Chapter 1551 (1/2)
Charlotte couldn’t help but look at the far wall of the canteen in admiration. Many a time had she witnessed the glorious sight of Overseer Helen tossing a misbehaving recruit into similarly sturdy walls and had been impressed by the structural integrity. But now she realized such displays had been misleading; the casual looking buildings were even more monstrously sturdy than she had expected.
They had to be, after all.
RUMMMMMMBLLLLLLEEEEEEEEE!
Despite the fact that it was only their Head Drill Sergeant and his lover that were fighting, the whole of the Fifth Cohort Rally Station seemed to be shaking with the force of their… passion. Charlotte Wick had heard from some of the other elite recruits that the normal Drill Sergeants scattered around the Rally Station eventually just told their recruits to ignore the seismic disturbances. Plus, it seemed like the Superintendent of the Rally Station had completely given up on restraining Randidly Ghosthound.
Besides… when the reverberations are that powerful... Charlotte shivered and looked down at the trembling food in front of her. Her spoon clattered across the rim of her bowl like it was performing a country jig. Who would want to come and tell him to stop?
BOOOOOOOOOM!
The canteen shook again, but the ground was largely still. Which probably meant that the two fighters had impacted each other in the air, dispersing most of the force upward and outward. But still, the radius of their collisions was horrifying. Both the wild laughter of the Grim Chimera and the thunderous rustling of Yggdrasil’s leaves could be clearly heard.
The latter noise made bear-woman tighten her hands on the edge of the table. The World Tree was the image given to her to learn by the Ghosthound and she had benefited immensely from it. But the circumstances still filled her with a suffocating dread.
In an effort to suppress her unease, Charlotte cleared her throat lightly and looked across the table. “...anyway, what were you saying about… this Vualla, Ben?”
The pale Benjamin Rex paused with a spoonful of mutton soup on the way to his lips. As he slowly lowered the spoon, he tilted his head to the side, as though listening for the arrival of another sundering clash. When none came after a few seconds, he nodded in satisfaction and began to speak. “...I don’t know much, but it is clear that the azure haired woman was wearing the uniform of the Xyrt Brigade. After their near-constant deployment in the Fifth Cohort, they were given a week break, so the timeline also lines up. To this woman, spending time with the Head Drill Sergeant is a vacation.”
Even the usually emotionless Benjamin’s expression displayed the same sort of awed fascination that had infected the rest of the recruits since the arrival of this Vualla. No one knew whether to admire her or fear her.
Charlotte tapped her fingers on the table; her own mutton soup was already mostly devoured. Only a few dregs remained in her bowl, which was her fifth helping. The combination of carrots, turnips, potatoes, and stewed meat was surprisingly delicious. Her mind went to the stern expression of her grandfather. “I’m surprised that the Ghosthound was able to get the Head Drill Sergeant position with ties to the Xyrt Brigade.”
“They must not have known,” Benjamin’s expression was conflicted as he stared down at his plate. “There is no way that a Commandant would have let the Ghosthound anywhere near us if they had known. I’ve heard some other recruits talking that they were deployed on the same frontlines, so it makes sense that they would have met, but-”
RUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMBLLLLLLLEEEEE!
Charlotte Wick rolled her shoulders as the conversation was briefly stalled. Gradually, she was deciding that she was part of the majority of recruits in her opinion of Vualla: she deeply feared the woman. Because after listening to the duo spar and feeling their images clash against each other, an unavoidable fact had emerged: the Xyrt Brigade woman was stronger than the Head Drill Sergeant. It wasn’t by a lot, but it was easy to see their relative power from the fact that the Ghosthound emerged from their spars disheveled while Vualla was positively beaming with pleasure.
Of course, none of the recruits dared look down on their Head Drill Sergeant for this; they had felt the overwhelming power of his image. Either of these powerful individuals were enough to crush them. Instead, it just earned her a whispered nickname: the Azure Death.
No recruit wanted to draw her attention while she continued to dally with the Head Drill Sergeant on the Rally Station. Hers was a smile that hid fangs, in the eyes of the recruits.
Charlotte shook her head and then looked toward the third individual at their table. She wanted to change the subject; remembering the Azure Death’s bright expression chilled her to the core. When the Vulpine continued to mechanically shovel stew into his mouth despite her pointed look, Charlotte kicked him under the table. “Oy! Raymund! Wipe that depressing look off of your face; don’t you have a break today? How’s the special training going?”
The wolfman blinked several times before raising his head. Almost instantly, Charlotte felt somewhat bad for him. She had believed that what the Overseers forced the general recruits to do was brutally spartan, but then she had witnessed the way that Raymund and DiOrtho were constantly tormented with repeated demands of superhuman feats of strength. Even the usually cocky DiOrtho had become taciturn and cooperative with Overseer Helen after constantly having extreme displays required of him. The duo moved smoothly, but with the blank eyes of robots.
But after those blinks, Raymund’s gaze cleared somewhat. He seemed to consider her question for several seconds before quietly answering. “To be frank, it is an astonishingly effective training regimen. It has become clear to me that my difficulties with image development are a product of a personal defect. Being too exhausted to think… has given space for my psyche to get out of its own path.”
Benjamin nudged the Vulpine in the side. “Obviously that was the point, but you’ve still been doing near-constant physical training. How has the Skill growth been?”
“Oh, the results on that front are similarly unequivocal,” Raymund responded casually. “My passive physical Skill has been pushed up by near one hundred Skill Levels. I think the exact number is ninety-three, but it is a testament to the Overseers’ commitment to our growth that I have come this far in so short a time.”
Charlotte’s mouth formed an O. Finally, her nagging worries were truly dislodged from their quiet burrow in her brain. “You… you’ve gained almost a hundred Skill Levels in just a single Skill since you’ve come to the Fifth Cohort Rally Station…? That’s-”
BOOOOOOOMMMMM!