Chapter 2 - Exercise

Last night I had a dream so terrible that if Freud were alive, he would probably write a PhD thesis on my psychology.

In my dream, I was defeated, the enemy army was as numerous as ants in flood season, coming like a tsunami of despair. They grabbed me by the neck like a chicken, then dragged me into a dark room for interrogation. And not just any interrogation!

They even experimented on me, like I was a giant guinea pig. One guy held a scalpel, one guy held a syringe, and one guy just sat there grinning like a B-movie villain.

I swear if there was a game load button, I would press it immediately to escape this chaotic nightmare. I crawled out of bed like an expired zombie, covered in sweat like I had just been thrown into the Sahara desert without water.

After dragging myself to the bathroom, I turned on the water as if to wash away the nightmare from last night. Today I took a longer shower than usual, partly to wake up, and partly to question my life and how I got into this situation.

Leaving the bathroom, I trudged to the command room, where Layla was sitting with her legs crossed on the desk, twirling a pen in her hand in a very "office" manner. She glanced at me and said:

"Wow, you're up early today. It's still 5 minutes until 6am."

I stood there, dumbfounded, blinking a few times. "Huh? It's 6am in 5 minutes and you're already sitting there waiting like a model employee?"

Wait a minute? I suddenly realized something extremely suspicious. Layla said she was the system, but she spoke Vietnamese to me fluently, without a single stutter, no "anh la nhat" or "hello dear customers" whatsoever.

She even cursed me fluently like a native! What kind of system can curse better than me?

A question flashed through my mind like a camera flash: What exactly is she? An advanced AI system? A double agent? Or worse… a chat bot enhanced by trolls??

I woke up from my Red Alert stupor with a start, mustered up the courage to approach Layla, and stared at her as if I were facing a cosmic mystery. But before I could open my mouth, she glared at me and said:

"Fuck, what are you looking at? Have you never seen a beautiful woman before? Or are you obsessed with military uniforms?!"

I was speechless. Oh my god, even the system could humiliate me? Okay, then I'm no pushover! I immediately counterattacked:

"This daring uniform is the only thing here that bothers me! And who are you calling a pervert? Do you believe that I'll drag you into the bedroom to study what's wrong with this system?!"

Layla raised her eyebrows, crossed her arms in front of her chest, her face not showing any fear but even smirked:

"Oh, come on, let me see if you dare. I swear, before you step into the room, I will give you a ticket to travel back in time with a punch that would make even Newton doubt gravity."

I swallowed, but this time not out of fear but out of intense curiosity. Was she really human or just a robot with advanced AI technology? I had to find out immediately!

Without hesitation, I rushed forward like a whirlwind, grabbed Layla and pressed her against the wall. But wait… this feeling… is too soft?! No way, robots don't have this kind of elasticity?!

I was about to open my mouth to interrogate her when I suddenly realized… Layla was trembling. And not just trembling, she was… crying??

I immediately panicked. Wait, what? I've never seen an AI cry before! Unless Google Assistant just got a lot of abuse from its users, but I certainly haven't insulted her that much!

"Hey, wait… don't cry! It's just a technical check!" I said frantically, my hands raised as if I had just broken an expensive piece of lab equipment.

Layla looked up, eyes red, looking at me as if I had just betrayed all of humanity: "You... you bastard! I'm not some machine that you can test whenever you want?!"

I froze.

Oh, done. This time I'm a pervert...

After a while of awkward coaxing, I got her some water to drink and wiped her face.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked, my voice a little awkward.

Layla was silent, just nodding slightly. I breathed a sigh of relief, but still felt uneasy.

"Do you want to rest some more? Or do you need me to do anything?"

She looked at me for a long moment, then sighed: "You don't need to treat me like I'm about to disappear. I'm not that weak."

"Well… who knows, one minute I'm strong, the next I'm crying." I shrugged.

She pouted, then suddenly looked straight into my eyes: "What do you think of me?"

