Chapter 78: Southern Training Camp (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 78: Southern Training Camp (4)
McBurney thought to himself.
Perhaps.
Perhaps Roman Dmitry was standing there with them simply because he didn't know how the Southern Training Camp's system worked.
Since that could lead to issues later on, McBurney approached Roman.
"Lord Roman. The Southern Training Camp does not force nobles to undergo training. If you do not wish to participate, you may watch from the shade like the others."
There were always those kinds of people—the types who would wait out in the scorching sun thinking they had to train, only to see the other nobles resting and then bring up their family names to complain about poor treatment. McBurney had seen more than enough of those trashy nobles. While Viscount Veil Frank held absolute, unquestionable power within the Southern Training Camp, instructors like McBurney couldn't even speak informally to the noble trainees.
He was the chief instructor in name only.
In reality, McBurney possessed no real authority.
Roman spoke. "Are you saying this because of them?"
Roman's gaze shifted toward the shade. Rather than paying attention to the training ground, the nobles seemed entirely preoccupied with sharing amusing stories amongst themselves.
McBurney nodded. For some reason, it was a deeply embarrassing moment for him.
However...
"I will undergo the training."
Even after learning the truth, Roman did not head for the shade.
The nobles of the Southern Training Camp. He knew exactly what they were thinking.
They believed that wars rarely broke out on the Southern Front anyway, and that a commander's only job was to issue orders. After all, wasn't it the soldiers who did the actual fighting? The 'common sense' they knew dictated that a commander should watch the battlefield from a safe distance, but the thoughts of those who had actually experienced war were entirely different.
Looking at McBurney, Roman calmly voiced his thoughts.
"You are not in the wrong. On the battlefield, the enemy's attacks do not discriminate based on status. It is only natural for even nobles to receive basic training. Those people over there are under the massive delusion that a commander, as the one holding authority, will always be safe. A battle on an open plain might be relatively secure. But what if we suffer a crushing defeat and are forced to retreat? Or what if we are attacked by enemies who have flanked us from behind? With their weak physical stamina, those nobles wouldn't even be able to keep their wits about them, let alone issue proper orders."
That was not all.
War did not only take place on open plains. Mountains, rivers, swamps—for a commander to play their part across various terrains, they needed at least enough stamina to keep up with their soldiers.
And...
"I view the training here at the Southern Training Camp as a process to assess the strength of my soldiers and to absorb the experience of those of you who have spent a long time in the south. So, there is no need to make such a face. I decided to train because I deemed it necessary, and I am prepared to undergo any training regardless of my status."
He finished speaking, as if urging the instructor to proceed with the training now.
Seeing Roman stand there quietly, watching him, McBurney felt a sudden, sharp thrill in his chest.
‘Ah...’
Roman Dmitry.
McBurney was utterly captivated by the man standing before him.
* * *
They say a man will lay down his life for someone who truly recognizes his worth.
Just yesterday, McBurney's motivation had hit rock bottom. He had been filled with immense skepticism as a training instructor, but hearing Roman's words, he felt his pride swelling once again.
‘He understands my intentions perfectly.’
It was a first—for someone of noble status to share his thoughts and declare that they would faithfully commit to the training. And those weren't just empty, flowery words. Having spent years rolling around on the battlefield, McBurney had developed an eye for telling whether someone was the real deal just by looking at their eyes. Roman's calm gaze was not that of someone ignorant of war.
For the first time in a very long while, his motivation was reignited.
The thought of being of help to someone like Roman made him want to provide the absolute best training possible, more than ever before.
‘I was planning to compromise and conduct the training half-heartedly, just like any other day. But not anymore. I will push them through the highest difficulty of training. Even if a disaster truly strikes the Southern Front, I will do my absolute best to ensure they possess at least the minimum physical stamina and military knowledge.’
With that single decision, the gates of hell swung open.
Week one of training. It was the physical conditioning period.
Normally, they would warm up with a light jog, but from the very start, they began maneuver training—climbing mountains while carrying full military gear.
"The purpose of this training is not simply to build physical strength," McBurney roared. "A sudden outbreak of war can happen anytime, anywhere, and depending on the situation, climbing mountains with heavy gear is a frequent occurrence. Through this training, we will not only build our stamina but also learn how to move swiftly in mountainous terrain. From now on, once every day, regardless of the weather, we will climb the mountain!"
Thud, thud, thud.
Hundreds of soldiers ran up the mountain, their faces pale as sheets. Climbing a steep mountain empty-handed was already agonizing enough, but carrying full military gear made their heads spin constantly.
The mountain training was only the beginning.
The soldiers, whose stamina had been completely depleted since the morning, quickly filled their stomachs and immediately gathered back at the training ground.
"This next training is basic physical conditioning. War is a battle of willpower, and you never know when it will end. To fight to the very end without losing consciousness from sunrise to sunset, you must constantly test your limits during physical training. From now on, we will conduct infinite sword-striking training with no set limit. I warn you in advance: do not give up. For those who give up, we will extend your training even if it means cutting into your sleep schedule."
"Ah..."
"Fuck."
Curses erupted from all over the training ground. The ordinary soldiers had no way to refuse the instructor's orders, and the reality thrust upon them was far too harsh.
McBurney's warning was no empty threat. Even as soldiers collapsed under the scorching sun, and some even foamed at the mouth, their bodies trembling violently, he didn't even bat an eye as he pushed the training forward.
‘On the battlefield, you must accept situations far more brutal than this as a daily occurrence.’
The Southern Front was no exception. Deeply moved by Roman's words, McBurney wanted to pass on everything he had seen and learned on the Western Front.
"Ugh."
