Chapter – 100
The recon platoon hid in the operation area for several hours to rest, but they returned to base sooner than planned.
It was because, upon hearing from the messenger Byron that a mage recruit was coming, they felt eager to return quickly.
And Byron’s hint turned out to be true.
“Attention, everyone.”
As soon as they got back, Helen gathered the recon troops as if she had been waiting.
“A new recruit has joined the recon platoon.”
At Helen’s words, the recon members looked at the newcomers with mixed feelings—half expectation, half annoyance.
“This is Private Adrian. He just graduated from training camp, so he’s going to be clueless about a lot of things. Make sure you seniors teach him well.”
“Yes, ma’am…”
The recon members responded half-heartedly.
To them, a fresh recruit was nothing but dead weight—or at best, a nuisance.
So, a few of them growled at Adrian.
“If you freeze up, you die.”
“Act like a clueless idiot and I’ll kill you before the barbarians do.”
“I-I’ll do my best!”
The seniors with rough faces threatened him, and terrified, Adrian shouted with rigid military discipline.
“…Some things never change.”
Helen, used to this kind of scene, didn’t stop them.
Of course, given her personality, she would never tolerate violence, abuse, or hazing without cause, but allowing a little pressure to instill discipline was acceptable.
This was the blood-soaked land of Kuberin, and the recon platoon carried out dangerous missions—having their wits sharpened was a matter of survival.
And since Helen herself came from the recon platoon, she was well aware of their military culture.
“And this one is—”
“Ooh!”
Before Helen could finish, the recon members burst with excitement.
The newcomer wore a military robe—anyone could tell he was a mage at first glance.
“This is Second Lieutenant Melvin. He majored in Combat Magic at the Military Academy and has just been commissioned. He will be serving as the assistant platoon leader of the recon platoon, so make sure you follow his lead.”
“Welcome, Sir!”
“We’ve been waiting for you!”
“Glad to have you!”
Unlike Adrian, everyone welcomed Second Lieutenant Melvin.
For the simple reason that he was a mage.
Whether a private or a newly commissioned officer, to recon members, a normal newcomer was a burden—but a mage was not.
Even a useless mage could annihilate enemies with a single spell, making them an enormous asset just by being present.
“Well, I look forward to working together. I-I’m Melvin…”
Melvin introduced himself with an awkward tone.
“I-I’m quite nervous. L-Let’s do our best.”
“…”
The recon members’ expressions hardened.
Something about Melvin’s tone, expression, and voice was far from reassuring.
“He seems like a total dud.”
“We’re screwed, aren’t we?”
Some exchanged uneasy glances.
But only for a moment.
“He’s probably just nervous.”
“Who cares if he’s useless? He’s a mage.”
They didn’t worry much about Melvin’s timid attitude.
A mage was a mage—no matter how timid.
They weren’t expecting personality—they wanted someone who could wipe out a group of barbarians with powerful magic.
* * *
The treatment between the two recruits was night and day.
“Why are you moving so slow? What, are your feet on vacation?”
“S-Sorry…!”
“Oh? This little shit is already clueless? Don’t you know how to speak properly?”
“I’m sorry!”
Wilson tormented Adrian as if he were grinding him down.
And with Wilson’s already threatening appearance, Adrian was nearly fainting from fear.
Meanwhile, Melvin, the mage and an officer, received royal treatment.
“Welcome! I’m Captain Bergman of the recon platoon. I look forward to working with you. Haha.”
“N-Nice to meet you too.”
“Please, this way. I’ll give you a tour of the recon quarters.”
“Thank you.”
As platoon leader, Bergman personally took care of the new assistant platoon leader, Melvin.
Though Melvin outranked him in terms of commissioned rank, Bergman was still the recon platoon leader, so their relationship remained respectful and cooperative.
“So, why’d you enlist? Young kid like you already got a death wish or what?”
“T-That’s…”
Adrian stuttered at Wilson’s question.
“Forget it. You and I probably have the same reason. Every Northerner ends up here for the same shit.”
“Y-Yes, that’s right!”
“Anyway, do well. If you don’t want me to kill you first.”
“Yes, Corporal!”
Adrian responded with a loud, disciplined shout.
“Ow, my ears.”
Carlisle frowned and covered his ears.
“I was like that once too. Heh.”
Russell walked over, chuckling at the memory.
“Back then Corporal Wilson was terrifying. Man…”
“That so.”
Carlisle replied flatly.
“You never saw this when you were a recruit, right? No one messed with you even as a newbie.”
“Well, yeah.”
“But aren’t you glad to have juniors now? You finally have someone below you.”
“Not really.”
Carlisle replied dryly.
“Oh, right! You were originally an officer-track. Even if you got passed over for promotion this time, you’ll still become an officer eventually.”
“That’s not the reason.”
“Huh?”
“I just don’t care.”
