“The 42nd survival training will now begin. You will form teams of five and receive weapons befitting your scores. The game will proceed for three hours. You must find the flags hidden within the zone and return as many members as possible to the starting point within the time limit……. Aside from this, there are no rules regarding combat.”
Once the explanation ended, the instructors distributed weapons. Some received guns, some received knives, and there were those who received nothing at all.
Hainer fiddled with the jackknife issued to him. Compared to the automatic pistol he had received last time, it was an utterly inadequate weapon.
Hainer was on Team D. The team members were all familiar faces. The training center was a closed-off place, so even if they weren’t close, everyone at least knew one another by sight.
They were given one minute for a strategy meeting. After briefly deciding positions and roles, they stood at the starting line. A senior teammate tapped Hainer’s back.
“Hainer Valdemar, right?”
“……Yeah.”
“Amy White, fourth year. But are you really a third year? You’re huge for your age. Anyway, let’s do well.”
Hainer nodded. A fourth-year male student standing to Hainer’s left cut in.
“I’m David. I’ve heard a lot about you. They say you fight pretty well? But your weapon this time is seriously…… Anyway, let’s do well.”
David extended his fist to him. Without any emotion, Hainer bumped fists with him, his face blank.
A green flare shot into the sky. The moment the *bang* rang out, the trainees surged forward. After running together for a while, they scattered to their respective positions from a certain point.
Hainer charged straight into the bushes at a terrifying speed. His gray eyes, which had been flashing like lightning, quickly rolled to the side.
He quickly overtook a single member of the opposing team who had started from a different point. It was Jerman, from the same year. Jerman was holding an eight-round pistol.
Hainer tossed the jackknife upward. The knife spun several times in the air and dropped back into his grasp in a reverse grip.
He snapped off a sharp branch and threw it in front of the running Jerman. The branch flew at a fierce speed and struck a tree head-on before falling.
“Huh!”
The opponent let out a sound that was either a scream or a sigh and faltered.
It was a very brief pause, but Hainer didn’t miss the opening and threw the jackknife he’d fixed into a reverse grip. The movement was astoundingly agile.
Jerman’s head turned belatedly toward where Hainer was. His face was a tangled mess of confusion, terror, surprise, and urgency. The gun muzzle and Hainer’s eyes met.
*Bang!*
The gunshot echoed through the forest. The birds perched on branches took flight in a flurry. For a moment, the world fell silent as if time had stopped.
Grass crunched beneath black combat boots. Hainer walked out from behind the tree with heavy steps. He approached his fallen opponent.
Jerman was gasping for breath, clutching the back of his neck. Hainer grabbed the knife handle with an impassive face. And pushed it in a little deeper.
Soon, Jerman’s breath was cut off. When Hainer pulled out the jackknife, blood gushed out in spurts. Hainer removed his name tag. If the number of flags determined the team’s victory, the number of name tags was the individual score.
Hainer picked up the pistol fallen on the ground and checked the ammunition. Seven rounds remained. It was only natural since the match had barely started, but it seemed the shot fired earlier had been the first one.
Generally, reducing the enemy team’s numbers from the start wasn’t a very wise choice. Because killing them after finding a decent number of flags was a more efficient way to secure flags.
But Hainer needed a gun to prepare for any unforeseen circumstances. Because the seniors participating in this survival training were waiting to kill him.
Hainer began running through the forest again. He found flags one by one from treetops and rock caves, and in the process killed one more person and took their name tag. However, the opponent hadn’t had any flags.
Gunshots and screams began to be heard here and there in the forest. *Bang.* A yellow flare shot into the sky. It meant one hour had passed.
While cutting down a side path, Hainer ran face-to-face into Ethan. Ethan, encountering his roommate, seemed somewhat nervous.
Hainer silently stepped aside to give way. Ethan flinched slightly, then smirked and tapped Hainer’s shoulder as he passed.
After that, Hainer secured one more flag from within the bushes. He spotted an enemy team member, but since the opponent was holding a rifle, he quietly hid himself.
*Bang.* A yellow flare was fired. One hour remained until the match ended.
Hainer met Amy and shared the number of flags and information. Rather than finding flags herself, Amy had focused on killing and stealing them, and had taken a total of two flags.
