Chapter Seven: Arrival at the Training Camp

The Warrior Training Camp was built at the foot of the Sacred Mountain, nestled within a desolate range of hills. Jagged rocks littered the landscape, and hardly a trace of green vegetation could be found. According to Moses, this location was deliberately chosen by the Sanctuary to prevent the trainee warriors from causing too much environmental damage or disturbing nearby residents.

Because the chances of a Saint Warrior being born were so slim, the Sanctuary recruited large numbers of young people from outside each year, expanding the base in hopes of producing more Saint Warriors. It was much like breeding venomous insects: only the final survivor would be treasured, while the rest were merely fodder and foundations, barely worthy of attention.

Thus, the threshold to enter the Warrior Training Camp was not high—one only needed a clean background. With the guidance of Silver Saint Moses and the Pope’s confirmation of his “clean” identity, Yin Seventeen was able to join the Sanctuary’s Warrior Training Camp without a hitch.

However, precisely because of Moses, Yin Seventeen attracted much attention within the camp. Throughout the Sanctuary, there were only a few dozen true Saint Warriors. Compared to the tens of thousands of trainee warriors, even the lowest-ranked Bronze Saints were rarely seen figures of great significance. For a Silver Saint like Moses to personally escort a young man to register at the camp was almost unheard of.

Most of them had been sent by various national and regional powers, and only after rigorous selection by the camp’s overseers were they allowed to stay. To see someone like Yin Seventeen, who so clearly owed his place to personal connections, inspired both envy and jealousy.

After bidding farewell, Moses departed, and the camp overseer led Yin Seventeen to the living quarters. Whether to maximize the trainees’ resilience or simply because so few would ever succeed, the accommodations were extremely spartan. A pile of boulders haphazardly stacked together served as a stone hut. Yin Seventeen even saw, where the stones failed to fit tightly, numerous holes the size of basketballs perforating the walls, utterly incapable of keeping out wind or rain. One could easily imagine how miserable sleep would be if the wind picked up at night.

“That one’s empty. You’ll be staying there,” the overseer pointed to a stone hut on the right.

“Yes,” Yin Seventeen replied.

The conditions were rough, but still better than nothing. Besides, he was in no position to be picky. He’d be better off repairing the battered stone hut himself.

The overseer continued, “Meals are delivered by designated staff morning, noon, and evening. You’d best keep track of the times. If you’re late, you might go hungry.” He glanced at the youth with a mocking smile.

Hearing this, Yin Seventeen asked in confusion, “Is there a penalty for being late to meals?”

He could understand being punished for failing in training, but missing a meal seemed an odd reason for discipline.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the overseer replied with an air of mystery. He changed the subject: “There’s also an armory in the camp. Each person can collect a set of protective gear there. As for your other daily needs, you’ll have to find your own solutions.”

The Warrior Training Camp was not a welfare institution; its purpose was to train Saint Warriors for Lady Athena, and they would not squander resources on the daily comforts of so many trainees. As long as their basic needs were met, that was sufficient.

“Then…what if I get injured during training?” Yin Seventeen asked earnestly.

Injuries were only to be expected during training—he simply wanted to know what to do.

The overseer looked toward the center of the camp and said slowly, “There’s a dedicated medical team here who can treat the injuries of trainees. However…” He lowered his gaze, giving Yin Seventeen a deep look, and continued, “Not all injuries can be healed.”

“The power of the microcosm is not something ordinary people can master. In the moment of igniting one’s microcosm, most are unable to control the sudden surge of power and are devoured by its backlash. At best, they end up maimed; at worst, they die as their bodies erupt from within. That’s why the camp brings in so many young people every year.”

As the overseer, he witnessed daily the tragedies of trainees leaving the camp in defeat. He knew better than anyone just how high the elimination rate truly was.

“Are you afraid, boy?” the overseer asked with a touch of amusement.

“Not at all!” Yin Seventeen’s face was set with resolve. “To give my life for Lady Athena would be my greatest honor!”

At these words, the overseer gave him a long look and thought to himself, “This one’s faith is quite devout—it’s no wonder Lord Moses brought him here personally. Whether or not he becomes a true Saint Warrior, that faith alone surpasses many others.”

With so many people, there was always a mix of the genuine and the false. Even within the goddess’s Sanctuary, at the foot of the Sacred Mountain, the Warrior Training Camp was no exception. Even those who failed to master the microcosm and left as trainees would become top-tier warriors in the world. Naturally, they became highly sought after by nations and factions alike.

Thus, a fair portion of the camp’s population was motivated by personal ambitions. They did not expect to become true Saint Warriors; they only sought to grow powerful through training, then retire to enjoy the privileges of strength in the secular world. Such people would never attempt the dangerous microcosm training and from the very start had closed the path to becoming a Saint Warrior.

This boy, in his steadfast faith, had already surpassed them.

“But how should I begin my training, sir?” Yin Seventeen asked expectantly.

The overseer folded his arms and said solemnly, “Every Monday, the Pope sends a Bronze or Silver Saint Warrior to the camp to lecture all trainees on specific training methods. However, since there are so many trainees, the Saint Warriors cannot possibly guide each of you individually. They can only point you in the right direction. Of course, if you happen to form a special bond with one of the Saint Warriors and they choose to mentor you personally, or even take you as a disciple, that is another matter entirely.”

“I see,” Yin Seventeen replied, a note of disappointment in his voice.

He had overlooked the sheer number of trainees in the camp and the rarity of Saint Warriors. He had hoped, like Seiya, to receive personal instruction from a Saint Warrior. Now he realized he had been naïve.

No wonder so few ever became Saint Warriors.

Mastering the power of the microcosm was already a Herculean task, and with such a rough, hands-off approach to training, it was a miracle that any were born at all.