The sun emerges from the horizon, casting an intense wave of heat upon everything in its path. The sun's fiery orange rays bathe every surrounding, creating an oppressive atmosphere that melts the sturdiest spines. As the sunlight climbs higher, the air becomes thick with heat.

     Oliver, in his proper and usual uniform, pushes a double door open, and it immediately closes as Oliver steps out to the field. His white boots sink into the warm, dusty brown dirt reminiscent of a desert canyon. Observing fellow men dressed in similar attire, Oliver gazes at them as they march to his left.

     Clashes of swords catch Oliver's attention. He looks to his right and sees a dozen pairs of men battling in white uniforms and black masks. As Oliver proceeds, he glances at his left side, where he spots a line of men squatting with enormous dumbbells on their backs.

     Soon, Oliver arrives at the centre of the training grounds. There, he meets countless trainees standing. Taking a moment to steady himself, he takes a deep breath with his chin held high. With an imposing glare, he sweeps his intense gaze from left to right, glancing at the men in line before him.

"Good morning, soldiers," Oliver greeted with a warm smile and a sharp glare. "Today, as the corporal and the Defender of Asbranne, it falls upon me to oversee your training regimen to assess your readiness. I expect each of you not to falter, for I hold high expectations."

     A montage begins, capturing the rigorous training session. The trainees tirelessly sprint around the training field, racing with each other. Meanwhile, Oliver observes, sitting on a chair with his eyes fixed on their every move.

     Later, the trainees skillfully handle their rifles, aiming at a target set. Oliver steps forward and stands behind the men. A resounding blast fills the air as the bullet pierces through the air. Oliver squints, locking his eyes on the target set.

     Oliver smiles, seeing the bullet piercing the red circle in the centre of the target set. Sighing faintly, he proceeds to the next soldier in line. Oliver's discerning eyes immediately see the trainee's uncontrollable, quivering hands. Even before the shot is fired, he knows the outcome.

     Disappointment paints on Oliver's face. He sees the bullet finding its place in the blue area of the target set. Shaking his head, Oliver moves on to the next soldier.

     Oliver looks at the trainee sweating intensely. Oliver snatches a napkin from his back. Then, he wipes the sweat off the man's forehead.

     Oliver then paces backwards with his arms on his back as he watches the training soldier shoot at the target. The thunderous boom resonates through the sky, and Oliver's eyes follow the shot. Oliver smiles as he claps faintly, applauding the trainee.

     Returning to the centre of the training grounds, Oliver stands tall like an unmoving statue amidst the running trainees. Oliver observes how fast the men have been. But, something has his brows furrowed. He spots a sluggish trainee falling behind the sprinting men as he hastily walks amongst the group.

     Oliver brings his thumb and index finger to his mouth. Then, he whistles. The sluggish trainee immediately halts and looks at him as Oliver approaches the man.

"Sir, you are ordered to run... to 'run'! Not to engage in a swift stroll," Oliver asserted. "As your corporal, I must assess the squad's readiness for an impending battle. However, I found no need for extensive investigation, as your lackadaisical walk stood out amidst the efforts of your fellow trainees."

"Apologies, sir! I—" the sluggish trainee uttered, but Oliver cut off his words.

"Follow me," Oliver requested as he turned around and strode away.

     Oliver enters the base as the sluggish trainee trails on his back. Stepping towards an armoury cabinet, Oliver grabs the handle and swings open its doors, revealing firearms inside. Oliver digs his hands inside and grabs a rifle.

     Turning around, Oliver throws the rifle at the sluggish trainee. He observes with frustration as the man fails to catch the incoming weapon, watching it fall and tumble. Oliver sighs as he places his palm on his forehead.

     Oliver turns around and grabs another rifle for himself. Then, he closes the armoury cabinet and walks out of the room. Hearing no trailing footsteps, Oliver stops in the hallway and looks at the sluggish trainee through the doorway, motionless and still.

"Are you coming?" Oliver asked.

     The sluggish trainee panics as he hurries towards the Remaining Podeshire, catching up with his pace. They then walk down a corridor, and as they turn to the left, they pass through a door and reach the scorching training ground. The two men step down the stairs and walk further into the area.

"Halt," Oliver commanded as he stopped. He then turned around and faced the sluggish trainee. "As a consequence of your indolence, I challenge you to a duel."

"A duel, sir!? Is that not excessive!? I have no desire to meet my demise, nor do I wish harm upon our Defender!" the sluggish trainee stammered.

"A duel practice," Oliver clarified, clearing his throat. "We shall only engage in a simulated duel, merely pretending to shoot at each other. Also, check your gun."

The sluggish trainee swiftly opened and examined the rifle's chamber, realizing no bullet was loaded. "Oh," he mumbled.

"This rifle is unloaded. In a true war scenario, if you were to handle a weapon without properly checking its ammunition, you might as well lose your life," Oliver admonished, slightly scoffing.

     The two men spin on their heels, facing away from each other. Then, they march away from each other, striding towards the opposite direction. Another step follows, and they continue to walk in opposite directions. Slowly, they find themselves mere yards apart.

     The sluggish trainee's hands tremble in fear. Terrified, he closes his eyes shut as he hurryingly turns around. He rushes and aims the rifle at the Remaining Podeshire.

     Suddenly, Gregory rapidly appears on the scene, and his top hat almost falls off his head. He grabs the rifle's barrel and pulls it down. Gregory groans as he tries shaking the gun off the sluggish trainee's hands.

"Ah!" the sluggish trainee yelped frantically.

     Hearing the trainee's yelp, Oliver swiftly turns around. His eyes widen as his hands lose grip, dropping his rifle. Gasping loudly, Oliver places his hands before his gaping mouth.

"Greg!" Oliver yelled.

"Don't worry, Oli! I'm—" Gregory groaned as he struggled to wrest the rifle from the trainee's grasp.

"We're in a duel practice!" Oliver shouted as his heart pounded in horror.

     Gregory's fair, tanned skin turned as pale as snow as he felt his heart sink beneath his stomach. Embarrassed, Gregory gradually released his hands off the rifle's head. Slowly, he stepped back and forced a grin.