After parting with Amy, Hainer headed in the five o’clock direction as per the information. The moment he tried to leap across a stream, sensing a faint presence, he reflexively leaned his upper body back.
*Bang!*
The incoming bullet embedded itself in the tree beside his head. Hainer, who had narrowly escaped death, immediately hid his body behind a tree. A familiar voice came from beyond.
“Tch, fucking quick.”
Benjamin Holland. He was one of the group that had been lynching Hainer. Wagging his gun barrel, he spoke insolently.
“I was looking for you anyway, and here we are meeting like this.”
“Hey, he really almost died.”
“Then fuck, should we save him?”
“I told you I don’t want to kill him. Where else are you gonna find a kid who looks like that at the training center?”
Olivia, the one who had told them not to touch his face, grumbled.
Hainer stood pressed flat against the tree, watching their movements.
There were four opponents. They were all part of the group that tormented Hainer mercilessly. It seemed they had given up on points since they were graduating soon anyway, and were treating this as an opportunity to settle scores.
“Hey, isn’t this your friend?”
Greta, who was notorious even among the seniors as a psycho, kicked something. It rolled through the bushes and came to Hainer’s side. It was a corpse.
Hainer’s eyes narrowed slightly as he checked the back of the head of the corpse lying beside him. Shoulder-length hair and a relatively small build. It was a familiar back.
“Even if we end up on different teams tomorrow…….”
“Let’s just keep each other alive.”
It was Ethan.
They had agreed to keep each other alive, yet here he was, dead in some random place. Judging by the fact that rigor mortis had not yet set in, it seemed he hadn’t been dead long.
Greta and Hayden sneered, mocking him.
“Your friend couldn’t fight for shit. How’d he survive until now? By bending over?”
“Think he bent over for that bastard?”
“That bastard bends over for the instructors. What a row of sausages, ugh.”
They cackled, spouting crude jokes.
Hainer took his eyes off Ethan’s corpse and surveyed his surroundings. It was densely packed with trees, making it look like good cover.
There were four opponents. Benjamin and Greta in particular were formidable. In a situation of numerical inferiority, facing them head-on meant a high probability of losing.
Olivia and Hayden weren’t particularly outstanding by comparison, but they were seniors as well. Considering the survival rate required to make it to graduation, it meant they were at least in the upper-middle tier.
Hainer quietly adjusted his grip on the pistol. The sound of their giggling poured into his ears. Judging by how they were engaging in pointless conversation, they seemed completely relaxed.
Ethan had once said to him.
“Why do you just keep taking the beating? Honestly, if you went at them like crazy, they wouldn’t get off unscathed either. You’ve gotta show them that if they touch you, they’ll go down too.”
Ethan wasn’t entirely wrong. Despite being a third year, Hainer was far larger than his peers, and he was a trainee the instructors kept their eyes on.
One or two seniors wouldn’t have been able to subdue him. Yet despite having such skill, Hainer had never once lunged at them.
“……Killing a trainee outside of survival training is forbidden.”
“No, who’s telling you to kill them? I’m just saying teach them a lesson.”
“It won’t end at that level.”
“What?”
“I said it won’t end unless you break them completely or kill them.”
There are various types of violence. Hainer knew all too well the kind that occurred within closed spaces. It was something he had experienced countless times since he was young—so young he could barely remember.
As with any group, there were factions among the trainees. Among them, Benjamin’s group was the leading pack.
Strength was absolute at the training center. As graduating students, they would never tolerate the humiliation of being trampled by a third year.
An ambiguous victory only brought greater violence. If there was one thing Hainer had learned most clearly from the orphanage, it was precisely that.
Violence was something unavoidable in his life. The entirety of his existence growing from child to boy was—filled to the brim with that sort.
If it was something he would have to confront anyway, it was better to avoid even greater violence. Unless he removed the very ones inflicting it.
Hainer pressed the pistol to his chest and slowly exhaled. *Swoosh.* The bushes surrounding Ethan’s corpse rustled in the wind. A faint light flickered across his dried, gray eyes.
Murder was permitted during survival training.
It also meant he could see this through to the end.