One Giant would step on another’s foot, or bump into the one in front. The entire formation was a crooked, chaotic mess, creating an endless comedy of errors.

At the end of each day’s training, the Giants would collapse to the ground, more exhausted than if they had fought a Magical Beast.

Relying solely on Sun’s Dragon Mighty for control was not yielding the desired results.

The Giants’ resentment grew, and their training efficiency began to plummet.

Raylo took note of this. At dinner on the third day, he announced a new regulation.

"From this day forward, we will be implementing rewards and punishments."

His voice reached every Giant’s ears.

"Each day, Sun will evaluate your training. The best performer will receive an entire roasted sheep! Those who perform adequately will have the normal meat porridge. And as for the worst..."

Raylo paused, and every Giant’s heart leaped into their throat.

"...can only drink plain white porridge, with nothing added."

The moment he spoke, the Giants erupted in an uproar.

For them, who could not find joy without meat, this was simply the cruelest punishment in the world.

That night, the Giant who had been the laziest during training and was criticized most often by Sun could only watch wistfully as his companions devoured their meat and slurped their porridge, while his own wooden bowl contained nothing but a thin, watery, white paste.

He let out an aggrieved whimper and tried to snatch the roasted meat from the Giant beside him, but Sun swatted his hand with a claw, nearly fracturing the massive limb.

The effect was immediate.

The next day at training, the Giants’ attitude was completely transformed.

They stood ramrod straight and marched with all their might, terrified of becoming the next unlucky one forced to drink plain porridge.

With this two-pronged approach, after one week, the Giant squad was beginning to show the first signs of true discipline.

They were still far from perfectly uniform, but at least they could form a straight line and march in sync with commands.

A week later, the morning quiet of Black Stone Territory was shattered by the heavy rumble of wagon wheels and the neighing of horses.

A dozen or so horse-drawn wagons rolled into the square.

Each wagon was reinforced with thick wooden planks, its wheels sinking deep into the dirt, a clear sign they were carrying an astonishing weight.

Ed, having already received his orders, directed the guards to clear a path and guide the convoy toward the training grounds.

Raylo was already waiting at the edge of the field, his gaze fixed on the cargo covered by heavy tarps.

Workers struggled to untie the ropes and pull back the tarps, revealing fourteen monstrous objects.

They didn’t look like Weapons so much as fourteen punishment pillars pulled straight out of Hell.

Each one was ten meters long, forged entirely from Black Iron, with a grip as thick as a water bucket and a massive, rivet-studded sphere at its tip.

Sunlight glinted off their surfaces, reflecting a cold, sinister light.

These were the Weapons Raylo had commissioned the Valen Family to forge specifically for the Hill Giants.

"Unload them!"

the Steward yelled.

However, even a few able-bodied workers were helpless before a single one of the Wolf Fang Clubs.

It was too heavy, as if it had taken root in the wagon bed.

Raylo was about to order his Personal Guard to unload the massive Wolf Fang Clubs from the wagons.

At the other end of the training grounds, the Hill Giants, who had been in the middle of their drills, had already noticed the commotion.

When they got a clear look at the items on the wagons, their breathing collectively grew heavy and ragged.

Their simple minds might not comprehend complex tactics, but an instinct for Weapons was branded into their very blood.

One Giant couldn’t hold back any longer. He broke formation and charged over.

"Halt! Get back!"

Sun let out a low roar, its Dragon Mighty pressing down with tangible force.

But the Dragon Mighty, which had always been unfailingly effective, had little impact this time.

The Giant only faltered for a moment before pushing against the pressure and continuing forward, his eyes filled with longing for those black iron pillars.

Then a second, and a third...

All fourteen Hill Giants swarmed over, like a pack of children who had just spotted candy, their enormous eyes glinting with greedy excitement.

Raylo waved his hand, signaling Sun to let them be.

The first Giant to charge over walked up to one of the wagons. Ignoring the dumbfounded workers, he reached out a massive hand and effortlessly lifted a Wolf Fang Club that a dozen men could barely budge.

He stood the Wolf Fang Club upright in front of him, comparing it to his own height. The length was perfect.

He gave it a test swing. The heavy Weapon stirred a furious gust of wind that tore through the air with a sharp WHOOSH.

