The chosen trainees mustered all their strength, pushing against the immovable boulder with grim determination. However, the unyielding rock barely moved a millimetre, leaving Adara panting with exertion and frustration. Her repeated attempts yielded the same results, and the trainees beside her, also breathless and defeated, abandoned their efforts. Their failure met with the General's observing eyes, and the next trio was called forth.

Adara returned to Storm's side, pulling a face at the seeming impossibility of the task. They watched as each successive group of trainees met the same fate, unable to move the boulder. When Storm's turn came, his efforts, however valiant, were just as ineffective as those before him. Rolling his eyes, he re-joined Adara, as the last group of trainees also failed in their attempts.

Throughout this, the captains huddled together, occasionally pointing out individual trainees and murmuring amongst themselves. After a brief exchange with them, the General faced the exhausted trainees.

"None of you could move the boulder, and it's clear you're feeling disheartened," he began, his eyes scanning the dejected faces before him, "but we didn't expect any of you to be able to shift it even a centimetre."

His words were met with incredulous stares, and some trainees expressed their outrage openly. The General, undeterred, continued, "This is what I meant by the boulder serving as a marker. After two months of training, we will return here, and you'll gauge your improvement first-hand."

Understanding dawned on the trainees, soft murmurs of realisation echoing amongst them. The General promptly moved onto the next activity, "From today, you'll run a lap around this training area every morning. Captains Oriana, Iris, and River will lead you through warm-ups."

Captain River took the lead, guiding the trainees through a series of stretches and warm-up exercises. A slow jog around the perimeter of the training area left them all with a light sheen of sweat on their faces. After a brief water break, the General rallied the trainees back for basic training.

The trainees lined up, maintaining a meter's distance from each other, and assumed their fighting stances. The captains moved amongst them, adjusting postures and alignments. Each trainee stood with their left arm outstretched diagonally, their fist clenched, their right hand poised to punch. The strain of maintaining the position began to show, particularly on their bent right leg supporting the majority of their weight.

Once the Captains approved of everyone's stances, the General introduced a series of high, middle, and lower punches. Switching sides, their right leg was now forward, allowing for equal training and strengthening of both sides of their body. This balanced approach was to ensure that even if they were to lose their dominant arm in battle, their training would compensate, providing them an upper hand.

The trainees dove into a series of blocks, their arms moving in swift arcs to deflect imaginary blows to their face, abdomen, and lower regions. Their hands shifted to an open palm position, striking out at invisible targets at the neck, abdomen, and lower body. The exercises seemed elementary to some, but the General understood the fundamentals' essential role in building strength and precision.

A swift sequence of high kicks, knee kicks, and round-house kicks followed, mirrored by the alternate leg. The training escalated as the captains demonstrated an amalgamation of the punches with a round-house kick and a series of blocks. This demanding routine was meant not only to augment their physical prowess but also to enhance memory and concentration.

By the time the sun reached its zenith, the trainees were drenched in sweat, their breath coming out in ragged gasps. Some collapsed onto the ground, while others remained standing, hands resting on their hips as they tried to catch their breath.

"Alright," the General's voice echoed, slicing through the panting silence, "There's an hour until lunch. Let's wrap this up."

Rising to their feet, the trainees readied themselves for the next command. They dropped onto the ground, performing a set of twenty push-ups on their palms, followed by another twenty with their fists planted firmly against the hard earth. Gritting their teeth, they endured through another gruelling set of push-ups, this time with their fingertips against the ground.

The captains moved amongst them, their stern eyes ensuring no one gave in to exhaustion. Once the push-ups were over, the trainees were asked to roll onto their backs for twenty sit-ups, followed by a similar number of crunches. The scorching midday sun only amplified the ordeal.

"We'll finish with a one-minute plank, then you can break for lunch," the General announced, receiving a collective sigh of relief from the trainees. But that relief was short-lived as they pushed up onto their forearms, their bodies rigid in the strenuous plank position. What was usually a brief minute seemed to stretch into eternity under the unforgiving heat.

When they finally collapsed onto the ground, their chests heaving with exertion, the General commanded, "Stand up." Laboriously, they pushed themselves up, returning to their initial stances.

"This regimen will be your morning routine. As we progress, you'll eventually be doing a hundred of each exercise. After lunch, you'll be expected back here in an hour," the General declared, his voice leaving no room for objections, "You're dismissed."

As the trainees dispersed, Storm joined Adara, both slowly heading toward the fence separating the training grounds from the buildings. With the weight of exhaustion heavy on their feet, they took the path towards the mess hall. Storm managed a tired chuckle, "I'm ready for a nap."

Adara groaned in agreement, "This is just the beginning. It's going to get more intense. I wonder how the others managed."

Storm smirked in response, "I suspect we're about to hear a flurry of complaints."

© Crimson B