Macburney pondered.
Perhaps Roman Dmitri was standing there because he did not know the system of the Southern Training Camp.
If that were the case, there could be problems later on, so Macburney approached Roman and asked, "Lord Roman, the Southern Training Camp does not force training upon 'nobles.' If you do not wish to train, you may observe from the shade like everyone else."
There were occasionally people who thought they had to train and waited in the scorching sun, only to later complain about being treated differently, invoking their family names.
Macburney had seen enough of such trash.
Count Veil Frank held absolute power at the Southern Training Camp, but instructors like Macburney could not even speak informally to the trainees.
He was merely a figurehead.
Macburney had no authority.
Roman said, "Is that what you are saying because of them?" His gaze turned towards the shade.
The others seemed too busy sharing amusing stories to care about the conversation happening here.
Macburney nodded.
For some reason, he felt a bit embarrassed at that moment.
However, Roman declared, "I will train."
Despite knowing the truth, he did not go to the shade.
The nobles of the Southern Training Camp.
He understood what they were thinking.
After all, the Southern Front rarely saw war, and the commanders believed they only needed to give orders to the soldiers.
War was something the soldiers did, wasn't it? Their understanding of 'common sense' was that of a commander watching the battlefield from a distance, but those who had actually experienced war thought differently.
Looking at Macburney, Roman calmly expressed his thoughts.
"You are not wrong. In battle, the enemy's attacks do not discriminate based on status. It is only natural for nobles to undergo basic training, yet they are under the great illusion that the commanding officer, who holds the authority, will be safe. Perhaps war in the plains might be relatively safe. But if one were to suffer a great defeat and be chased, or if they were to face an enemy attack while retreating, a noble would not be able to give proper orders, let alone keep their wits about them due to their frail stamina."
It was not just that.
War did not only occur in the plains.
Mountains, rivers, marshlands, and so on.
For a commander to fulfill their role in various terrains, they needed at least the stamina to keep up with the soldiers.
"And I understood the training at the Southern Training Camp as a process of assessing the soldiers' capabilities and learning from the experiences of those who have spent a long time in the South. So, there is no need for such expressions. I made the decision to train because I deemed it necessary, and I am prepared to undergo any training, regardless of status."
He finished speaking, as if urging for the training to commence.
Standing quietly and watching Macburney, Macburney felt a sudden pang in his heart. 'Ah.' Roman Dmitri.
Macburney found himself falling for the man before him.
People say that one would risk their life for those who recognize them.
Just a day prior, Macburney's motivation had hit rock bottom.
He felt immense doubt as an instructor, but after hearing Roman's words, a sense of pride began to swell within him. 'He perfectly understands my intentions.' It was the first time someone of noble status shared his thoughts and expressed a commitment to training earnestly.
This was not just empty talk.
Having spent a long time on the battlefield, Macburney had developed an eye for discerning whether someone was genuine or not just by looking into their eyes, and Roman's calm gaze was not that of someone unfamiliar with war.
For the first time in a long while, his motivation was reignited.
Thinking that he could help someone like Roman, he wanted to provide the best training possible.
'I had planned to conduct the training moderately, as usual.
But not anymore.
I will conduct the highest level of training.
Even if a disaster were to strike the Southern Front, I will ensure that they at least have the minimum stamina and military knowledge.
I will do my utmost.' With that decision, the gates of hell opened.
Week 1 of training.
It was the period for stamina training.
Originally, they would start with simple jogging to warm up, but right from the beginning, they began with a tactical exercise of climbing mountains while carrying their gear.
"The purpose of this training is not simply to improve stamina. Wars can break out suddenly, anywhere, and at times, one must climb mountains while carrying heavy gear. Through this training, we will not only build our stamina but also learn how to move quickly in the mountains. From now on, we will climb the mountains once a day, regardless of the weather."
Thud, thud.
Hundreds of soldiers.
With pale faces, they rushed down the mountain.
Climbing a steep mountain was already a struggle, but carrying their gear made them feel dizzy.
The mountain training was just the beginning.
Soldiers who had completely exhausted their stamina by the morning quickly filled their stomachs and gathered at the training ground.
"This training is for basic stamina building. War is a battle of willpower that can last indefinitely. To fight until the sun rises and sets without losing focus, one must constantly test their limits during stamina training. From now on, we will conduct unlimited slashing training without restrictions on the number of repetitions. I warn you in advance, do not give up. Those who do will have their sleep time restricted and will undergo extended training."
"Ah."
"Damn it."
Curses erupted from all corners of the training ground.
Regular soldiers could not refuse the instructor's orders, and the reality they faced was far too harsh.
Macburney's warning was not an empty threat.
Soldiers collapsed in the scorching sun, and some foamed at the mouth and trembled, yet he continued the training without blinking an eye. 'On the battlefield, one must accept even more brutal situations as part of daily life.' The Southern Front was no exception.
