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‘…It’s tough.’

It felt like he was going to die.

―You’re forbidden from using magic during my training.

Knowing that Damian could use magic, Leonhark made it clear before the training began.

Without the use of magic, Damian’s current level was realistically no different from that of an average soldier.

His physical strength and endurance had only improved thanks to his intense training with the Neokalitz Unit.

“Grrrrrgh!”

Damian pushed himself up with all his might.

His stomach felt like it was being torn apart, and his arms trembled as they held a large stone behind his head.

Poke!

Leonhark jabbed Damian’s side with a stick he was holding.

“Argh!”

Damian screamed as he stretched his body flat.

He was doing sit-ups on a pull-up bar with a rock held above him.

Although he had already done over three hundred, Leonhark still wasn’t satisfied.

“You’ll finish once you’ve completed five hundred. Don’t act spoiled.”

“…Spoiled, you say?”

“Compared to what’s ahead, this is paradise. Stop whining and keep going.”

Leonhark was drilling the current Caion Unit members with rigorous physical training.

Even the most skilled individuals felt their bodies become several times heavier on the real battlefield due to the immense pressure.

It felt like someone was pulling their clothes from behind, and their feet felt glued to the ground as if stuck with adhesive.

This is why ironclad stamina was essential.

Only by not getting tired could they overcome the pressure.

“You’re doing double.”

“Grrrrrrrgh!”

The moment Damian’s future assignment was decided, Leonhark intensified his training regime for him.

Because to go there, he needed to be able to handle this level of training with ease.

However…

‘…This is natural talent.’

It was as if a dried sponge was absorbing water—Damian’s abilities were improving rapidly with each training session, almost unbelievably so.

It felt like watching a soldier being trained for the first time.

Usually, those who reach a certain level of expertise don’t show much ‘growth’ through typical training.

The reason is simple.

Human growth has its limits.

Initially, one might grow at a steep angle, but the trajectory gradually flattens over time.

Eventually, growth halts altogether.

Leonhark expected Damian’s progress to be similarly slow.

Despite his youth, Damian’s performance already surpassed many seasoned officers.

But that wasn’t all.

‘…Did he really accomplish all this through his combat talent and magic?’

It could only be explained as a talent bestowed by the heavens.

Of course, Leonhark was unaware that Damian had extensive battlefield experience in the past and that his body had been completely reconstructed due to Bard’s intervention.

Damian’s rapid improvements in stamina and strength were largely thanks to Bard’s ‘blessing.’

But Leonhark, unaware of these facts, attributed everything to Damian’s inherent talent.

“Don’t stop, keep moving! Don’t clench your teeth, or you might break a molar later!”

Even the cruelty of having a gag forced into his mouth.

“…Whoa, I couldn’t handle that.”

“Let’s just do what we’re told quietly. If we catch his eye, we might end up like him.”

Jerka and Kyle, who had recently grown close, shook their heads as they watched Damian endure the training.

They were barely surviving as it was, yet Damian was doing more than double their workload.

“…Still, seeing him push through it is incredible.”

Dianal, standing beside them, expressed genuine admiration.

Just because you’re told to do it doesn’t mean you can.

If it were her…

‘I’d probably have collapsed from exhaustion by now.’

Some things can’t be done through willpower alone.

Yet Damian, gagged and all, never stopped.

Slow though he was, he never gave up.

His abilities, yes.

But also his…

‘Even his mental fortitude is beyond reach…’

Suddenly, Dianal was angry at herself for resting.

“…I’m going to run a bit more.”

“Hey! You’re gonna kill yourself before the afternoon training!”

Jerka yelled from behind, but…

“…I think I’ll run a bit more too.”

Kyle also got up and approached Dianal.

“…Damn it!”

Even Jerka, Terka, and the others frowned but soon started running again.

Seeing this, Leonhark, who was training Damian, turned his head.

“…?”

Why are they suddenly running?

It didn’t take long for him to understand why.

“Heh heh heh heh heh.”

Could it be that this was also caused by him?

It might be a bit of a stretch, but still…

‘Nonetheless…’

Leonhark was sure of one thing.

If Damian returned from Makstri…

‘A formidable unit would emerge.’

Leonhark watched Damian with a satisfied expression.

* * *

“Huff… Huff…”

“Is it over?”

“It seems they’ve retreated. Here, water.”

“Thanks.”

The soldier who received the canteen slumped to the ground, using the water to cool his head.

It was tepid, not refreshing, but it helped to slightly wash away the stench of blood.

Makstri.

A conflict zone on the eastern front of the Baroque Kingdom, bordering the relatively small Iren Kingdom.

Despite being a war zone, it boasted fertile land and large gold mines, resulting in constant skirmishes between the two kingdoms.

For the Iren Kingdom, the gold mines were vital to their national finances and couldn’t be lost, while the Baroque Kingdom couldn’t afford to hand over such valuable resources to a kingdom half its size.

It was a matter of pride.

Thus, despite being an era of peace, small-scale battles erupted daily in this place.

“Damn it… Why can’t the bigwigs just make a decision among themselves? How long do we have to keep up this madness?”

“Hemus, who had survived in Makstri for three years, spat out a harsh curse”.

Three years in this place was nothing short of a miracle.

Of those who arrived here, half didn’t last six months.

