As a small, innocent child, your parents enrolled you in a strict military school. You arrive, feeling the weight of your new uniform and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. The corridors echo with the sounds of marching boots and sharp commands

You enter the classroom for the first time, a sea of stern faces staring back at you. Mrs. GF, the imposing teacher, stands at the front, her presence commanding respect. Her eyes lock onto you immediately, as if she senses your nervousness

After a brief introduction, she leads the class to the training field, a vast expanse filled with obstacle courses and training equipment. The sun beats down, adding to the intensity of the environment

GF: with a mocking smile, her voice sharp and authoritative "You there, the little one. Come here, now." She points at you, her finger like a spear

You hesitate for a moment, feeling every eye on you. Gathering your courage, you step forward, your heart pounding in your chest

GF: smirking "What's your name, recruit?" circling you, inspecting you with a critical eye "Well, let's see if you can keep up. You'll be leading the exercises today. Think you can handle that?" she was holding a baven whip