The Patrian Fortress did not merely sit upon the earth; it felt as though it were carved from the very bones of the continent.
It stood as the iron lock on the gates of the Eternal Kingdom, a jagged defiance against the horizon.
For centuries, the Gauss Kingdom had looked upon these lands with avarice, yet their legions always ground to a halt before these walls.
The reason was twofold. First, there was Earl Ashur. One of the ten Great Magicians of the West, Ashur was a living catastrophe.
A single incantation from him could turn a battalion into ash or bury an advance under a localized earthquake.
But a fortress cannot be held by one man alone, no matter how potent his mana. The true backbone of Patrian lay in its soldiers—Ashur's personal retinue and the knights who had mastered the rare art of magical synergy.
They were chameleons of the battlefield, adapting to spells as easily as they did to steel.
To a high-level player from the Saharan Empire, Patrian might look like a second-rate border post. But to Arthur, standing at the foot of the massive stone barracks, it was the perfect laboratory.
The 'Reserved Soldier Training' quest, Arthur thought, his eyes scanning the UI map that hovered in his peripheral vision. In the original novel, players treated this like a plague.
'Low EXP,' they said. 'Too much manual labor,' they complained. Idiots. They didn't realize that in a hyper-realistic VRMMORPG like Satisfy, 'effort' is a hidden stat multiplier.
Arthur wasn't here for the meager silver or the basic "Soldier" title. He was here for the record-breaking rewards—the kind that required a level of discipline most gamers, pampered by auto-pathing and instant-gratification loops, simply didn't possess.
"Attention! You useless, curdled-milk-brained bastards!"
The roar shattered the morning mist. A man built like a brick kiln, clad in scarred plate armor, stomped toward the line of shivering commoners.
This was Instructor Kesle. His face was a map of old campaigns, and his eyes held the weary cynicism of a man who had seen too many "heroes" die in the mud.
"I am here to teach you the basics of holding a spear without stabbing your own toes! There is only one reason you exist: to repay Earl Ashur's grace by being his meat shields! If a Gauss arrow is flying toward the Earl, you don't blink! You don't breathe! You catch it with your damn teeth! Do you understand?!"
The commoners, mostly farmers and desperate laborers looking for a steady meal, recoiled. They were paralyzed by the sheer weight of Kesle's Intimidation aura.
But Arthur didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. Before the echo of Kesle's shout had died, Arthur's heels clicked together with a sharp, metallic crack.
"SIR, YES SIR!"
The shout was thunderous, delivered from the diaphragm with the practiced ease of someone who had spent eighteen months in the South Korean military.
Arthur moved with a sharp, robotic precision, snapping into a perfect "At Attention" stance. His back was a rod of iron; his eyes were fixed on the horizon, ignoring the instructor's face as per proper military protocol.
The other recruits, startled by Arthur's sudden explosion of movement, scrambled to imitate him. It was a messy, stumbling affair, but Arthur had set the rhythm.
Kesle paused. He walked over to Arthur, his heavy boots crunching on the gravel. He circled the young man like a shark eyeing a peculiar new reef.
'This one... Kesle thought, his brow furrowing. He was the last to enlist. He missed the orientation. Yet his posture is more refined than the Earl's personal guard. And those eyes...'
Kesle had seen many eyes. Most recruits had the eyes of sheep. Knights had the eyes of wolves.
But Arthur? Arthur had the eyes of a man who had already stood on the edge of the world and decided he wasn't impressed.
There was a quiet dignity there—a "unwavering posture" that suggested he wasn't just following orders, but mastering them.
"March!" Kesle bellowed, though his voice lacked its previous edge of disgust.
For thirty minutes, they marched. Under the scorching sun, the commoners began to flag. Their "Stamina" bars were likely flashing red, their movements becoming sluggish.
Arthur, however, utilized Rhythmic Breathing. By syncing his breath to his footfalls, he minimized the stamina drain—a trick he had learned not from a manual, but from the grueling hills of Gangwon Province.
"Next test: Camp Building!" Kesle announced as they reached the rugged slopes of the mountain behind the barracks.
"In the hunting grounds, the environment is your first enemy. A soldier who cannot hide is just a target. Build your shelters! Use the terrain! Show me you have more than rocks between your ears!"
The recruits panicked. They began digging frantically in the softest dirt they could find, piling up loose earth that would wash away in a light drizzle.
Arthur surveyed the area. He didn't head for the open clearings. Instead, he moved toward a cramped, difficult outcrop where two ancient trees grew close together, their roots entwined and covered in a thick curtain of thorny vines and low-hanging bushes.
"Look at that fool," one recruit whispered, wiping sweat from his brow. "He's trying to dig into the roots. He'll break his shovel before he makes a dent."
The junior instructors chuckled, but Kesle remained silent. He watched as Arthur didn't just "dig." He used a small hand-axe to clear away the thorns strategically, weaving the vines into a natural lattice. He dug into the slope at an angle, creating a drainage trench that would keep the sleeping area dry.
