The arm, with its thick fingers, rudely pointed toward the even larger training field: “Private Henry Brooks, fully armed, run ten laps around the field!”

Same old trick—Henry Brooks wasn’t afraid at all. His backpack was already on; he just needed to pick up the gun model from the ground. Under the sympathetic gazes of his comrades, he began his laps, feeling increasingly irritated.

Wearing the backpack was inconvenient. Fortunately, today’s military backpacks all came equipped with adaptive balance systems, which quickly adjusted the straps and shifted the center of gravity, making things much more comfortable.

This field was huge—one lap was at least two thousand meters. Carrying so much gear was still exhausting. Before he knew it, his breathing had grown rapid.

It was just too tiring—compared to basic training, this was on a whole different level. Sure enough, it was the extra dozens of kilos of equipment that made it so grueling. He really missed those days back at basic training camp.

At some point, those tongue-twisting phrases he’d memorized during his soul’s imprisonment quietly surfaced in his mind. With his memories of his past life restored, Henry Brooks’s body began to undergo some mysterious changes under the influence of these deeply ingrained recollections.

Chapter Four: Nightmare in the Barracks (Part 1)

In the distant training room, several medical officers were watching the hulking figure on the track from afar, occasionally muttering in low voices.

“Look, look, that guy who claims he can’t be run to death has started running. Incredible! Double gravity, fully armed with thirty kilos, and he can still keep up his original speed. Impressive!”

“What’s so impressive? He’s not much faster even when he throws all that stuff off.”

“Why don’t you try running it yourself?”

“I heard this guy just has freakish stamina, but in every other way he’s a total mess! Basic military moves have to be explained to him over and over before he gets it. Today’s just the first day of intermediate training, and he’s already being punished with extra laps.”

“No way, someone that strong can really be that clumsy?”

“Can’t help it, he’s just not that bright!”

Oblivious to the fact that he was being treated as a topic for coffee break gossip, Henry Brooks kept his head down and ran doggedly at a steady pace.

He didn’t know why, but it felt like he’d hit his limit early—he was exhausted! Still, as long as he pushed through, he’d be fine. Henry Brooks was already experienced in this: just keep going.

Strange—why did that bizarre, tongue-twisting passage pop into his head? Never mind, just keep running.

This relentless, almost crazed running seemed to be when Henry Brooks felt most at ease. Countless scenes from his previous life flashed through his mind, each one oddly entertaining. Many of these experiences could be applied to his basic movements, making the monotonous running easier and easier.

This time, it was a full twenty kilometers. With thirty kilos of gear, Henry Brooks finally made it to the finish line.

It seemed the medics had already learned everyone’s physical condition from the recruits’ records. This time, the two military doctors who came out didn’t say a word—they just tossed him a bottle of nutrient solution and went straight back to rest. Outrageous! At least the previous two would shove it into his mouth; these two were just irresponsible.

Cursing them silently, Henry Brooks nevertheless gulped down the nutrient solution. Seeing no one around, he casually tossed the empty bottle behind him and hurried back to the squad.

“You! Yes, you, Private!” Suddenly a voice called from behind. Henry Brooks stopped, turned around, but saw no one. Just as he was about to leave, the voice sounded again: “You! Don’t go, I mean you!”

Pointing at himself to confirm, Henry Brooks cluelessly walked back to where he’d been, looking around—no one in sight!

“Pick up the nutrient solution bottle you threw away. That’s an order!” The voice seemed to come from a wall not far away. No need to ask—there must be plenty of hidden cameras here, and he’d just been caught.

Not daring to slack off, he hurried over to pick up the bottle. For a moment, Henry Brooks didn’t know where to throw it—before, the medics would always take it back themselves, but this time they’d just tossed it to him and left. Henry Brooks had no idea what to do with it. Better just stuff it in his backpack for now!

“These are the firearms we’ll be using in this training!” When Henry Brooks returned to the squad, he arrived just in time to hear Instructor Hack say this. Instantly energized, Henry Brooks felt a surge of strength. Time to receive their weapons—he was thrilled.

Once in formation, Henry Brooks widened his eyes, staring intently at Instructor Hack. What kind of firearms would they use? What rules and precautions were there? He had to know all of this. From what Henry Brooks knew of Instructor Hack, he never repeated himself. If someone really had a bad memory, he had at least five or six ways to make sure you remembered on the spot.

Of course, for the often absent-minded Henry Brooks, there were some exceptions. At the very least, all the running hadn’t helped him remember not to zone out during training. Still, Henry Brooks’s running had a positive effect on the others in training—aside from him, hardly anyone else in the squad made mistakes. This was one of the reasons Instructor Hack was so pleased.

“The weapon you’ll be using in training is the standard infantry-issue Strong Crossbow-2 semi-automatic energy assault rifle.” As soon as Instructor Hack finished speaking, a wave of disappointment rippled through the squad. Henry Brooks was among the disappointed.