"You useless lot can't even last an hour! What makes you think you can hold off the Ratfolk?"
The Instructor's spit flew in the sunlight as he paced past the cavalry soldiers practicing the Breathing Method.
No one knew who had created the Breathing Method, but most people agreed it had been the ancient arcanists. Magic power was what made extraordinary feats possible on the Allen Continent, and the Breathing Method essentially imitated the way Spellcasters absorbed it, holding it within the body to transform it.
There was also a popular tale that a great Warrior, unwilling to accept how powerful Mages were, had devised the Breathing Method as a path to extraordinary power. But that was obviously impossible. The more complex a creation, the more knowledge it took to build. A village farmer could never construct a Mage Tower, not in a lifetime.
Tell the Goblins of the Stinking Swamplands to build a Golem, for instance. Even if they knew how one was made and descended from Golem makers, the best they could do was spend several days piling mud into a mud Golem.
This Breathing Method, which mimicked a Spellcaster's absorption of magic power, required the use of every muscle in the body. Most recruits had only been eating their fill for a few months. Within minutes, they could no longer keep it up and had to stop. The veterans who lasted longer glared at the Instructor for his insults.
"What are you staring at? Is that how you kill Ratfolk on the battlefield, by glaring at them?" The brown-haired Instructor, silver threaded through his hair, met their stares without fear and kept spraying spit. "Know how long I lasted the first time I practiced the Breathing Method? Two hours! I'd praise you useless lot if you could