Absolute Cheater-Chapter 124: Alpha Squad 17

Asher looked down at himself, now clad in the standard military uniform. His once impressive and powerful magical garments had been replaced by a practical, black-and-blue military outfit that reminded him of the uniforms often seen in elite U.S. forces. He adjusted the fabric briefly, feeling its unfamiliar weight, before making his way to the training camp.

Arriving there, he observed the area bustling with activity. Dozens of recruits, all clad in the same uniform, moved with purpose. Some were engaged in drills, while others practiced combat techniques.

A commanding figure, the Captain, approached with an air of authority. His sharp eyes swept over the gathered recruits as he came to a stop before them. Standing tall, he addressed the thirty individuals assembled in formation.

"Welcome to Alpha Squad 17," the Captain said, his voice steady and commanding.

All eyes turned toward him, including Asher’s, as the recruits took in his words with a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

"My name is Renard Liv, and I am the captain of this squad," he said, his sharp gaze sweeping over the group as he led them through the introductory routine. "I know many of you are probably wondering, ’Who is this commoner?’" Renard chuckled lightly, clearly aware of the dismissive glances from some of the recruits.

"So, let me make this simple for all of you," he continued. "I’ll give you an offer—anyone who defeats me now will take my place as captain from this moment onward." His challenge rang out clearly, sparking murmurs among the group.

Asher smirked faintly, thinking to himself, "He’s A rank. What can a bunch of E rankers like us possibly do to him?" He wasn’t fooled by the captain’s theatrics—this was clearly a lesson in humility for the squad. It was a challenge destined to fail, but it was also an opportunity for the prideful to embarrass themselves.

Sure enough, someone stepped forward. A young woman with long, blonde hair and a haughty demeanor strode confidently onto the field. Her gaze was full of defiance as she declared, "I’ll challenge you."

The other recruits watched in silence, some wide-eyed and others whispering among themselves. It was clear that she came from a noble lineage, her polished stance and self-assuredness radiating privilege.

Renard raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. "Very well," he said calmly. "Step forward and show me what you’ve got."

The tension in the air thickened as the impromptu duel began.

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The crowd of recruits backed away to give the two combatants space. The blonde woman unsheathed a sword from her side—a finely crafted blade with an intricate hilt adorned with her family crest. She held it with practiced precision, clearly trained in high-level swordsmanship.

Renard, on the other hand, stood calmly with his arms crossed, not even bothering to draw a weapon. "Whenever you’re ready," he said, his tone mocking but steady, as though the outcome was already decided.

The woman gritted her teeth at his nonchalance and lunged forward, her sword glowing faintly as she channeled her mana into it. She executed a flawless overhead slash, the force of her strike enough to cause a gust of wind to ripple through the training grounds.

Renard didn’t flinch. With a casual step to the side, he avoided the blow entirely. The blade struck the ground with a loud clang, kicking up dust.

"Too predictable," he said, his voice carrying across the field. Before the woman could recover, Renard moved faster than anyone could follow. In an instant, he was behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder.

"You’re done," he whispered. With a light push, she stumbled forward, her sword falling from her hands as she hit the ground. She spun around, glaring up at him, but there was no denying her defeat.

"First lesson," Renard announced, turning to address the group. "Strength and pride don’t mean anything if you can’t read your opponent. You can’t win with raw power alone."

The recruits exchanged glances, some nodding in agreement while others remained skeptical.

Renard turned back to the fallen noblewoman, offering her a hand. "Good effort," he said, pulling her to her feet. She accepted reluctantly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Anyone else?" Renard asked, looking around the group. His gaze landed briefly on Asher, who stood silently, observing the scene with a faint smirk.

The recruits shifted uncomfortably, but no one else stepped forward.

"Good," Renard said, clapping his hands together. "Then let’s move on. Training begins now. And trust me—you’ll need it."

As the group dispersed, Asher couldn’t help but chuckle quietly to himself. This squad might have potential after all. Let’s see what you’ve got, Captain Renard.

As the squad began their training, Renard led them to a large open area equipped with various weapons, dummies, and obstacle courses.

"Alright," Renard began, his voice commanding. "We’re going to start with something simple. Combat evaluation. I need to see where each of you stands. Pair up and spar. Use everything you’ve got—magic, weapons, abilities. I need to see your strengths and your weaknesses."

The recruits shuffled uneasily, forming pairs. Asher noticed that most of the recruits were sizing up their opponents, trying to find someone weaker to ensure an easy victory. He chuckled at their hesitation but stayed quiet, waiting to see who would approach him.

A burly man with a scar running down his face strode toward Asher, a confident smirk on his lips. "Looks like you’re the odd one out," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Let’s see what you’ve got, rookie."

Asher gave a slight nod, his expression calm. "Sure," he said, stepping into the makeshift arena the others had formed.

The scarred man drew a massive axe from his back, its blade glowing faintly with runes. "Don’t hold back," he said, his grin widening. "I won’t."

Asher tilted his head, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement. "I’ll try not to disappoint."

The crowd gathered around, murmurs spreading about the upcoming match. Most seemed to think Asher would be crushed.

"Begin!" Renard barked, his voice cutting through the chatter.

The scarred man charged, his axe swinging in a wide arc. The sheer force of the swing created a shockwave that sent dust and debris flying.

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But Asher didn’t move. He stood perfectly still, his hands in his pockets as the blade came hurtling toward him. At the last possible moment, he stepped aside, the axe missing him by inches and slamming into the ground.