#63 March Training
Oh Jun-hwan, who hated the military's rigid culture and empty formalities more than anyone, never expected these words to come out of his mouth:
"Still, it's a departure ceremony—shouldn't you say something?"
"What needs to be said? It's our first real battle! Let's go!"
"Wooaaah!"
"Haah."
Watching the mercenaries' boosted morale, Oh Jun-hwan sighed. He then called over a few to form a unit.
"These guys aren't combat-ready yet. Use them as reserve laborers."
"Heh, familiar faces."
"......"
About ten people stood before Cheoldu, including the gangster rookie Odol and Seo Jong-du.
No matter how hard they hunted or upgraded their stats, the gap in experience was undeniable.
Even the lowest bandit grunts had spent at least two to three years in Nova, with many veterans exceeding five. Countless had already activated around thirty Stat Stones and completed their adaptation.
"Isn't that one overqualified for reserves?"
Cheoldu pointed at a tall man nearly his own height—a high-tier novice with over thirty stones activated, befitting his physique.
"Joseph Felton is the Captain's guard."
"Oh."
Among the bandits-turned-mercenaries, Joseph's physical prowess was clearly the best.
Cheoldu called Joseph over.
"What's your background?"
"I'm a baseball player."
"Oh, a batter?"
"Yessir! Power slugger."
"Why'd you become a bandit?"
"Fuck, Young-chul—my wife—puck puck, shit. Goddamn. I kill him."
"Oho."
"I run. Fled to Nova."
"You speak Korean."
"Little. Understand."
"Carry this and follow."
"Ooh! Banner bearer! Yessir! Best choice, sir!"
Joseph clutched the insignia Cheoldu handed him, vibrating with excitement. He babbled about never dropping the flag and following to hell and back.
"Good. Now shut up."
"Yessir."
The remaining selections clearly comprised the mercenary corps' bottom ten, their faces lacking confidence.
"Jong-du."
"Yes, Captain."
"Why so down?"
"...Just recognizing my place."
A small-time gangster from Earth?
Damn, this was lawless wilderness. Even bandit grunts were seasoned veterans compared to Jong-du's group of virtual civilians.
"Heh, train hard."
"I'll cling to you with my dying breath."
Seo Jong-du's eyes burned. Someday he'd take that flag from the Yankee bastard—how dare some upstart with no lineage claim the captain's banner's glory?
As they chatted, Oh Jun-hwan approached with a report.
"All set. Shall we go?"
"Yeah."
"Main force of fifty, vanguard and rearguard... Ah, screw it. Let's just wing it."
"Heh, brilliant plan."
"......"
Is this right?
Just how infuriating had I been as a junior to my former superiors?
"The real captain's worse than me."
"Heh, naturally. I yield to none."
"...Damn. I give up."
Oh Jun-hwan just laughed.
With roles roughly assigned, things would work out.
Still, he moved through the ragged formation, tightening discipline. His mind wanted to slack off, but his recently discharged body remembered too well.
Others' flaws always show clearer than your own.
Watching the mercenaries' broken march, Oh Jun-hwan sighed.
"Ha, we've got a long way to go."
The bet was just an excuse—Cheoldu's antics seemed entertaining enough to revisit Nova.
Who knew he'd end up with so many underlings?
And all of them untrained misfits.
Thankfully, their combat skills were decent. Four days were spent just drilling discipline.
"You! Out of step!"
"Eep! Sorry!"
"Focus."
"Yessir."
As Oh Jun-hwan walked off grumbling, the chastised mercenary shuddered.
"Ugh, that guy's worse than the Captain."
"Right. The Captain just beats you senseless—this guy tortures you slowly."
Cheoldu's training was brutally painful, but Oh Jun-hwan's left them too exhausted to lift spoons.
Ogre-infested Obongsan lay east of New Seoul, opposite the mercenary base's western gate. Their departure ceremony became an unintended parade—west gate to east gate, through market streets, plaza, and commercial districts.
130 uniformly equipped marchers made an impressive sight.
"Wow, those are the Ironhead Mercenaries!"
"Aren't they ex-bandits?"
"Serving to atone—like penal troops."
"But they look pretty sharp."
The mercenaries swaggered, morale boosted by their insignia.