“…”
“I’m going to the kitchen.”
Carlisle stood up.
The baby dragon sleeping in his arms had woken up hungry and bit his chest lightly.
‘…Huh?’
As he passed the still-harassed Adrian, Carlisle paused and tilted his head.
‘Why does he look familiar? Where have I seen that expression?’
It was a stranger he had never met, yet oddly familiar.
He even tried recalling whether the boy was a key character from the game Overlord, but nothing came to mind.
“You. Have we met before?”
“N-No, sir!”
Adrian shouted at full volume.
“Ugh.”
Carlisle winced as if his ears were in pain.
“What’s with the volume? You trying to burst someone’s eardrum?”
“S-Sorry!”
“Sorry isn’t enough.”
“N-No excuse!”
“Lower your voice.”
“Yes, sir…”
And Wilson immediately jumped in to continue the hazing.
“Oh? That’s the best volume you can manage, recruit?”
“N-No, sir!”
Adrian yelled louder again.
“I said lower it.”
“S-Sorry…”
Watching this, Kudo chuckled.
“Private Carlisle, you sure are good at hazing recruits.”
“That wasn’t hazing.”
Carlisle replied, baffled.
He genuinely just wanted him to lower his voice because his ears hurt—he had no intention of hazing him.
Though to someone watching, it certainly looked like hazing.
‘Why does he seem familiar?’
Still puzzled, Carlisle left the barracks.
* * *
The next morning.
“Wake up! Wake up! Everyone out to the drill field!”
As always, Captain Cravel barged into the recon quarters at dawn, screaming like a madman, waking the exhausted recon members from their deep sleep.
“Why aren’t you up yet?!”
“S-Sir, we returned from night recon, so we are authorized to rest until the afternoon—”
Some rubbed their bleary eyes as they tried to explain.
They had only fallen asleep two hours ago after an overnight reconnaissance mission.
Even recon soldiers needed at least four hours of sleep to function properly—rest was essential for survival.
But Cravel didn’t care.
“You maggots! Soldiers should wake up early and begin their duties!”
“B-But…”
“You think the war stops because you’re sleepy?! Do the barbarians cancel attacks because you’re tired?!”
“…”
“Get out there immediately and begin morning physical training! Refuse and I’ll have all of you punished!”
And so, even those who had just returned from a night mission were forced into morning training.
But the recon platoon was not Cravel’s true target.
“Private Carlisle. Why are you moving so slowly?”
“I am going.”
“Can’t you move faster?”
“I said I’m going.”
“Halt.”
“I am going.”
“I SAID HALT!”
Cravel roared.
“Private Carlisle.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You disobeyed the battalion commander’s order.”
“That never happened.”
“The commander told you to move quickly, did he not?”
“I did.”
“This will not do.”
Cravel said as if he could bear it no longer.
“Full gear. Now.”
“…?”
“You will undergo daily one-on-one special physical training with me, the battalion commander. Full gear. Drill field. Ten minutes. Understood?”
“…”
“Why are you silent?”
“Fine. Whatever.”
Carlisle forced a rotten smile as he glared at Cravel.
He could have simply snapped and committed insubordination right then—but he held back for Helen and the recon platoon.
If he retaliated, Cravel would punish the whole company under the excuse of “collective responsibility.”
Ten minutes later—
Carlisle stood before Cravel wearing a 30-kg full combat load.
“The drill field is 500 meters per lap.”
“And?”
“You will run twenty laps.”
“You insane?”
The words slipped out of Carlisle’s mouth before he could stop them.
Running 10 kilometers with a 30-kg load wasn’t training—it was abuse.
“Watch your tongue. You’re only a private.”
“Then say something reasonable.”
“Make it twenty-five laps.”
“Tch.”
“One more disrespectful word, and your entire company will receive the same punishment. Understood?”
“…”
“Why no reply?”
“Fine. Understood.”
Carlisle stared at him with a sarcastic grin.
“Of course, I will run with you.”
“With full gear?”
“That part is your punishment for disobedience. I will not carry gear.”
“So you can’t handle the weight?”
“What was that? Are you suggesting the battalion commander has poor stamina?”
Cravel glared.
“No.”
Carlisle shook his head.
“You said we’d run together, but you’re conveniently skipping the gear. Makes it look that way.”
“I told you—this is punishment for your misconduct.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.”
“What’s with that face?”
Cravel narrowed his eyes.
“You clearly doubt my stamina. Fine. I’ll carry the same load.”
“For real?”
“Yes!”
Cravel wanted to break Carlisle’s spirit once and for all.
‘I’ll show him I’m not to be trifled with. That’ll teach this punk to fear me.’
Confident, he stepped onto the track.
“If you collapse, I won’t stop. We run until we finish. If you can’t run, you crawl. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“On my mark: one, two—”
Before he could finish—
Carlisle bolted forward at full speed.
