Crawl Through Hell
“Ugh! Sand in my eyes.”
Ion, performing the maneuver beside me, wiped at his tears as he moved his arms.
“Cadet! If you want to quit, fall out!”
The moment Ion tried to clear the sand from his eyes, an instructor charged over and roared like a lion.
“No, sir!”
“Then why are you just sitting there?! Think the enemy’s gonna wait for you?!”
Sand in your eyes? Just blink it out. What a devil.
No, not even human.
Pure demon.
“Sorry, sir!”
In the end, Ion couldn’t clear the sand and kept up the prone crawl.
The instructor barked a few more times at the sight, then suddenly whipped his head around to glare down at me.
“Can’t you move faster?!”
What the hell? Why’s he suddenly on my ass?
I was matching the pace of the guy in front, so this was pure bullshit.
“Sorry, sir!”
“Move swiftly and precisely! Who told you to use your feet?!”
In my panic, I’d started to shift my feet a bit.
A lion’s roar exploded immediately.
Damn it, how much faster does he want?
My elbows were already shredded from repeated reps.
They could give out any second—no surprise there.
The speed I was managing was a miracle in itself.
“Use your feet one more time, and you’re fallen out!”
“Urgh!”
Those words hit like a death sentence. I screamed in frustration and poured everything into my arms.
Why’s he singling me out?!
If I was slacking, fine, I’d get it.
But I was keeping up with everyone else. What the fuck?
“Didn’t you hear your instructor tell you to do it right?!”
I am doing it right, you bastard!
I endured the insane harassment, oblivious to my elbows grinding raw as I bellowed and pushed on.
Ten minutes like that.
Finally, the instructor dropped his focus on me and vanished somewhere.
Finally leaves.
He’d only yelled a couple times at others before moving on. Couldn’t feel more wronged.
Does he have some grudge against Dad or something?
With our trading company, plenty of people could hold a grudge.
“Urgh.”
With the pressure off and a bit of breathing room, pain flooded in from my elbows.
Scraped to hell.
My uniform sleeve was damp.
Not sweat—blood. Made my head spin.
But know what’s scarier?
This goddamn training had only been going for an hour.
“You’re using your feet and still slower than before? Entire platoon, down for push-ups!”
After spinning like mad in the narrow crawl, we dropped straight into the wide crawl.
Exhausted beyond belief, permission to use feet changed nothing.
“One—action! Two—swiftly! One!”
“Ac…action!!”
“Louder! Two!!!”
“Swiftly!!!!!”
Even Derek, with his iron stamina, was drenched in sweat, struggling.
End this shit already, you lunatics.
This wasn’t training.
Torture.
“Cadet! Why aren’t you moving? Gonna quit?!”
Crush collapsed mid-push-up from the punishment drill and couldn’t get back up.
“I… I quit.”
First dropout from our room.
Ion whipped his head around.
“Hyung, no. You can do more.”
“Sorry, I really can’t anymore. Hack!”
Gasping, barely able to speak.
Anyone could see he’d hit his limit.
“Fallen cadet, step aside. Go wallow in shame at quitting alone while others push on. Understood?”
“Sor… sorry, sir!”
Crush mustered one last shout before shuffling to the dropout area.
When did we lose so many?
I’d been too busy rolling to notice, but now—nearly a hundred.
At this rate…
“Heh heh.”
Ion, spotting the same thing, let out a creepy chuckle.
Scary bastard. Laughing ‘cause he’s lapped as many as me, right?
Thank god he’s on my team, same room.
“Cadets hurting?!”
“No, sir!!”
“Then why so quiet?! Should I take that as begging for more discipline?!”
“No, sir!!!!”
Voice-obsessed freak.
I’d bet he’d dump a girl for speaking too softly.
“We’ll do exactly as many more reps as dropouts. Dropouts, form four ranks!”
The unexpected order had the dropouts shuffling hesitantly to their feet.
“Can’t move swiftly?!”
Only at the bellow did they form proper four ranks.
The instructor scowled, displeased.
“Rear ranks, start count.”
“One!”
“Two!”
“Three!”
.
.
The numbers climbed endlessly.
Multiply by four for extras? My elbows trembled.
“Twenty-seven!”
“Twenty-eight!”
“Twenty-nine! End count! Ready!”
I figured less than a hundred, but way more.
“116. I’ve trained many classes, but three digits? First time.”
Even I’d believe it.
And I trained a week before coming.
Makes sense, though.
Nobles like them—when have they ever pushed their bodies to the brink, endured real pain?
Soft lives bred bad habits.