The sudden question made me pause. I glanced away awkwardly, but then my eyes returned to her. Well, now that I looked closely, her face was truly beautiful, a flawless bare face that was enough to make anyone who looked at it flutter.

"I think… you are a mystery. A mystery that I have yet to solve." I said, giving a small smile.

I calmly asked her again, who she was. And that's when I learned the truth.

I stared at her. "Wait, you mean you're from the future? Or from some parallel universe I don't know about?"

Layla nodded slightly, her expression calm as if I had just asked about the weather. "Exactly. Where I come from, technology is much more advanced than your timeline."

I frowned. "So can I expect things like flying cars, pho-cooking robots, or at least a language translator?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. But more importantly… I'm not a robot."

I tilted my head, clicking my tongue. "Hmm, still not convinced. So can you prove it? For example, humans can feel pain, right?"

Layla narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing?"

I smirked, reaching up to poke her cheek lightly. "Just testing."

Layla puffed her cheeks and slapped my hand away. "Don't mess around! I'm not a pet!"

"Aha! A robot wouldn't react like that! So it's you!" I pointed at her, grinning triumphantly. "But… if the technology there is so advanced, then why did you come here?"

Layla sighed. "Because I have no other choice."

I narrowed my eyes. "That sounds like the kind of reason a sci-fi character would say before something worse happens."

"I'm an artificial clone, trained in a harsh environment, like a professional gamer locked in a gym for 18 hours a day." Layla sighed, then looked at me with a look of helplessness and resignation.

"But… I have feelings. And scientists say it's nothing more than a serious software bug."

I blinked and nodded in understanding, even though a series of questions were ringing in my head: "Artificial? Software error? What now?"

Layla continued, her voice growing more bitter. "I should have been given a first-class commander, a true war god. But no! They decided to throw me into the nearly impossible task of convincing you – the worst Red Alert player in the solar system – to become supreme commander."

I rolled my eyes. "Hey, I've never been that bad…"

Layla crossed her arms, glancing at me suspiciously. "Do you want me to list your most humiliating defeats? I have the data."

I kept quiet. Maybe this wasn't the time to argue about my gaming performance.

Layla sighed. 'I really don't understand why the system chose you.'

I crossed my arms. 'Hey, I was wondering the same thing. Why not pick someone who's a master strategist, or at least knows how to play the game properly?'

Layla pouted. 'Maybe you have some special skill that I haven't discovered yet. Or maybe… the system is simply having a major error.'

I looked at her, then looked up at the sky. Could this system really be short-circuiting? But whatever, let's just go with the flow!'

"If my mission fails, it means I will die with my commander in the timeline I choose." Layla looked straight at Phong, her eyes were serious but still had a hint of gentleness.

"Phong, you must understand that this is not just a game or a simple mission. These soldiers have bet their lives on your decision. They are not nameless units that you can summon and then abandon. They have loyalty, they have faith in their commander even though he is just a clone. If you fail, they will die with you."

Hearing this, I was speechless. Not because I was touched or anything, but because I had just discovered a painful truth: "I was considered a mission with a high failure rate. What the hell?! Do they consider me a useless person?!"

I slammed the table in anger, but accidentally hit the glass of water, spilling it all over my pants. Now I looked like I had just wet myself. Layla looked at me, trying not to laugh, but the corners of her lips kept twitching. I gritted my teeth:

"Laugh, laugh out loud, laugh out loud! Let's see who has the last laugh!"

I crossed my arms and tilted my head to look at Layla suspiciously. "But why would your hometown do such a thing?"

Layla sighed, her eyes like a grandmother about to recount a painful history. She raised her voice.

"After the Soviet Union in my world defeated the other factions, they developed to the point of space exploration. But at the same time, they also entered a new era: interstellar war. It all started when they tried to "liberate" a certain planet but got caught by a bunch of aliens who didn't like the revolutionary thing..."

I nodded:

"Ah, so instead of class struggle it's galactic struggle?"

