Punishment began at three in the morning.
Which was a crime.
Not legally.
Morally.
Spiritually.
Universally.
A crime.
The first thing I became aware of was my door exploding open.
Not opening.
Exploding.
The impact slammed against the wall hard enough to make me question whether a siege weapon had somehow entered the dormitory.
Then came the voice.
"ON YOUR FEET!"
I briefly considered pretending to be dead.
Unfortunately, the voice belonged to a man who looked capable of verifying that claim personally.
Instructor Gareth Ironwood stood in the doorway.
He was enormous.
Broad shoulders.
Square jaw.
Short brown hair.
The posture of someone who considered sleep an optional weakness.
Worst of all—
He looked cheerful.
At three in the morning.
A monster.
An actual monster.
"Dress."
I stared at him.
"No."
His smile widened.
A dangerous development.
Three minutes later I was dressed.
The punishment uniform wasn't technically different from normal academy training attire.
Black combat trousers.
Dark training shirt.
Academy boots.
Student badge displayed clearly.
The difference was the bright red armband.
DISCIPLINARY DUTY
Humiliating.
Efficient.
Impossible to ignore.
I hated it.
Three fifteen.
We were running.
Around the dormitories.
Because apparently suffering built character.
According to Gareth.
Personally, I felt it mostly built resentment.
"FASTER!"
I hated him.
Deeply.
Professionally.
By four o'clock we had arrived at the Dungeon Zone.
And suddenly I understood why Galia Military Academy was considered insane.
Massive reinforced walls surrounded an area nearly as large as a small city.
Dozens of enormous gates stood open.
Some led underground.
Others into forests.
A few appeared to lead directly into mountains.
Each entrance possessed a massive ranking marker.
E-Rank.
D-Rank.
C-Rank.
B-Rank.
A-Rank.
Students moved everywhere.
Workers.
Researchers.
Combat teams.
Cleanup crews.
Beast handlers.
Artificers.
The entire place functioned like an industrial district dedicated entirely to dungeons.
My creator instincts immediately approved.
My exhausted instincts wanted a bed.
Gareth marched me toward a large stone building.
Inside sat roughly forty students.
Every one of them wore red disciplinary armbands.
Interesting.
Apparently poor decision-making was common.
A second-year raised his hand.
"What are you in for?"
"Violence."
He nodded.
Reasonable.
A third-year spoke next.
"Gambling."
Another.
"Property destruction."
Another.
"Illegal alchemy."
A pause.
Someone else sighed.
"Dating two sisters at the same time."
The room collectively stared.
The student looked away.
Ashamed.
As he should be.
Eventually a supervisor entered.
An elderly woman carrying enough paperwork to kill a lesser man.
She pointed toward a board.
Assignments appeared.
Monster Remains Recovery.
Equipment Retrieval.
Infrastructure Repair.
Escort Duty.
Emergency Response.
Dungeon Observation.
My name appeared beside:
B-Rank Dungeon 17
The Hollow Burrows
Observation and Response Unit
Wonderful.
The Hollow Burrows turned out to be exactly as unpleasant as the name suggested.
An enormous underground dungeon system filled with tunnels.
Monster nests.
Underground chambers.
And creatures that reproduced far faster than common sense allowed.
A reinforced observation platform overlooked the primary entrance.
My job was simple.
Observe.
Report.
Assist.
Intervene if necessary.
Do not sleep.
That final rule seemed strangely targeted.
Five thirty.
Nothing happened.
Six.
Nothing happened.
Seven.
Nothing happened.
I found a chair.
The best chair.
A glorious chair.
The chair understood me.
We formed an emotional bond.
Then Gareth appeared.
"Don't get comfortable."
I hated him.
Nine AM.
An escaped monster emerged.
Finally.
A giant tunnel crawler.
Six meters long.
Covered in armored plates.
The cleanup team immediately began panicking.
The crawler charged.
Workers scattered.
I stood.
Walked forward.
Punched it once.
The crawler exploded into the nearest wall.
Silence followed.
The workers stared.
I returned to my chair.
Problem solved.
The supervisor made a note.
I received nothing.
No rewards.
No contribution points.
No monster core.
Academy property.
The academy took everything.
Which somehow felt more painful than the punch.
Eleven AM.
A combat team arrived.
One member was missing.
The supervisor pointed at me.
"You."
I protested,she denied
Five minutes later I was inside the dungeon.
For free.
The team leader was a second-year.
A spear user.
Competent.
Annoying.
"We appreciate the help."
"I'm being forced."
"Still appreciated."
Fair.
The mission lasted forty minutes.
Three monster nests.
Two tunnel beasts.
One giant centipede.
Everything died.
I received nothing.
Again.
I was beginning to understand true suffering.
One PM.
Lunch.
A stale sandwich.
A bottle of water.
No berries.
Life was meaningless.
Two PM.
Equipment recovery.
Someone had dropped an enchanted shield down a monster tunnel.
The academy apparently considered this a serious issue.
So I spent thirty minutes retrieving it.
I hated everyone involved.
Three PM.
Monster remains collection.
I learned things.
Things I did not wish to learn.
There were smells.
Terrible unholy smells.
Somewhere, a god should answer for this.
Three forty-five.
I discovered another chair.
A better chair.
A legendary chair.
The chair possessed greatness.
I sat.
Closed my eyes.
Peace.
"Benjamin."
I opened my eyes.
Gareth stood directly in front of me.
Smiling.
Four PM.
Dismissal.
Finally.
Glorious freedom.
The supervisor signed my duty completion form.
"Excellent work."
I stared.
She wasn't joking.
Apparently I had actually done well.
That felt wrong somehow.
As I left, Gareth appeared beside me.
Far too energetic for someone who existed.
"Good first day."
"It was terrible."
"You'll adapt."
"I won't."
"You will."
"I genuinely won't."
"We start again tomorrow."
Silence.
Slowly—
Very slowly—
I turned toward him.
"Tomorrow?"
Gareth nodded.
"Three AM."
The world darkened.
My soul attempted escape.
It failed.
As I walked back toward the dormitories, one horrifying realization settled over me.
This wasn't a single punishment.
This wasn't even a week-long punishment.
This was a month.
A month of waking up at three in the morning.
A month of dungeon duty.
A month of unpaid labor.
A month of Gareth.
For the first time since arriving at Galia Military Academy—
I understood true suffering.
It wasn't combat.
It wasn't rankings.
It wasn't duels.
It wasn't paperwork.
It wasn't even near-death experiences.
It was waking up at three in the morning.
Repeatedly.
The monsters were innocent.
The real villain was Instructor Gareth Ironwood.