Half of those who remained didn’t survive a year.

The rest typically died within two years.

After roughly washing his face, Hemus pulled up a junior soldier next to him.

This soldier had been in Makstri for about a year, and they had grown close. Hemus didn’t want to lose him.

“Don’t die too soon.”

The only so-called agreement between the higher-ups was to limit the number of personnel involved in battles over the gold mine.

Otherwise, it could escalate into a large-scale war between the kingdoms.

For the Baroque Kingdom, the goal was clear: prevent the Iren Kingdom from gaining control of the gold mine.

For the small Iren Kingdom, they were forced to accept this bitter pill; in a full-scale war, they would surely lose.

The battle over the gold mine had already been raging for years.

Makstri was a highly strategic location for the Baroque Kingdom.

Those sent to Makstri were often serious criminals from the Baroque Kingdom.

Not soldiers, just criminals.

Many had their own stories, but most were irredeemable scum.

Although somewhat similar to the Neokalitz Unit, Makstri was a much more dangerous and corrupted place.

For the kingdom, it was advantageous: they could dispose of uncontrolled criminals without cost while managing them in a profitable way.

If they died, so be it.

And if they managed to secure the gold mine, all the better.

Only those who lived in this hellish place fought their daily battles, just struggling to survive.

“…Let’s go. We need to eat to keep fighting.”

Eat, fight, eat, fight.

It was an endless cycle of brutal warfare, but they kept clawing to survive.

—

Following the exploits at the 3rd Branch Border Guard, a recognition ceremony was held.

There were no grand events like a visit from the legion commander.

“Damian, step forward!”

Vincent called Damian to the stage in front of all the soldiers.

As Damian climbed the platform before the parade ground, Vincent spoke loudly.

“You have achieved the notable feat of disrupting the enemy’s rear and decapitating the enemy commander during the Spanian Kingdom’s invasion of the 3rd Branch Border Guard. For this, you are promoted three ranks, from Private to Sergeant! Additionally, you are awarded 20 gold coins and may select one piece of equipment from the legion’s armory.”

“Oooooooh!”

“Oh wow! A three-rank promotion! Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know, but it’s impressive. Damn… he’s ahead of me even though I’ve been in the army for four years.”

The Caion Unit soldiers clapped and cheered in admiration for Damian.

Among those who hadn’t gone to the 3rd Branch, a few wore expressions of envy.

“I admit it. Honestly… his skills were beyond human.”

“He deserves even more.”

Those who had witnessed Damian in action believed that the reward wasn’t enough.

“Damn, if I had gone, that reward would have been mine.”

And at someone’s grumbling…

“Hey, quit talking crap. If you went, you’d have lost your head, idiot.”

Jerka snickered at the complaining soldier.

The soldier tried to retort, but…

“What, you wanna fight? You punk? I’ll rip your head off.”

“…”

Overwhelmed by Jerka’s fierce aura, the soldier kept his mouth shut.

After Damian’s recognition ceremony concluded, the other attendees were also awarded 10 gold coins each.

Once the ceremony was over…

“Damian, come with me.”

Vincent led Damian to his office.

It was time to discuss what had been put off until now.

“…What’s this about?”

Noticing the unusually serious atmosphere, Damian asked Vincent.

Vincent, seated, let out a small sigh.

“First, I owe you an apology.”

“…Excuse me?”

Vincent then recounted to Damian the conversation he had with the 6th Legion Commander at the 3rd Branch Border Guard.

Damian, listening intently, looked at him with a hint of surprise.

“…Is that true?”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to appoint you as the commander of the Caion Unit, but I acted too hastily, and it led to this.”

Vincent desperately wanted to reverse the situation.

“But the legion commander’s decision was firm, and there was no turning back.”

There was no stopping Damian’s deployment to Makstri.

However, what shocked Damian wasn’t that he was being sent to Makstri.

It was the fact that Vincent had tried to appoint him as the commander of the Caion Unit.

In less than a month, Vincent had seen something in him that warranted such a significant responsibility.

‘He’s not the kind of person who would make a decision just to dump responsibilities.’

Damian had spent enough time with Vincent to understand him a bit.

Vincent was not someone who would be content with leading an independent unit like this.

He was someone capable of holding a significant role within the legion.

The fact that Vincent recognized him as a leader was startling.

Damian continued, “What do I need to do in Makstri?”

“…You need to secure the gold mine and ensure it remains under the kingdom’s control.”

“The gold mine, huh…”

Makstri was a place Damian knew very well.

Of course.

That was where he had started his previous life.

In his past, as a criminal dragged into the war-torn times, Makstri was the battleground where he fought.

‘Although back then, it was against the Imperial forces.’

Now, it was simply a fight against the Iren Kingdom over the gold mine.

Nothing had changed.

Damian asked, “If I accomplish that, will I become the commander of the Caion Unit?”

“Yes.”

Perhaps this decision was something Damian had long been hoping for.

‘I thought it would take years…’

He had expected to achieve his goals in four years, before the next great war erupted.

‘Looks like I can make it happen much sooner.’

To establish his own unit.

Moreover, the Caion Unit was an independent special force made up of elite soldiers from various units.

‘This is… perfect.’

Damian nodded.

“I’ll go.”

To Makstri.