The Hidden Ending Strategy of a Veteran in a Dead Game

Chapter 5: Training

My plan was simple.

Operation: Provoke the Coach.

“Gym rats can’t help but watch newbies stumble around.”

Back in the army, whenever I worked out in the training facility, there were always some buff veterans or overzealous juniors hovering around.

If you exercised awkwardly, they’d eventually sidle up and offer unsolicited advice.

At the time, I didn’t understand why. Now I do.

“They just can’t stand it!”

They worry you’ll hurt yourself or be inefficient.

Or maybe they’re just curious about the fresh-faced newbie whose gains are only starting to show.

And the old man in this training ground? He’s the ultimate gym rat.

“Huff! Huff! Huuuff!”

I ran with deliberately sloppy form, my posture bent forward and my steps erratic.

Breathing properly? Nope. I gasped and wheezed like I was about to keel over.

Given the sorry state of this body and my exaggerated movements, I felt like I was dying. 

My chest heaved, my legs ached, and my arms flailed uselessly.

“Hmm?”

I must’ve been loud enough to catch the old man’s attention.

He stirred, squinting at me with an expression that screamed, “What the hell is that kid doing?”

When I didn’t stop, his gaze turned sharper, his mouth slightly agape, clearly on the verge of saying something.

“What a run! Time for something else!”

After collapsing onto the ground and gasping for air like a fish out of water, I moved on to push-ups.

Were they proper push-ups?

Nope.

I arched my back into a dramatic “U” shape, abandoning all semblance of proper form.

Instead of engaging my chest, I relied solely on my arms, barely moving my body.

-Flop. Flop flop flop!

I looked less like I was exercising and more like a freshly caught fish flopping around.

“That back! Those arms! The range of motion—what are you even doing?!”

The old man’s patience snapped. Veins bulged on his neck as he gestured wildly, clearly on the verge of an aneurysm.

I ignored him.

Before my back could give out, I stopped after ten reps and stood up, flexing my arms with a proud grin.

“What! Already such muscles?”

I heard him sputter behind me but kept moving.

“Leg day!”

Without missing a beat, I launched into squats.

Standing up and sitting down—it was a simple enough motion. But I made it ridiculous.

I leaned forward unnaturally, shifting all my weight onto my knees while sticking my butt out awkwardly.

“Stop! STOP! I can’t take it anymore! Your knees! They’ll be destroyed!”

With a roar that shook the ground, the old man charged toward me.

-Grab!

A rough hand yanked me up by the back of my neck.

There weren’t many in the Bayerle household who could manhandle me like this, but this man was an exception.

“Not one thing—not one damn thing—you’re doing is right! Are you dancing, or are you some stray dog hopping around?!”

Despite his wrinkled face and white hair, his body was covered in taut muscles.

The old man currently holding me like a sack of flour was none other than:

“The master of the Count, a war hero, and the instructor of the family’s knights.”

A man who had once reached the 8th rank, a cornerstone of the Bayerle household.

I spent the next hour sitting in a shaded corner of the training grounds, enduring a nonstop tirade.

“The Bayerle family is a pack of wolves! Loyal, brave, and unyielding! This training ground isn’t for mutts like you to roll around in the dirt!”

The old man, Nohr Von Bayerle, was shouting so loudly it felt like my ears were bleeding.

“In my day, we sought out the advice of elders and the guidance of seniors to maximize our training. Why can’t you understand that flailing around will only hurt you?!”

Spittle flew from his mouth as he lectured me. Despite his age—he had to be at least in his sixties—he was still full of vigor.

“He’s the reason this training ground is always empty.”

Nohr Von Bayerle was an accomplished 8th-rank knight and a respected member of the family.

Even the Count acknowledged him and treated him with reverence, so no one dared disrespect him, not even direct descendants like me.

But no one wanted to train under him.

“He’s too much of a nag.”

His intense personality drove people away. He constantly criticized, lectured, and intervened. If someone disagreed with him, he’d fly into a rage.

Simply put, he was the ultimate old-school drill sergeant—a concentrated dose of boomer energy.

I waited for the right moment before speaking.

“Then, please teach me, Instructor.”

He paused, clearly taken aback.

“Hmm. Hmmph. Well, at least you know how to recognize greatness.”

Despite his bluster, I could see his lips twitching with satisfaction.

He loved being called “Instructor.” Teaching others fed his ego.

“Of course. Who doesn’t know about your feats in the Battle of Valita, the Haven Landing, or the Siege of Twenty Nights?”

“Ah, those are ancient history now.”

“History is what shapes our future, Instructor.”

 “Hahaha! The Count sure raised an exceptional child! You’ve got the right mindset!”

He slapped my back repeatedly with enough force to make me stumble.

“The future belongs to those who remember the past! And don’t worry—I’ll make sure you stop whining about little things like this!”

It seemed like I’d struck a chord.

