"You call that a swing? You are only using eighty percent of your strength! That's just twenty more than the average joe… Are you listening to me?" a loud crack suddenly exploded through the air, a sound the exhausted living had heard one too many times already, lashing his whip with expert handling, the undead that was putting them through what he referred to as 'training', but it really was nothing more than torture with a pretty case around it.
"You need to be capable of using one hundred percent of your strength on a whim, it is of no importance whether you damage your body or not, a foot soldier that is incapable of fighting to the best of their ability is of no purpose" looking down on the eight captured soldiers, all sprawled on the ground, sweaty and paralysed by countless by cramps, they didn't even know why the vile corpse gave them shirts as they always ended up torn to pieces by the merciless whipping.