A day had passed since Lambert announced the beginning of specialized training, and by sunrise, the entire village could already feel the shift.
What had once been a simple open-field survival program was slowly transforming into something far more structured.
Something bigger.
Each mentor had chosen their own section of the village to prepare for the next phase.
Fidly chose familiarity.
He claimed the wide field beside the stables—the same patch of earth where countless children had spent months bruising their hands, stumbling through footwork, and learning the painful basics of discipline. To him, there was no need for flashy changes. The grounds already held purpose.
Weapon racks were hammered into place before dawn.
Wooden spears, blunt practice halberds, reinforced shields, and weighted staves were arranged in rows with military precision. Several straw dummies had been replaced with sturdier packed-hay targets, each wrapped tighter for repeated impact.
For Fidly, the field was not simply a training ground.
It was a forge.
A place where reckless children would either sharpen into proper warriors…
Or quit.
Theron, unsurprisingly, chose caution over convenience.
Rather than remain inside the village, he selected the open field just beyond the gates, where the outer walls could serve as both barrier and backstop. He personally oversaw the placement of archery targets against safe angles near the stone perimeter and ordered distance markers planted every few meters outward.
Near.
Mid.
Far.
Precision mattered.
“Bow practice inside the village is stupidity,” Theron had bluntly stated while jamming a wooden stake into the dirt hard enough to split it slightly. “A stray arrow does not care whose skull it finds.”
No one challenged him.
Not because he was rude—
But because he was right.
Lyra, however, chose an entirely different path.
Rather than isolate herself beyond the walls, she intentionally selected a visible section near the inner village square, where ordinary civilians could openly watch.
Some found that odd.
Lyra did not.
With the help of several trusted friends, she arranged her section more like an open classroom than a combat field. Water basins, herb bundles, chalk circles, and simple focus stones were carefully laid out.
Her first lessons would not be offensive magic.
Not fire.
Not destruction.
Life magic.
Basic purification.
Minor healing.
Heat regulation.
Water shaping.
Mana-guided utility.
Lyra wanted to prove something most adventurers forgot—
Magic was not only for battle.
Even the lowest tier of practical magic could improve farming, ease labor, purify drinking water, or treat wounds before infection became death.
If Lambert was creating stronger fighters…
Then Lyra would help create a smarter village.
By the time all preparations were complete, the instructors returned to the general training grounds to begin the regular drills—
Only to immediately realize something was… wrong.
Or perhaps more accurately—
Something absurd had arrived.
“Woooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhh! There are a lot of people here, right Lala?!”
“Wooohohohohohoh! There are a few people here, Lulu!”
Every head turned.
Near the center of the field stood a bizarre collection of masked newcomers, each one dramatically scanning the surroundings as if they had entered some grand battlefield instead of a rural village training yard.
Their movements were exaggerated beyond reason.
Hands above their brows.
Bodies swaying left and right.
One bent so far sideways it looked as though he might fall over.
“What do you think, Edward? Is it worth the trip?”
“Hulalalalalala! Not sure, not sure—but it is lively here, even in the middle of nowhere, right Mordo?”
“Humulalalalala! What do we do? What do we do?”
Children stopped stretching.
Adults stopped speaking.
Even several mentors simply stared.
A tall orange-haired man stood at the front with theatrical arrogance.
Beside him loomed a broad blue-haired brute carrying a massive wooden club that looked more suitable for smashing carts than training.
Two smaller masked figures continued spinning, pointing, and narrating nonsense to each other.
Then—
Clap!
A single sharp sound echoed behind them.
Instantly—
All four froze.
Without hesitation, they snapped into formation, two on each side.
A tiny masked child stepped between them with absurd grandeur, marching down the center as though entering a royal court before suddenly leaping high into the air.
“Captain Boom Boom of Unit 42 has arrived!”
The group exploded into synchronized poses.
Boom Boom began juggling three brightly colored balls with ridiculous speed.
The trainees collectively blinked.
Every one of them wore white masks with painted red smiles and circular red cheeks.
Yet each mask bore a unique symbol.
Lulu wore a tear.
Lala bore a heart.
Mordo carried a star.
Edward displayed a diamond.
And Captain Boom Boom—
A spade.
Silence lingered for exactly three seconds.
Then—
“I knew some clans would eventually send recruits once an S-Class adventurer suddenly started free training,” one of the instructors muttered.
“But Pierro…?”
A nearby villager frowned.
“These clowns are low to average tier at best…”
A pause.
“…But why do they move so fast?”
“Pierro? That Pierro?” another asked. “I heard they’re all over the capital.”
“Come to think of it… in every major town, you can usually find one or two.”
Fidly let out a deep, tired sigh.
“I’ve worked quests with them before.”
That immediately caught attention.
He crossed his arms.
“Weird? Absolutely.”