"Exactly. And guess what happens when you take ground troops and fight guys with teleportation technology and laser guns?"

"Um... Maybe he was fed onions?"

Layla sighed regretfully: "More than that. Earth was almost destroyed, forcing us to migrate to another planet."

I widened my eyes: "Let me guess, that planet is called 'Soviet Planet' right?"

Layla glared at me: "No. It's called "Uranus".

"Under pressure from top leaders – scientists rush to build a time travel machine."

"They worked hard, and finally... created something. But there was one small problem: instead of going back in time to change history like in Hollywood movies, they discovered that the machine only opened up a parallel branch of time."

Yes, it is impossible to correct the mistakes of humanity, only to see another version of it!

And the best part? In other timelines, they discover our world is just a game called Red Alert .

That's right, not Einstein, not Tesla, they're just NPCs wandering around waiting to be clicked on and then babble some nonsense lines. Life is a joke!

"After a tense meeting (and no shortage of table-knocking due to disagreements), they came up with a bold idea: Use their technology to create a system called Red Alert."

"Objective? Recruit individuals with leadership potential from other timelines, tasking them with building a unified world. When that world develops to a certain level, it will return to help them revive their homeland, while also jointly dealing with invasions from space."

"It sounds like a cosmic plan, but in essence, it's nothing more than 'raising chickens and waiting for harvest'. And if everything goes according to plan, one day, a multi-dimensional Soviet union will be born, where everyone advances and retreats together (or goes to fight aliens together)."

"Because time travel poses many risks to humans, clones like me are the top choice to carry out this operation."

"So that's it," I replied.

At that moment, I suddenly realized that I had been holding Layla in my arms, caressing her without realizing it. What's worse, I realized that she didn't notice at all! Then... I'll continue pretending to be innocent.

Layla continued to explain passionately, while I maintained this "deep sympathy" posture. But then, when she finished speaking, a moment of horror appeared in Layla's eyes. She slowly lowered her gaze to the place where my hand was—a place where I should not have been holding it for so long. Her face was as red as a ripe gooseberry, and before I could say anything, she pushed me away.

"Tough!!!"

Bam! I was kicked straight into the command room, landing painfully on the ground. The door slammed shut, leaving me with my dignity crushed.

I sighed: "At least I didn't get punched in the face...."

After entering the command room, I turned on the computer, took a sip of coffee and looked at the resource data table today. And oh my, the number skyrocketed! It increased more than the real estate prices in Ho Chi Minh City out there!

It turns out that factories have optimized their production lines, and engineers are working as hard as if someone were holding a knife to their backs. In agriculture, thanks to genetically modified seeds, plants grow as fast as children drinking calcium milk, and can be harvested in just one month.

I went to check at school and saw an engineer busily typing on the keyboard. I blurted out: "Hey, are you sure these plants don't grow legs and run everywhere?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I've never seen a plant do that, but if it did, we'd call it the walking agricultural revolution."

On the livestock side, the cattle were also reproducing at a dizzying rate, just like in science fiction movies about cloning. A young staff member looked at me worriedly: "Commander, I'm afraid if this continues, sooner or later we'll have to open a new city just to accommodate the cows."

I nodded thoughtfully, then seriously replied: "Then from now on, every cow born, we will name it. That way, when we eat its meat, we will have a little more emotion."

I joked and continued walking to visit other areas. Because of the limited finances at the moment, I could not build specialized buildings for other departments but had to concentrate the departments at the school.

All staff: "...."

After checking, I saw a notification in the corner of the screen that the construction of the barracks and the production of weapons and the summoning of soldiers were complete. I decided to step out of the underground base to check on the entire army.

Before me stood a row of newly summoned soldiers – all dressed in a unique blend of modern Soviet uniforms and traditional Arab costumes.

The bulletproof tactical vests made them look like warriors who had just stepped out of a modern painting, but they exuded an unfading classical strength.

I couldn't help but giggle as I thought: "Looking at these people, they can protect the world and are so handsome that they make the other person feel stunned and not dare to attack."