For the first time in years, he had a willing student. His eyes gleamed with excitement.

-Gulp.

I swallowed nervously. This was going to be intense.

Without realizing it, I swallowed hard, but a sly grin spread across my face.

I already knew this would be grueling—it was obvious from the start.

“Please guide me.”

“That’s the spirit. Let’s get started immediately. I’ll reshape you from the ground up.”

This was the reason I’d come here.

As harsh as he was, Nohr Von Bayerle was the perfect trainer for someone with my unique constitution.

Not only that, he was also the keeper of the Bayerle family’s mana cultivation library, which housed the techniques the family had acquired through conquest.

“Strength and endurance first. Skills come later.”

He stood on one leg, holding his balance with uncanny precision, then grabbed my hand and placed it against his chest.

“When you’re strong enough to push me back, I’ll personally recommend a mana cultivation technique suited to your constitution.”

Earning his approval and building a relationship with him—this was the first step to becoming stronger.

A month passed in the blink of an eye.

Strength training.

Sparring.

Combat drills.

I was no stranger to these.

I’d been active in sports from a young age, even competing for a short time. In the army, I’d earned a reputation as a “tough nut” and even completed a deployment—though it left me with a shattered leg.

“I thought I was resilient, but this is…”

-Thud!

A sharp kick landed on my side.

“Ugh!”

“What are you lying around for like a grub? On the battlefield, the only ones who stay still are corpses!”

I gasped for air, my body instinctively rolling to the side.

Then, summoning all my strength, I sprang to my feet.

-Crash!

Sure enough, the spot I’d been lying on was pulverized by a massive wooden club.

It was just wood, but the sound was terrifying.

“Not bad. If you’ve got strength, don’t waste it lying around.”

The wielder of the club, of course, was Nohr Von Bayerle, the grumpy old man of the training grounds.

“He’s going to kill me…”

I wasn’t exaggerating. My body felt like it was on the brink of collapse.

Everything was heavy, my mouth was dry, and my limbs refused to move properly.

Even my mind was starting to shut down—I couldn’t tell if I was standing upright anymore.

“I told you to breathe deeply, didn’t I?!”

-Whoosh! Thwack! Crack!

My body reacted instinctively to the danger.

I blocked a downward swing aimed at my head, countering with a straight punch.

The timing was perfect, but Nohr casually swatted my fist aside and stepped back.

Gasping for air, I pulled my arm back and shifted to a side-step, aiming a quick one-two at his blind spot.

But by the time I launched my punches, Nohr was already gone.

“I’m exhausted, yet I’m still moving somehow.”

[Your constitution “Titan Strength” is wheezing heavily.]

This was the power of my Titan Strength constitution. It truly was top-tier—it kept me moving even when I should’ve reached my limit.

“Amazing. Even at the brink, you’re still going.”

“You knew I was at my limit, didn’t you?!”

I wanted to retort, but I didn’t even have the energy for that.

Breathing through my mouth and nose was all I could manage.

Eventually, I stumbled, my legs giving out beneath me.

My trembling limbs felt like they were going to tear apart.

“That’s it. You’re done for now.”

Nohr approached, pouring a potion onto my body.

-Ssssss!

The potion hissed on contact, a sign that it was already working.

The pain in my legs began to subside.

“That’s an expensive potion, isn’t it? At least mid-grade.”

“Hmph. When training the next generation, this is nothing. I may not be as wealthy as your father, but I have plenty to spare.”

For a knight of his stature, fame translated to wealth.

Given his position within the family, it was no surprise he had money to burn.

“I wonder if I could stash a few drops…”

Potions were valuable, especially mid-grade and above. Supplies were limited, even for the wealthy.

Of course, I could request more from the Count, but…

“Not now.”

I had yet to prove myself.

The Bayerle family had ample resources, but they were distributed sparingly and only to those who deserved them.

Even some soldiers had to complete mercenary missions to prove their worth before receiving support.

“Tch.”

As I clicked my tongue in disappointment, Nohr tossed me a bottle containing the same mid-grade potion.

“You look like a dog about to lose its dinner. Take it. You might need it later.”

“Thank you!”

I quickly pocketed the potion, my respect for Nohr growing.

“Tsk. The Count isn’t stingy, so why are you acting like this?”

“I haven’t earned his recognition yet.”

“So that’s why you orchestrated this duel, huh?”

By “this duel,” he meant my official match against Gaiden.

A month of training had passed, most of it spent under Nohr’s watch.

Naturally, he’d learned about my situation.

Nohr was in a position to intervene in family matters if he wanted to, but he preferred not to trouble the Count unless necessary.

“It’s not a bad plan. If you show potential, you’ll earn support. Of course…”

He crouched down, pressing a hand firmly on my head.

“That’s if you win.”

“I will win.”

I meant it.

Nohr studied me intently before smirking.

“You might actually pull it off.”

“Wait, what?”

I hadn’t expected that response.