Chapter 2 - 1
"Break’s over. Move your ass, grab your weapon, and get back to training."
Lumberling grumbled, rising to his feet. He picked up his spear and returned to the training ground, where dozens of other recruits practiced in disorganized clusters. He had no idea how to wield a spear. In his previous life, the closest he had gotten to combat training was a brief stint at a boxing gym in his early twenties.
He thrust the spear awkwardly, his movements sluggish and clumsy. No matter how hard he tried, it didn’t feel right. Maybe it was his form, or maybe he was simply doing everything wrong. Either way, it was frustrating.
He stopped, lowering the spear, and looked around. The other recruits were just as lost as he was—flailing their weapons with no rhythm, no guidance. The two instructors assigned to train them weren’t even paying attention, instead chatting and laughing under the shade of a nearby awning.
Lumberling frowned. ’So we really are cannon fodder.’
Even if he trained to exhaustion every day, he’d make little progress without proper instruction. Training alone without feedback was harder than most people imagined—unless you were some kind of genius.
So he quietly slipped away, leaving the chaotic rookie training ground behind.
He wandered around the camp, careful not to draw attention. Nearby, he heard the rhythmic clashing of metal and the sharp barks of commands. He followed the sounds and came upon another training area.
Here, soldiers moved with purpose. They executed their drills with practiced discipline, their stances firm, their weapons precise. ’Like something straight out of a movie’, he thought.
Afraid he might be caught and kicked out, Lumberling quickly ducked behind a tree to observe from a distance.
One soldier in particular caught his eye—a spearman moving with uncanny grace. Every thrust of his spear was fluid, like the weapon was an extension of his body. It was mesmerizing, more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen back on Earth.