The Regression Of A Grand Mercenary - 54 - Training The Neighbors - Part 2

***Astin’s POV***

Ever since I saw the poster put up by the council, I never once in my life have ever made a decision so quick, that it pales in comparison to the other decisions I made in my past.

It was a recruitment notice…and once more, it was under the guidance of Thill Cicial…The Dragon Slayer.

Just looking at his name, I felt intimidated.

The reputation he has on this village will never be easily forgotten. His already saved it more than once…and he’s probably going to save it a bunch more times. So I I couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to train under him.

Just as the poster was put up, I quickly made way to the council to have my name be enlisted. The moment I arrived at the council, I saw that I was the second one to arrive.

It looks like I wasn’t the only one who was this driven to enlist in his company…but what’s crazy about this was the fact that the first person who get here was a well-known kid in the village.

More so, because of his Condition…Snow Rot Constitution.

Mario Roy Criste…a boy known to have the weakest body in the village. His hair was as gray as ash, his skin was as pale as snow, and his entire body was as skinny as a twig. Simply put Mario was just a weak boy not suited for living the harsh life of a farmer. The very description of his body was just like that of snow…crumbling and weak.

Yet here he was…Standing before the council door with a serious gaze.

“W-what are you looking at?” he asked in an agitated tone.

“It’s not my business…but are you trying to enlist?” I asked back, curious as to why he was here in the first place.

“…Tsk!” but to answer my question, he simply clicked his tongue. Looking at him, he was clearly around seventeen years old. Just old enough to meet the requirements of this enlistment.

I don’t know a lot about this kid, but I couldn’t care less…I came here today to prove myself…to better myself. Someone who wants to kill their body faster through this program can do what they want for all I care.

After a while, someone finally came by to manage the enlistment. But as soon as he sat down to do his work, he was suddenly surprised to find the first person in line to be Mario Roy Criste.

“Um…can I help you with something Mario?” he asked nicely.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, annoyed by the kind gesture that the person on the desk was showing.

“Oh…I see. I heard about your family during the raid. Look, I know its not my place to stop you from going this route, but…Sir Thill Cicial expects those who will join the company to be capable of withstanding pain that our daily lives normally would not have encountered. Think of it as military training…I’m sure your body can’t handle the training that will be taught by Sir Thill. Please, I implore you to go back home.”

“Don’t stop me…I know that I’m weak. But I have the right to chose this path…I’m sure that if you were in my place, you would have done the same thing. I can’t be weak forever….I can’t be held back while my mother is dragged away by those brutes again!” Angrily, he spoke with such wrath…the man on the desk couldn’t go against his plea…his reason. So in the end, the man gave in to his request and he was signed into the company.

“I’m sure you’ve read most of the details…but I’ll say it again. Before you officially join the company, Sir Thill will enact a training regiment that will test you to undergo the basic qualities of a guard. For thirty days, he plans to push your body to its utmost limits….are you really sure about this?”

“I am.”

Without holding back, Mario signed the papers for the company and he was now officially a part of the first step to becoming stronger.

I followed suite in signing the papers…

A few days later, the construction for the location of the training grounds were underway. Just looking at it, I couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. The base was big enough to house over a hundred men and more…

And what’s more, during the construction, Thill displayed his strength once more. Making him truly an idol that would be looked upon by the upcoming men who would join his company.

He would left large tree trunks by himself and pound them straight to the ground, making a large visible pillar for everyone else to see. At most times, he would drag about five trees along the ground to make the progress of the construction move faster. There were even times that he would carry ten trees at the same time, but in this case he was manipulating them off the ground without a single touch. He was like a mage capable of almost doing anything. No one knows he was capable of this action, but they simply adored his strength.

So in just a couple of days, the construction was quickly making progress. It made even more progress when he called us early to the training grounds and told us to help in the construction. We helped…and in time, the entire barracks was made.

Although it was a bit tiring, we couldn’t really complain seeing as how it was Thill who gave the order.

Finally, the next day, we were finally getting started in training. As early as it was, I didn’t complain.

The winter dawn was still gray when we were first called together. Frost clung to the bare branches like a second skin, and our breath steamed in the freezing air as we stood in front of the new barracks, half-awake, half-afraid.

Some of us had barely slept the night before, tangled in a mess of excitement and dread.

At the first crack of dawn, he was already there.

Thill.

Standing like a statue carved out of war itself, arms folded, gaze cold enough to stop a man’s heart.

“Form a line!”