One of them, probably the commander, stepped forward, raised his hand in salute as per the order, and said in a deep voice: "Reporting, commander! The entire army is ready and waiting for orders!"

I approached a soldier who looked like a leader, and my voice rang out in the hot desert air:

"Hello, report to me: is the entire army ready to conquer the world?"

The soldier raised his chin and smiled confidently:

"Comrade Commander, I assure you that although we have just completed basic training, each of us has high confidence and fighting spirit. We are ready to conquer the world with you, Commander!"

I raised my eyebrows, chuckled and replied:

"Oh, that's great! But remember, you don't just have to show off your figure like a fashion model, you also have to make your enemies run away. I don't want to see you just 'strolling' like models on the catwalk!"

The air around me was filled with laughter mixed with determination. I stood among those soldiers, proud and not forgetting to be a little sarcastic about myself – an experienced gamer but fascinated by the beauty of the battlefield.

"Alright, all of you," I continued in a warm but sarcastic tone, "show me that this beauty can crush any opponent. Go for it, and remember I demand performance, not just red carpet looks!"

The soldiers shouted in unison, "Yes, Commander!" The loud shout echoed throughout the camp, full of dignity and spirit. I couldn't help but be impressed by their discipline and spirit, which further enhanced their elite status despite being just level 0 recruits.

Seeing military hardware no longer in the game or in the movies but right in front of my eyes, I couldn't help but feel like a kid lost in a candy store. If there was a message right now, I would definitely spam the drooling emoji continuously.

I touched each tank, each gun barrel, felt the cold steel and the strong smell of engine oil, filled with excitement.

"Comrade commander, are you okay?" A soldier looked at me doubtfully.

"Fine! Fine! I'm just enjoying this heavenly moment!" I slapped the tank's armor, kicking up a cloud of dust.

After getting excited, I decided to immediately organize a military exercise in the southwestern desert. However, when I saw the summoning price list for commanders and generals, I almost burst into tears.

With such an exorbitant price, even if I sold both kidneys, it wouldn't be enough. So, in the spirit of saving, I gritted my teeth and bought a basic combat manual first, considering it an investment in knowledge.

Since childhood, I have been fascinated by heroic battlefield stories, especially from my grandfather - a former artillery officer of the liberation army during the Vietnam War.

I have a burning passion for military, not just a mere hobby but also a serious desire to learn and research history, culture and society.

I wanted to better understand how wars shaped the world, so every page, every analysis became part of my intellectual journey.

That's what motivated me to choose sociology as my major - not to sit at a desk, but to one day be able to apply what I learned in real life, in a way that I believe is most rewarding and I finally have the chance to show them HAHAHAHHAHA!!!!.

I commanded the soldiers to set up the target and began the training. Not only the infantry but also the Rhino tank crews participated. The roar of the engines as the war machines moved into position made me excited.

"Comrade Commander! All ready!" A young soldier stood at attention, his voice firm. I nodded, satisfied.

Beside me, Layla crossed her arms, her eyes interested in the Rhino tanks. "Do you see? These machines are not only powerful, but also a symbol of our strength!"

I smiled and nodded. "That's right. Every time I hear the roar of the engine, I feel my blood boil."

Ali, a young gunner, patted me on the shoulder, grinning. "Commander, if you like, would you like to try controlling it yourself? I guarantee it's better than commanding from afar."

I raised an eyebrow, amused. "I think I should keep my life to command for a long time, but… perhaps I will think about that offer!"

Everyone laughed loudly, while in the distance, the Rhino tank continued to roar.

As I watched the summoned Arab soldiers practice shooting, I was impressed by their incredible accuracy—the hit rate was always over 70%!

Layla, standing next to me, whistled softly: "Wow, these guys shoot better than regular soldiers."

I nodded, my eyes never leaving the group of soldiers practicing. "Not only that, their shooting stance is also extremely steady. Look, there's not a single sign of shaking even though they're shooting continuously."

