The room fell silent again until Grandpa Noris broke the silence with a nod. "I'm with you, Miss Medeia. Even these old bones can still learn a trick or two." He talked to others, "Come on! No one will die just because we learn how to fight, right?"
Back when she ruled as Queen of Hell, her minions weren't exactly alive. Teaching them to fight had been a brutal, harsh affair because, frankly, they couldn't die twice. Here, though? The humans were entirely different.
She could be gentle, sure. But where was the fun in that? Medeia's idea of training leaned more toward tough love—emphasis on the "tough."
[Host, if someone dies in your training class, then you'll be doomed.]
Medeia sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair.
She was already working too much lately, leading this group, improving the base, and fulfilling the system's endless demands. On top of all that, she had to keep them alive, even if they were slower than snails when it came to learning.
