In his previous life, he was a soldier. Not just any soldier, but a professional who served for a solid ten years. This meant he was well-acquainted with training.

He had undergone countless drills. Extreme heat training, extreme cold training, and even RCT (Regimental Combat Training). Not to mention the thousand-mile marches.

Ten years in the military meant that he had experienced almost every type of training imaginable.

…But it wasn’t something he was particularly proud of.

By the end of each training, he would feel drained and as if his health had been burned away. There was nothing to be proud of—just people getting worn down.

That’s why Ihan believed there was nothing more irrational than military training. Not all militaries were like that, of course. Surely, some conducted proper training and established systems.

‘It’s just that my unit and division never did.’

They were only interested in tormenting conscripted soldiers for two years. Just pointless drills that left you with nothing but illness. That’s why he despised such training—what was the point of mindless torment with no lasting benefit?

‘That no-sleep-for-seven-days drill was truly the worst.’

That damned battalion commander would secretly sneak off to the BOQ (Bachelor Officers’ Quarters) to sleep while they were kept awake all night.

…In short, he was saying that he despised irrational training that only left you sick.

Training should at least leave you with something. Even if it was just learning a skill that could be useful in the future.

This was his personal definition of ‘training.’

So then,

‘What I’m about to do isn’t torment. It’s all for their benefit.’

Ihan now had a valid justification for the training he was about to put them through.

With that in mind,

“Everyone, you’ve had a good nap, so let’s start with some light stretching to work up a sweat.”

-?

Wearing his black eight-sided cap, he lowered his voice and issued a command.

“It’ll be light, very light. Alright, then, let’s start with a gentle hundred jumping jacks.”

-!!?

“No response? Make that five hundred! Understood? Five hundred!!”

-We, we understand!

“Now you’re slow in answering. And let’s unify the response as ‘Yes, sir!’ It’s too chaotic otherwise. Now, a thousand it is.”

-Yes, sir!!

“Your voices are too soft! I’ll let it slide this time, but be warned for the next. Oh, and be sure to count accurately. No ending chant this time, understood?”

-Yes, sir!!

“Good, begin with three hundred!”

And so began the light warm-up.

However, the trick with this warm-up was…

“…Three hundred…! Haa!?”

‘Yeah, I knew it would come up.’

The inevitable final chant, like an unchanging rule, was almost comforting.

Ihan was quite pleased to see how far they could go.

That day, what was supposed to be a light set of jumping jacks ended up dragging on for two hours due to those who kept adding the final chant.

 

After the ‘warm-up,’ there was still much for them to learn. They had to memorize all fourteen exercises of what the instructor called [PT Drills]. At some point, the order and movements of the drills became ingrained in them. None of them were smart enough to memorize it all in one go, but fortunately, the drills became second nature through sheer repetition.

How was that possible? Simple.

“Cadet fourteen, you’re excused.”

“Ah, yes!”

“Now repeat all fourteen exercises in reverse order, thirty reps each. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!!”

They had started calling the sapling cadets ‘trainees,’ and five assistant instructors in red eight-sided caps were monitoring them, excusing those who got the movements wrong.

And once they experienced ‘being excused,’ they all did their best to avoid being excused again, striving to remember every movement.

At some point, all eighteen sapling cadets had experienced being excused at least once, and the number of mistakes gradually decreased. But that didn’t mean there were no mistakes.

“Th-thirty… Ugh!?”

“Cadet twelve, you’re excused. The rest of you start from movement one again.”

-Yes, sir!

They glared at the cadet who had chanted at the end. To end this hellish drill, they had to complete all fourteen exercises in order, and the chant had to be either omitted or included as required.

The instructor was ruthless.

‘Damn it! Why can’t he just say whether to include the chant at the end or not?’

‘How did these blockheads even pass the entrance exam?’

‘Damn! Damn! Damn it!!’

Under the blazing heat, rolling on the dirt, covered in sweat and dust, their bodies felt heavy, and their minds were fading.

At that moment, they confirmed that if hell existed, it must be like this.

…And the instructor and assistants were the demons tormenting sinners in that hell.

But in the midst of this,

“Trainees, now stand up, drink water, and rest for forty minutes. Dismissed!”

-Yes, sir!!

They cried out with all their might, as if they were disciples receiving divine revelation. Yes, he was a demon, but a kind one. He always knew when to give them a break, right when they were about to pass out.

“Aaaah…” “I feel like I’m dying.” “…zzz.” “Is he asleep already?” “…I could fall asleep just as quickly.”

They drank water, and the sweet dates, prepared beside the water jugs, tasted like the nectar of the gods. They lay sprawled out in the shade of the trees, feeling like they were in paradise.

Absolute rest. They lay there, understanding what it meant to rest with all their might.

 

“—Instructor, where did you come up with this training?”