His voice snapped through the yard like a whip, and we scrambled to obey, boots grinding the frozen dirt, shoulders tense. There were fifty of us in that moment — most just boys from farming families, desperate to prove we could be more than tillers of soil.

Thill walked along the line with terrifying confidence, each step ringing on the hard ground like a hammer strike.

“This is day one,” he announced, voice as steady as a blade. “From today on, you will call me Captain. Despite being younger than most of you, none of you can match my strength — so you will address me with respect. If you think this will be easy, leave now.”

Nobody moved.

Thill’s mouth twitched, like he’d expected nothing less.

“Good. Listen closely. You are not soldiers yet. You are not even guards. You are clay. I will break you apart and mold you back into something worthy of carrying a sword in defense of this village.”

He let that sink in.

“Some of you know my name. Some of you think you know my strength. You wonder how I killed a dragon, how I faced those bandits. The answer is simple — I was strong enough to bend the laws of nature itself. And if you want even a fraction of that strength, then you will follow my orders. For thirty days, there will be no pay, no rest, no comfort. You will say ‘Yes’ to everything I command. Your effort will be the only thing that saves you.”

I swallowed hard. No pay. No reward. Just pain.

But then Thill added:

“If you survive these thirty days, you will earn a guard’s title, one hundred silver a week, and a place to rest in this barracks.”

That was the spark we all needed to hear.

“First lesson — discipline.”

He turned and pointed toward the forest perimeter that was cleared for its path— easily several kilometers of uneven dirt track, littered with rocks and ruts.

“That path is three kilometers. You will run it. Five laps. When you finish, you will report back here for further instruction. And if I see you walking even once…”

My chest went cold. Five laps? That was…insane.

But no one protested.

“Go!”

We broke from the line like startled animals, boots thudding over frozen ground. I kept a decent pace at first, confident in the training I’d done alone over the past weeks. But soon enough my lungs burned like fire, my legs locking up with every step.

Then, over my shoulder, I heard ragged, desperate breathing.

It was Mario Roy Criste — the sickly kid, the one with skin like snow, hair gray as ash. I couldn’t believe he was even here.

His face was already pale, sweat soaking through his thin shirt, lips nearly blue, but somehow he kept running, a furious light in his eyes.

Part of me wanted to leave him behind — survival of the fittest. But something Thill had said made me grit my teeth and slow down.

“Hey!” I barked, coming up beside him. “Breathe slower or you’ll pass out.”

“Sh-shut up…don’t talk…like I’m weak,” he spat, even as his feet tangled beneath him.

He was weak. But there was a fire in him, and maybe that was enough.

I steadied him by the arm for a moment. “If you stop now, you’re done. Keep going.”

He glared at me, furious, but that anger was the only thing keeping him upright.

Somehow, we finished the first lap together…and then the second…but when the third lap came, Mario started coughing up blood and he fell flat on the cold frozen floor.

“ugh!” he stumbled in such a disgracing manner…but he didn’t care. Little by little, he gathered his strength and he continued on. Despite not having the strength to run…he still had enough to walk.

But he was going slow, I had to go on ahead and catch up to the others…

Soon enough, most of us finished the five laps…but Mario had only made his fourth lap, and he wasn’t looking too well.

By the time we stumbled back to the yard, gasping for air, Thill was waiting, arms crossed, eyes cold as iron.

“Good,” he said. That one word — good — landed like a hammer in my chest.

He didn’t praise us more than that. Didn’t have to.

“Next,” he ordered, “sword drills.”

He pointed to a row of practice dummies, burlap stuffed with straw.

“You will strike each one two thousand times. Only then will you earn your breakfast.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. Two thousand?

But nobody dared argue.

We picked up the wooden training swords. My arms were already shaking from the run, but I forced my grip tight, forced my feet to move.

One.

Two.

Three.

Over and over. I couldn’t even count the strikes properly after a while. All I could see was Thill, pacing behind us like a wolf among sheep, watching every motion.

Every time someone slowed, he was there, his voice booming:

“Again!”

It went on for what felt like hours.

When at last we were finished, half of us collapsed where we stood, bodies barely holding together.

And just as we did finished, Mario came around and finished the course. Thill quickly noticed Mario stumble on the ground…and when Thill approached him, Mario spoke.

“I…I’m sorry I’m late.” he said.

“Grab a sword…and swing against the dummies over two thousand times.” he said with a cold tone.

“O-okay…”

“Once you’re done, you can eat.” he said.

Slowly, without complaints…Mario gathered every strength he had in his body and he took his place against the dummy.

“Haaa!!!” he screamed out of anger and started swinging at the dummy.