"ROAR!"

The Giant raised the Wolf Fang Club high, letting out a deafening roar.

The roar was filled with joy and excitement.

Seeing this, the other Giants surged forward to claim their new toys.

For a time, the training ground was filled with the WHOOSH of swinging clubs and the excited roars of the Giants, one rising after another.

They caressed the rivets on the clubs, unable to put them down, and pounded on the solid shafts with their fists, producing dull, metallic thuds.

Two of the Giants even excitedly banged their Wolf Fang Clubs together. The resulting sparks and the arm-numbing shock only made them laugh harder.

"Silence!"

Raylo’s voice cut through the din, and he had Sun enforce the command.

The Giants froze, their eyes snapping to him as one. They clutched their new Weapons tightly, as if afraid he would take them away.

"You have your Weapons, but combat isn’t about swinging them around mindlessly."

Raylo pointed toward the center of the training grounds.

"Starting today, we begin combat training. Your first objective is simple: when you swing your Weapon, do not harm the comrade next to you."

The Giants glanced at each other, only half-understanding. They couldn’t see what was so difficult about that.

Just then, Ed directed the guards to herd a flock of lively goats onto the training grounds.

As soon as the goats entered the field, they scattered. Some began to graze, others chased one another, and their bleating filled the air with a lively, bucolic energy.

"These goats,"

Raylo said, pointing at them.

"are your ’comrades.’ Your task is to attack the designated training posts while making sure your Weapon doesn’t touch a single goat."

Confused expressions appeared on the Giants’ massive faces.

’Attack the posts?’

’That’s too easy.’

’And not hit these little things? Doesn’t seem too hard, either.’

"Begin!"

At Raylo’s command, one Giant eagerly approached the nearest man-shaped training post.

He grinned, baring his yellow teeth. His biceps knotted as he swung the enormous Wolf Fang Club in a great arc, bringing it down with thunderous force!

CRACK!

The post shattered on impact, sending splinters flying everywhere.

The Giant looked at his handiwork with satisfaction and let out a triumphant howl.

He failed to notice, however, that a goat grazing behind him was directly in the arc of his swing.

The heavy iron club carved an arc through the air, and the butt of the club connected precisely with the poor goat’s head.

With a soft SPLAT, like a ripe tomato being crushed.

The goat didn’t even have time to bleat before its body went limp and collapsed, its blood and brains splattering across the ground.

The Giant who had swung the Wolf Fang Club froze. He looked down at the goat’s corpse, then at the smear on his club, and scratched his head in confusion.

Off to the side, Sun covered its eyes with a claw and let out a weary sigh.

"Next!"

Raylo said, his face expressionless.

Another Giant, having learned from the first, carefully scanned his surroundings. After confirming there were no goats behind him, he took aim at a post and swung with all his might.

SMASH!

The post shattered.

He had succeeded!

The Giant excitedly raised his Weapon to cheer, but he’d forgotten to check his momentum. Inertia carried the massive Wolf Fang Club around in a wide arc behind him.

As luck would have it, a startled goat was scampering past him at that exact moment.

THWACK!

Another sickening thud rang out. The second goat went flying, tracing a perfect parabola through the air before landing, motionless.

The scene that followed devolved into a complete and chaotic farce.

In their efforts to avoid hitting the goats, the Giants’ movements became timid and hesitant.

Some Giants would spend ages looking around before swinging, only to miss the post and nearly trip over their own feet. Others tried to use less force, but their Wolf Fang Clubs would fail to smash the posts and instead fly out of their hands, plowing deep furrows in the ground and sending goats scattering in terror.

"Idiot! Watch where you’re stepping!"

"Who told you to swing horizontally! Are you trying to break the legs of the guy next to you?"

"Aargh! My eyes! You brainless lumps of rock!"

Sun’s roars echoed across the training grounds. It was forced to hover in midair to dodge the massive Weapons being swung without any rhyme or reason.

An hour later, the whistle blew, signaling the end of training.

The fourteen Hill Giants were panting with exhaustion, their bodies covered in sweat and mud.

On the training grounds, of the twenty-odd lively goats, only half remained, huddled together and trembling in a corner. The rest were now cold corpses, strewn haphazardly across the field.