Chương 6

Rudra logged back in the next day and materialized at the training camp at exactly 5: 55 AM. Five minutes early. He wasn't taking any chances. If this game's NPCs were as realistic as they seemed, they definitely held grudges over punctuality. He looked around. Five out of the six registered players were already standing in the dirt yard. The sixth guy was missing. At 6: 00 AM sharp, Gareth Rowan stepped out from the barracks. He wore full chainmail, his scarred face looking as indifferent as a stone wall.

"Recruits. Assemble at the northern gate in thirty seconds," Gareth barked, his voice echoing across the silent camp. Just as the players scrambled to line up, the final player came sprinting through the main entrance, gasping for air. It was thirty seconds past six. Gareth slowly turned to look at him.

"You," Gareth pointed a thick, calloused finger at the latecomer.

"You are officially disqualified. Get out." The player froze, his face flushing red.

"Wait, what?! I was thirty seconds late! You can't just—""I don't train dead men," Gareth interrupted, his voice dropping to a low, warning growl.

"And anyone who can't follow a simple time-check is as good as dead. Leave." The other players exchanged nervous, pitying glances. Rudra just kept his eyes forward, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. He hated awkward social situations anyway. Yep, Rudra thought, adjusting his posture as two guards dragged the complaining player out. No hand-holding. Once they were lined up at the northern gate, Gareth began pacing in front of them.

"Listen up. For the next seven days, you belong to me. From 6: 00 AM to 8: 00 AM, you will build your lungs on the coast. 8: 00 AM is breakfast and hydration. 8: 30 to 11: 30 is raw strength conditioning. 11: 30 to 1: 00 PM is agility and reflexes. 1: 00 PM is your midday meal and mandatory muscle rest." Finally, the food part, Rudra thought, his stomach already rumbling. Gareth stopped pacing and crossed his arms.

"At 2: 00 PM, we put weapons in your hands. At 4: 30 PM, you spar. And from 5: 45 until 6: 00 PM, I will personally tell each of you exactly why you are terrible. Is that clear?" The players exchanged nervous looks.

"Yes," they replied weakly. Gareth's eyes narrowed.

"Louder. And it's 'Sir' to you lot."

"YES, SIR!" The torture began immediately. Stamina conditioning wasn't just a morning jog. It was an exercise in breaking their limits. For the first hour, Gareth forced them to run along the Seabreak coastline in loose, shifting sand. Every step required double the energy. Rudra could feel his calves screaming, his avatar's stamina bar rapidly draining into the red. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Next, they were ordered to march waist-deep into the freezing ocean, pushing against the resistance of the incoming tide for thirty minutes. Finally, Gareth forced them to run a full mile with a mouthful of water. If they spat it out to pant, they had to start over. Two players vomited on the sand. Another completely collapsed. It was absolute torture. Rudra wasn't a massive gym bro in the real world, but whenever he was bored, he used to hit the gym just to push himself until he collapsed.

He liked finding his limit. So, he simply pushed through the burning in his lungs, his eyes locked on the translucent text flashing periodically in his vision. [Your physical limits have been exceeded.] [Stamina +1] Fuck yeah, Rudra grinned fiercely around the water in his mouth. That's the good stuff. [Stamina +1] [Stamina +1] By the end of the morning block, Rudra had earned 5 Stamina points. Just from running.

If he kept this up for a week, his base stats would eclipse any player blindly swinging a sword in the forest. During the 8: 00 AM ration break, the other players were groaning in the dirt, barely able to chew their dry bread. Rudra, however, descended on the food like a starving wild animal. It was just basic salty meat stew, but after a month of plain hospital oatmeal, it tasted like a five-star meal. He easily ate his portion, then shamelessly asked for seconds. And thirds.

"Where does it go?" one of the militia guards muttered, watching Rudra scrape the bottom of his third bowl. Rudra ignored him. He needed the calories for the Strength block. At 8: 30 AM, the real heavy lifting began. They were harnessed to thick fishing nets loaded with jagged coastal rocks and wet sand. Gareth blew a whistle, and they had to drag the dead weight across the dirt yard. Rudra's back, glutes, and shoulders burned like they were on fire. Next came the stone squats.

They carried heavy boulders on their backs, forced to throw the stone at the peak of the squat and catch it at the bottom. Finally, Gareth handed them heavy iron-wood shields.

"Arm straight out. Three minutes," Gareth ordered. When a player's arm inevitably drooped from muscle fatigue, Gareth didn't yell. He just casually walked over and kicked them in the shin. Hard. [Your muscles are tearing and rebuilding.] [Strength +1] [Strength +1] Rudra's arms felt like wet noodles, but the constant dopamine hit from the system notifications kept him fired up. Out of the original five players, only Rudra and one other guy managed to successfully complete the strength circuit without collapsing.

[Strength +1] [Strength +1] By 11: 30 AM, Rudra was entirely exhausted. Which made the Agility training absolute hell.

"Control requires focus, especially when you're tired," Gareth barked. They were forced to hop across uneven wooden poles suspended over a massive mud pit. Every time a player lost their balance, they fell straight into the muck. Next was the chalk circle. They had to stand inside a small ring while three militiamen threw heavy sandbags at them. They weren't allowed to block—only dodge, deflect, and pivot. This was where Rudra actually shined. His freakish hand-eye coordination kicked in.

He couldn't block, so he just pivoted, swaying out of the way of the heavy bags by inches. He tapped them aside with his wrists, deflecting the weight the exact same way he used to catch falling pens at his IT desk. Finally, Gareth traced a complex grid in the dirt. They had to sprint through it at top speed without stepping on a single line. Rudra's legs were shaking, and his body screamed for rest. But his stubborn refusal to quit forced him to adapt to the avatar's heavy, exhausted limbs.

[Your reflexes are sharpening under extreme fatigue.] [Agility +1] [Agility +1] [Agility +1] When the clock finally struck 1: 00 PM, Gareth called for the midday rest. Rudra collapsed flat onto his back in the dirt, his chest heaving and his clothes soaked in sweat and mud. He opened his status window. His stats had already jumped by five points across the board in just a single morning. Five more hours to go, Rudra thought, a tired, wild grin spreading across his face. And another meal. Bring on the weapons.