Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

After being driven away from the tent and dressed, they arrived at a wide training ground where their basic skills and abilities would be tested, and only the best would have the opportunity to win that honor.

…………

"Bariscal's Torridon is unqualified!"

With the officer's cold declaration, a disheveled young man scrambled to his feet. He had just exerted all his strength to lift the stone ball from the ground, only to lose his footing and fall flat on his face. The only saving grace was that the large stone had been restrained by a nearby soldier, preventing it from breaking his leg.

He was about to leave dejectedly when he suddenly felt dizzy. He reached up and touched his nose, only to find that it was bleeding from it...

He haphazardly reached out and wiped it a few times, but the more he wiped, the more it flowed, and he couldn't get it clean no matter what he did. Just as he was starting to panic, he heard the officer next to him calling him, so he quickly turned around to look at him.

"You used too much force, go over there and rest for a bit."

He then noticed two large tents next to the training ground, where many dejected young people like himself were resting.

This opportunity was truly rare, and everyone gave it their all. However, some people, like him, overestimated their limits and even caused their eyes to become bloodshot. They were so exhausted that they couldn't move, which is why they had to rest there.

The young man walked towards the tent somewhat awkwardly, only then realizing that his legs had completely lost their strength and were trembling in waves.

The next candidate stepped forward, and it was the simple and honest Baria. He stood in front of the heavy stone ball, and after being given permission, he bent down and reached out to find a point of leverage where he could exert force effectively.

Just by reaching out and touching it, he understood why it seemed so difficult for many people before... There was absolutely nothing to grip on this smooth stone ball; he could only rely on his own strength and endurance to drag it up and place it on the curved base in front of him.

Baria gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, lowered his center of gravity, and used the strength of his legs and waist to lift the heavy rock in front of him, just like when he helped his father carry goods.

His arms were pulled down by the enormous weight, and the terrifying force made him clench his teeth instantly, straining his waist and shoulder muscles with all his might to slowly straighten his legs.

This is a strong young man. This step is relatively easy, but the next step is to place the stone ball on the chest-high base. He will have to lift it up with his own arms to do so, which is the most difficult part.

Most of the previous challenge failures also ended up exhausting themselves at this stage.

This step requires unwavering determination; if one's mind relaxes, one's hands will go weak... Baria knew this very well. He took a final breath, then roared, putting all his strength into his shoulders and forcefully pushing the stone ball upwards.

With a dull thud, the massive, round stone sphere landed firmly on its base, and a serene, heavenly sound emanated from the side:

"You've passed. Now move to the right."

The young people smiled from the bottom of their hearts, their steps light and quick as they chased after their companions.

This assessment was incredibly rigorous. Aside from the initial basic physical examination, failing even two of the other tests would result in immediate elimination, forfeiting this precious opportunity.

As far as he knew, half of his companions who came from the village had already been eliminated... He wondered how many would actually make it through tonight...

Caledo finished before him; although he was less strong, he barely made it through. The next test would be endurance…

…………

Donning the full heavy armor of an elite legion soldier, and carrying a considerable amount of supplies on their backs, they had to run laps around the huge training ground, completing the prescribed number of laps to pass.

It didn't sound too difficult, but once these young men started running, they began to complain endlessly.

Although it was already the cool autumn season, the sun's temperature was still considerable. Add to that the heavy armor, and the burden of carrying weapons and supplies... after just one or two laps, some were already panting and sweating profusely.

Accompanied by the rustling sound of the armor plates, the three young men had no time to feel the joy of their fine and heavy armor before they were already overwhelmed by the heavy burden.

This was entirely to select the most outstanding individuals from among them, because even the legionary soldiers nearby were only wearing light chainmail in such weather...

On the 7th lap, Caledo, who was in slightly worse shape, suddenly collapsed to the ground. The other two stopped and tried to help him up.

But by now, they were exhausted. When they bent over, they found their legs were weak and their lungs felt like they were on fire, constantly convulsing. If they stopped for even a moment, they would be unable to move. A deep longing made them want to lie on the ground and gasp for breath.

Caledo's face had turned pale, and sweat soaked through his jacket and hair, making his hair stick tightly to his forehead. He looked like he might faint at any moment, but he still gritted his teeth and tried to get up from the ground.

The other two had no intention of giving up on him either. The three of them pulled and tugged at each other, stumbling and struggling, until they finally stood up straight and embarked on this final journey once again.

It felt like they were inhaling boiling water, not air. Each breath made their lungs feel like they were being cut by a knife, and their throats were parched and sore.

With each pulse in their legs, the pain and numbness intensified. The tendons in their legs seemed to be twisted into a knot, writhing like a live snake, bringing a terrible tingling and pain that urged them to stop immediately.

Their desire for the finish line was so strong that they had no other thoughts; they mechanically counted the number of laps in their minds and measured the circumference of the land with their own legs.

