The Regression Of A Grand Mercenary

The day of the final week had finally arrived.

Mario and Astin stood tall before the great wooden gate that marked the edge of their world for the past thirty days. Behind them stood the rest of the trainees—fifty in all—dressed in armor once belonging to bandits, now reforged and improved by the hands of Thill himself.

What once were boys now stood like young men, clad in steel, leather and resolve.

For a month, they had known nothing but discipline—raising their swords at sunrise, hauling logs until their arms went numb, listening to lectures deep into the night. Their world had been limited to the barracks and training grounds. But now, on this final week, they would step out—finally given a task worthy of their strength.

On their backs were rucksacks stuffed with tents, tools, and bedrolls—proof that they would no longer be training within the safety of camp. This time, they were venturing out. Not as students. But as defenders.

Standing before the gate, Thill turned to them, his voice calm, but heavy with meaning.

“You’ve been given armor. A sword. And most of all—the strength and knowledge to survive the path of a warrior,” he began. “The moment you step beyond these gates, you are no longer trainees. You are the village’s shield. Our expectation is simple: do not let us down.”

The group stood silent, tense. Many had never left the safety of the village in their entire lives. The fear showed—stiff shoulders, shallow breathing. But Thill saw through all of it. So he stomped the ground with his heel, the thud shaking the dust around their boots.

BOOM.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice sharp as steel.

Without hesitation, the fifty boys snapped to attention, straightened their backs, and shouted in perfect unison:

“YES, CAPTAIN!”

The gate creaked open, revealing not just the road ahead—but a crowd of over a hundred villagers waiting outside. Families, friends, siblings, parents—gathered to witness the transformation.

“There they are!” someone shouted.

“Woohoo!”

“My son! Over here!”

Cheers erupted. Tears were shed. Children waved to older brothers who now looked like seasoned warriors. Mothers clasped hands over their mouths in awe. These weren’t the same boys who entered training thirty days ago. They stood broader now, their movements steadier, their eyes sharper. They hadn’t just grown muscle—they had gained presence.

With the gates wide open, Thill took the first step forward—and like a tide, the trainees followed behind.

Step by step, they marched down the road—not as strangers to war, but as a unified company.

The ground thudded beneath their synchronized steps. Their armor clinked in rhythm. And to it, the entire village erupted in prideful cheers.

The faces beneath the helmets may have looked rough, the hands calloused and the bodies tired, but deep down… each one of them carried something new within—

Pride. Purpose. Strength.

And so began the final test.

***

After several kilometers of steady marching through the winding trail, the sounds of the village had long faded behind them. Only the rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds filled the air. Thill, leading at the front, slowed his pace slightly and turned to look back at the company.

He gave a faint, almost amused smile.

“So, boys,” he said, his voice calm but carrying through the ranks, “now that you’re outside the safety of the training grounds… what are your expectations for this final test?”

There was a pause, until one of the trainees stepped forward and raised his voice.

“Y-you said we’d be hunting monsters, Captain. I’m hoping… maybe we’ll get to experience what it’s really like. To hunt one firsthand.”

Thill nodded. “You’re right. That’s exactly what this week is for. But let me ask you this—do you remember my lectures on monsters? Specifically, the kind of monsters we encounter when moving in groups like this?”

Another trainee chimed in, his voice uncertain but eager. “Most adventurers who form parties to launch coordinated attacks… they usually go after bipedal monsters—like goblins or hobgoblins.”

“Correct,” Thill confirmed. “Camps of intelligent, territorial monsters. But there’s another reason I gathered you all into a group of fifty. Think harder.”

A few murmurs spread among the trainees. Then a voice from the front spoke up.

“Either to attack a monster settlement… or to fight something big. A giant beast. Like… a dragon?”

Thill’s lips curled slightly.

“Yes. Like a swarm of ants bringing down a bird, sometimes numbers are needed to fight what strength alone cannot. But no…” His tone dropped with a seriousness that quieted the group. “It’s not a dragon.”

A collective sigh of relief rippled through the formation.