“Dropouts will each call cadence once. First rank, first file—Cadet Descent!”
“Cadet Descent!”
“Cadets start cadence from here. Follow the dropouts’ calls with narrow crawls. Execute!”
The instructor glared at Descent.
“What’re you waiting for? Didn’t understand?”
“N-no, sir!”
“Ignoring your instructor, then?!”
“N-no, sir!!!”
“Then start! You’re letting your comrades lie in the dirt!”
Under the onslaught, Descent squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth.
“O… one!”
We moved on his call.
“Echo it back!!!”
I’d only moved without echoing—another roar followed.
Obvious he’s just humiliating him.
If it were me up there, I’d stop breathing from dread.
“T… two!”
“Two!!!!”
Pain stabbed with every motion of my shredded arms.
Bit my lip so hard, blood filled my mouth.
Hate that guy a bit.
Just human, not a saint. Couldn’t help it.
“Tw… twenty-one!”
.
“Forty-three!”
.
.
“One-sixteen.”
Knowing this ended it? Not a single extra dropout.
“All cadets, stand.”
Training over at last.
I finally planted my feet, brushed sand from my uniform.
“Ugh.”
Even tapping my knees—scraped raw, fabric stuck to skin.
If I’d worn socks, maybe not this bad.
Hated the instructor for the surprise schedule change.
“Dropouts, return to ranks.”
They slunk back, heads bowed like criminals.
What crime did they commit?
Just tapped out from exhaustion. Instructor manufactured the guilt.
What a prick.
This is why I hate the army.
“Guys… sorry. My fault.”
Crush returned, head hung low.
“Hyung, it’s fine. Just a few more than hundreds of reps. No big deal.”
“Yeah, dropping out isn’t wrong. Don’t sweat it.”
Derek—least beat-up—and I consoled him.
“Thanks for saying that.”
Crush’s face brightened a little.
Our hyung’s a good guy.
Apologizes first. Noble with solid character.
“Individual combat training ends here. Vital survival skills—practice diligently.”
Yeah, right.
Would I ever do this again? Twice was enough; three’s a no-go.
“Time’s short—head straight to the mess hall.”
Wanted a quick wash first. No such mercy here.
Grateful they feed us at all?
Shaking my head, I entered the mess—and couldn’t help but gape.
Sizzle!
Meat grilling on hot plates, tubs of every side dish.
Always good, but today? On point.
“Jackpot!”
“What the hell is this?”
Roommates drooling, plates in hand—no exceptions.
No extra training this afternoon, right?
Meant we could gorge.
Crunch!
Grabbed a rib bone, tore in like a savage.
Insane. Heaven.
Juicy drippings, tender meat.
If paradise exists, it’s here.
“They prepped this for our tough training today.”
Ion analyzed coolly between bites.
Individual combat’s brutal, yeah.
Day five here.
I’d say confidently: today’s—minutes ago—was the worst.
“Knees and elbows shredded. Can we call a medic?”
Noble thinking: not go to medic, summon one.
“Ask after eating. Unit this size has a clinic—should patch us up.”
Roommates nodded.
Nothing sadder than getting hurt in the army.
Peanuts pay, crap treatment.
Try going off-base? Officers glare.
Dogshit place.
Just thinking boiled up disgust and rage.
“Ugh, stuffed. Can’t eat more.”
“Overdid it. Hyungs, think we’ll fight food coma later?”
“Pinch each other awake—we’ll manage.”
Top demerit: sleeping in class. High alert.
“All done? Let’s go.”
Plates cleared, through the return line, at the exit.
“Cadet, what’d you do wrong?”
A cadet heading to barracks first got nabbed by an instructor.
“Uh… uh…”
He trailed off, clueless.
But I saw it.
His boot laces, loose as hell.
“Head down.”
“Sor… sorry, sir!”
Bowing, he spotted it, bit his lip hard.
“No complaints on demerit? Fix your uniform and return to barracks.”
“Yes, sir…!”
Despair at “demerit,” but what could he do?
Caught sloppy.
“Check each other.”
“Palan-hyung, sleeve.”
“Thanks.”
Before exiting, we inspected uniforms, fixed issues.
“Alright, move out.”
“Please, no problems.”
Heading to barracks post-mess.
Midway, instructor planted like a statue.
He locked eyes as we approached, scanned our uniforms.
“Hm.”
Silent.
Ion and Crush passed unscathed.
My turn.
Our eyes met in the air.
“Cadet.”
Thought I’d skate by quiet—then he stopped me.
Goddamn it!