Six months later, the new recruits from the Adventurer’s Guild of Berm had finally completed their basic training.

The difference was obvious immediately.

Marcus could see it even before he reached the training field that morning.

The men standing in formation no longer looked like rough adventurers chasing guild requests for coin. They no longer carried themselves like wandering fighters who survived through instinct and luck alone.

They looked organized.

Disciplined.

Professional.

Marcus stood near the edge of the field with his arms crossed as the morning wind moved lightly across the camp. Dust drifted over the open ground while the sounds of training echoed faintly from the distance. Behind the formation, the Atlas training facility stretched across land that had once been completely empty six months ago.

Now it looked like a real military compound.

Wooden barracks lined one side of the camp in neat rows. Newly constructed storage buildings stood beside them, reinforced with thicker walls and guarded entrances. Farther behind them were vehicle garages, supply sheds, and watchtowers overlooking the perimeter.

The obstacle course sat near the western side of the camp, filled with rope climbs, trenches, wooden walls, and crawling lanes that the recruits had cursed endlessly during training.

The firing range rested farther away from Berm itself, positioned carefully so the constant sound of gunfire would not cause panic inside the city. Even from here, Marcus could still smell faint traces of burnt gunpowder lingering in the air.

Atlas was no longer just an idea.

It had become something real.

And standing in front of him were the first true infantrymen of the Atlas Private Military Company.

Marcus slowly looked over the formation.

Twenty men.

Twenty recruits who had survived six months of brutal training.

Tomas Vale stood near the center, his posture straight and steady. Marcus still remembered the man from half a year ago. Back then, Tomas looked like every other experienced adventurer in Berm. Strong build, rough attitude, decent instincts, but no discipline.

Now he looked different.

His movements were controlled. His shoulders stayed squared naturally. Even the way he held himself had changed.

Beside him stood Rolf Aster.

Marcus almost smirked seeing him there.

Honestly, he still found it surprising that Rolf had managed to survive the entire training cycle without getting thrown out of camp for fighting someone or ignoring orders.

The man still had that reckless personality buried somewhere inside him, but now it was restrained beneath drilled habits and repetition. He no longer moved carelessly. He listened when commands were given. More importantly, he moved with the unit instead of acting alone.

The rest of the formation looked similar.

Cleaner.

Stronger.

Sharper.

And most importantly, they moved together.

That was what Marcus wanted from the start.

Not twenty strong individuals.

One organized force.

The recruits stood quietly beneath the morning sun while their boots shifted lightly against the dirt. Across every chest hung a weapon that still looked surreal in this world.

M4 Carbines.

Black rifles resting against tactical slings across standardized combat uniforms.

No swords.

No axes.

No bows.

No shields.

The image still felt strange even to Marcus sometimes.

The Kingdom of Berm still fought battles using steel armor, cavalry charges, and shield formations.

Meanwhile, Atlas infantry now trained with modern firearms.

Elaina stood several meters behind Marcus near the command building, quietly observing the formation. Even after months of watching the camp grow, she still occasionally looked surprised by what Atlas had become.

The Black Hawk pilot stood nearby too, arms crossed while staring at the recruits.

"They actually look like soldiers now," he muttered.

Marcus nodded slightly.

"They are soldiers."

And they earned that title.

The last six months had not been easy for any of them.

Marcus had modeled Atlas basic training heavily after US Army doctrine. Not perfectly, because that would have been impossible in this world, but the foundation stayed the same.

Discipline.

Routine.

Aggressive repetition.

The first month focused almost entirely on physical conditioning.

Long-distance runs before sunrise.

Weighted marches carrying heavy packs across rough terrain.

Obstacle courses repeated until their arms shook from exhaustion.

Formation drills until movement became automatic.

At first, most of the recruits hated it.

Especially the marches.

Adventurers in this world were used to fighting monsters or taking quests, but they were not used to organized military conditioning. Many of them thought individual strength mattered more than endurance.

Marcus corrected that idea quickly.

Modern infantry survived because of consistency, not pride.

Then came weapons training.

That was where everything truly changed.

Marcus still remembered the first time he handed them M4 Carbines.

Most of them looked nervous.

Not because they lacked courage.

Because the rifles felt unnatural in their hands.

The first live-fire exercise nearly scared half the recruits to death. Several men visibly flinched the first time the rifles fired downrange. The sound echoed across the field so violently that even veteran adventurers instinctively stepped back.

Rolf himself nearly dropped his weapon during the first burst.

Now?

Now they handled rifles smoothly.

Magazine changes.

Controlled bursts.

Target transitions.

Malfunction drills.

Reload procedures.

Weapon safety.

Marcus drilled them relentlessly until weapon handling became muscle memory.

After that came tactical training.

And that was where Atlas truly separated itself from ordinary adventurers.

The recruits learned squad movement.

Fireteam coordination.

Defensive positioning.

Ambush response.

Bounding overwatch.

Patrol formations.

Room clearing.

Marcus adapted modern infantry doctrine into something functional for this world, and the results stood directly in front of him now.

The formation no longer resembled a group of adventurers.

It looked like a military unit.

The pilot glanced toward the recruits again.

"Still weird seeing fantasy adventurers carrying carbines."

