The training ground had been trampled repeatedly until it was firm.
The surface was slightly pale.
Fine grains of sand reflected a dry shimmer under the sunlight.
There was a hint of heat in the air.
The wind was light.
Only occasionally sweeping across the edge of the field,
stirring the hems of clothing.
Basic physical training had taken shape.
The formation was no longer as loose as before.
Spacing stabilized.
Steps began to align.
Footfalls struck the ground one after another.
The rhythm gradually unified.
Breathing rose and fell.
From initial disorder,
slowly becoming a steady cadence.
Iosef Kain stood to one side.
His gaze swept across the entire field.
His posture was relaxed.
Arms hanging naturally.
No extra movement.
The soldiers ran.
Feet touched down.
Lifted.
Fell again.
Repeated.
Sweat slid down from foreheads.
Ran along the sides of faces.
Some raised a hand to wipe it.
The back of the hand brushed away the moisture.
Quick movement.
No pause.
Control training was added.
The formation split to another side.
A few stood at the center.
The rest gathered along the edges.
The air grew quieter than before.
No continuous footsteps.
Only breathing remained.
Someone closed their eyes.
Brows tightened slightly.
Shoulders tensed.
Fingers curled.
Knuckles turned pale.
The air seemed to tighten.
The next instant—
A body jerked.
Breathing broke into disorder.
Chest rose sharply.
Movements lost rhythm.
A step went forward—
but failed to land properly.
The body swayed.
The eyes went blank for a moment.
Those nearby instinctively stepped back half a step.
Soft friction sounded on the ground.
Breathing grew faster.
Shoulders rose and fell visibly.
Movements became fragmented.
Overload.
It appeared in every training.
Irregular in frequency.
Sometimes more.
Sometimes less.
At this moment,
the air tightened.
Next—
Snap.
A crisp finger snap.
Not loud.
But sharply clear in the silence.
Like a point struck into the air.
The body froze instantly.
All motion cut off.
Shoulders dropped.
The spine lost support.
The whole body lurched forward.
Then lost strength.
Collapsed.
Knees hit the ground first.
A dull thud.
The body tilted sideways.
Breathing cut off for a moment—
then returned to calm.
The field fell silent again.
Only the wind brushed past,
lifting a trace of dust.
Iosef's hand had already lowered.
His expression didn't change.
His gaze was calm.
As if that action had simply been part of training.
He looked at the fallen man.
Did not approach.
After a few seconds—
"Remember the feeling before losing control."
His voice was low.
But clear.
Everyone looked at him.
No one spoke.
He continued,
"It will help you control your ability later."
Tone steady.
No pause.
After speaking,
he said nothing more.
Just stood there.
The wind passed again.
Some began adjusting their breathing.
Chest movement gradually steadied.
Fingers slowly loosened.
Tense muscles relaxed.
The fallen man was dragged aside.
Movements light.
No extra sound.
Training resumed.
Time passed little by little.
Sunlight shifted from one side to the other.
Shadows shortened.
Then lengthened again.
Day after day.
The rhythm stabilized.
——
Six months later.
The ground was fully compacted.
No loose sand remained.
Steps landed firmly.
Physical training added weight loads.
The soldiers now carried equipment.
Metal fasteners pressed against fabric,
making faint clinking sounds with movement.
Straps pressed into shoulders.
Cloth tightened.
Breathing caused slight motion.
Footsteps hit the ground heavier than before.
Sound deeper.
But the rhythm held.
The formation moved.
Steps still aligned.
Sweat increased.
Dripping from chins.
Falling to the ground—
leaving dark spots.
Soon drying.
At times,
Iosef walked into the formation.
He raised a hand.
No equipment.
Yet the air seemed to sink slightly.
Bodies grew heavier instantly.
Shoulders pressed downward.
Knees bent slightly.
Feet pressed harder into the ground.
Breathing deepened abruptly.
Rhythm broke for a moment—
then recovered.
He replaced weight equipment with his ability.
Adjusting intensity.
No warning.
No fixed pattern.
Sometimes sudden increase.
Sometimes gradual stacking.
The body's reactions were constantly forced out.
Later,
the same load was introduced into ability training.
Standing was no longer easy.
Movement slowed.
Every turn carried resistance.
The air felt thicker.
Every action required more effort.
Some frowned.
Some clenched their teeth.
Some paused briefly between breaths—
then continued.
Though questions existed—
Some exchanged glances while breathing.
Some shook their heads slightly.
Some pressed their tongues to the roof of their mouths.
But no one spoke.
No one stopped.
There was no disobedience.
Training continued.
The rhythm repeated.
——
One day.
The indoor air was cooler than outside.
The door was closed.
The window half open.
Light entered from the side.
Fell onto the table.
Forming a bright patch.
The table was long.
Its surface bore fine scratches.
Edges worn smooth.
Several documents lay on it.
Neatly stacked.
Edges aligned.
All platoon leaders were seated.
Chairs rested lightly against the ground.
Someone placed a hand on the table.
Tapped lightly—
then stopped.
Someone lowered their head to read.
Eyes moved across the lines.
Occasional page turns sounded.
Dry friction of paper.
The room was quiet.
Iosef stood at one end of the table.
His hand rested on the documents.
Fingertips pressing lightly on the corner.
"Orders from above," he said.
Voice low.
Everyone looked up.
Their gazes focused.
He continued,
"They're preparing to inspect our results."
His pace was steady.
No pause.
He turned a page.
Paper lifted—
then fell.
A clear flipping sound.
"In three days, we will conduct a confrontation exercise with the Special Company."
He paused briefly.
The air tightened slightly.
Everyone nodded.
Small movements.
But uniform.
Someone pushed the documents forward a little.
Someone's finger paused on the page.
So, the moment of validation had come.
No one spoke.
Breathing remained faint.
He continued,
"Command allowed me to choose the terrain."
His gaze unchanged.
"I have no intention of taking it easy."
Tone steady.
"I chose the primeval forest."
Silence followed.
Someone took a quiet breath.
Barely audible.
He continued,
"Seeing my choice…"
His fingers rested lightly on the table.
"They added a condition."
A slight pause.
"I am excluded."
The words fell.
The air sank slightly.
No one spoke.
A few gazes shifted—
then returned.
No explanation.
He continued,
"All command will be handled by the deputy company commander."
After speaking,
he closed the file.
Paper met with a soft sound.
No further words.
He turned.
Footsteps steady.
Walked toward the door.
The door opened.
Light flowed in slightly.
His shadow stretched.
Then disappeared beyond the doorway.
The door closed slowly.
A soft click.
Silence returned.
No one spoke immediately.
The air paused.
Mike sat in his seat.
His hand rested on the table.
Fingertips tightened slightly—
then loosened.
His gaze remained on the closed file.
Did not move.
After a few seconds—
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
A small movement.
Held there.
A faint smile of relief appeared on his face.