Fortunately, the biochemical suit on his body had excellent water absorption and temperature regulation, and it could automatically adjust according to his skin temperature. Just as he started to feel a bit overheated, a wave of coolness spread from the suit, and the perfectly comfortable temperature immediately calmed the now wildly running Henry Brooks. There were still ten laps to go—he couldn’t keep sprinting like this.

Adjusting his pace, he felt much better. Henry Brooks put his head down and started running. Right now, his mind was a complete mess, impossible to sort out, so he simply stopped thinking and used running as a way to vent his frustration.

First lap...

No feeling at all!

Second lap...

Why is this lap so big? Each lap is over a thousand meters. Seriously? If he had to run ten laps, wouldn’t that be ten thousand meters? Oh god! If he’d known he’d have to run ten thousand meters on the first day of joining the army, he wouldn’t have signed up.

No matter what, he had to stick it out. He was already a soldier; if the officer ordered him to run, then he had to run!

Third lap...

What’s this distance? Back when he was hunting, he’d run distances several times longer than this—this was nothing!

Suddenly, such a thought popped into his head, and Henry Brooks startled himself. Hunting? Had he ever hunted before? Where did that idea come from? Still, the word “hunting” felt so familiar.

It seemed like he always used to sprint like crazy when running, never had the comfort of a biochemical suit to help. The temperature rising on his skin from running was quickly balanced by the suit, making it very comfortable. If he’d had something like this while hunting, how could he have gotten so tired?

Fourth lap...

Hmm, his lungs were getting more and more uncomfortable, even his breathing was a bit off. If this kept up, his lungs would burst. There was a button here—if his body really couldn’t take it anymore, he could press it and a military doctor would come for emergency treatment. Should he press it?

No, he’d only run a little so far—how could he give up now? Where was his former bravado? Bravado? Had he ever been brave? When? Confused!

All sorts of strange things kept popping into his head, and thinking about them carefully was kind of scary. Some of them didn’t even seem like human thoughts—could he have been a beast before? What a joke, better not think about it.

Fifth lap...

Turns out it was pretty easy, as long as he didn’t think about how hard running was, he could run quite comfortably. Still, he had to keep running—after this lap, he’d be halfway done. If people could live like pigs, wouldn’t that be great!

Hmm, pigs—seemed like he’d been one before! No way, how could he have been a pig? Thinking about it, pigs didn’t seem to have it so good either! Even though it looked like all they did was eat and sleep, what they ate wasn’t what they liked, but the nutritional feed humans gave them; where they slept wasn’t where they wanted, but pigsties arranged for easy management. Every day was just muddling through, waiting to die—not comfortable at all.

Sixth lap...

Hmm, halfway done already, it would be over soon, not so hard after all. Breathing was easier, his legs felt light, no need to press that button. If only he could fly now, that would be great—with such a short distance, a few flaps and he’d be there.

Fly? It seemed like he’d been able to fly before. So high up, and everything on the ground was still so clear. There was a mouse over there—delicious! Ugh, how could he think of something so disgusting, how could anyone eat a mouse! Oh god, what was wrong with him? Schizophrenia? Ptooey, ptooey, ptooey!

After spitting a few times, his breathing suddenly went out of rhythm. His lungs started burning again, and his legs didn’t feel so light anymore. Run! He had to keep running!

Chapter One: Awakening from a Great Dream (Part 2)

Finally, the seventh lap...

He seemed to have reached his limit; his lungs no longer felt like his own, and the military boots that had felt so comfortable and light now couldn’t be lifted. Every step felt like lifting weights—exhausting. But as long as he pushed through, it would become mechanical, like a piece of wood.

But wood didn’t move mechanically, did it? Oh god, had he been wood before? In Henry Brooks’s mind flashed an image of a big tree with a human face, sending a chill through his heart.

Still, being a tree seemed pretty carefree. Even though you couldn’t move, you didn’t have to run around every day looking for food. As long as you took root in a good spot, you’d have food and drink for life. Breathing leisurely, it was very comfortable.

He wondered if he could use that kind of breathing himself?

Phew, the eighth lap...

He’d already passed his limit, and now his whole body felt much lighter. It was really strange—weren’t there already interstellar warships? Why did they still have to go through such grueling training? Anywhere they needed to go, a small transport ship could carry a whole load of weapons, equipment, and people to the destination—why still practice running like this? He really didn’t understand what those big shots in the military were thinking.

Sigh, he really didn’t want to run. That damn Instructor Hack, so fierce on the very first day—life was going to be tough from now on. Now, as he ran, he could feel Instructor Hack’s occasional glances from behind, making him really uncomfortable.

Hmm? How did he know he was being watched? He hadn’t looked that way. Whatever, that gaze was really unsettling, like a wild beast staring at him. Why did he feel that way? It seemed like he’d experienced it before, but he couldn’t remember. Still, he must have had a similar experience, or he wouldn’t be so sensitive. And, he absolutely couldn’t let him catch up!