“You’re not ready for something on that scale yet,” he said bluntly. “Facing a dragon takes more than just bravery—it takes experience, unity, and preparation far beyond what you currently possess. But don’t think you’ll be getting off easy.”

“So we’re hunting a giant beast then?” one of them asked.

“Yes,” Thill confirmed, “but not just one. You’ll be out here for a full week. That means more than one mission. More than one monster. You’ll be exposed to the full scope of real field operations—tracking, ambushes, maintaining camp under pressure, understanding monster behavior, and retrieving materials after a kill. The very essence of this final test… is not just the hunt. It’s to experience a little bit of war.”

He stopped walking, his boots grinding against the gravel as he turned to face the formation. The march halted behind him.

“And more importantly…” he continued, “I will be teaching all of you something that can change your lives. Something I’ve mentioned before, but now… it’s time to truly understand it.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and the air felt heavier as every ear focused.

“The Core.”

A hush fell over the group.

“I’ve told you once,” Thill said, voice steady and low, “that every person is born with a core. It is the potential within—the silent ember that grows through hardship, through learning, through survival. Cores are what allow ordinary people to surpass their limits. To become something greater than they ever believed possible. Warriors can become Kings of War. Mages can become Prophets. The Core is the bridge to transcendence.”

Then, to drive his point home, Thill turned slightly and extended his arm toward a tree beside the trail.

Without a word, without so much as a shift in expression, his hand touched the bark.

Crack.

With a faint hum and a pulse of energy from his palm, the entire tree exploded outward — not with fire, not with noise, but with sheer force. The trunk shattered from within as if the heartwood had rotted in an instant, the bark curling and peeling away in jagged, spiraling pieces. What stood strong and rooted a second ago now lay in splinters across the forest floor.

Gasps filled the air behind him. Even the more hardened trainees flinched at the display.

He lowered his hand calmly, turning back to face the group.

“That,” he said, “was not strength alone. That was the will of a tempered core. I’ve trained it. I’ve sharpened it. And through it, I don’t need a blade to cut. I don’t need fire to destroy. I just… will it.”

He scanned their stunned faces, letting the silence settle like a weight.

“By the end of this week, I want you to understand your own power,” Thill continued. “Even if your core doesn’t awaken during this expedition, you will come closer to hearing it. Feeling it. And when it finally does… your lives will never be the same.”

Astin and Mario exchanged glances, their expressions sharpened with anticipation. Around them, the other trainees stood straighter, eyes wide.

“Through this test,” Thill said, “you won’t just be fighting monsters. You’ll be confronting yourselves. And if you survive—and survive with resolve—you may awaken something within.”

“Are you saying… we might awaken our cores during this test?” one trainee called out, barely containing the excitement in his voice.

Thill didn’t smile, but he didn’t deny it either.

“…It’s not that easy…but this test will be the first step towards learning the very essence of it.”

That was all he had to say. The effect was immediate. Hope surged through the ranks. To awaken one’s core was more than a personal dream—it was the threshold to becoming a true adventurer, to earning recognition from the world, and from themselves.

Thill turned his gaze to the forest ahead. Towering trees loomed in the distance, their canopies thick and heavy with shadow. The path forward was darker now—but it didn’t seem to faze him.

“Your first campsite is five kilometers ahead,” he said. “Move with discipline. You’ll reach it before nightfall if your heads stay clear and your legs stay strong. Once we’re there… the hunt begins.”

With that, he resumed walking.

This time, the march was no longer heavy with silence or uncertainty. Each step was filled with purpose.

Fifty trainees—boys on the edge of something more—moved like a single force into the forest’s embrace, hearts burning with a new kind of fire.

By the time the sun began to dip behind the tall trees, the group finally reached the clearing Thill had marked as their first campsite. The forest gave way to an open patch of earth bordered by dense foliage and tall stones, shaped by time and weather into natural sentries. It was quiet — too quiet — save for the quiet that was brought upon by winter.

The boys had barely dropped their gear before Thill’s voice rang out over the clearing.