Rolf overheard him and smirked slightly.

"We still think it’s weird too, sir."

A few recruits quietly laughed.

Marcus let it happen for exactly a few seconds.

Then he spoke.

"Formation."

The response was immediate.

The recruits straightened instantly, silence returning across the field.

Good.

Marcus stepped forward slowly, his boots pressing against the dirt as he moved in front of the line.

All twenty men watched him carefully.

Not nervously.

Respectfully.

Over the last six months, Marcus had stopped being just another famous adventurer in their eyes.

Now he was their commander.

The man who trained them.

Pushed them.

Punished them.

Improved them.

Marcus stopped in front of the formation and looked over every face carefully before speaking.

"Six months ago," he said calmly, "most of you walked into this camp as adventurers."

The recruits remained silent.

Marcus continued.

"You came here carrying swords, axes, bows, or whatever else you thought was enough to survive in this world."

His eyes moved slowly across the line.

"Some of you had experience. Some of you didn’t. Some of you thought this was just another job for coin."

A faint breeze moved across the field.

"But this was never just another job."

The formation stayed completely focused now.

Marcus pointed toward the rifles hanging across their chests.

"That weapon changes everything."

Several recruits instinctively glanced down at their carbines for a brief moment.

Marcus continued walking slowly.

"Kingdoms in this world still fight wars the same way they did hundreds of years ago."

He gestured toward the distant wilderness beyond Berm.

"Swords. Shields. Cavalry. Tight formations."

Then he looked back at them.

"You’ve already seen what modern weapons do."

And they had.

Marcus made sure of that during training.

Steel armor shattered under rifle fire.

Wooden shields broke apart instantly.

Targets were destroyed from distances archers could barely hit consistently.

Marcus stopped walking.

"You are no longer ordinary adventurers."

His voice stayed calm but firm.

"You are the first infantry unit of Atlas."

That line hit differently.

Marcus saw it immediately in their posture.

Several recruits straightened slightly more after hearing it.

Good.

"You are not heroes," Marcus continued.

Some of the recruits looked surprised by that statement.

Marcus kept going before anyone could think too much about it.

"You are not knights. You are not wandering mercenaries chasing random jobs through guild halls and taverns."

He looked directly at them.

"You are soldiers."

The field became completely silent.

Marcus let the word sit there for a moment.

Then he continued.

"A soldier’s job is not glory."

His eyes moved across the formation.

"It’s discipline."

Another step.

"It’s teamwork."

Another.

"It’s trust."

Marcus stopped again.

"When things go wrong, you trust the man beside you. You trust your training. You trust your unit."

Every recruit remained completely still now.

Even Rolf looked serious.

Marcus nodded slightly.

"Over the last six months, you completed physical conditioning, weapons training, squad exercises, patrol drills, defensive operations, and live-fire coordination training."

Several recruits visibly remembered the harder parts immediately.

Especially the field exercises.

Marcus intentionally made those brutal.

Night drills with little sleep.

Rain exercises in freezing weather.

Long marches carrying full gear.

Stress drills while exhausted.

At first, many recruits hated him for it.

Now they understood.

Modern warfare rewarded discipline far more than bravery.

Marcus folded his arms lightly.

"And despite all of that..."

He paused briefly.

"...none of you quit."

That mattered more than raw talent.

More than strength.

None of them quit.

Marcus looked directly at Tomas.

Then at Rolf.

Then across the rest.

"That means something."

The silence across the field felt heavier now.

Then Marcus spoke again.

"But understand this clearly."

His tone sharpened slightly.

"This is only the beginning."

Several recruits stiffened slightly.

"You completed basic training."

Marcus pointed toward the camp behind them.

"You are now Atlas infantry."

Then his gaze shifted toward the distant wilderness outside Berm.

"But the world outside this camp does not care about your training."

That line hit harder.

Because every man standing there knew Marcus spoke from experience.

The Forest of No Return alone proved that.

Marcus lowered his hand slowly.

"There are things in this world stronger than you."

His eyes hardened slightly.

"Faster than you."

"More dangerous than you."

Nobody spoke.

"That is why we train," Marcus said firmly.

"That is why we improve."

He looked toward their rifles again.

"And that is why Atlas will become stronger."

The recruits listened quietly.

Then Marcus gave the final part of his speech.

"You are the first."

That immediately caught their full attention again.

"The first infantry unit Atlas has ever produced."

Marcus looked across all twenty men carefully.

"People will remember that."

The morning wind moved lightly across the training field.

Marcus nodded once.

"So stand properly." 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

Several recruits instinctively straightened again.

"Train harder."

More silence.

"And don’t embarrass me."

That finally broke the tension.

A few recruits laughed quietly.

Even Marcus allowed himself a faint smirk.

Then he stepped back slightly.

"Congratulations."

He paused briefly.

"Welcome to Atlas PMC."

For a second, the formation stayed completely still.

Then the recruits shouted together.

"THANK YOU, SIR!"

The response thundered across the training field.

Loud.

Sharp.

Disciplined.

Marcus listened quietly as their voices echoed through the camp.

And somewhere behind him, Elaina smiled slightly.

Because six months ago, Atlas had been nothing more than an impossible idea between two people.

Now it had soldiers.