He's not just making a hole, Kesle realized, his eyes widening. He's creating a blind. From the path below, that camp is invisible.
But from inside, he has a clear line of sight to the valley. It's a scout's nest. And those trees... they provide natural overhead cover against plunging fire or rain.
Arthur's movements were hypnotic. He wasn't rushing. Every strike was calculated. With his current stats, he was technically "weak" by game standards, but his efficiency was 100%.
In Satisfy, if you perform an action with perfect form, the system compensates for low stats by reducing the "Effort Cost."
In five minutes, Arthur stepped back. While others were still wrestling with mud, Arthur had a reinforced, camouflaged, and tactically sound dugout.
"Finished, sir," Arthur said calmly.
The silence that followed was heavy. The instructors exchanged looks. Is he a genius? was the silent question hanging in the air. Arthur ignored the stares. He sat cross-legged in the shade of his new shelter and entered a state of meditation.
In most RPGs, sitting down does nothing but pass time. In Satisfy, meditation increased the rate of "Hidden Stat" discovery.
By staying calm under the pressure of the test, Arthur was subtly chipping away at the requirements for the Composure and Willpower stats.
By the time the group returned to the barracks, the power dynamic had shifted. The 712th Reserve Unit didn't look at Kesle for guidance; they looked at Arthur.
When Arthur barked "Attention!" to form the line, they snapped to it out of genuine respect rather than fear.
After the formal report, Arthur didn't head for the mess hall. He approached Kesle, his salute crisp.
"Sir! Cadet Arthur requesting permission to proceed immediately to the Weapon Exams. I believe my momentum is best utilized now, rather than after a period of stagnation."
Kesle looked at the boy. Normally, he'd kick a recruit for such arrogance. But Arthur wasn't being arrogant; he was being logical. He was a weapon that didn't want to get cold.
"The boys are tired, Arthur. You should be too," Kesle said, testing him.
"Fatigue is a state of mind, sir. The enemy won't wait for us to nap."
Kesle let out a short, barking laugh. "Fine. If you want to break yourself, I won't stop you. Guards! Prep the scarecrows! The Spear Exam begins now!"
The weapon exam was a classic "Satisfy" skill check. Three types of magic-imbued dots would flicker across a reinforced training dummy.
* Blue: Friendly/Ally (Deduction)
* Red: Standard Vital (5 Points)
* Green: Critical/Weak Point (10 Points)
Passing required 50 points. A "High Score" was usually 150.
Arthur picked up a standard-issue training spear. He felt its weight, the balance point, the grain of the wood. It was a mediocre tool, but in his hands, it felt dangerous.
"Sir Kesle?" Arthur asked, a slight, sharp glint in his eye. "Is it a problem if I accidentally damage the equipment? These scarecrows... they look a bit flimsy."
The surrounding soldiers burst into laughter. These were "Iron-Thread Scarecrows," enchanted to withstand the blows of even mid-tier knights.
Kesle smirked. "Cadet, if you can leave a scratch on that thing, I'll personally buy you the best ale in Patrian. Proceed."
Arthur took a breath. The world slowed down. This wasn't just a game to him; it was a reclamation of everything he had learned.
Start.
The first green dot flashed on the "throat" of the dummy.
Whoosh!
The spear didn't just poke; it sang. Arthur's entire body coiled and uncoiled like a spring. The tip of the spear hit the green dot with such force that the entire heavy wooden post groaned.
Point: 10.
Point: 20.
Point: 30.
He wasn't just hitting the dots. He was hitting them with Perfect Timing and Power Strike modifiers.
The green dots began to appear faster, fluttering across the dummy's chest, head, and limbs. Arthur became a whirlwind of ash-wood and steel. He moved with a flow that bypassed the "clunkiness" of low-level combat.
Crack!
On the final green dot—a tiny speck on the dummy's "heart"—Arthur didn't just thrust. He stepped into it, putting his entire weight and the momentum of a 360-degree spin into the strike.
The spear tip didn't just hit the dot; it punched through the iron-thread casing. The reinforced wood core of the scarecrow shattered with the sound of a pistol shot. Wood splinters flew into the air like shrapnel.
The timer hit zero.
[Quest Update: Reserved Soldier Training]
[Current Score: 280]
[New Record Established in Patrian Barracks!]
Arthur pulled the spear back, the tip now blunted and smoking from the friction. He turned to Kesle, whose jaw was practically touching his chest.
"My apologies, sir," Arthur said, his voice steady despite the sweat rolling down his face. "I'll pay for the repairs once I receive my stipend."
Kesle looked at the ruined, expensive training dummy, then back at the "commoner" standing before him. He realized then that he wasn't looking at a cadet.
He was looking at someone who was going to turn the hierarchy of the Eternal Kingdom upside down.