Grey stepped outside, lightly swinging the hand he had burned while pulling a finished pie out of the oven.
In front of him stood a group of breathless teenagers, sprawled across the damp ground as if they had drained the last scraps of strength from it. Their tongues hung helplessly from their mouths, their bodies glistened with sweat, and their breathing came out in ragged gasps.
Surprisingly, their physical conditioning turned out to be far better than he had expected. Everyone had met the required time limits. Even the last teenager carrying Hope had returned right at the moment the cake was ready.
Grey was satisfied with their performance, but not a single muscle on his face showed it. Seeing their miserable state, he frowned and immediately roared, fully slipping into the role of the ruthless tyrant he was acting as.
"This is the so-called future elite? Is that how you see yourselves?" his voice cut sharply through the air. "From my point of view, you look more like a pack of stray dogs! Stand up! Form ranks properly!"
The teenagers grimaced, but obeyed the order.
With great effort, they pushed themselves up and began forming a line, swaying and grabbing onto each other for support.
"The first three, step forward."
Three teenagers who looked slightly more composed stepped forward. Their breathing was steadier, their backs were straighter, and the formation behind them was noticeably more orderly. Despite their exhaustion, they carried a restrained confidence, the confidence of winners, which they indeed were.
Grey studied each of them carefully, one by one, then gave an expressionless nod.
"The last three, step forward."
This time, Reus, Sunny, and a thin boy named Josh stepped out of the formation. They stood with their heads lowered, breathing heavily, as they had not yet managed to recover enough. Especially Josh—he had barely managed to get up, as if he could collapse unconscious at any moment.
If everyone had been running in formation, they definitely would not have ended up in such a state. However, under the influence of yesterday's tirade, each teenager had tried to complete the task as perfectly as possible.
They ran at the very limit of their abilities, not sparing a single drop of strength.
Under such pressure, their untrained bodies had been pushed to the brink of collapse. If the load had been increased even slightly, someone would surely have broken down.
Grey showed a warm smile, full of praise and care, sharply different from the cold restraint he had shown to the winners.
"Good. You did well, all of you. Everyone passed the test. Now let your bodies cool down. For the next half hour, you need to move around a bit and stretch lightly. You are forbidden to drink until you recover. You may rinse your throat, but do not swallow any water!"
This was knowledge from his past life.
Grey knew how harmful it was to drink immediately after an intense workout. Taking water in right away would instantly weaken the effect of the exercise.
Right now, their hearts, blood vessels, and muscles were working at their absolute limit. A sudden influx of liquid would only increase the strain on their bodies. It was far more reasonable to let the body recover first and only then drink cool water. This practice allowed one to extract the maximum benefit from training.
Then Grey turned to the three winners and swept them with a cold gaze devoid of any emotion.
"As for you… you're very fast… y-yes… very fast…"
The unfriendly tone instantly unsettled the leaders. They exchanged glances, unable to hide their confusion.
'What's going on? We came back first, far ahead of the others. Why does it feel like the leader is dissatisfied with our performance?'
"Ha ha ha. Good. Good," Grey gave a short laugh. "For the next three days, you will wash the clothes of the last three. All their work in the estate, except for training, will also fall on you. And your meals will be cut in half in their favor."
After those words, the entire courtyard seemed to turn to stone.
The teenagers looked stunned. Many wanted to object—indignation was clearly written in their eyes:
'What kind of logic is this? Didn't they come first? Why are they the ones being punished?'
However, no one dared to speak first. Silence hung over them like a heavy curtain.
Noticing the empty, lost stares, Grey let out a cold sneer and walked up to one of the boys who stood without the slightest change in expression, though Grey had seen his gaze shift slightly after the announcement of rewards and punishments.
The boy's expression could be described as operational-tactical indifference—simultaneously dull and overly thoughtful, depending on the angle you looked at it from. That was exactly why he had caught Grey's attention.
Not a face, but a true optical illusion.
Grey stopped right in front of him and barked, staring straight into his eyes: "So. What is this lagging dumb face with no thought input?"
To say the boy was confused would be an understatement. He had absolutely no idea what was happening or why the commander had suddenly gone on the offensive. On top of that, he had been asked a question that simply had no correct answer.
"No lagging, sir. Face is stable," the boy managed to squeeze out, without a trace of embarrassment.
"So that's how it is… I see. I see…" Grey drawled, pacing from one to another as if looking for the next victim to pick on.
Finally, one of the winners, previously regarded as Achilles' right hand, could no longer endure the mockery. Gathering his courage, he stepped forward. He carefully chose his words, torn between fear and the inability to suppress his rising indignation.
"Lord Grey, I don't understand!" he shouted with effort.
"Oh?" Grey turned and looked at him sternly. "Something bothering you?"
The teenager clenched his fists.
"We were the fastest among everyone else. Our result beat the last three by at least ten minutes. We followed your instructions precisely. So why are we being punished?"
He paused briefly, then added, now less confidently:
"Because Reus and Sunny ended up among the last? I refuse to accept this kind of treatment. You're not saying it was a mistake to follow your orders, are you? Then why are we wrong?"
Grey nodded slowly and swept his gaze across the courtyard.
"You all think the same?"
The other two winners nodded firmly. The rest stayed silent, but their confusion was painfully obvious.
"Good," Grey said calmly. "I'll explain exactly where you went wrong. But after that, your training intensity will increase by one and a half times. Do you still want to hear my explanation?"
The boy took a deep breath.