Everyone could hear just how angry he was…how desperate he sounded. But he swung his sword at it with no account to his health. Sometimes he would cough up blood…and he could fall to his knees…he would drop his sword…but every time, he would get back up and go at it again at the dummy.

Everyone looked…and saw his spirit. Out of everyone who was in the training grounds, we all could see that he had the strongest and most desperate character.

Before long…Mario finished his swings. And just as he did, he lost consciousness. Just as he was about to fall on the floor, Thill appeared beside him and caught him on his arms.

“Good job.” He said plainly.

And like so, Thill carried him to the barrack’s clinic.

There, he was being tended to by Thill’s sister who came to treat every wounded trainee.

Mario had finished around two hours after we all ate our breakfast. He was that behind with the training.

When we finished our breakfast…Thill immediately went and started another set of training exercise…and this time, it relied on close quarters combat.

He paired us up, telling us to treat each other as real enemies. There was no room for holding back, no room for pity. If you pulled your punches, Thill made sure you paid for it by doubling your next punishment.

I ended up paired against a boy about my size, maybe a year older, with calloused hands and a grim look on his face. Neither of us spoke. We just raised our wooden practice swords and went at each other with every shred of energy we had left.

By then, my arms were jelly, my legs like dead weight, but the fear of failing was stronger than any pain. We swung, blocked, stumbled, got back up, and swung again.

I caught glimpses of the others around me — one boy had a nose already bloodied, another had his shoulder dislocated from a bad fall. Mario, after being carried to the clinic, wasn’t present for this round, and I couldn’t blame him.

It went on until our muscles barely responded, until every breath burned in our chest like fire.

Only then did Thill finally tell us to stop.

He walked through the group slowly, studying us, his gaze as cold and sharp as a drawn blade.

“This,” he said, his voice ringing through the yard, “is only the beginning. If you cannot withstand this, you will not survive what comes after.”

Some men looked away, shame on their faces. Others stared at him with a spark of determination, battered but not broken.

I was among those still standing, breathing hard but refusing to fall.

As I wiped sweat — or maybe tears — from my eyes, I glanced back at the clinic building where Mario had been taken.

That sickly boy had managed to finish the run. He’d managed the sword drills. Even if he was out of this round, I couldn’t deny it — his spirit was harder than steel.

And it hit me then.

If a boy like Mario could stand back up after coughing blood and collapsing, then I had no right to complain about my own pain.

No right at all.

As Thill dismissed us for a short break, I sank to my knees, exhausted, my heart pounding so hard I could barely hear.

This was only the first day.

If this was the first day, I thought grimly, what the hell would the thirtieth look like?

Although fear still lingered in my chest, it didn’t take long for me to steady my resolve and prepare to face the next day. I knew there was no turning back now — and strangely, that knowledge gave me a sort of strength.

After the grueling physical trials of the morning, the afternoon took on an unexpected shift. Instead of another punishing exercise, Thill gathered us all inside the barracks and began what he called our first formal instruction.

He dragged in a heavy wooden board and a stack of parchment, propped it up in front of us, and launched into what seemed at first to be just a dry lecture. He talked about monsters, about bandits, about the laws that governed the village we were meant to protect.

At first, many of us slumped where we sat, expecting to be bored out of our minds after such a brutal morning. We were stiff, sore, and our eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

But then Thill began to speak — not like a teacher, but like a soldier who had walked through hell itself.

He described creatures so horrifying they could shred a grown man in seconds, and the mistakes men made when they underestimated them. He spoke of bandits, telling us not just about their weapons or their tactics, but the kind of hatred and greed that made them so dangerous.

The way he told these lessons made it impossible not to listen. His voice carried weight, born from hard-earned experience, and every word seemed to burn itself into our memories.

For someone as young as us, he was living in a completely different world.

What began as a simple afternoon lecture turned into a kind of revelation — we were hearing from a man who had done all the things we only dreamed of, or feared in nightmares.

It wasn’t just knowledge he was giving us. It was a warning, and a challenge.

As the sun dipped below the barracks windows, none of us dared interrupt him. We were drawn in, word for word, hungry for every scrap of wisdom he shared.

By the time he ended the lesson, the air felt different, as if a spark had caught in each of us — a small flame of understanding of what it would truly take to become strong.

After we were finished with the lectures, we then went to the cafeteria to eat dinner. When we got there, surprisingly, some of us were greeted by the smiling faces of our families. Although the cafeteria had its own set of foods meant to feed us, our families came by carrying all sorts of food to personally feed us as well. They cheered us on.