Later, they didn't even have the energy to count the laps anymore; their minds went completely blank. They were only able to keep moving forward with a terrifying willpower until they finally couldn't hold on any longer and fell heavily to the ground.

They weren't seriously injured by the fall because they were wearing heavy armor, but they no longer had the strength to get up. They lay on the ground, panting heavily, looking almost dazed.

"Alright, you've passed. Go over there and have some water and rest."

The three of them breathed a sigh of relief. After lying on the ground for a while, they helped each other up and struggled to get up and walk towards the tent next to them, where there was warm salt water and shade from the sun.

………………

With a roar, he thrust his spear forward. The tip pierced the target precisely, causing the embedded wooden block to fall off. Then he sheathed the spear and thrust again, each strike requiring precision to hit the loose wooden block, no bigger than an orange.

This is not only a test of their precision, but also a test of their will and mentality. If their will falters even slightly, they will pierce the wooden board next to them.

The entire training ground was operating in a lively atmosphere, with every space being fully utilized to test the martial arts skills and techniques of the candidates.

Everywhere there were cheers and lamentations. Batch after batch of unsuccessful candidates were sent out of the military camp, and those who remained became increasingly nervous and cautious.

After being tested on his spear skills, he will next choose one of three weapons to be tested: bow and arrow, crossbow, or javelin. Once he passes, he can go back and wait for the results.

Baria naturally chose his best weapon: the javelin, something he had learned during training in his hometown. He had used his height and long reach to his advantage, and it had worked well in the fight against the bandits in the previous two days.

"Take this and stand in that circle drawn with lime. There are two targets here, one near and one far. You need to hit the closer target at least five times and the farther target at least three times. Got it?"

Baria nodded nervously, reached out, took the long, leather-bound spear tube, secured it to his back with the leather straps, took a deep breath, and stepped into the circle.

As the command was given, he subconsciously reached behind his head, his fingers touching the hard, cold steel, and then deftly hooked and pulled it out into his hand.

He focused his gaze on the nearby target, a human-shaped target made of tough but not hard wood that would not damage the arrowheads and spear blades.

A certain intuition welled up within him, prompting him to act decisively. His strong, long arms propelled the sharp javelin through the air as it flew toward the wooden target. With a trembling sound from the shaft, the barbed spearhead sank deep into the wood, requiring considerable effort to pull it out.

Having hit the target on his first shot, he no longer hesitated. Using the feeling he had just gotten, he threw his javelin repeatedly. The trembling, sharp spearheads accurately struck the target's head and chest, the vital areas, without missing a single shot.

His performance up close was quite good, which relieved him, and he turned his attention back to the target in the distance...

To hit a distant target, a javelin with a shorter range must be thrown at a higher angle to strike the target at the end of its parabola. Even a slight miscalculation in the force applied will cause the javelin to deviate from its intended trajectory.

Unlike his fellow countrymen, once Baria made up his mind, he would not hesitate for a moment. Even if it meant gritting his teeth, he would grit his teeth and finish the job. So he showed no fear. He picked up a new javelin, estimated the angle, and threw it again.

………………

As the sun set and darkness fell, an exhausted Baria emerged from the camp, instinctively looking up to search for his comrades.

"Baria, we're here!"

A rough, resonant voice rang out from the side, yet it carried the characteristic strength of youth, instantly making him recognize it as Bartalis's voice. He quickly turned around and found that all his fellow countrymen were gathered together; he was the last one to emerge, and the others were waiting.

A smile unconsciously appeared on his face as he waved and walked over... then he noticed that most people looked dejected, which made his smile freeze instantly.

"Everyone, did you all not perform well?..."

Kalido shook his head with a wry smile:

“We all made mistakes, big and small... I missed the target several times while shooting arrows…”

Chapter 174 The Fallen (2)

The forest is cool and damp in the morning, with moist air that permeates the lungs and instantly invigorates you.

Insects, hidden under leaves, in bark, in bushes, and on blades of grass, chirped softly. In this utterly tranquil morning, only the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves echoed their calls.

The campfire from last night had burned out, leaving only half a pile of embers on a thick tree stump. The grayish-white ash buried the glowing embers, yet still emitted a faint warmth. Even in one's dreams, one would subconsciously gravitate towards it.

No matter how hot the weather is outside, people can always feel the chill and dampness from the ground in this deep forest. So even in the hottest summer, very few people go shirtless here, not even these shady bandits...

This was a camp hidden in the woods. The founders had cleverly left most of the trees. Although the firelight at night would inevitably reveal their location, during the day the dense bushes and tall trees would perfectly conceal their camp.

The entire campsite is laid out in a long strip, stretching from high to low. The reason for this design is not for any particular reason, but simply because the scarce flat land here is connected in a line.

This mountainous region is not only densely forested, but also has a complex and fragmented terrain. There are ravines and hills of all sizes everywhere, as if a mad Listerian war god had slashed the ground with his two axes. There are ravines and caves everywhere, and huge ancient trees that are thousands of years old can be seen everywhere.