"If the boss can point out where we made a mistake, we won't object. We are ready to accept punishment… but we want to understand why we are being punished…"
Grey snorted. "Isn't it obvious?"
"I train a team, not individuals! A TEAM! Do you even understand what that means? Yes, you are faster, stronger, more agile. You executed the order perfectly. But in doing so, you completely forgot about your comrades. You abandoned your brothers for the sake of reward."
"I train a team, not individuals! A TEAM! Do you even understand what that means? Yes, you are faster, stronger, more agile. You executed the order perfectly. But in doing so, you completely forgot about your comrades. You abandoned your brothers for the sake of reward."
"Do you even remember where you are? This is Thorn's Tabernacles! There are beasts everywhere. What if a monster had attacked those who were falling behind? Could they have defended themselves in such a weakened state? You knew they were already at their limit—and you didn't even consider helping them."
"And after that, you want me to praise you? You want a reward?"
Grey's voice turned sharper.
"If this were an actual battlefield, you would have been hanged for this behavior. Without trial or judgment."
"Do you understand your crimes now? Or does someone still think they were treated unfairly? Do you truly believe you are innocent?!"
By the end of his speech, Grey's face had flushed with rage. He stared at the teenagers with such fury in his eyes that it looked as if he was ready to tear them apart on the spot.
The teenagers were stunned. Cold sweat ran down their backs. They stood with their heads lowered, overwhelmed by guilt and remorse.
These were elementary things—so obvious that no one even thought about them. And yet they had completely ignored them. In their blind pursuit of results, they had forgotten not only about comradeship, but also about their own safety.
The boy who had previously dared to object suddenly dropped to his knees.
"Lord Grey, reporting. We made a mistake. We fully admit our fault and believe we deserve a far harsher punishment. We have no complaints."
"Hmph," Grey snorted.
"Stand up. Since this is your first mistake, I won't be too strict. We'll limit it to a light punishment."
He looked at everyone else.
"Your actions today greatly disappointed me. Haven't you already gone through life and death together? Aren't you all comrades and brothers-in-arms here? On the battlefield, you will rely on each other. Your brothers will cover your backs… But what did you do?"
"The last three carried three girls on their shoulders, and you completely ignored them! You left them in their weakest condition. I want to ask you—where is your conscience? Where is your brotherhood? If they had died in the forest from exhaustion or beast fangs, how would you have felt then?!"
"Your actions are no different from a disgraceful retreat from the battlefield just to save your own skin! I will not tolerate this ever happening again!"
"Today we were only training. And I want you to engrave this lesson into yourselves. Let it sink deep into your hearts."
"We have stepped onto the path of greatness. We are going to shake this world. Walk across it and leave legends behind! But blind courage and willingness alone are not enough. You are not qualified—and you will never be, if you keep thinking with your asses. Even gods unite into pantheons. So what does that make you?"
"On the battlefield, you must always work as a team and think before you act. Today, you only had your meals reduced. But in a real battle, you would already be cold corpses! Have you forgotten what those cultists did to you? Do you remember why you survived back then? Because you stayed together!"
Grey cursed them so fiercely that no one dared to lift their heads.
They all clearly realized how childish and unacceptable their actions had been. There were no excuses—and arguing was pointless.
"I'll say it again! I need a team! Not individuals! That is exactly why Sunny's actions, staying behind to take care of his sisters, deserve full praise. The same goes for Reus, who delayed himself despite his own interests. Anyone still wants to object?"
They all dropped to their knees at once.
"We are fully convinced!"
Grey's voice became noticeably softer.
"You must remember this: the life of your brother is as important as your own. No matter how strong you become, a well-coordinated team will always be stronger than individuals. If you fail to engrave this into your minds, you will inevitably die—even if one day you manage to become gods."
After finishing his speech, Grey took Aileen and Irene with him and headed back to the kitchen.
The teenagers remained standing there in confusion.
They thought:
'Lord Grey never does anything without reason. Every training session is aimed not only at developing our strength—he is teaching us fundamental principles of life…'
'With such intelligence, foresight, and long-term planning… could it be that the boss is just playing around? He has no need to care about our lives unless he has his own goals. He definitely has great ambitions—even if he is only a cripple.'
'If an army followed principles like these… what would wars look like then? Would battles turn into something trivial?'
'I must listen to Lord Grey's words. He already saved my life once. Who knows when that might happen again…'
After a lunch of chicken eggs and a short break, Grey returned and ordered everyone to take up the horse stance.
A whole series of exercises followed: frog jumps, duck walking, squats and strikes, crawling on their bellies. He applied, without hesitation, every training method he knew from his past life.
Sometimes Grey joined the teenagers, performing the exercises alongside them. At other times, he slowly walked between the rows with a switch in his hand, imitating strict military instructors.
He had become far harsher.
The moment someone made a mistake in execution, the switch came down mercilessly on their back. The strikes were sharp, precise, and cold.
Yet no one complained.
Because Grey did not fall silent for even a moment. He strictly followed the principles of propaganda, repeating the same worn-out formulas over and over again, mixing them with harsh indoctrination.
"Only hard work will make you stronger!"
"Strict discipline and obedience are the key to future success."
"A warrior without goals, honor, and loyalty is nothing but trash."
"Do the exercises properly! Every drop of sweat shed in training is blood saved on the battlefield!"
Even as the switch sliced through the air again and again, the teenagers did not dare make a sound. All their thoughts were focused on movement and the pain in their muscles, while the last remaining cells of their minds desperately tried to absorb the principles Grey hammered into them like a broken record.