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When Enkrid stood alone on the platform, he noticed something in the soldiers’ eyes—something akin to resentment.

“If you run back, at least pretend to rest for a bit. Makes it easier on them, trust me,” Rem advised.

Following his lead, the soldiers complied.

Did it motivate them to keep running? Who could say?

“Listen here, grinding people down is my specialty,” Rem boasted.

Enkrid didn’t argue; he simply let the man do his thing. And admittedly, Rem wasn’t wrong—he had a knack for pushing people to their limits.

Otherwise, how could the soldiers’ eyes carry such a haunted, almost fiendish look after only a week of training?

The soldiers, drenched from the unrelenting rain, ran into the parade ground. The downpour only heightened the eerie glow in their stares.

Rain poured steadily, a minor annoyance to Enkrid.

“Not bad,” he thought, noticing the fire in their eyes. Their sheer determination as they ran made an impression on him.

It wasn’t just about standing idle on the platform anymore.

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