The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

The unfortunate truth that became immediately obvious as the recruits set about their current task of building themselves a shelter was that there was a wide disparity in terms of architectural understanding amongst them. Each individual came from a different background; there were thousands of worlds with wildly divergent building styles. Raymund’s world, for example, primarily relied on tents for their dwellings, so he felt rather nonplussed when he was given bamboo as the primary material.

He was somewhat gratified to see that most of his fellow elite recruits were just as miserable as he while they attempted to make for themselves a private space. These people had been groomed from a young age; they had never been asked to make themselves a home.

There were, of course, some exceptions.

After two hours that he spent fruitlessly stacking bamboo, Raymund looked on with several other stunned recruits as Charlotte Wick put the finishing touches on a picturesque bamboo hut. It was only a single room, but that room was large enough for a bed and also came with a working door. Just as she allowed herself the brief respite of settling underneath her perfectly aligned roof and coolly regarding her audience, a wet drop hit Raymund’s face and forced him to look upward.

The gorgeous hanging nebula above the Nexus was completely obscured by a thick layer of water vapor that hung in the air. Their sky was filled with dark grey clouds. With a dull rumble of thunder, it began to rain over the Fifth Cohort Rally Station.

Benjamin Rex, who had selected a spot next to Raymund to set up his dwelling space, frowned upward through the hastening raindrops. “Are there weather patterns on the Rally Stations?”

Raymund just shook his head wordlessly. The cool sensation of rain hitting his fur was surprising, but not unpleasant. His fur was naturally oily enough that most of the moisture slid off of him. As it was, he set aside the seemingly hopeless task of building a home and focused on his garden.

After being shown a box of seeds, Raymund had randomly selected two as the plants for his garden. One seemed to resemble a rather large nut and possessed a thick brown shell. The other was a tiny blue bean. When Raymund had inquired to the assistant overseer watching the box what they were, he had been told that the man ‘was not a gardener’ and that the best way to find out would be just to grow the seeds.

Which was a practical solution, but not one that was reassuring, with the hanging threat of a punishment from the Ghosthound if his garden wasn’t satisfactory. Considering he had absolutely no experience with gardening, Raymund was justifiably worried that he would be the one receiving that punishment.

For the moment, Raymund could only sigh and settle down on his haunches as the rain began to fall harder around him. The precipitation smacked lightly into the dusty areas between the cultivatable land of the gardens and seeped into the ground. But more than the rain in his immediate vicinity, Raymund’s attention was periodically pulled upward by the noise of the rain falling into the bamboo forest. The tall stocks rustled and swayed from the storm. It was a dull, background static that somehow became a part of the task.

This activity is certainly not what I expected from Drill Sergeant Ghosthound… Raymund frowned down at his clawed fingers. Just how intense is the typical training that even a man so stubborn as he was convinced to include this sort of diversion as part of the training regimen…?

But despite the strangeness of the current circumstances, Raymund was surprised to find that gardening was a surprisingly effective way to keep his mind off of how mentally exhausted he was. While he dug small holes in his garden and carefully placed the thick-shelled nut in the holes on the left side of the garden and the blue beans within the holes on the right, the small mundane tasks of cultivation put Raymund’s perception primarily in his body. The humidity in the air, the sound of the rain, the soft grains of the soil between his fingers, the near weightlessness of the seeds…

His senses became the reprieve from his mind. So although every action required constant stimulation from his image in order to move his body, he achieved an equilibrium in his image usage that meant he was no longer constantly exhausting himself as he mimicked normal life.

Once all the seeds were within their holes and covered with soil, Raymund closed his eyes. Even his breathing slowed to near stillness. The rain simply washed over him as he crouched over his small garden. His mind was completely blank. He allowed his image to recede. He was almost a statue, completely devoid of biological needs, a sentry standing watch over the garden. Time slowly slipped past.

His senses grew and grew, becoming everything. For a few moments, he felt relaxed. The pressure of his current circumstances gave him a brief reprieve.

Then, aware that this opportunity would not last forever, Raymund came back to himself. He stood and stretched, still slightly stiff in his movements due to his unfamiliarity with how to use his image in this manner. But he was improving. Then he looked up toward the sky. The rain was clearing up, but it was an appropriate demonstration that a dwelling with a working roof would quite easily improve his quality of life while staying here. So Raymund turned his attention to his house.

No one would ever call him a carpenter, but the squat shack he threw together could honestly be described as ‘practical’.

Around two hours later, Heiffal called for everyone to gather: it was time to begin their training in earnest. Perhaps out of nervousness, one of the other recruits turned in a Tree Coin and another wave of warm energy was released over their group. Feeling refreshed, Raymund paid attention as Heiffal explained their next task.