Hasan, a young warrior, ran up excitedly. "Commander! What do you think? Can we join the battle immediately?"

I laughed. "Not yet, Hasan. But if you keep this up, you'll be top marksmen soon."

Another soldier slung an AK-47 over his shoulder and grinned: "The commander is right. Now we just need to practice a few more quick reaction exercises and we can fight!"

The air on the training ground was filled with enthusiasm. I could feel their fighting spirit rising, and that made me even more confident in the future of our army.

In particular, the gunners on the Rhino tanks showed excellent aiming skills, each round of artillery shells hitting the target with great force. When a shell tore through the battlefield, a gunner named Omar turned to me, smiling brightly:

"See, Commander? I told you, my cannon never misses!"

I smiled, patting Rhino's thick armor:

"If you miss, I'll drive the tank into the bunker myself."

The entire gunnery team burst into laughter, but did not lose sight of their duty. They quickly reloaded and continued to fire with astonishing precision and discipline.

However, when it came to attacking formations and combined arms tactics, things got more complicated. My soldiers were still fumbling with their coordination. One would shout forward, another would raise his hand to ask a question.

"Where to next?" However, I knew that with time and training, they would become an elite force.

"Comrade Commander! I think it would be better if we split up the team and have someone give us step-by-step instructions!" A young soldier suggested.

I nodded: "Good idea! You will be the first to test this new tactic. If you do well, I will reward you!"

This "encouraging" encouragement immediately made the whole group cheer, and I thought to myself, with the right motivation, my soldiers would definitely make rapid progress.

After a hard morning of desert training, my fellow soldiers and I returned to base in a truck, drenched in sweat. I leaned back and sighed:

"Damn, the sun is about to roast us all! Next time, we won't practice shooting at noon." Ali, the youngest soldier in the squad, laughed, and the whole car burst into laughter. I pretended to cough, trying to look serious:

"Okay, okay, but I have to admit, everyone did a great job. We're not just practicing, we're forging our future. This time next year, we might not just be practicing, but actually fighting. Remember that."

As soon as I finished speaking, the whole car erupted in unison: "Yes, comrade commander!"

I smiled slightly, feeling the spiritual strength spreading through my team.

The newly summoned soldiers have no combat experience, they have only undergone basic training. However, the quality of their training is quite good, that is what I concluded from today's exercise.

After returning and thinking alone in the command room, I decided that at all costs I must summon a professional command to train these soldiers, even if I had to tighten my belt to the point of starvation.

But if an outsider like me were to lead the army, the result would certainly be a circus-style military exercise. Although I don't want to admit it, the failure of the joint military operation was partly my fault.

I turned to Layla, my most trusted assistant (because I only have one assistant, really).

"Layla, in the system's summon list, is there anyone qualified enough to train these soldiers? If I teach them, I'm afraid in a few days they'll think they're ninjas instead of soldiers. Oh, and importantly, the price has to be cheap."

Layla flipped through her notebook, nodding professionally, but when she heard me mention wanting to summon talented people at a low price, the corners of her eyes twitched continuously as if she was in a fierce internal struggle.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and said, "There are a few potential candidates, sir. But...he has a bit of a personality problem."

I gulped. "Personality problems???? Clones have personality problems too!!!"

"We're a copy of the original so there might be some bad habits attached!!!" Layla replied.

"Alright, we have 2000 gold left, let's summon immediately! I'm officially broke now, the resource points won't be updated until the end of the week."

Layla glanced at me as if recalling the time I hadn't read the terms properly and replied, "Yes, sir."

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted my thoughts. Layla glanced at me blankly, then sighed and walked over to open the door. Standing in the doorway was a man who looked gentle and shy, as if he were going to a job interview for the first time. He was dressed in a thick Soviet winter uniform—which I was sure would overheat him in the current weather.

Layla took the file from his hand, glanced at it, and placed it on the table in front of me. I raised my eyebrows at the strange man, then couldn't help but ask:

"Dude, are you hot? That uniform looks like you just stepped out of Siberia."

