"As of the first day, we won't waste time," the female captain said.
She raised her hand and pointed toward the wide expanse of Ground One.
"Form up. Cluster lines. No gaps."
Instructors immediately moved among us, shouting directions and pushing people into place.
Hundreds of comrades shifted, forming loose but organized groups. Dust rose from the ground as boots scraped into position.
I swallowed.
The female captain walked to the center, hands clasped behind her back.
"Since today marks the first day of your Monarch service, you will begin with something simple," she said.
Some people relaxed slightly.
Then she continued.
"You will run twenty laps of this ground."
"For three hours."
A collective gasp spread through the crowd.
Murmurs erupted instantly.
"Twenty?!"
"For three hours?"
"Is she serious?!"
The female captain's eyes narrowed.
"I know you have trained at academies," she said sharply. "But reaching this place means you are no longer students."
Her gaze swept across us, stopping briefly on those who looked confident—and those who looked terrified.
"This is different."
She stepped forward against gravel.
"You will be trained harder than ever before," she said. "Not just your bodies—but your minds."
"Here, you will learn strategy, tactics, and group coordination. A hero who fights alone dies first."
She raised her arm.
"Now—"
Her voice dropped.
"Start."
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then—
"YAAAAAA!"
A roar exploded from hundreds of throats as we surged forward.
Boots pounded against the ground.
The run had begun.
The first lap wasn't bad.
The ground was wide and flat, packed dirt mixed with stone. The pace was fast, but manageable.
People ran in clusters, some laughing nervously, others already breathing hard.
I kept my breathing steady.
"Don't rush", I told myself. Pace matters.
The second lap passed.
Then the third.
Sweat began to form on my back. My uniform clung slightly to my skin, but it did its job—cooling me, preventing overheating.
By the fifth lap, voices had gone quiet.
Only breathing and footsteps remained.
(I used to run only five laps at the academy…) Mingkong thought as she ran near the front.
(This is already different.)
Her chest rose and fell steadily. She wasn't slowing yet, but she could already feel the pressure building in her legs.
Around the seventh lap, cracks began to show.
Some comrades slowed down.
Others stumbled.
One man fell to his knees, gasping, before an instructor dragged him to the side.
"No stopping!" the instructor barked. "Walk if you must—crawl if you have to—but you keep moving!"
I clenched my jaw.
The eighth lap burned.
My lungs felt tight. My legs were growing heavier with every step. Sweat dripped into my eyes, blurring my vision.
"This isn't normal training", I realized. This is conditioning through pain.
By the tenth lap, the ground felt endless.
People were spread out now. The early confidence was gone. Faces were pale. Teeth were clenched.
Rion was ahead of me—but slower now.
I wanted to call out to him.
But my throat was dry.
I focused on my steps.
One.
Two.
Breathe.
By the twelfth lap, my muscles screamed.
Each step felt like dragging chains. My calves trembled. My arms felt numb.
Keep moving, I told myself. Don't stop.
I glanced ahead.
The top three heroes were still running.
Mingkong.
And the other two.
They were on their seventeenth lap.
Their movements were slower now. Their breathing is rough. Sweat soaked their uniforms.
Even they were struggling.
By the fourteenth lap—
I was done.
My vision swam. My legs felt hollow. I stumbled, nearly falling forward.
I caught myself just in time.
My chest burned like fire.
I can't…
I forced my legs to keep moving.
Walk.
Just walk.
Around me, others were worse.
Some collapsed entirely.
Others vomited on the side of the ground.
Captain watched coldly, stopping only to ensure no one died.
The female captain stood at the center, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"This is Monarch training," she said calmly. "Endure."
My breath came out in harsh gasps.
Fourteenth lap.
Fifteenth.
I didn't know how I was still moving.
Ahead of me, Mingkong slowed.
Her breath was ragged now.
(This is insane…) she thought. (But I can't fall behind.)
She glanced back.
Her eyes landed on me.
On Tatsuki.
I was running—no, dragging myself forward—with a blank expression on my face.
(He's acting.) Mingkong thought sharply.
(There's no way a C-rank initiate should still look like that.)
She remembered.
That same expression.
(He always looks like this before everything explodes.)
Her teeth clenched.
(I won't be fooled.)
By the seventeenth lap, even the top heroes were barely standing.
One of them stumbled and nearly fell.
Mingkong caught herself with sheer will.
The eighteenth lap was hell.
Time lost meaning.
All I could hear was my heartbeat.
All I could feel was pain.
Left foot. Right foot.
The female captain's voice echoed.
"Keep going."
The nineteenth lap came like a miracle.
Somehow, I crossed it.
My legs shook violently.
The twentieth lap—
I don't remember finishing it.
I only remember falling forward onto the ground.
Dust filled my mouth.
My chest heaved violently as I sucked in air like a drowning man.
Around me, bodies lay scattered.
The run was over.
The female captain stepped forward.
She looked at us—not with pity, not with pride—but with evaluation.
"This," she said, "is your baseline."
She turned away.
"Rest for ten minutes."
I lay there, staring at the sky.
My entire body felt broken.
Mingkong sat on the ground nearby, breathing hard.
She looked at me again.
(You're hiding your strength…) she thought. (And I will find out what it is.)
(Five years from now… I must become strong.)
The thought echoed in my mind as I lay on the ground, staring at the sky.
Sweat cooled against my skin, and for a brief moment, there was silence—almost peaceful.
Then it shattered.
"Everyone, come to the class!" the female captain shouted.
"Huh… ten minutes already?" I muttered, glancing at my watch in disbelief.
Groans rose all around. Some comrades struggled to sit up, while others helped pull their exhausted friends to their feet.
No one complained aloud.