“Get your tents up. Secure your supplies. You have thirty minutes before night falls.”

Tired but trained, the trainees moved with practiced urgency. Tents were pitched. Fire pits dug. Perimeters set with makeshift traps and noise markers. Despite the ache in their legs and the weight of their packs, not one complained. This was the first step into real survival — and they all knew it.

Meanwhile, within a shaded alcove of the camp surrounded by heavy rocks and trees, Thill had set up his personal camp. His tent was larger than the others, built with reinforced canvas and iron stakes. A small fire crackled nearby, and Evelyn sat just beside it, tending to a pot of broth with quiet focus.

Astin and Mario stood before Thill inside that circle of quiet.

The two boys had been summoned earlier, and now they stood in front of him, eyes forward, shoulders stiff, trying not to look too eager — or too nervous.

“Captain,” Mario said with a respectful bow of his head.

“You called for us?” Astin added, his voice steady, though the flicker in his eyes betrayed his curiosity.

Thill sat on a flat rock, his sword sheathed and resting beside him. He looked at both of them for a moment, his expression unreadable in the firelight.

Evelyn, ever silent in the background, poured steaming broth into a pair of wooden cups and handed them to the boys without a word. They accepted it with a grateful nod, wrapping their hands around the cups to absorb the heat.

Thill’s sharp eyes studied them.

“Tomorrow marks the first real test,” he said, his voice low but cutting through the crackling fire. “But it will not be a test of strength.”

The two boys listened intently.

“I’ve divided the entire forest into a ten-kilometer radius — a zone I’ve personally marked with flags. That entire area is your battlefield, but tomorrow…you are not to fight anything.”

Mario blinked. “No combat, sir?”

“No combat,” Thill confirmed. “This is a test of caution, observation, and discipline. You’ll be split into two squads — yours, Astin, will head west. Mario, yours will go east. Your objective is to scout the region within your assigned zones, identify monster signs, and map out any terrain hazards. You are to track…not engage.”

Astin narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “So, we’re testing how to operate as a mobile unit without drawing attention.”

“Exactly,” Thill nodded. “Most greenhorns fail because they’re too eager to swing their swords. I want you to survive longer than that.”

He stood, stepping toward a nearby canvas map that was pinned against a wooden board, marked with red and blue flags. A circle had been drawn in charcoal, enclosing a large portion of the forest.

“These flags mark your outer limits. They’re dyed in bright colors and hung high in trees or tied to rocks. If you cross beyond them, you are to turn back immediately. Beyond that radius, the forest gets far more dangerous.”

Mario glanced at the map and then at Thill. “So if we see monsters… we track them, observe, and retreat?”

“Correct,” Thill said. “Leave markings. Note locations. You’re not just warriors — you’re scouts now. Think like one.”

Evelyn finally spoke, her voice softer than Thill’s but no less firm. “And remember, the forest in winter is cruel. Animals are hungrier, monsters more restless. The cold itself can kill the careless. Keep your fires small, stay close, and don’t forget your bearings.”

The fire popped between them, sparks rising into the night.

Thill looked them over one last time before turning back to the board. “Lead your men well. Tomorrow is not about how many monsters you can cut down — it’s about whether you can bring your squad home in one piece.”

Mario and Astin exchanged a look. Their first real command…their first real step beyond the barracks.

They both nodded in unison.

“We understand, Captain,” they said.

“Good,” Thill said simply. “Here are the list of names you will have for each group. With you as leaders, I’m expecting that you two will assign the right job for each of these boys. If you know them will enough across the days you’ve spent together in training, I’m sure you know full well of their best assets. Now, get some rest.”

As Mario and Astin left the tent, stepping into the cold evening air to prepare their squads, the camp quieted. The sound of footsteps crunching frost faded slowly, until only the soft crackle of the fire remained.

Thill stood still for a moment, arms crossed, eyes lingering on the tent’s flap before turning to glance at Evelyn. She sat back down by the fire, her hands cupped around her own wooden cup of broth, gazing into the flames.

