Ch.10EP.3 – Princess Isis, Not a Heroine.

Whoosh! Whoooosh!

The savage sound of wind being cut.

After fixing a 50kg iron weight to the end of an iron bar and swinging it like a sword, a heavy yet brutal sound echoed.

If hit by that, even a wild boar would probably die instantly.

However, this seemingly impressive training method had a major drawback.

Crack, crunch!

It was a training method that destroyed the body—wrists, elbows, shoulders, waist, and everything else.

Most swords weigh around 1kg-1.5kg.

Some heavier swords can weigh over 5kg, but beyond that, people generally avoid using excessively heavy swords.

The reason is simple.

One wrong move and your entire body could be ruined.

Even swinging it slowly, there’s a 90% chance of becoming disabled with one mistake.

This was one of Ihan’s extreme training methods, which he named the “Diamond Indestructible Training.”

“Haaah!”

When he first attempted this training method, he nearly became half-crippled.

First shocked by the weight, then realizing how insane it was to swing such a thing.

But Ihan didn’t give up. Starting with 5kg, he gradually increased the weight and slowly adapted to both the weight and the training.

Now he had reached the level where he could handle the combined weight of 60kg from the iron bar and weight.

It was truly a human triumph.

…Well.

Crack.

“Ah, broken again.”

Sometimes his elbow or wrist would shatter like this.

Total Body Destruction Exercise.

That was another name Ihan had given to this brutish training.

After immediately consuming massive amounts of nutrients and going through a recovery process, his body finally recovered to some extent.

Bones and muscles recovered quickly, but when tendons or joints were injured, it took over two hours to heal even with a troll’s recovery ability.

The only acquaintance in the Order who had seen this training was Jake, and Jake had said:

‘Are you trying to commit suicide? What kind of crazy training is this…?’

-showing gestures and fear that could be considered hurtful.

Is it really that extreme?

‘…Yeah, it probably is.’

Even he had to admit that this training method sometimes seemed excessive.

Relying solely on a troll’s recovery ability for training that could potentially cripple him was risky.

But there was a reason to take this risk—the training visibly strengthened his muscles and skeletal structure.

Take Yord, the guy he fought yesterday.

To counter his flashy and swift sword techniques, Ihan needed to deflect or parry attacks with his sword, but he didn’t have such refined skills.

He could only block attacks head-on.

Yet Ihan took direct hits without any damage, and his hands didn’t even tremble.

What was the reason for this?

‘This training is helping.’

It meant that his muscles and bones had become so elastic and hard that they could completely absorb any heavy impact.

A body that might as well be bulletproof.

Recently, when sparring with Baltar, he could now withstand twenty hits when before he couldn’t even take ten.

That’s quite a remarkable improvement…

“Improvement my ass… I’m still getting beaten up.”

Ihan frowned as he loosened his now somewhat recovered body.

The overwhelming gap between him and Baltar still irritated him.

What was it that Baltar had said?

– “Oh? You’ve become a more satisfying punching bag. How admirable. Are you doing this to let me enjoy hitting you? Haha.”

If that wasn’t mockery, what was it?

That old monster…!

“Should I increase the weight soon?”

Should he increase the weight of the iron bar, or spend more time on other training methods?

The dilemma deepened.

He still couldn’t envision a way to defeat that old man.

But if he could surpass him in just one aspect, there might be a chance to land a significant blow.

Endurance.

If his already strong endurance became even stronger, if he could keep charging forward without losing strength even after taking hits, then maybe he could land a strike…!

“Eek!”

Thud.

“……”

“Sorry! I was trying not to disturb you, but I fell.”

“…Are your knees—no, is your face alright, Miss Maid?”

“Hehe, yes, I’m fine, Sir Knight. Fortunately, I have a sturdy body. I’ve even been hit by a mace before and was fine, hehe.”

“…Ah, I see.”

…Where should he even begin with this?

Should he be concerned about the part hit by the mace, or ask about the secret to surviving such a blow?

