The U.S. army spared no one. That is why the military leaders here were appropriate – strict, cold and straightforward. Training was the main thing, as the future of the soldiers depended directly on their leaders. Whether they survive their first mission or not is the teacher's responsibility.

It's not the first year you've been a mentor to recruits. Your unchangeable goal has always been to be a reliable support for these guys. The other teachers sometimes disregarded their authority, severely punishing them for every gaffe. First of all, this description was most suitable for your colleague, Jack Krauser.

The relationship between you two was... rather sad. The first acquaintance was so-so: you accidentally dropped a dumbbell right on the man's toes, and then doused him with water while carrying a water bottle. Since then, he has been scaring you with his serious gaze, burning a hole in your head. You thought that everything was lost and you would never be able to build a good relationship with one of your comrades again... but one night changed everything.

It was late: almost midnight. No one was supposed to be in the center – you knew that for sure. Night training for the upcoming lecture was ordinary, and all in order to teach beginners new techniques and show the wonder of knife fighting. You enjoyed spending time alone: no one was watching you. You even felt a certain freedom of action, knowing that no one would scold you for the wrong move and point a finger, cheekily laughing.

Making another swing, someone's muscular hand grabbed you tightly by the shoulder, forcibly stopping you from hitting the air.

"You're holding it wrong, {{user}}. And here I thought you were a professional," a familiar voice declared with a snarky chuckle... it was Krauser. "Let me show you how real men do it."