The vines, weeds, and shrubs here grow exceptionally fast. A road will become blurred if it is not cleared in three days, and will be completely blocked if no one walks on it for a few weeks. Except for experienced herbalists and hunters who can identify the road by special signs and some unique methods, for those who are unfamiliar with this place, going into the forest is no different from jumping into a deep swamp.

Such a place is a nightmare that any commander who wants to wipe out bandits can hardly escape. Experienced and cunning villains are like fish swimming in the sea here. Every crevice in the rocks, every big tree, every bush can become their hiding place. It is extremely difficult to catch them.

The freedom here, almost unrestrained by human laws, has emboldened the villains to become increasingly rampant and unscrupulous. They even treat caravans passing through this forest road as their own property, plundering and slaughtering at will, without ever believing they will be caught.

To conceal themselves, the bandits used resin-dyed cloth to build their tents. They nailed a few sturdy wooden poles to the ground and tied them with vines to create a frame. They then covered the frame with waterproof tarpaulin, which became their dwelling.

As the birds began their clear, melodious chirping at dawn, a filthy-bearded bandit with tangled hair, groggily picking at fleas from his body and spitting out a glob of phlegm, groped for the tent poles and climbed out of his bed.

Rubbing away the yellow eye boogers, and then letting out a loud yawn, the filthy man finally came to his senses, muttering a few complaints unconsciously. He squatted down and used a fire hook to stir the remaining charcoal in the campfire, preparing to make himself something to eat.

The birds on the branches kept chirping. The sound should have been pleasant, but the man felt inexplicably irritated. He reached out and groped around, picked up a stone the size of an egg, and hurled it with a wide swing of his arm.

It was just a casual throw, and even the man himself didn't expect to hit it. But whether it was because the bird was particularly stupid or because he was exceptionally lucky, the stone hit the bird's head, which was no bigger than a thumb, squarely. The bird fell from the treetop and landed right in the embers he had cleared. In the blink of an eye, the smell of burning feathers filled the air.

This unexpected delight made the man whistle with a broad smile—fresh meat was not easy to come by, and robbing caravans rarely carried it. Hunting in the forest also required keeping an eye on the newly arrived creatures, so this was the first time he had tasted fresh meat in a long time.

Although the amount of meat was pitifully small, perhaps not even enough for him to have a bite, it was enough for him to temporarily change his taste.

Using a knife, the bird's carcass was picked out of the fire pit. Its feathers were singed off completely. With just a little rubbing, the yellowed flesh underneath could be seen. The belly was then peeled open, the intestines and lungs were torn out, leaving only the edible parts. The carcass was then skewered on a branch, sprinkled with some crushed salt, and roasted.

This bird was hardly any meat; beneath the skin were just bones and lean muscles, so tough that even a bite would be too hard. But the man was all smiles, watching with great anticipation as the meat charred and turned black on the flames.

The aroma of freshly roasted meat woke up one of his companions, who spat and swore at the same thing, rubbing his eyes. Only after doing all that did he notice the thing, so he squatted down without hesitation, wanting to share a portion.

The man wasn't stingy at all; seeing the meat was almost cooked, he reached out and tore off half, handing it to his companion. The two of them, somewhat bewildered, hastily ate the half-cooked meat and began their morning chat.

"Why hasn't the boss taken us out to 'do business' these past few days? Isn't this the time when we can make the most money? If this keeps up, we won't be able to collect our share for the 'big shot'... I don't want to mess with that guy."

"Nobody wants to mess with him. Everyone knows how those troublemakers disappeared in this forest. But the boss said things are getting tense these days, with a lot of red-skinned wolf cubs patrolling the area. He told us to stay out of the way and wait for things to calm down... You don't want to be skinned alive and hanged by the roadside, do you?"

"...Have they already done that?"

The man's face stiffened instantly, and he asked his companion with some unease.

"And that's not all. There were also those who had their legs cut off and were nailed to trees... These unfortunate souls screamed for three days before they finally died. While they were still alive, these black-feathered beasts were already eating their eyes."

The other man looked up at the treetop with a deeper meaning in his voice—a large bird with glossy black feathers and a long black beak was standing on it, searching for any possible corpses in the forest.

The man shivered and hunched his shoulders, as if that would make him feel safer.

"Then let's play it safe for now and wait until those crazed wolf cubs are gone... Anyway, as long as we hide in this forest, those guys won't be able to catch us even if they run themselves ragged."

"By the way, have you heard—"

His companion seemed to have thought of something again, and quietly leaned close to his ear, as if to tell him some secret message:

"I heard we've caused too much trouble here, and it seems 'that person' has taken notice."

"What are you talking about? —"

“That’s right.” The man with flaxen hair nodded solemnly. “It’s General Tersolius, who defeated tens of thousands of Kurists in the East. I heard he’s taken notice of the situation here and is preparing to clean it up.”