Ren circled him slowly, his piercing gaze assessing every inch of the young recruit. “Yoshida,” he began, his voice calm but firm, “you’ve joined the First Division, but don’t think for a second that your actions during the Harbinger attack mean you’ve earned your place here.”
Jun nodded, standing tall. “I understand, Captain.”
Ren stopped in front of him, his arms crossed. “Do you? Let me make it clear: power, heart, and skill are all crucial in this line of work. You have heart, but your body and mind are far from ready. If you want to survive—let alone thrive—you need to push yourself beyond your limits.”
Jun swallowed hard. “I’m ready to do whatever it takes.”
Ren’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “Good. Then your training starts now.”
The Regiment
Ren handed Jun a small datapad, its screen glowing with a simple list:
- 100 Pushups
- 100 Squats
- 10km Run
Jun blinked, tilting his head. “Uh, Captain, this seems... straightforward?”
Ren raised an eyebrow. “Straightforward? You’ll be doing this every day, Yoshida. No breaks. No excuses. For two years.”
Jun’s jaw dropped. “Two years?!”
Ren nodded, unbothered by the young recruit’s disbelief. “You need a foundation—a body that can endure, adapt, and excel. No powers, no tech. Just raw strength and determination. These exercises will forge that foundation.”
“But—” Jun started, then stopped himself. He wasn’t going to argue with someone like Ren. “Understood.”
Ren stepped closer, his voice lowering but becoming even sharper. “This training isn’t just physical. It’s about discipline and resilience. You’ll want to quit. You’ll convince yourself it’s pointless. That’s where most people fail. But if you stick to it, you’ll realize this is about more than just strength. It’s about shaping your will.”
Jun nodded firmly. “I’ll do it.”
Ren’s smirk returned. “We’ll see. Start now.”
Day One
Jun dropped into a pushup position, the warm sun beating down on him. The rest of the recruits trained in the distance, sparring or working with advanced weaponry. He felt their stares, the silent judgment from those who doubted him. No powers, no chance, their looks seemed to say.
By the time he hit fifty pushups, his arms burned like fire. By seventy, his breath came in ragged gasps. When he collapsed at ninety, his face hit the dirt, sweat dripping into his eyes.
“Ten more,” Ren’s voice barked from somewhere behind him. “Don’t stop until you’re done.”
Jun gritted his teeth, forcing his trembling arms to lift his body. The last ten pushups felt like they took an eternity, but he finished. He barely had time to catch his breath before Ren handed him a bottle of water.
“Good. Now squats.”
Jun groaned but obeyed, standing shakily and beginning his squats. His thighs screamed in protest by the time he reached fifty. By ninety, his legs felt like lead. When he finally completed the set, he nearly collapsed again.
“10km,” Ren said, pointing toward the trail winding through the dense forest surrounding the base. “Clock’s ticking.”
Jun staggered toward the trail, his legs barely holding him up. But as he began to run, something shifted. The rhythm of his steps, the fresh air, and the sheer challenge of the task began to clear his mind. Each step was a defiance of his limits, a promise to himself that he wouldn’t give up.
That Night
Jun returned to the barracks just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Every muscle in his body ached, and he could barely lift his arms to eat the meager dinner provided.
From a distance, Ren watched Jun with quiet satisfaction. The young recruit’s determination was unmistakable, but the real test was yet to come.
One of the other captains, a tall woman with silver hair and a scar running down her cheek, approached. “You really think he’ll last two years of this?” she asked, folding her arms.
Ren didn’t look away from Jun. “He’ll last because he has no other choice. Yoshida has potential, but more importantly, he has something to prove—to himself and to the world. That kind of drive is rare.”
The woman chuckled. “If he breaks, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Ren smirked. “If he breaks, then he doesn’t belong here.”
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