“…You didn’t have to come along,” Thill said softly, folding his coat and placing it aside. “I know you don’t enjoy the cold.”

Evelyn gave a faint smile, then tilted her head to glance up at him. “I don’t mind the cold as much when you’re here.”

He paused at that, not quite expecting her words. His brow lifted slightly, and she chuckled.

“I spend most of my days at home, Thill,” she said gently. “Waiting. Reading. Drinking tea. I know the work you do out here is important. But sometimes, I just want to be part of it too… not because I want adventure, but because I want to be near you. It’s not really that boring when I’m close to you and your work.”

Her voice was light, honest. The kind that didn’t need to ask for permission — only understanding.

Thill exhaled slowly, his shoulders easing just a little. “You’ll be staying here the whole week, then?”

“If you’ll have me.” She raised an eyebrow teasingly. “I can help around the camp. Patch injuries. Cook better food than whatever you call rations. Maybe even keep your paperwork from piling into disaster.”

He let out a low laugh — rare, but sincere.

“I’d like that,” he said, sitting down beside her.

They sat there for a moment, close to the fire. The night wind whispered gently through the trees, and in the orange light, Thill’s expression softened as he looked at her.

In his silent admiration, he could hear every heart beat she made.

***

That night, beneath the cold veil of winter, two figures sat hunched over a map inside one of the larger tents. The soft flicker of the lantern cast long shadows across their faces — Mario Roy and Astin, the two chosen leaders for tomorrow’s scouting mission.

With Mario assigned to lead the eastern division and Astin the west, both of them knew what lay ahead wasn’t going to be easy.

They had a lot on their minds.

“The groups should be small,” Astin said, running a finger across the lines they had drawn earlier. “Five people each. That’s just enough to cover ground but not make too much noise.”

Mario nodded. “Yeah, spreading out will help us map the area faster. But we’ve got to remember what Captain Thill said — move like shadows. Learn the terrain. Don’t engage. Don’t get caught.”

Thill’s teachings echoed in their minds. He had lectured them often about surviving the wild, especially as scouts. Blending into the environment wasn’t just about hiding; it was about becoming invisible. In one lesson, he had shown them how to mask their scent with crushed herbs, how to rub mud on exposed skin to blur their outline, and how to read wind patterns like a beast would.

“Looking at our list…” Mario glanced at the roster in his hands. “Not everyone’s suited for this kind of operation. I’d say maybe eight of them could lead a smaller group without getting lost — or killed.”

Astin folded his arms. “Then we’ll have those eight serve as sub-leaders. Each will take charge of a unit, spread out, and mark anything unusual — terrain, camps, monster trails. The rest just follow and record.”

Mario leaned back against a crate. “You know what worries me? Winter. The snow’s gonna make it harder to hide. We’ll leave tracks everywhere.”

“It’s not all bad,” Astin replied thoughtfully. “As long as it doesn’t snow again tomorrow, we can trace our own path back. Plus, it’s easier to spot large predators by their prints too. But…” He hesitated. “Caves are a no-go. Some monsters hibernate this time of year — especially bears. No one’s setting up shelter inside one, understood?”

Mario exhaled sharply. “Right… forgot about that.”

“But winter also gives us clear visibility, and the cold keeps some monsters dormant. That gives us an edge,” Astin continued. “We’ll just have to be smart about it. Stay sharp.”

“What if we do run into something?” Mario asked, lowering his voice. “Something dangerous?”

“If it’s a threat we can handle, we regroup and deal with it quickly. If not…” Astin looked him dead in the eye. “We run. No hesitation.”

Mario nodded slowly. “And if it’s worse — something like a dragon?”

Astin gave a faint smile. “Then we hope the Captain shows up in time.”

The lantern between them flickered as a gust of wind rattled the tent walls. They looked at the map one more time, memorizing the trails and terrain. Tomorrow would be the start of their real trial — one that would test not just their strength, but their judgment, leadership, and instinct.

They blew out the lantern and went to their bunks. Morning was just a few hours away — and the forest waited.