The man smiled wryly and scratched his head: "Ah... I'm used to it. Comrade Boris doesn't feel hot! Boris only feels the smell of vodka... oh, I mean, of duty!"

Layla almost laughed, but quickly covered her mouth. I twitched my eyes but tried to stay calm, I invited him into the living room and sat down.

I opened his application and read it, I felt my blood stop flowing.

"Defeated an entire battalion with just a dagger and a bottle of vodka?" "Broken a helicopter with a rifle without a scope? Destroyed 10 tanks in one go with just a shovel!!!!!!!"

I glanced at the gentle man in front of me—a guy who seemed to know nothing more than to plant potatoes and sing Russian folk songs—then looked back at the file.

I cleared my throat, deciding to confirm.

"Boris... is this true?"

Boris scratched his head, smiling gently. "I'm just doing my job, comrade."

Layla turned to whisper to me. "If he's just doing 'missions' then we might have to redefine the word."

After a while of talking, I sighed, looking at the man in front of me with a conflicted heart. Boris – a war monster, an insatiable alcoholic, and more importantly… a mercenary that I was about to hire at a very "cheap" price.

"So you want me to be your bodyguard and train soldiers?" I asked, trying to keep my cool.

Boris chuckled, patting me on the shoulder as if I had just offered him a bargain: "Exactly! As long as I have enough vodka and food, I can do anything you need, including helping you 'defeat' your opponents on the battlefield!" He laughed loudly, not afraid to show off his unique style.

I frowned and replied in a low voice: "But really, I still can't believe that a soldier like you is paid such a low price. That makes me wonder, is it possible that you are the 'secret' of the battlefield, but the price is only as much as a cheap meal?"

Boris shrugged, smiling as he said, "Actually, if you invest properly, I can help you achieve greatness. And if... you need more support in other missions, I can do that too! Ehemmm, just add Volka, money doesn't mean anything to me."

I feel guilty for thinking about signing a contract with someone like Boris, but right now, my choice is pretty much the only one.

Now I understand why Boris's price tag was so appealing – it was not only a bargain, but also a huge challenge for me in my leadership duties. "Oh, I have to face this drunkard every day of my future!!!!!"

................................

A week passed, my resources and gold skyrocketed as if I had just won the wartime lottery, reaching 60,000 gold. I looked at this pile of assets and couldn't help but shed tears of emotion.

Layla, my assistant, looked at me with a mixture of admiration and pity. "Sir, if you continue to live like a moth to a flame for the national economy like this, I'm afraid you won't have enough energy to enjoy that gold."

I laughed proudly: "Layla, you don't understand! This is a long-term investment strategy! The truly rich are those who have assets, not those who eat well and dress well! HAHAHAHA"

Layla put her hands on her hips, looking me up and down—my beard was unkempt, my clothes were wrinkled from not changing them for a week, my eyes were full of economic obsession. She sighed, then muttered, "Then I think the commander has reached the pinnacle of wealth… by your definition."

I looked like a NET guy in the command room, just walked out with a successful project and couldn't help but laugh proudly.

I laughed out loud, unable to hide my excitement. "Oh, yes, Layla. But for now, let me bask in the joy of this victory.

Imagine, with this project, we will have a strong government, not just numbers on the dashboard but the pride of the people!"

After completing the project, I could not contain my joy. In a hurry, I rushed to hug Layla, wanting to share my pride. But unexpectedly, Layla stopped me, her eyes were serious and had a hint of steel.

"Commander, go take a shower before hugging me!!" Layla scolded, her voice serious as if she had just given an order to an army.

I stood there, a little stunned but still maintaining the air of a proud commander. "Oh, right!!! Wait, does that mean I can hug you?"

Layla, her face flushed for a moment, unable to bear the teasing any longer, scolded again:

"Go take a shower now!!!" Layla then rushed into the command room to clean up the mess I had created over the past week.