Early the next morning, Ron packed his things and climbed step by step toward the surface along the roughly carved stairs inside the cavern.
In truth, he had nothing much to pack. Food, medicine, and tools were forbidden; all he could bring was his thin new recruit short-sleeved uniform. Swordsmen had it better, since they could bring their personal swords.
Although he had used the excuse of "sending him away" to indirectly drive Dorte off last night, Ron had not deceived him.
Whether one could recognize oneself was a more crucial point than strength, faith, or dreams! Only those who knew their own limits had a chance to correct themselves, adapt, and improve. Then, with that as a foundation, they could build towering structures of strength, faith, and dreams.
Mere training was the most meaningless thing of all. In this dangerous world where people could die anywhere, at any time, judgment was what mattered most! One wrong judgment could have severe consequences!
Besides strength and loyalty, what Navy officers needed most was brains!
Knowing what judgment to make in what situation, knowing what one could and could not touch, becoming mature, broad-minded enough to embrace the Four Blues, steady as a mountain, with a strong heart... This!
This was the result the Navy wanted to see.
It was also the true purpose of the test.
Hell Island was a roaring furnace of flames. It would forge the recruits into hardened steel through the cruelest methods.
As for a little dross...
It only needed to be discarded.
On the warship's deck, Momonga, who had not slept all night, watched solemnly as the silent recruits emerged from their rooms and vanished down the dark staircase, silently offering them his blessings.
At seven o'clock, the Colonel in charge of attendance came over