F-Class Warrior: Duran Dos 2
Having people I could actually talk to was a huge advantage. I could get information easily. The buzz-cut recruits spilled their guts the moment I raised my fist. Indeed, there's no better teacher than a fist.
The place I was at right now was an army training camp. Not the Republic of Korea's army training camp, of course. It was the training center of a fictional nation called Kaki.
This world wasn't Earth's reality. It was another world similar to Earth. Kaki was a nation that existed in that world.
Kaki was currently at war. Their opponent was the Kyrria Empire. The Kyrria Empire had its home continent on a different landmass from Kaki. Another fictional nation from some created story, naturally.
The exact location here was the 7th Army Training Center in the Zero Town region of the Kaki Republic. Recruits who completed this training were said to be deployed to the Typhoon Ocean Front, where fierce battles against the Kyrria Empire raged.
Typhoon Ocean Front, huh. What a lazy name.
My name was Duran Dos, a recruit undergoing basic training at the army training camp.
I wasn't your average recruit. From what I'd heard from the others, I apparently followed some religion called the "7th Personality" and refused to handle a rifle.
That sergeant from earlier had blown up in rage for exactly that reason—to force me to pick up a gun. Religious folks are impossible to understand. What's so hard about this?
Once I'd roughly grasped the situation, I got a feel for what kind of world this was. It wasn't the world I knew, but it was probably from a game or novel. Or maybe a movie.
Either way, not knowing the攻略 guide right now is a big problem. It's like my greatest weapon has vanished.
The攻略 guide.
It was a power as vital to me as the Unix Cube. In the Solari World, Extreme Sword Heavenly Line, and Soul Community, I'd resolved various incidents smoothly thanks to this攻略 guide. But in this unfamiliar world, I couldn't rely on that power.
The silver lining was that the people here had no special abilities like Abilities. I'd subtly asked about it, and the other recruits just gave me looks like, "What the fuck is wrong with this guy?" This was a world where the very concept of mana didn't exist.
Still, because of the quest I was currently undertaking, I couldn't just be thrilled about that. Restrictions were placed on ability usage.
Of course, it's not like I can't use skills at all.
I was free to use skills. But doing so would lower the quest completion rank.
Since that rank affected the rewards, I wanted to achieve the highest possible rank if I could. It was similar to that "Guardian" quest back in the Solari World. I'd failed a few sub-quests then and ended up with mediocre rewards.
Restrain ability use as much as possible, but deploy them if absolutely necessary. That was my policy for operating here. Even without mana, using just my base stats, I was confident I could kill every last recruit in this place.
"Dos! Feeling like picking up a rifle today!?"
The guy bellowing like a train whistle was Sergeant Hog, the platoon leader for our recruit platoon.
He seemed to have a special interest in me. Well, who wouldn't? A masochistic torture like me crawling into his platoon would grab anyone's attention.
Watching his face turn beet red as he yelled at me made me want to snap his neck. But I couldn't. If I lost control and killed Sergeant Hog...
Returning to Save Point
"Dos! How long do you plan to keep up this bullshit!? Pick up the rifle right now! Or I'll put a bullet in your fucking head!"
Back to the very beginning. It wasn't just about killing someone that reset me. I'd tested it last night by secretly offing one recruit, and nothing happened—no reset.
Probably because killing the instructor meant I failed the "scenario" of graduating top of basic training. So, I rolled back to the past. In other words, to move forward, I had to follow the macro scenario.
Fail the scenario, and rollback. This world really is game-like. I can make good use of this feature.
The conditions were tricky, but rewinding time was a power I could use handily in various situations.
"Today's rifle training! Everyone, gear up and follow me!"
Today was rifle training day. The recruits' faces turned ashen. It didn't take long to figure out why they looked like they were heading to their deaths.
"Everyone, prepare full combat gear!"
At Sergeant Hog's bellow, the recruits moved in unison. Full gear weighed over 30kg. They were going to march to the range like that.
Asking another recruit, the range was about 10km away. But Sergeant Hog—nicknamed Bulldog for his shitty temper—had no intention of making it easy.
"Air raid! Enemy shells incoming! Enemy shells incoming! Gas masks on!"
"Argh! Fuck!"
"That Bulldog bastard. He's dead set on killing us."
Sergeant Hog suddenly imposed a scenario. No planes in sight, not even a bird. It was simulated training. The recruits grumbled as they pulled gas masks from their gear.
"Move your asses, you fucks! At this rate, you'll die from Kyrria's chemical shells! The Morton Archipelago is hell! If you don't shape up, you won't set foot on a single island before you croak!"
Sergeant Hog's deafening voice rattled my eardrums. A bomber's roar of a voice.
I scratched at my ear. If that fucker turned his volume down by half, it'd be perfect. If I enlisted in real life, would I have to deal with assholes like him? My future looked bleak.
"Dos! Now you're skipping the gas mask too!? Your fuckery exceeds my wildest expectations!"