He narrowed his eyes as Captain Boom Boom somehow began balancing upside down on one hand while still juggling.
“But their fundamentals aren’t bad.”
Another pause.
“They can use standard weapons too—spears, swords, basic forms…”
Then his expression darkened.
“…But they specialize in weird niche nonsense.”
His face twisted into visible disapproval.
“Seriously… who in the hell uses a rubber hammer as a weapon?”
Lyra immediately burst into laughter.
“Oh…”
She grinned.
“Lambert is going to hate this.”
---
A few minutes later—
Lambert arrived.
And immediately regretted existing.
Usually, the field before training carried a familiar atmosphere.
Discipline.
Tension.
Resolve.
Children trying to stand straighter than they felt.
Aspiring adventurers pretending they were already warriors.
Adults carrying the quiet burden of survival.
Today?
It looked like a festival.
Kids were laughing.
Several adults had gathered just to watch.
Two boys were attempting to imitate whatever nonsense pose Lulu and Lala had just invented.
Mordo was somehow flexing while balancing a chicken on his shoulder.
And in the center—
Five masked clowns had turned Lambert’s structured training field into a public spectacle.
“Tssssssk…”
Lambert’s face visibly twitched.
“Out of all people…”
He slowly dragged a hand down his face.
“Why does it have to be them?”
He stared.
“I was expecting at least something decent like Moonlight Clan… or even Iron Banner.”
A long pause.
“Honestly, even those wannabe knights would have been better than these clowns.”
“WOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!”
The blue-haired brute pointed dramatically.
“Look who’s here!”
Instantly—
Every Pierro member turned.
“The legend!”
“The semi-beauty!”
“The almost hero!”
“Lambert!”
“Almost hero, he said, Lulu!”
“The legend, he said, Lala!”
“Well, I do not know about the semi-beauty part!”
“Right! Right!”
“The rumored Dragon Slayer!”
“The shadow of Arthas!”
“The weapon of the Frozen Knight!”
“Unit 42 has entered! The ones who grasp the chaos of the world!”
Lambert looked physically exhausted before saying a single word.
For one terrifying second—
Boom Boom landed directly in front of him.
“Nice to meet you.”
Then—
His tone changed.
“Well, well…”
“Joking aside.”
“Joking aside, Lala.”
“Joking aside, Lulu.”
“We have a gift for you, Lambert.”
“A gift, he said, Lala.”
“A gift, he said, Lulu.”
“A message from Red Jester-sama.”
Lambert’s irritation disappeared.
Not fully.
But enough.
“The Frozen Knight was seen traveling south.”
Silence.
Even Fidly’s expression sharpened.
For the briefest moment—
The festival atmosphere vanished.
Then Boom Boom tilted his head.
“That being said…”
“I hope you take us in for a bit.”
“Just a bit, Lala.”
“Just a little bit, Lulu.”
“One year.”
“Two years?”
“Five years?”
“Ten years?”
“Take us in? Take us in?”
“…Fine.”
Lambert’s answer came like a defeated exhale.
“I’ll talk to Gayrum about it.”
Then his eyes narrowed.
“But at least be useful.”
“Work at the guild for a while.”
“YES SAH!”
“YEAH SAAR!”
And then—
For one single chilling moment—
Captain Boom Boom’s childlike absurdity disappeared.
“...Gayrum?”
His voice lowered.
Cold.
Sharp.
Hungry.
Beneath the painted smile of his white mask, something shifted.
“I think…”
A grin curled beneath the red mouth paint.
“We hit the jackpot.”
Even Lambert narrowed his eyes slightly.
And just as quickly—
The madness returned.
---
A few minutes later, the regular drills finally began.
At the front stood Leon, naturally leading the children’s formation through their basic sword patterns.
“One!”
“Two!”
“Slash!”
“One!”
“Two!”
“Slash!”
Beside him—
Captain Boom Boom.
Only unlike Leon’s standard wooden sword, Boom Boom wielded a bizarrely colorful mallet with a bright red rubber head.
To some, it looked ridiculous.
To Fidly—
It looked offensive.
Leon, however, barely noticed.
He was too focused on his own weapon.
With every slash, he subtly shifted his grip, adjusting hand placement little by little as though testing weight, balance, and momentum.
Boom Boom noticed immediately.
“Kiddo…”
Leon paused mid-swing.
“What?”
Boom Boom tilted his masked head dramatically.
“What are you doing?”
Leon frowned at his wooden blade.
“It feels weird.”
“Weird?”
“The tip feels too heavy.”
He shifted his hands again.
“I’m trying to figure out how to make it feel lighter.”
Boom Boom froze.
Then—
“Oooooohhhhhhh…”
He circled Leon dramatically.
“You are not just randomly swinging your stick like the other kids.”
Leon blinked.
“…What?”
“That’s nice.”