...and promptly joined the rest of the recruits in grimacing at the pronouncement. They were going to work on improving their base physical abilities.

“Head Drill Instructor Ghosthound places enormous importance on physical capability,” Heiffal was saying. “A strong body supports a strong image. So your first task will be running underneath the influence of a gravity array. A gravity array on top of the suppression array that takes away your Stamina. Those of you who somehow made it this far without developing a passive physical Skill… I hope you saved a free Skill slot. Otherwise, this will be an extremely difficult few hours for you.”

Although in this case, our images are the only reason our bodies are able to move, Raymund thought grumpily. So shouldn’t you say a strong image supports a strong body?

Raymund had a love/hate relationship with physical fitness. On the one hand, he found it profoundly tiresome. Even with the System, there was a limit to how strong you could physically become. Therefore, training with Skills or images was much more fruitful.

On the other hand, Raymund inexplicably was very good at those sorts of physical exercises. Even toward the end, when Techetadore had surpassed him in every other aspect, he could keep up during the daily physical exercises that Techetadore put himself through. For that reason, physical fitness held a special place in Raymund’s heart: it was the activity the two brothers had always done together.

Heiffal led the group of recruits back toward the central area, where an entirely new building had been erected while most of them struggled to cobble together a competent enough shack to keep off the rain. Raymund definitely believed this was done purposefully as a mental prod at the recruits. The suitably chastened recruits then followed Heiffal as he walked jauntily forward into the tall dome that had been erected to the West of the central bell. Yet while Heiffal could continue calmly forward into the interior of the building, the leading recruits collapsed immediately with a strained groan.

Heiffal turned behind him with an expression of surprise on his face, his body perfectly at ease. “Oh? Even this is too much? Well, I guess we won’t even need to turn on the main formation for your first training session. My, my, my. Perhaps you should have been grouped in the failures column.”

Raymund felt a flash of pleasure as he watched the strained figures of those unlucky few who thoughtlessly led the recruits. The grey dog had been one of the first to step across the threshold and collapse. Now it growled and struggled to stand.

Somehow, Raymund felt his legs carrying forward past the hesitating other recruits. In other areas, he perhaps wouldn’t have been so bold. But as long as it was physical fitness… in only that area, he could keep up even with Techet. And sure, the pressure within the room would be more than was comfortable, but Raymund gambled on the fact that half of the initial failure of those recruits was due to surprise. But this was an opportunity he didn’t want to miss.

So Raymund Ballast walked past the threshold, his image bracing for the change. He could hear the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.

Even though he expected it, the change still hit him like a sledgehammer across his back. His vision briefly swam from the impact and he couldn’t help but hunch forward and brace himself. But with a strange vindictiveness that Raymund hadn’t realized was present within his heart, he forced his back straight and raised his chin. Then he did his best to appear nonchalant as he strolled forward.

At the last moment, he glanced to the side, down at the massive grey dog, which continued to struggle upward. Their eyes met. Raymund smirked. Then he looked away; he had more important things to care about.

It felt extremely refreshing to leave a growling mutt on the ground behind him.

Similar to Raymund, most of the other recruits didn’t experience such an embarrassing collapse once they were prepared for the sudden increase in gravity. Eventually, all of the recruits followed Heiffal through to find several massive metal logs that they would be required to carry around the arena twenty times today.

The solid bars of metal were two meters long and half a meter thick. As Raymund considered his bar, he felt like he was an inspect toying with the tool of a giant. For someone his size, and he was one of the tallest of the recruits, it was difficult to manage.

The additional weight of the metal log didn’t mean much, especially at first. The recruits stayed in a relatively tight pack as they jogged around the arena. The bar was heavy, but these were all recruits that were billed to be elites; they had experienced training in the past that had pushed their physical limits. But very quickly, that small additional weight they were forced to haul around began to add up. On some of the recruits around him, Raymund saw more and more sweat dripping down from their brown. Gritting his teeth, Raymund held the rather unwieldy thing above his head as he loped forward, even as his shoulders began to throb in pain.

Congratulations! Your Skill Chosen of the Vulpine Godhead (Ru) has grown to Level 226!

Certainly, the benefits from such training accrue very quickly, Raymund reflected as his increasingly murky and exhausted mind tried to ignore the growing pains in his neck and shoulders. His legs continued to pump as he ran, seeming an independent existence to his fading intelligence. Next to him, Benjamin jogged along while trying to find a grip that kept the relatively larger pillar balanced above his body. Yet… if this is to be the daily schedule…

Congratulations! Your Skill Chosen of the Vulpine Godhead (Ru) has grown to Level 227!