"How do you put this on, Sergeant?"
"You crazy fuck! You're not seriously telling me you've forgotten how to don a gas mask right in front of me, are you?"
No idea, never learned. It didn't look like just slapping it on like a regular mask—the dangling straps were weirdly arranged.
The gas mask reeked like a woman's unwashed pussy after a week. A horrific thing I had zero desire to wear.
"Listen up! Our Dos has another fun surprise! Haha! First time I've seen a fuck like this! Everyone, crawl to the range! Execute!"
"““Arrrrrgh!””"
Horrific screams erupted from the recruits again. I stared blankly at Sergeant Hog. He glared back with beastly eyes.
"Fine! Let's see who breaks first—you or me! Until you don that gas mask, your comrades will eat dirt in this fucking hellish march. Changed your mind yet?"
Changed my mind? Not a chance.
"Sergeant, that fucker's slacking again. Same as with the push-ups last time."
Instead of the mask, I snitched on a slacking Hog. Sergeant Hog's face turned tomato-paste red.
"Dooooos!"
Hard to believe, but the recruits crawled to the range. I hummed a tune, watching the spectacle. Buzz-cut maggots wriggling on the ground was a sight to behold.
Ten recruits passed out and got carted to the med bay. Sergeant Hog glared at me like I was some rare breed.
He never touched me directly. From what other recruits said yesterday, this Duran Dos was apparently a tough nut originally. On day one, he'd refused the N1 Glyco rifle and gotten beaten like a dog in summer heat in front of everyone. For about two weeks, he'd stubbornly refused.
When beatings and threats of military prison didn't break him, Sergeant Hog changed tactics: torment my "comrades."
But I didn't see these buzz-cut fucks as comrades. Their suffering was entertaining sideshow. I even kicked the asses of slackers. Seeing that, Sergeant Hog foamed at the mouth and charged me.
"Duran Dos! You mad fuck. Your mom would faint in hell seeing this!"
"You're crossing the line, you piece of shit."
I unleashed a somersault kick on his left leg. It bent in a direction legs shouldn't.
"Gaaah!"
"S-Sergeant!"
"Fuck. This is what happens when you piss me off!"
I shattered his limbs and pummeled him to dust. The moment his skull caved in, a message appeared before my eyes.
Returning to Save Point
Yeah, I guess I'm not cut out for the military.
*-*-*
Somehow, we got through to rifle training again. Auto-progress would be nice, but no such convenience existed.
The range was a vast field. An artificial sand berm on one side, targets in front.
The soldiers, exhausted, picked up their rifles. The N1 Glyco rifle—Kaki Republic's standard semi-auto, the one Sergeant Hog was dying to shove in my hands.
Upon arrival, Sergeant Hog's expression grew even more serious. He was never one for jokes anyway, but now the other recruits could barely breathe.
"Always stay focused at the range. Dumbasses die on me!"
Under Sergeant Dos—no, Hog—and other training NCOs, recruits lined up. Ten firing lanes total.
"Imagine those targets are Kyrria scum heads and shoot!"
Training in groups of ten. Recruits entered lanes with grim faces, firing at front targets.
The gunfire was way louder than I expected. My ears rang; I wanted earplugs.
Sergeant Hog managed them unfazed. That fucker's eardrums must be shot. Explains the train-whistle voice.
I watched the recruits shoot. Most had sloppy form, barely pulling triggers. They'd burned too much stamina getting here. Poor stamina meant shit form and focus.
Sergeant Hog, displeased, crossed arms with a scowl, staring ahead.
About two hours, some 200 recruits fired. Only I hadn't. Sergeant Hog turned to me.
"Dos! Your turn."
"Got it."
Watching the kids shoot made me want a go. Shooting's a guy's romance, right?
Truth is, I had experience. Handled a gun made from the SS-grade item Shard of Killing Intent. Skill? Trash. Firing bullets vs. ranged skills was a world apart.
"Wh-What!?"
Sergeant Hog gawked like he'd misheard my instant reply. Fair enough—from his view, the masochist who'd endured weeks of hell refusing a rifle suddenly flips and wants to shoot? Bizarre.
"But I didn't bring a rifle, Sergeant."
"Ahem! Use mine! Dos, good thinking. On the battlefield, it's not your fancy god that saves you—it's this rifle! This N1 Glyco will be your lord."
I took the crude rifle he handed over. Heavy feel pressed my wrist. Around 4kg. Light as a sponge to me.
Having watched the others, form was easy. Stock firm against shoulder, scoped the aim point.
Target at about 30m. Others shot 100m ones. Probably 'cause I'm a total newbie.
Held breath, minimized shake. Never trained, but instinct told me how to nail the shot.
Thanks to countless battles. Never learned marksmanship, but I was a ranged skill suppressor style.
Slowly finger to trigger. Scope locked target. Felt one with the rifle.
Bang!