"P-please, let us rest a bit while we do this."
The dying soldiers were conscripts. For men who had never received proper military training, enduring such extreme, relentless pressure was impossible.
If the majority had shown a similar reaction, the training might have been halted.
But that was impossible.
Roman's forces—with Roman at their head—were executing the training flawlessly from start to finish.
* * *
Whoosh!
He swung his sword. An action already repeated hundreds of times. His skin was flushed red from the sun, and his entire body was drenched in sweat, but Roman did not stop training.
Without using mana, Roman immersed himself entirely in physical training.
People watched Roman, unable to comprehend his actions. No one would have said a word even if he rested in the shade like the other nobles, yet he trained alongside the soldiers from beginning to end.
‘Just as a sword must be forged before a fight, I need to forge the bond between myself and my soldiers.’
The Heavenly Demon, Baek Joong-hyuk.
He had not reached the absolute peak from the very beginning. He had started from the very bottom, and because of that, he knew exactly what emotions and thoughts those who received orders held.
Dissatisfaction always sprouted from the smallest things. When soldiers were training to the point of death under the scorching sun like today, what would they think if their commander was giggling and chatting in the shade? Naturally, resentment would build. This didn't mean it would immediately lead to extreme consequences like rebellion, but the weight of the commander's orders would become lighter than before.
Suppose there is a commander who trains alongside his men, and one who does not. Which commander's orders would the soldiers be more faithful to?
It was a difference that could never be overlooked.
Soldiers had no choice but to follow the orders of a commander who suffered alongside them over one who merely babbled with his mouth, and such differences frequently overturned the outcomes of wars. This didn't mean a commander had to roll around in the dirt at the bottom unconditionally. But at least until absolute trust was established—and if it was judged that such actions would sufficiently influence the war—there was no reason for a commander not to move personally for the sake of victory.
It was a combination of reasons. To temper himself, and to forge a tight bond with his soldiers, Baek Joong-hyuk did not avoid moments like today.
Seeing Baek Joong-hyuk always raising his voice for his soldiers at the very front lines, the members of the Demonic Cult had followed him blindly.
The Murim Conquest. It had not been achieved through individual martial prowess alone. The bond between Baek Joong-hyuk and the Demonic Cult, forged from the very bottom, had brought down the massive mountain known as the Central Plains Murim in a single blow.
"Pant, pant."
"Ugh..."
Roman's soldiers looked as if they were about to die at any moment. Like the other soldiers, they felt the urge to give up at every turn, but seeing Roman, they couldn't bring themselves to do so.
When their own commander was working so hard, how could they, the soldiers, possibly give up?
All around them, the soldiers of other nobles collapsed in heaps. They gasped for breath on the ground, taking sneaky breaks, but Roman's soldiers did not resort to such tricks.
That day, until the training finally ended, not a single one of Roman's soldiers fell behind.
* * *
The first day of training came to an end.
As darkness fell, the soldiers who had finished their training gathered at a stream illuminated by the moonlight to wash themselves.
Splash.
"Sigh, I finally feel alive."
"All that talk about the Southern Training Camp being easy was a total lie. No one said they'd work us like this from day one."
The soldiers grumbled. Yet, Roman's soldiers still had a spark of life left in their expressions.
Perhaps because that sight rubbed him the wrong way, a soldier belonging to another noble, who was washing nearby, spoke with a face full of discontent.
"Why do you guys only think about yourselves? Couldn't you have held back a bit for the sake of everyone else?"
Throughout the entire training, they hadn't been able to openly ask for a break because of Roman's soldiers. If it were a training session that no one could handle, McBurney wouldn't have pushed so hard. But because there was a group executing the training flawlessly from start to finish, no leniency was granted.
Gasping for breath on the ground, they had resented Roman's soldiers intensely. Their robust stamina had surely been built over several years, but the situation was entirely different for the conscripted soldiers who had been dragged to the Southern Training Camp against their will.
For that reason, irritation flared up at the sight of Roman's perfectly fine soldiers. Taking the opportunity of running into them at the stream, the other noble's soldier raised his voice so they would hear.
"Unlike you guys, we're conscripts. Our training period has been short, so how on earth are we supposed to endure the same high-intensity training as you? If we had enough time, we could have done just as well as you."
It was then.
At those words, one of Roman's soldiers stepped forward and spoke.
"I'm asking because I'm genuinely curious after listening to you. Just how long have you trained that you're talking to us about having 'enough training time'?"
The soldier's appearance was intimidating. He had stripped off his shirt to wash. His body, illuminated by the moonlight, looked like a sculpture. As if he had trained his body for a long time, his chiseled, defined muscles were enough to make even another man marvel.
The other noble's soldier flinched. Though slightly suppressed by the other's momentum, he still had to say what was on his mind.
"We've only trained for barely a year. We're different from you guys, who must have trained professionally for years. So take it easy. That way, Instructor McBurney will lower the intensity of the training too."
One year. It was by no means a short period.
Roman's soldier smirked. Hearing that they had been training for a year made the other man's words sound like a child's whining.
Perhaps because he recalled his own past, Roman's soldier couldn't bring himself to speak kindly.
"Don't make excuses about not having time. We didn't even have a year like you did. It hasn't even been half a year since we first started training together as a single unit. No, if we're talking strictly about the actual training period, it barely exceeds three months. And yet you claim you couldn't prepare because you lacked time? Don't delude yourself. You had plenty of time; you just didn't do your best during it."
The soldier's identity?
He was one of the successful candidates from the private soldier recruitment. An ordinary civilian-turned-soldier who had trembled in fear during the test.
His name was none other than...
Henderson of Lawrence.