Boom Boom nodded rapidly.
“That’s very nice.”
Leon gave him a suspicious look.
“Who are you?”
Boom Boom immediately struck an absurd pose, one foot raised atop his oversized mallet.
“Me?”
He pointed dramatically at himself.
“I am Captain Boom Boom!”
He raised the mallet skyward.
“The one who grasps the chaos of the world!”
Leon stared blankly.
“…What?”
“Chaos!”
Boom Boom spun once.
“Hmmmmmm…”
He stopped.
“Chaos is like…”
A long pause.
“The unknown!”
Leon’s face somehow looked even less impressed.
“You are weird.”
“Right! Right!”
Leon pointed directly at Boom Boom’s mask.
“What is that thing on your head?”
Boom Boom gasped.
“This?”
He tapped the mask dramatically.
“It is the symbol of the unknown!”
“Unknown again?”
“Well…”
Boom Boom leaned in.
“A kid wouldn’t understand.”
Leon immediately frowned.
“You are a kid too.”
Boom Boom froze.
“…Right!”
Then he suddenly grabbed Leon’s wooden sword.
“Anyways!”
He repositioned Leon’s grip.
“Left hand higher.”
He pushed one hand.
“Right hand lower.”
He adjusted the other.
“Like this?”
Leon tested it.
“One!”
“Two!”
“Slash!”
Leon’s eyes widened.
“…Woah.”
The weight shifted more naturally.
“This feels better.”
Boom Boom crossed his arms proudly.
“Of course it does.”
Leon looked down at the strange mallet.
“By the way…”
He pointed.
“Is that a sword?”
Boom Boom gasped as if personally insulted.
“No!”
He raised the colorful mallet dramatically.
“No, no, no!”
He planted it into the dirt with absurd dignity.
“This…”
A dramatic pause.
“Is the symbol of Justice!”
Leon stared.
“…Justice?”
He pointed at the markings on the weapon.
“What is that weird symbol on the stick?”
Boom Boom slowly lifted the mallet like a sacred relic.
“Ah…”
His tone lowered.
“This…”
He pointed to the markings.
“Is the world’s mystery.”
Leon blinked.
“…What?”
“It makes the weak strong…”
Boom Boom spun the mallet once.
“Strong enough…”
He struck a ridiculous pose.
“To deliver justice!”
Leon stared in complete silence.
Then—
“What are you even saying?”
Boom Boom grinned beneath the painted mask.
“You’ll know soon enough!”
“OI!”
Lambert’s voice cut through the field instantly.
“Boom Boom!”
The clown child froze.
“Do not teach the kid weird stuff!”
Boom Boom immediately saluted.
“Yes, almost-hero-sama!”
“Tssssssk!”
Even Leon looked mildly offended on Lambert’s behalf.
---
A couple of hours later, the basic drills finally came to an end.
Sweaty children collapsed onto the grass.
Several adults stretched sore shoulders.
Even some newer recruits looked like they were reconsidering their life choices.
Lambert stepped forward, arms crossed.
“Alright!”
His voice cut cleanly across the field.
“Thirty-minute break!”
A pause.
“After that—report to your respective specialized instructors!”
The field immediately erupted.
Excitement.
Nervousness.
Curiosity.
Fidly’s trainees gathered near the stables.
Theron’s potential archers glanced toward the gates.
Lyra was already being surrounded by curious villagers.
“Dismissed!”
Children scattered.
And then Lambert turned—
Very slowly—
Toward Unit 42.
The five masked clowns somehow looked even more suspicious while standing completely still.
“Hey.”
The group instantly snapped to attention.
“Clown brigade.”
“YES?”
“DO NOT do anything unnecessary.”
A pause.
Lambert narrowed his eyes.
“Why did that weirdo even send you anyway?”
“Because you’re cool! Right, Lala?”
“Because you are a semi-beauty! Right, Lulu?”
“Because you suddenly appeared out of nowhere!”
“Dragon Slayer!”
“Weapon of the Frozen Knight!”
Lambert’s eye visibly twitched.
“What…”
A deep sigh.
“Are you plotting?”
“Training?” Lulu answered.
“Training!” Lala repeated.
“Preparing for something!” Boom Boom added cheerfully.
That answer somehow felt both ridiculous…
And uncomfortably vague.
Lambert stared for a long moment.
Then sighed the sigh of a man who had once fought greater threats…
And somehow found this more exhausting.
“…Anyways.”
He waved them off.
“Go find something useful to do.”
“YES SAH!”
“SEMI-BEAUTY SAH!”
“JUSTICE!”
“CHAOS!”
“UNKNOWN!”
And just like that—
Unit 42 scattered across the village like unleashed nonsense.
Lambert closed his eyes.
For the first time that day—
Even he looked uncertain whether he had made a brilliant decision…
Or a catastrophic mistake.