trainers sat around a Virtual Screen in the Commander's office.
Master Nutritionists and Gold Medal Trainers were standard professions within the Crimson Dragon Army. Each Nutritionist had to undergo rigorous testing; they not only needed chef qualifications but also had to pass military district qualifications for Nutritionists. With each decade came an opportunity for junior Nutritionists to undergo assessments for advancement into intermediate ranks. Only Master Nutritionists and senior Nutritionists were qualified to cook for soldiers.
As reserve supply recruits for the Crimson Dragon Army, their physical qualities were no different from ordinary people; instead, they needed nourishing herbal diets to enhance their bodies. These elites could achieve exceptional physical qualities simply through proper meals.
However, possessing a strong physique was far from sufficient. For an ordinary soldier, it might be adequate; yet training for Crimson Dragon Army warriors was exceptionally grueling—time for eating and sleeping was carved out for training and tactical planning. Each Trainer had a Virtual Screen in front of them displaying various functional data related to soldiers assigned to them; they were currently conducting repeated checks on the new recruits' physical data.
An elderly man with graying hair sitting at the front organized a report and frowned slightly. "It seems there are several new recruits with rather unique abilities among those assigned to us. Freyr—this child has reached an extraordinary level of physical quality. According to my calculations, his physical endurance capacity is approximately 00-4 kilograms... Potential abilities unknown; strength shows an S-class trend while resistance is A-class and speed is A-class as well; mental power reaction capability is assessed at B+ level... Currently, he is at a level where all abilities are developing evenly at an ultra B-Class standard... Such individuals can already be regarded as elites."
Logistics Training Department Gold Medal Consultant Recruit Trainee, Tom Long Ajastr listened to the report with a displeased expression and said, “Frost, this is your problem. The reason the military district brought you here is to develop reasonable training programs and uncover the hidden potential of the recruits. Creating miracles is your specialty, isn’t it? That level of ability has no chance of survival in war. Three months from now, I expect to see a much better performance from him, and that depends on the results of your full dedication.”
“Only a B+ level? I believe it can be improved. I want to create a reasonable training program specifically for him. Look at his strength trend chart; it reaches a perfect S level, but his reaction ability is only at a C level. What’s going on here? He’s even worse than an ordinary person in that regard. I don’t care about this person’s training; it’s all on you…”
“Moreover… the Crimson Dragon Army never accepts useless individuals. How did these two girls pass the assessment without their adaptability being thoroughly checked?”
Frost stared at the Virtual Screen, his voice trembling slightly: “These two young ladies are the widows of Political Tycoon and Valkyrie. No one is willing to take them in. I believe they can only find value in rebirth through war. They don’t have particularly strong physical qualities, but as Telepaths, they have great potential for development…”
Tom Long Ajastr’s eyes burned with intensity as he spoke in a low voice: “Regarding mental potential, that guy named Nosty has an A-S mental potential index according to the report. The military doctor’s diagnosis states he is not blind; is there some mistake? And what about that strange surname Nosty… Could it be from that already fallen family… signing the Abrahamic Covenant which allowed the fallen civilization of the Alchemical Era to return to prosperity through the derivative family Nostidia Family… What were those assessors thinking? Why are they bringing in such odd characters? This is the Crimson Dragon Army, not a training camp for bureaucratic clans…”
“A useless guy… Although he has high potential and is indeed worth cultivating, he is blind. Tell me… who on the battlefield can afford to protect a blind person? You’re really driving me crazy…”
Suddenly, a door behind Tom Long Ajastr was pushed open forcefully, and a slightly shorter man walked in. He had an air of authority about him, and it was clear he had been delayed by some urgent matter. However, as soon as he entered the room, he dropped his grim expression.
“Sorry for being late; I just helped an old lady cross the street…”
Tom Long Ajastr didn’t turn around, still focused on the Virtual Screen, paying attention to every movement: “Haven’t you grown tired of that old excuse after using it for over ten years? If you’re not tired, I certainly am. Joe… you bastard, do you know how angry I am today? Come here; let me tell you…”
“Is that so… I’m listening…”
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