Garand, now an assistant instructor in a red cap, marveled at the instructor. Having experienced the legendary mercenary band ‘Wolves of the Wilderness,’ he recognized this training’s similarity to their initiation drills. If anything, it was even more systematic and stable.

“It squeezes every ounce of strength and flexibility out of them, but you give them rest just as they’re about to get injured. It’s like tempering iron.”

Arno, with his keen observation, saw that this training wasn’t entirely irrational. While mentally taxing, it didn’t push their bodies to the point of breaking.

And so was the practice of ‘excusing’ them.

“As the instructor instructed, Kunta excused anyone who looked like they were about to get hurt. Did well?”

There were times when trainees were excused for minor mistakes.

“…I admit, I was the one who kept sneaking in that final chant. But if I get caught, I think I’m going to end up as a traitor…”

This strange habit of chanting was thanks to Damian Follett, and if he got caught, he’d likely be mobbed by the entire class. Even if he did get caught,

“If you’re caught, don’t say I told you to do it. Just say it was your prank.”
“…Then they’ll stab me with a sword.”
“So?”
“!!?”

Unlike the temporary assistants, Damian wasn’t even considered a person.

“By the way, Instructor, is this training going to continue?”

Today’s MVP assistant, Irene Windler, had helped prevent heatstroke with her magic. The presence of the nobles’ snack, dates, was also thanks to her. As a duke’s daughter, she certainly had refined tastes.

“You all did well. We’ll continue for a week just like this.”
“Is there a specific purpose?”
“Improving physical fitness and muscle strength is secondary. It’s mainly to engrain into their bodies what it feels like to push to the limit.”
“…I’m not sure they can handle it.”

Even with appropriate rest and limits, repeating this for a week seemed a bit much…

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got just the thing.”
“What thing?”
“Well, since there’s some time, let me show you.”

Ihan led the assistants to a separate location. Leaving the cadets behind—what if they tried to run away?

‘Then let them.’

Anyone who would run from hardship wasn’t needed. There are no shortcuts to becoming strong. Everything requires effort. And if they can’t put in the minimal effort, then he’d rather they quit now and save him the time.

He had no intention of forcing them to stay.

But.

‘A certain reward is necessary.’

A brilliant light.

“…What’s this?”
“An onsen?”

Ihan had brought them to a natural hot spring. And it was massive.

As large as a sports field, and deep enough that even the two-meter-tall Kunta could struggle.

The expanse and depth were filled with crystal-clear, steaming hot spring water.

“Wow…”

The assistants looked on in amazement as Ihan continued.

“An old slave trader once tried to build a villa here and discovered a hot spring vein on Vulcan by accident.”
“…A slave trader, building a villa on this sacred mountain?”
“Well, he only managed to build the hot spring. He got caught before he could finish the villa.”
“Caught by whom… Ah.”

No need to ask by whom. Why else would Ihan know of this place?

“Want to know what happened to that slave trader?”
“…No, thanks.”

Seeing Ihan’s ominous smile, it was better not to know.

“Are you sure it’s okay to show us this place? If someone had ill intentions in the future…”

This hot spring was beautiful and grand. Even nobles would covet it if they knew. There was a risk it could be taken away, or rumors could spread.

Ihan smirked.

“This place? Even if others knew about it, they couldn’t get here. Vulcan is called a ‘spirit mountain’ for a reason. Every time you try to climb it, the environment shifts like a maze. Scholars say the mountain has its own magic and will either expel or kill those who attempt to climb it. I’d bet that if someone came up here with greed, the mountain would start erupting again.”

Magic or mysteries don’t exist solely among humans. They’re present throughout nature.

It’s something the legendary wizard and sage Merlin once said.

Vulcan, a mountain that contains such mystery.

“B-but we climbed it?”
“Well, that’s because I know the way, and we aren’t here to harm the mountain.”
“…I see.”

The assistants felt there was more to it. For a mountain with a mysterious presence to allow them passage likely meant the slave trader was a vile ‘evil’ who’d angered Vulcan. And because Ihan had taken care of such a despicable person, Vulcan had permitted him entry, as well as those accompanying him.

This wasn’t just speculation—it was a certainty. Their families, mercenary bands, and tribes had recorded instances like this.

…And according to those records, if they ever harmed the mountain, they’d be expelled or cursed.

‘He’s truly a remarkable person.’

Being favored by a mountain with [Mystery]. And yet, he didn’t even consider it an accomplishment.

It was natural for warriors to respect a man who had achieved such feats.

“I may have gotten sidetracked, but with this hot spring, none of them—and none of you—will have to worry about breaking down.”
“…Does it have any special properties?”
“Accelerated healing, joint pain relief, enhanced natural recovery, as well as skincare and general health benefits? There were a few others, but I can’t recall right now.”
“……”

The assistants thought to themselves.

They needed to stay on his good side. Only then might they get the chance to return to this place again.

Inadvertently, he had secured the loyalty of his students.