Choices [III]

The next day…

It was time for my final class before the weekend — Advance Combat Mechanics.

Half of the first-year batch — all the Cadets who had chosen this course as their last class of the day — stood in one of the training fields surrounding the Apex Tower.

Standing before us was a tall man with an air of brutal authority shrouding him.

He had a small moustache and judging by his receding hairline, he'd go bald in just a few months.

Yet, his physique was commendable. And his presence was sharper than a veteran soldier who had survived a hundred wars.

That was Instructor Kain Reichardt.

Our Physical Conditioning coach, and a sadist who the Academy thought would be best suited to guide us in the art of combat as well.

Because why not?

Why shouldn't a deranged psycho like him, someone who enjoyed tormenting helpless teenagers in the name of training, get to teach two classes to the freshmen?