The morning sun had barely crested the horizon when the courtyard erupted with motion. The 28-man squad moved in unison, swords, spears, and mana threads at the ready. Alex and I stood on the raised platform overlooking them, eyes scanning every movement. Today, the focus was formation drills — the backbone of battlefield survival.
"Line up in the standard phalanx!" I commanded. Spears forward, shields raised. The men snapped into position with precision, though a few younger recruits fumbled slightly with spacing. Alex moved along the flank, subtly adjusting the mana shields of spatial users, making sure gaps were minimal.
"Distance between ranks is critical," I said. "Too close, and you're vulnerable to area attacks. Too far, and the enemy can pick you off one by one. Keep your spacing, maintain alignment, and anticipate your teammate's movement."
I raised my hand, and the first drill began. A wave of simulated beasts — holographic mana constructs in the shape of basic-tier wolves — surged toward the formation. The squad moved as one, spears stabbing forward, shields locking together. The wolves were fast, agile, and relentless, but the coordination of the soldiers created an almost impenetrable wall.
"Excellent!" Alex shouted, bending space slightly to make a wolf misstep, sending it crashing into its own kind. The recruits watched in awe as he demonstrated spatial manipulation in real time.
I walked along the line, correcting stance, adjusting angles, and guiding soldiers to focus their mana strikes more efficiently. "Hao, your timing is off by a fraction. Lead with your thrust, don't wait for the beast to attack first. Ming Lei, your shield angle — tilt it two degrees left to deflect diagonal strikes."
The squad absorbed the corrections quickly. By the third repetition, the line moved almost flawlessly, spears and shields acting as extensions of the brothers' own bodies. The wolves' holograms were shredded before they even reached the first rank.
Next, we tested flanking maneuvers. I split the squad in half, sending one unit to lure the enemy while the other circled behind. Alex and I coordinated, using fire and spatial distortion to enhance the effect. The soldiers hesitated initially, some faltering under the stress, but we adjusted on the fly.
"Don't think too much — feel the movement," Alex instructed. "React as if it's instinct, trust your squadmates."
The simulated beasts advanced again, and this time, the flanking unit moved perfectly into position. Spears drove through, spatial threads twisted the battlefield, and the squad executed a textbook encirclement. Even the strongest holographic wolf constructs were caught off guard, faltering before they could react.
After a brief pause to catch breath, I called the squad together. "Coordination alone isn't enough. You must also anticipate. Every battlefield is fluid. Enemy movement, terrain, your allies' capabilities — all of it changes in an instant. Those who can't adapt die first."
Alex stepped forward. "Spatial mana isn't just about teleportation or offense. Watch your positioning, conserve energy, control the battlefield. You don't have to strike every blow — just make every strike count."
We ran several more drills, gradually increasing the difficulty. Spear formations, overlapping shields, combined fire and spatial attacks, retreat-and-advance simulations — every scenario challenged them physically and mentally.
By midday, sweat poured from every recruit, clothes torn, muscles screaming. But the results were evident: movements were sharper, attacks synchronized, and even the hesitant younger soldiers moved with a surprising level of confidence.
"Good," I said, stepping down from the platform. "Now, we simulate an ambush scenario."
A single line of recruits advanced toward a fake forest edge while Alex and I unleashed a barrage of illusionary intermediate-tier beasts. Wolves, leopards, and thunder boars surged unpredictably. The squad froze for a fraction — then fell into rhythm, reacting fluidly as if they had fought together for years. Spatial users bent the battlefield to protect weaker ranks, fire users flanked with controlled bursts, and spearmen moved with perfect cohesion.
Even I was impressed. Alex whispered, "They're learning faster than I expected."
"Good," I replied, scanning for weaknesses. "But remember — real beasts won't wait. Mistakes will be punished."
The drills continued into the late afternoon, muscles burning, mana pools strained. By evening, we gathered the squad once more, letting them rest while observing the compound from the balcony. Lanterns lit the courtyard, casting long shadows as workers cleaned and repaired training equipment.
Alex leaned against the railing. "Tomorrow, we take them to the forest. Real beasts. Basic tier at first, but we'll push their limits. Today was about foundation; tomorrow is survival."
I nodded. "And every mistake they make out there could cost them. Every success will build their confidence. We're not just training soldiers — we're shaping warriors."
Below, the men chatted quietly, some joking, some reviewing drills in their minds. A year ago, they would have panicked under these circumstances. Now, under our guidance, they were beginning to understand the discipline, the precision, and the trust required to survive and thrive.
And above all, they were learning to follow — and to fight alongside — the Vardar brothers.