Very quickly, Raymund’s body began to creak in protest from even this brief amount of physical exertion. His capability that had even impressed Techetadore meant nothing here. Somehow, the extended chain of his image flowing through his body and working his completely drained muscles was some of the most agonizing training he had ever engaged in. Because his muscles were completely devoid of Stamina the entire time, each exertion was akin to an exertion that occurred when his musculature was just a single second away from failure.

This training occurred in the ideal, and most painful, circumstances possible. That was why the results were so immediate.

Very quickly, his confused body pulled at the surrounding life energy to try and develop his physical form in a new direction. As such, the Skill Levels came quickly. But after only four steady circuits around the four hundred meter track, Raymund was approaching his limit. Gradually, the speed of his steps began to slow as the weight he was carrying grew greater and greater.

Not that it really mattered. Most of the other recruits were also hitting a similar wall. In fact, he could be relatively proud of the fact that he had lasted longer than most. But Raymund couldn’t help but notice that Benjamin was steadily leaving him behind as he was able to maintain the same pace.

Suddenly, Raymund Ballast felt profoundly alone. His only companion was the sound of his lungs expanding and contracting. His nose twitched as a large drop of sweat fell off of his face.

As his mind became foggier, the metal pillar he carried began to swirl together with the sense of helplessness that had mired Raymund’s heart since Techetadore had disappeared. Obviously, with the people of his world starving, he couldn’t remind idle when his own brother, the youth he practically raised and guided, had vanished into the depths of the Nexus. Yet similarly, he couldn’t escape the sense that he was so far from finding any meaningful information regarding his brother.

Raymund’s legs continued to churn, carrying him forward. Even if he were to perform well in this battle against the Nether, what then? Would that really give Raymund the tools to find out what had happened to his brother?

The constant need to do had kept Raymund moving so far and let him ignore the deep flaws in his methodology. But now, with his high brain function being steadily stripped away by exhausting training that was clearly designed to tear him down, the dark fears of his heart were slowly surfacing. And when he faced them, he just wanted to collapse.

Quit.

A voice seemed to speak directly to Raymund at his most despairing and he almost listened to that voice immediately. But his ears twitched. So he raised his head and did his best to focus his cloudy eyes on the source. Heiffal was standing above a recruit that Raymund didn’t recognize on the other side of the track. Despite the fact that Raymund felt like he was also near his physical limits, he continued forward until he was within earshot of the Overseer.

The recruit was clearly a tiny individual, wearing her wrinkled grey skin like a too-large rain poncho. She was currently struggling to manage to shift the metal pillar off of its body so she could regain her feet once more. What struck Raymund most about this hazy picture was how much the recruit was struggling.

Meanwhile, Heiffal continued to speak. “I’ll let you in on a secret: all individuals possess small choices in their lives. Currently, you can quit or get back up. I recommend you quit. Your body is inept, your image is ungainly and vague, your potential is lackluster, and you don’t have the capacity for the hard decisions that are required from soldiers. So quit.

“Because even if you keep going, your decisions won’t meaningfully change. That’s the problem with small actions- they inevitably lead to the next small action. You can never escape the present. Five seconds from now, you will still have to choose to endure this agonizing training or quit. Ten minutes after that, when you still haven’t finished your required laps, you will face the same choice. And this entire time, the pain of continuing will increase. Nothing will have changed except you’ve forced yourself to endure for longer than you needed to. So quit now.”

The wrinkled woman groaned and collapsed weakly, unable to shift the metal pillar from on top of her. Seeing the treant finally cease struggling, Raymund’s feet slowed. He wondered if she had suffocated beneath that pillar. When he arrived at the fallen recruit being largely avoided by the other exhausted recruits, Raymund paused and set his pillar down. He knew that it would be so easy to quit at the moment.

His body felt light. The right side of his neck, where he had rested the pillar for his first few circuits, tingled.

Yet his body reached down to help lift the pillar off of the fallen recruit. This new variety of exertion caused different muscles to protest, leading to Raymund’s assistance being much less helpful than he had planned. But his mind was so exhausted he could think of no plan but continuing to strain himself lifting one end of the metal pillar.

Then another recruit stopped. A red-skinned woman with no mouth but six eyes set down her own pillar and lifted the other end. Together, they rolled the pillar off of the short and wrinkled recruit.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Overseer Heiffal shrugged. Raymund nodded at the woman and then heaved his own pillar back onto his shoulder. While it was sitting on the ground, the thing seemed to have doubled in weight. At the last moment, he realized he should switch it to the other side of his neck.

But it was too late. The pillar had come to rest and Raymund’s trembling arms would hear nothing of shifting the pillar when it was already so securely settled. So Raymund could only sigh and continue to run.

Congratulations! Your Skill Chosen of the Vulpine Godhead (Ru) has grown to Level 228!

…

Congratulations! Your Skill Chosen of the Vulpine Godhead (Ru) has grown to Level 261!

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