37 Chapter 37: Bitch

"Take a minute to gather yourselves!"

"F… finally."

"I feel like I'm going to die."

"You will, just not today."

"Look at that guy, is… he even human?"

"Shit… he's the only reason why we're only resting now."

"Tch, show off."

"Fucking Dregger."

"Woah, woah. Who used the D-word!?"

"With the hard R too!?"

"Wow… you guys are classist as fuck."

Dregger. It has been a very long time since Rhys heard someone call him like that—it was what they used to call people like him in the past. The dregs of society, slaves.

It wasn't until the end of the 19th century that they were freed as slaves, but they never truly escaped the prejudice people had for them. That wasn't even the worse part of their history—not even a hundred years ago, Lowborns were almost wiped out by a mad Noble with a weird mustache.

"Don't mind them, Rhys. Recruits are always like that. They see others as competition, not realizing that we really only have each other to rely on."

"I remember you being one of those people, baldy."

"Shut up, you perverted monkey. I am not classist."

"It's… just white noise to me at this point," Rhys let out a small sigh, before taking off his shirt; squeezing it, and letting his sweat shower the blades of grass beneath his feet.

And perhaps even more so than the others' words, Rhys was more uncomfortable with the fact that James and Erik have never left his side ever since he met the two of them.

"Anyway," James crossed his arms as he looked at Rhys from head to toe; his bald head, almost acting like a spotlight that lit up Rhys's perfectly chiseled body, "Are you really a Lowborn? Erik and I are used to this kind of training, but you…

…you don't even seem to be tired at all."

"I… train my body more than most," Rhys let out a small sigh as he hung his shirt over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I could see that," Erik squinted his eyes as he too, started looking at Rhys from head to toe, "Wait a minute… are you like the Commander's boy toy!?"

"...No."

"...How did you apply? Do I need to be as jacked as you?"

"His muscles are clearly made from pain and hardship. You will never be able to achieve the meaning of his muscles."

"Wait… does the Commander have a thing for Lowborns!? Inject me with your blood, Rhys! Right now!"

"Erik, you're slowly becoming a true degenerate! Stop this!"

"..." Rhys could really only back away as he watched as James started holding Erik back from rushing toward him. These two…

…they were weird.

And while the three were making most of the noise, the other recruits just sprawled on the ground almost lifeless, some even leaning on the trees that were far from the trail for shade.

"James, Erik."

"Sir!"

And soon, Staff Sergeant Millis approached the three, causing James and Erik to quickly stand in attention. And of course, Rhys followed suit as he saluted.

"At ease," Millis raised his hand, "So, what did the two of you do again for you to be sent back here? Aren't you guys supposed to be spending your R&R on the Surface?"

"It's James's fault. He was eyeing the Commander."

"...We all know you're the one most likely to do that," Millis only scoff and shook his head, before turning his head to Rhys and also looking at him from head to toe, "I've never seen you before, private. Were you transferred here from another camp?"

"No, sir," Rhys quickly answered, "I'm a recruit, sir."

"..." Millis blinked a couple of times, before turning his head to James and Erik.

"It's true, he's the Commander's boy toy or something."

"He's a Lowborn. Amazing, isn't it? It is as if the social class is truly just a barbaric concept that needs to—"

"You're… the Lowborn?"

And all of a sudden, Staff Sergeant Millis's friendly tone quickly faded away as he looked at Rhys's black hair. He then turned toward the other recruits that were sprawled everywhere; his eyes, starting to squint.

"Are you not ashamed of yourselves as Commoners!?" Millis let out a roar loud enough to thunder through everyone's ears,

"You let a Lowborn get ahead of you!? Enough rest! Those who can't pass the Lowborn will be sent to a deeper camp. Understood!?"

"W…what!?"

"But we just—"

And before anyone could start complaining, Millis just started running again—this time, almost a sprint.

"..." Rhys turned to look at the others for a few seconds, before just shaking his head. These people already have a bad impression of him—there was no point in trying to be friendly with them. And so, despite everyone's eyes being on him…

…Rhys started to run as hard as he could.

If they can't keep up, then that is their fault. This…

…This is justice.

"What the—this fucking bastard!"

"After him! Push him, trip him!"

"You just made everyone your enemy, Rhys Wilder," James and Erik once again ran beside Rhys.

"...Changes nothing," Rhys whispered.

"Careful with the edge there, brother," Erik forced a chuckle, "You might end up cutting yourself."

"He's a Lowborn, Erik. Chances are he probably already has."

"Can you just stop being dark for one second!?"

"Can you stop being perverted for one second?"

Most of the recruits tried to catch up to Rhys—and most were actually successful, with some even trying to truly trip or push him from behind. Well, for the first few hundred meters, that is.

After more than 2 hours of running full sprint, most of the recruits were either just running through sheer will, or not running at all; their breaths, now louder than their steps.

"W… what the fuck."

"When… when is this going to stop?"

"Why did I even join the Underworld Corps!?"

"I just wanted to die, why am I being tortured like this?"

"..." And while the recruits were begging basically begging for their lives, Millis just continued to run; only glancing at Rhys from time to time to try and see if he was giving up.

But alas, aside from his entire body drowning in sweat, Rhys didn't seem tired at all. Rhys was just thinking how harsh that training was—if he didn't have his [Arise] skill, then he would definitely be one of the people crawling on the trail right now.

The training seemed effective, however, as the results could clearly be seen from how Erik and James were still just casually chatting with each other.

"So, if you meet the Commander outside in casual clothes, don't tell me you won't stare at her?"

"She's not my type. I like my women on the lighter side."

"...I am starting to think you're—"

"Argh!"

"H…help!"

And before Erik and James could continue their conversation, a loud scream echoed from behind them.

"No one is going to help you! If you're this weak, then it is better for you to die!" Millis glanced back at the recruits, "You—!!!"

And as soon as Millis turned around, he saw once tired and exhausted recruits rushing past him; their faces, filled with desperation. And he didn't even have to ask why, as there at the very end of the line…

...was a pack of two-headed wolves.

"Red Orthros…here?" Millis blinked a couple of times; squinting his eyes to check if he truly was seeing what he was seeing. And after several blinks, he stretched out his hand to the side—summoning a bow as large as him.

"James, with me!" Millis then roared as he tapped his bow on the ground, and as he did so, the dirt and grass started to crawl up onto his bow. And as he drew the strings, the dirt and grass quickly compressed and shaped themselves into an arrow.

"Erik, make sure the recruits don't panic and go far!"

"What recruits!?" Erik screamed as he looked at all the recruits running away into the distance.

"Lowborn, what are you doing!?"

Only Rhys remained; his eyes, just staring at the pack of orthros that were mowing down the recruits that were unfortunately too tired and slow to run.

"Lowborn, get the fuck out of my line of fire!"

"...Hm," Rhys only grunted as he backed away and joined James and Millis; his eyes, however, were still completely focused on one of the orthros.

Apparently, one of them is a female…

…as it had 5 Hearts floating above its head.