It was here, we got to tell our own experiences to our first day to them. And when they listened, some felt a bit shocked by how difficult the physical training was. But putting on a strong face, we smiled and said that it was nothing for us. Being boys, we didn’t want to show our weak selves to our mothers and fathers.

In this small time, we talked with family…and while we did, I noticed at the corner of my eye, Mario finally came out of the clinic, and with him…his mother was by his side. Supporting him. Feeding him by hand.

By as he was eating, Thill came by and spoke to him.

I don’t know what they were talking about, but seeing his determined faced, I assumed it was important. It didn’t take long before I saw Mario nodding his head to Thill and hugging his mother.

Soon, everyone was tired and ready to go to bed. Our families went home and we went to our beds to finaly rest.

But right as everyone was told to sleep…Thill came with a cauldron that was filled with something that didn’t looked edible.

“Listen, all of you. What I have with me today is a potion meant to help you rest well and help heal your body. So that for the next day, you won’t be coming out with a sore body. This is a mandatory potion that needs to be drink every night for the thirty days that you’re going to be living in this training grounds. So, Line up!”

To his call, everyone started lining up. One by one, we were fed with a sludgy looking potion that tasted like the mucus of a snail. Some wanted to throw up, some did…but when they threw up the potion, Thill said that they would regret it the next morning. Taking his warning into account, the ones who threw up came and get another batch of potion to drink.

Just minutes after we drank that potion, suddenly we became hazy and we all fell asleep.

I thought that the potion was working…

But when midnight came, I suddenly woke up feeling like shit. Wanting to puke more than shit.

I ran as fast as I could outside, but when I got there…I noticed that most of the other boys as well were outside, puking or taking a shiit on the ground.

And unexpectedly, Thill was also there…staring at us while wev were puking our guts out.

“W-what is happening, Captain?!” I managed to choke out between retches, bile burning in my throat.

Thill stood there, arms folded, looking as unshaken as ever, even as half of us were doubled over groaning.

“Listen well,” he began, voice carrying through the cold night, “what you are experiencing is the purging of every impurity within you — every weakness of the flesh, every lingering sickness, every lingering fear. The potion is designed to cleanse you, inside and out.”

He stepped closer, eyes cold but steady.

“Think of it as burning away the rot. You cannot build a strong foundation on rotten wood. So I will tear out the rot first — everything that holds you back, whether it is your clogged guts or the cowardice that poisons your mind. This is the first step.”

A boy next to me heaved so hard I thought he’d collapse, but Thill didn’t so much as flinch.

“This will pass by soon and you can go back to rest in your beds.” he continued, unfazed, “But let me tell you, by morning you will feel cleaner, stronger, and clearer than you ever have in your entire lives.”

I tried to believe him, though every part of me was rebelling, stomach twisting in ways I never thought possible. The night felt endless, the cold biting at our sweat-slicked backs as one by one, the boys around me emptied themselves of everything. It was humiliating, disgusting, and painful all at once.

Still, Thill stood there, arms crossed, watching with that same pitiless stare. It wasn’t hate, exactly — more like he refused to let any of us take the easy way out.

I wiped my mouth with a shaking hand, forcing myself to breathe. The taste of bile clung to my tongue, but through the haze I felt…lighter, somehow.

Others were beginning to stand, slowly, unsteadily, like newborn foals. Some helped each other up, others simply hunched over and waited for the waves of sickness to pass.

“Those who can stand, return to the barracks,” Thill ordered, voice steady and commanding. “Sleep while you can. Tomorrow begins at first light.”

His words were like a death sentence, but we obeyed. One after another, we staggered back into the warmth of the barracks. It smelled of sweat and faint straw, but after the bitter air outside, it felt welcoming.

I crawled onto my bedroll, too exhausted to care about anything else. Around me, the others did the same, breathing ragged, eyes heavy.

Then silence.

Sleep claimed me like a heavy cloak, deeper than I’d ever known, pulling me down into a dreamless blackness.

That night felt like a small death, but in the morning, I realized Thill hadn’t lied.

When I woke, my body felt light. My mind was clear, clearer than I could remember. It was as if something had been scraped away from inside me, leaving only what was strong and sure.

The others were stirring as well, and you could see it on their faces — the same sense of unfamiliar, unexpected vigor.

When we gathered again outside in the first gray light, Thill was already waiting, the corners of his mouth tilted in something like satisfaction.

“Good,” he said simply, scanning our ranks.

Then, as if yesterday had never ended, he barked out:

“Form up. Today, you will run again!”

And like that, day two began.