Upon reaching the eastern shrine at sunset, orders rang out:
"Prepare camp!"
"Yessir!"
Everything was training. The once-disorganized bandits transformed under ex-sergeant Oh Jun-hwan's guidance.
"Barracks set up, sir."
"Heh, good work."
Cheoldu considered meditating in his tent but changed his mind.
"Gather."
"Yessir."
Surveying the labor unit, Cheoldu grinned.
"Volunteers for the honor guard—raise your hands."
"Hup!"
Seo Jong-du's hand shot up reflexively. Joseph, already top-tier among mercenaries, followed suit. Others joined hesitantly—except four bandits.
"Good. You four."
"Yessir!"
"Must not value your lives much."
"Hup! Negative, sir!"
"Excellent. I'll remake you all as proper guards."
Oh Jun-hwan had deemed ten unfit for combat. Including Joseph, eleven now faced training.
"Heh, training time. Attack together."
"Eh?"
WHAM!
Joseph went flying from Cheoldu's kick. The other recruits received equal treatment.
Physical exertion—the perfect remedy for melancholy.
Dawn broke, repeating the cycle: training, marching, camping. Progress crawled—Oh Jun-hwan's minimum standards still overwhelmed the bandits.
His patience shattered upon encountering monsters:
"Formation! Hold formation, maggots!"
"Stand fast! Who fired that arrow?"
"Advance ten! Get that idiot—who ordered a charge?"
Oh Jun-hwan darted about, deliberately slowing their pace further.
"Do as you will."
"Ha! These bandits need half a month just to learn basics."
"I'll handle it."
"......"
Was this trust or recklessness? Regardless, Oh Jun-hwan had chosen this path himself—and lost the bet.
Noticing his frown, Cheoldu offered rare encouragement:
"Obongsan's purpose is training anyway. Don't stress."
"...Then go train elsewhere."
"Heh, very well."
Cheoldu delegated honor guard drills to Joseph and Jin-tae, summoning Sonadda to ride.
NEIGH!
Training wasn't just for subordinates. Horsemanship—unpracticed on Earth—posed fresh challenges despite his early Riding skill. Mounted combat was another beast entirely.
Anchored by stirrups, he couched his lance.
CLIP-CLOP! CLIP-CLOP!
At full gallop, he focused on a target tree. Timing perfectly, he channeled his momentum—
THWACK!
The severed branch rewarded dozens of attempts.
<Skill 'Riding' proficiency adequate>
<Acquired Trait: 'Mounted Combat'>
"Huh?"
While skills came easily, traits were new.
Weapon proficiency transfers seamlessly to horseback.
POP.
The sensation mirrored activating an ogre trait stone—knowledge imprinting directly into muscle memory.
Like a feast before a starving man.
"Heh heh heh."
Drawing his axe, Cheoldu honed this nascent instinct. The trait eliminated all dissonance—his ground techniques translated perfectly astride.
This rhythm...
Constant weight shifts demanded perfect harmony with his mount. Mounted combat was half weapon mastery, half equine communication.
With Sonadda anticipating his moves?
"Heh, you're adapting well."
Training wasn't unilateral. Sonadda progressively synced with Cheoldu's style—axes, lances, swords, even mounted archery. Surprisingly adept, he soon hit fist-sized targets at 100 paces.
Meanwhile, the mercenaries inched through forests like tortoises. Field versus woodland tactics required exhaustive instruction.
"God damn it! Captain Choi, help out!"
"Eh? We're not mercenaries."
Oh Jun-hwan even conscripted ex-sergeant Choi Jun-seop and his aide as impromptu instructors. Progress marginally improved.
After a full month, they reached Obongsan's foothill village—formerly bandit territory, now managed by government troops and laborers.
"Ah, feels like coming home."
"Ha... Never thought I'd return."
"Eh? Madam!"
Unexpectedly, the shrine tavern's proprietress stood before them.
"Hey now! Look who's here!"
Meeting his old acquaintance, Cheoldu's lips curled unconsciously.
"Why are you here?"
"The magistrate asked for help. Remember? That statue commemorating our rescue."
"Haha. Of course. Clearly."
Seeing the two near-identical landladies filled him with unexpected warmth.