As much as Macburney was moved by Roman's words, he wanted to impart everything he had learned from the Western Front.
"Ugh."
"Please, let’s take a break."
The dying soldiers.
They were conscripts.
Soldiers who had not received proper military training could not endure the extreme training.
If most had shown similar reactions, the training would have been halted.
But that was not the case.
Roman's troops, led by him, executed the training perfectly from start to finish.
Swish! He swung his sword.
The motion had already been repeated hundreds of times.
His skin turned red under the sun, and his entire body was drenched in sweat, yet Roman did not stop training.
Without using mana, he immersed himself entirely in physical training.
People looked at Roman as if they could not understand his actions.
He could have rested in the shade like everyone else, yet he trained alongside the soldiers from beginning to end.
'Just as one sharpens their sword before battle, I need to strengthen the bond between myself and the soldiers.' Cheonma Baekjunghyeok.
He did not rise to the top from the start.
He began from the bottom, and because of that, he understood the emotions and thoughts of those who received orders.
Discontent could sprout from the smallest things.
What would one think if, on a day like today, when soldiers were training under the scorching sun, their commander was in the shade, chatting and laughing? Naturally, resentment would arise.
This did not mean it would immediately lead to rebellion, but the weight of the command would become lighter than before.
If there were a commander who trained alongside the soldiers and one who did not, which commander would the soldiers be more loyal to? It was a difference that could not be overlooked.
Soldiers would naturally follow the orders of a commander who suffered alongside them rather than one who merely spoke empty words, and such differences often led to the outcomes of wars being turned upside down.
It was not to say that one must always roll around in the dirt.
At least until complete trust was formed.
And if that action was deemed to have a significant impact on the war, there would be no reason for the commander not to act personally.
It was a complex reason.
To train oneself and to strengthen the bond with the soldiers.
Baekjunghyeok did not shy away from times like today.
The sight of Baekjunghyeok raising his voice for the soldiers at the forefront made the members of the Demon Cult follow him blindly.
The martial world conquest was not achieved solely through individual strength.
The bond formed between Baekjunghyeok, who had risen from the bottom, and the Demon Cult brought down the massive mountain of the Central Martial World in one fell swoop.
"Huff, huff."
"Ugh."
Roman's soldiers looked as if they were about to die.
Like other soldiers, they felt the impulse to give up at any moment, but they could not do so in front of Roman.
Their commander was working so hard.
How could the soldiers give up?
Around them, soldiers from other nobles collapsed, gasping for breath on the ground, secretly taking breaks, but Roman's soldiers did not resort to tricks.
That day, until the training ended, not a single one of Roman's soldiers fell behind.
The first day of training came to an end.
As the sky darkened, the soldiers who had finished training came out to a stream illuminated by the moonlight to wash themselves off.
Swish.
"Ah, I feel like I can finally breathe."
"The training at the Southern Training Camp is not as easy as they say. They never mentioned it would be this tough from the first day."
The soldiers grumbled.
At least Roman's soldiers still had a spark of vitality in their expressions.
Perhaps because of that, a soldier from another noble, washing nearby, spoke with a face full of discontent.
"Why do you only think of yourselves? You could have thought of others and held back a bit."
Throughout the training, they could not openly demand breaks because of Roman's soldiers.
If everyone was unable to handle the training, Macburney would not have pushed them so hard, but since there were those who executed the training perfectly from start to finish, no leeway was allowed.
They could not express how much they resented Roman's soldiers, who were still standing strong.
As they washed in the stream, a soldier from another noble raised his voice as if to be heard.
"We are conscripted soldiers, unlike you. With such a short training period, how could we endure the same high-intensity training as you? If we had enough time, we could have done it like you."
At that moment, one of Roman's soldiers stepped forward and said, "I'm curious after hearing that. How long have you trained to say we need more training time?"
The soldier's appearance was intimidating.
He had taken off his upper garment to wash, and his body, illuminated by the moonlight, was like a sculpture.
His muscles, cracked from years of training, would make even another man admire them.
The soldier from the other noble was startled.
He felt slightly pressured by the other’s presence, but he still had to speak.
"We have only trained for a year. We are different from you, who have trained professionally for years. So please take it easy. That way, Instructor Macburney will lower the intensity of the training."
One year.
It was not a short period.
Roman's soldier laughed.
Hearing that they had trained for a year made the other’s words sound like a childish complaint.
Perhaps it was because memories of the past surfaced.
Roman's soldier could not speak gently.
"Don't make excuses about not having time. We didn't even have a year like you. We started training as part of our unit less than six months ago. No, if we only count the training period, it has barely surpassed three months. And you say you couldn't prepare because you didn't have time? Don't be mistaken. You had plenty of time, but you simply did not do your best during that time."
The soldier's identity.
He was a successful candidate from the conscription recruitment.
A soldier who had trembled in fear during the tests.
His name was none other than Henderson from Lawrence.