Fleeting

After washing up, Sparta returned to the dormitory, lay on his bed, and stared at the ceiling, questioning his life.

"Looks like you had quite a good time in the training room."

Sparta did not move his head, only glancing toward Jayce with his eyes.

"Don't say something so misleading."

Jayce did not reply and continued teasing him.

"You've got a great body. I'm sure a lot of people will like you."

"You know, in the Viltrumite Empire, it's very common for two men to love each other."

In that twisted Empire, there were quite a few men who liked men.

At first, the Empire had not allowed such things to happen, but as more and more men fell for other men,

the Empire gradually came to tacitly accept it.

Sparta hurriedly plugged his ears with his fingers. "I'd rather die!"

Just thinking about it felt despairing. No way!

During this time, all the recruits shed their former laziness. Every morning, they climbed out of bed before dawn to train, terrified of becoming cannon fodder in the coming war.

Even that damn Clayton now spent at least ten hours working out in the training room.

Sparta had previously trained for only two hours a day, but as everyone else became increasingly competitive, he extended his training time.

From two hours to twelve hours, every single day.

As the days passed, there were less than three days left out of the thirty.

After finishing his training for the day, Sparta sat in the square and quietly watched the recruits passing by.

War was imminent. Training was important, but maintaining a clear mind and a relaxed mood was even more important.

Interestingly, the designated areas for each platoon had been opened up, and everyone could now move freely within the Recruit Company.

Only within the Recruit Company. Other companies were still off-limits.

At that moment, Duken walked over, sat beside Sparta, and even squeezed him with his butt.

Sparta swayed and nearly got pushed off his chair. Speechless, he said,

"Seriously? There are so many empty seats next to us, and you just had to squeeze in beside me?"

Duken looked bewildered as he replied sincerely,

"Because if I sit here, I can hear our conversation clearly."

Sparta silently rolled his eyes and did not want to discuss the matter any further.

"There are only a few days left before the war starts. Do you think the two of us can survive?"

He had thought that if he survived the Coming-of-Age Trial, he could live peacefully in the future. He had not expected to face another life-or-death test so soon.

The odds of survival this time were several levels lower than in the Coming-of-Age Trial.

He was truly scared.

Suddenly, Sparta felt his shoulder sink as Duken draped an arm over it.

"We won't be acting alone. There are plenty of others facing this with us."

"When it comes to large-scale battles, there has never been a record of defeat in the history of the Viltrumite Empire."

"And you're so strong that it'll probably be hard for you to die even if you want to."

Sparta nodded lightly, feeling that Duken had a point.

As long as he was not surrounded and attacked by hundreds or thousands of enemies at once, he did indeed have a chance of surviving with his strength.

Even if he truly could not win, he could choose a strategic retreat. Staying alive was the top priority, after all.

With his flying speed, few people could keep up with him.

"What if some reclusive ancient monster who hasn't appeared for hundreds of thousands of years shows up later and kills me with one punch?"

"The universe is full of powerful beings. I'm still far too weak."

Duken looked strangely at the person sitting beside him. "You really have quite the imagination."

"We're already the strongest in the universe. How could there be a race that could kill us with one punch?"

Sparta laughed awkwardly, his tone casual.

"Who knows? Maybe there really is. The universe is so vast; we just haven't discovered them yet."

The universe was absurdly huge. It seemed perfectly reasonable that another race stronger than Viltrumites might exist.

Of course, he did not want such a race to exist.

If one really did, he would furrow his brow and hide behind all the other Viltrumites.

Duken wiped his smooth bald head. "By the way, do you want to go back and take a look?"

Sparta looked puzzled.

"Go back?"

Duken nodded firmly.

"That's right. Since we can go back, why not go back?"

Two days ago, on the fifth-to-last day before the war began, the Military Department had allowed everyone to return home during the final few days.

Because this might be their last time going home.

"Forget it. There's nothing to do if I go back. There's still plenty of equipment here that I can use."

Sparta shook his head, rejecting Duken's suggestion.

His parents were both school-level officers. At this point, they were probably already busy beyond measure.

And if he went back now, aside from returning to his familiar home, he would not get to see anyone.

Duken looked at the dejected Sparta and said mysteriously, "I know what you're thinking."

Sparta raised his head. "What?"

"You must be thinking that you won't get to see your parents if you go back, right?"

Sparta looked the Black man before him up and down but could not find anything different about him.

Could he have been possessed? There was no way he should have this much intelligence.

Duken waved a hand. "Don't look at me like that. I'm thinking the same thing."

Hearing the explanation, Sparta nodded lightly, smiling as he pointed at Duken from afar.

"I thought you suddenly got smarter."

The moment those words came out, Duken became unhappy. He reached out and slapped away the hand pointing at him. "What do you mean, I got smarter? I've always been smart."

"Hahaha, yes, yes, you're very smart."

Amid Sparta's laughter, three days passed in the blink of an eye. The war... was right before them.

Early in the morning, Jayce returned to the dormitory carrying the equipment they had received.

"One for each person. Put on your communication wristbands."

Sparta took the wristband Jayce handed him and put it on his wrist.

Before long, all the communication wristbands had synchronized, and Jayce's voice rang through the dormitory.

"During the war, you may become separated due to all kinds of circumstances or encounter sudden developments."

"The communication wristband is your only means of contact."

"Remember, it can not only track your location, but also send a distress signal in an emergency."

"If it gets damaged or lost, then you can only pray for yourselves."

Sparta lowered his head and fiddled with the wristband. A virtual projection displayed a simple map, with several green dots representing his teammates' locations, while a distress button sat beneath it.

Suddenly, countless green dots appeared, turning the entire simple map green.

The sudden change made Sparta's eyes widen. How many people had been marked at the same time?

Was the entire Military Department on this map?

Jayce noticed the expression on Sparta's face and explained,

"This is the Wartime Synchronization System, so all allied forces wearing wristbands will be displayed."

"Of course, if someone presses the emergency distress button, their green dot will turn red. At that point, nearby allies will provide support."