Iron Will, Dragon Heart Series Book 2

Hadjar started running his fourth lap with a bundle of six giant logs strapped to his back and shoulders. In doing so, he had already almost broken the record of his former commander — ‘Bear Dogar.’ Message to host: Strength +0.02 Physique +0.001 A slight smile crossed Hadjar’s lips. He had never paid back those few barrels of beer he’d owed the man. That’s how much he had lost to his commander. Alas, now he could only pay him back in the next world, and Hadjar was definitely in no hurry to get there any time soon. He was, however, pleased that he could beat Nero, who usually ran by his side while shouldering five logs. This was less than Hadjar carried but more than a practitioner of the Formation Stage could usually cope with. Apparently, Nero had some kind of secret—and probably more than one. Nero now stood in front of the ranks of recruits; there were maybe a thousand people here. At least, that’s how many they had chosen for their new squad, with General Leen’s permission. There were a lot of very strong recruits — both male and female — and none were at a level lower than the second stage of the Bodily Rivers. Hadjar was sure that many of them could pass the officer’s exam. Officers Hadjar and Nero were famous now. They had received a lot of attention, mostly in song form, after the battle at the Blue Wind ridge—especially their flight on the back of the reptile and using the enemy’s cannons against them. A lot of the young people considered them their idols. Therefore, there were always plenty of those who wanted to serve under the famous officers—many more than the thousand that stood before them today. Nero had had to narrow the selection down from over seventeen thousand! A good bit of effort had been involved, considering that there had originally been over seventeen people all vying for a single spot. “So, fighters,” Nero said, walking along the ranks. “Take a good look at the parade ground. For the next two months, this will be your home. Your second home, at any rate, after our Healer’s tent.” Nero waved his hand toward the Scholar who usually sat in the shade, near a barrel full of his odorous poison. Currently, Serra was with him. They were reading some old scrolls together and passionately discussing something. Hadjar could hardly make the Healer join them. He had been a close friend of Dogar’s, and he felt incredible pain while looking this new squad. Only the opportunity to talk to Serra distracted him from his grief. What did any scholar appreciate more than quiet in his research lab? He only valued the chance to communicate with enlightened men more, or with a woman, in this case. Nero continued to address the ranks. “If anyone here thinks that this is an exaggeration, I advise you to reconsider. I’ve even elected to downplay the reality of it, so as not to scare you off and make you run back to your mothers.” The recruits looked at each other, but they didn’t make a sound. No one dared to utter a word. “Look at our valiant commander!” Nero shouted, breaking the silence. In unison, the soldiers turned to look at Hadjar as he continued to run around the parade ground. Topless, he looked solid. Every vein and muscle was clearly defined on his tanned, slender body. Only then did they stop doubting the power of their commanding officer. Earlier, when they’d seen this sleek, tall young man, they had suspected that the bards’ songs had been embellished and more propaganda than the fact. Now that his top was off, they saw Hadjar’s figure, which looked as if it had been sculpted by an artist, and watching him carry the six huge logs on his back... Well, they couldn’t believe their eyes. Nero continued: “Every morning, you’ll carry a log on your back and run with it for two hours! After that, you’ll have ten minutes of rest, during which everyone will drink at least one full glass of the brew provided by our most venerable Healer! Don’t be fooled into thinking it’ll be as fragrant as your grandma’s tea, though - ha! I assure you, you haven’t tasted poison such as this before, even if you have previously drunk straight from the garbage!” The Healer seemingly heard the comparison, but he wasn’t offended by it, far from it. He just proudly raised his chin and the hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. “After jogging, you’ll be divided up! Some of you will go to the obstacle course, and I assure you, the dummies’ truncheons aren’t wrapped in rags there! If you get a fracture, the Healer will cure you by morning, of course! But—and this is a big but—you’ll lose my respect, which none of you have even managed to earn thus far, and the following day, you’ll get to run with a heavier load!” Hadjar attempted to hide his smile as he ran, but he didn’t succeed. Nero carried out his duties as an assistant much better than Hadjar ever had. Once upon a time... In fact, less than six months had passed since he’d been the one filling the role of Dogar’s assistant. Now, though, after everything that had transpired, it seemed like a lifetime ago. Time had an odd way of going by during wartime. Sometimes, it was as slow as a snail, and yet, at other times, it was as quick as a diving falcon. Nero’s raised voice brought Hadjar out of his reminiscing. “After the obstacle course, you’ll spar or have target practice! Each of those exercises will also last two hours! During the short ten-minute breaks, you’ll again drink the Healer’s brew! In the evening, the healthiest soldiers will bring those who aren’t able to walk to the Healer! If you have enough strength left to go into town after that, then... well, damn! I’ll send you back to the training ground once again! Only those that can handle a threefold increase in training difficulty can go into town. Oh, and just so you know, the standard difficulty is running for three hours with three logs on your back, so I wouldn’t suggest making any plans!” The soldiers started whispering, but no sooner had they started than they abruptly stopped and silence once more hung over the parade ground. As he ran past the recruits, Hadjar looked in their direction. It was enough for many of them to forget how to breathe. For a moment, they saw not a man looking back at them, but rather, a predator, a wild beast. One that was terrifying, ferocious, and ready to tear the sky itself apart. The gaze of his clear, blue eyes was frightening and yet somehow fascinating to the men and women that stood motionless, staring at him. Some even thought that, in the deepest, darkest depths of that gaze, they could see a curled up, sleeping dragon. They had no doubt that, at any moment, the dragon could unfold its wings and bare its fangs.