"A uniform? Are we becoming a private army?" said Ryan to himself.
He pulled out a holster containing what looked like a futuristic handgun. It appeared to be made of a high-tech polyr, but when he lifted it, his arm dipped. The weapon weighed nearly 10 kilograms. It felt like holding a solid block of lead. He noticed a specialized belt in the bag; as soon as he buckled it and holstered the heavy weapon, a strange magnetic or chanical click occurred, making the weight suddenly feel manageable, as if it were part of his own body.
Minutes later, the n erged. They no longer looked like a ragtag group of survivors; they looked like a disciplined corps of cadets. Ethan looked down at them with a satisfied, chilling smile.
"Simple, isn’t it? Royal is developing technology the world isn’t ready for. From this mont on, you are not just employees. You are the soldiers of Royal. The equipnt you will receive after your training is ultra-secret. Our lives, our future, and our families depend on it. This is why we don’t give this to regular mbers" said Ethan.
The air grew heavy. Ethan’s voice turned somber, lacking the typical "motivational" fluff most bosses used to trick people into dying for them.
"In the event of another attack, each of you will act as a commander. You will lead. You will hold the line. And yes, you will be expected to risk your lives for " said Ethan.
A wave of unease passed through the ranks. Shouldn’t he be trying to sell us a better lie? so wondered. But Ethan wasn’t finished.
"Now, you might ask: ’What do I gain? Why should I die for your company?’ The answer is simple. From today, you are my family. You will have access to resources that people in this world haven’t even dread of. Your wives, your children, your parents—they are under my personal protection. If you fall, I will carry them. If you hunger, I will feed them. We are a family, and a family leaves no one behind" said Ethan.
Ryan gripped the heavy grip of the training weapon at his side, his heart swelling. He thought of his wife, safe in the new apartnt, and the "nobodies" who had tried to crush him.
"I’ll die for that promise, Boss!" said Ryan, his voice breaking the silence like a gunshot.
"We all will!" said the others in a deafening chorus.
Chapter 349: The Vanguard of Royal
"Good. Then let the training begin. Jason, take charge!" said Ethan.
Ethan looked down at the n, his eyes cold and calculating.
"Starting tomorrow, every one of you will report here at this exact hour. You will undergo three hours of physical and tactical training. After that, you will go to your respective posts and work your shifts. Once your workday is done, you will return for two more hours of theoretical instruction. This is not a request; it is your new life" said Ethan.
A ripple of exhaustion seed to pass through the n just hearing the schedule, but no one dared to speak.
"The weapons at your sides are not real—yet. They are lead replicas, weighted shells of the actual gear currently in production. They are heavy, cumberso, and unforgiving. Your goal is to make them feel like an extension of your own skin. You must be able to react in a heartbeat, ready for combat regardless of where you are or what you are doing" said Ethan.
Ethan didn’t want re employees; he wanted an unstoppable force. The recent attack had reinforced a hard truth: no matter how overwhelming his personal power was, he couldn’t be everywhere at once. He was only one man. To protect a territory this vast, he needed a legion that shared his resolve.
The next three hours were a descent into physical purgatory. Under Jason’s barking orders, the n were pushed to their limits. They practiced the fundantals of drawing the heavy lead replicas from their specialized holsters—a movent that required raw muscle and repetition.
"Draw! Aim! Holster! Again!" said Jason, his voice echoing across the courtyard.
They moved through grueling drills: firing from a standing position, dropping to one knee, rolling across the pavent, and crawling through the dirt while keeping their sights "level." They practiced guerrilla tactics, learning how to use the environnt—pillars, trash cans, corners—as shields. By the end of the session, the n were drenched in sweat, their muscles screaming from the constant weight of the 10-kilogram replicas.
When the clock struck 10:00 AM, they were dismissed to their jobs. Ryan and the others returned to their offices and security posts, their bodies aching, trying to focus on invoices and patrol logs.
Suddenly, at 2:00 PM, a piercing siren wailed through the headquarters.
"Contact! Intruders in Sector 4!" said a voice over the intercom.
A group of Royal soldiers dressed in black tactical gear burst into the offices, acting as terrorists. Panic erupted. Ryan reached for his lead replica, but he was too slow. A burst of blue paint hit him square in the chest. Around him, his colleagues were "gunned down" in seconds. So froze; others tried to run, only to be marked with paint. It was a complete slaughter.
Later that evening, the 150 n sat in a dark briefing room, their heads hanging low. On the large screen at the front, Ethan played the security footage of the afternoon’s "attack."
"Look at this. Look at your hesitation" said Ethan, pointing to a fra where Ryan was fumbling with his holster.
"I... I wasn’t ready, Boss. I thought we were just working" said Ryan, his voice filled with sha.
"The enemy doesn’t care if you’re ’just working.’ Because of your slow reaction, five of your coworkers in this room would be dead. This mistake cost lives" said Ethan.
For the next two hours, the "theoretical" session turned into a brutal autopsy of their failures. Ethan and Jason tore apart every bad decision, every missed angle, and every mont of indecision. They were shown how to manage hostages, how to prioritize targets, and how to coordinate with their squad mbers even in total chaos.
"You failed today. Every single one of you is ’dead’ in my eyes right now. But tomorrow, you will wake up, and you will try to be slightly less dead than you were today" said Ethan.
As the n filed out of the room, exhausted and humbled, Ryan looked at the paint stain on his shirt. The "nobody" inside him wanted to quit, but the man Ethan had rebuilt was already calculating how to draw that heavy lead pistol a fraction of a second faster.
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