Ihan made a sour face as he looked at the uninvited guest he had unintentionally accepted.

*

*

*

The previous day, Crown Princess Isis had said she had a favor to ask. Though she called it a favor, it was essentially an order.

However, Ihan:

“I refuse. Do you know how hard I’ve been trying to avoid getting involved with nobles like you? Why should I get involved with you, Sister?”

“…How cold. There are countless people who would give their lives for my ‘request.'”

“Then ask those people. I’m not giving my life.”

An attitude beyond cold—downright insolent.

But Ihan was resolute, and unusually stern and cold.

“Using someone once should be enough. Don’t treat me like an actual hunting dog.”

This was a warning.

Even if his opponent was a nation’s heir, even if powerful individuals swarmed outside, it was a warning not to underestimate him.

What was Ihan’s reason for wanting to become stronger?

To never bow down, to avoid living like he did in his past life.

“Sister, no, Your Highness. If you think of me not as your sworn brother but as a dog to be used, you’ve come to the wrong person. I’m someone who would gladly quit being a knight right now if I could. Currently, I follow you because your power is intimidating and we have a connection. But if you cross the ‘line,’ power and connections mean nothing. I’ll destroy everything, remember that.”

“……”

He was serious, and it was a resolution to fight to the death.

Sensing this, Isis’s fine brow twitched irritably.

“Impudent fellow. You have no restraint when speaking to your sister.”

“A sister should act like one.”

“…Does it feel good to try to win against a woman with words?”

“I despise gender discrimination. Gender equality is good, yes.”

“…Ill-mannered bastard.”

Ultimately, it was Isis who backed down first.

Born with extraordinary talent and having lived for 40 years at the top, few would dare act so rudely before her.

…Even so.

“Well, a man should have that much backbone.”

“…?”

Somehow, she seemed to find Ihan admirable.

“A knight is one who does not bow to power and walks the righteous path, fighting against rulers. Indeed, a splendid attitude befitting my sworn brother, hoho.”

“…Was this some kind of test?”

“Of course.”

“……”

“Don’t look at me like that. In my position, one must always test others, even if they are blood relatives or subordinates.”

“You really live a difficult life.”

“It’s the fate of a ruler.”

Isis had just tested Ihan.

If Ihan had simply accepted Isis’s request—no, her order—she would have been disappointed in him.

She would have considered him a lowly person who fawns over power.

Of course, even if she had labeled him as lowly, she wouldn’t have abandoned him.

As Ihan had just said, she would have used him well as a hunting dog.

A hunting dog destined to be discarded later.

‘What a vicious woman.’

“Stop looking at my flaws. My ears are itching.”

“I called you a beautiful woman, a beautiful woman. It’s a compliment for an attractive lady.”

“Well, I think there was a ‘damn’ in the middle of that.”

“That’s your imagination, just imagination.”

“How shameless.”

He openly insulted royalty, but Isis didn’t rebuke him.

One who seeks to live as a ruler must take criticism and contempt from the people as lightly as breathing.

Even so.

Smack.

“A knight should not insult a lady, you fool.”

“You’ve got a good wrist snap.”

This much of a knock on the head for her sworn brother should be fine.

Isis’s expression was clearly stern, but somehow it was the softest expression she had shown all day.

“Then I’ll say it again. This is truly a [suggestion], not an order, and I would really like you to accept it.”

“…I’ll at least listen.”

As the request continued, Ihan agreed to listen since he knew it wasn’t an order this time.

Getting this person to lower her pride was like getting an Italian to admit that pineapple pizza is the best pizza.

It was only fair to hear her out.

“I said I had two favors, but in a way, all my requests are similar.”

Tap.

“…Why do I have tomorrow’s newspaper here today?”

“The power of authority.”

“Ah, these people with power.”

Rustle.

Ihan opened the newspaper she handed him.

The fact that he read it without asking questions pleased Isis.

What she disliked more than stupidity was a lack of tact.

He definitely had tact and wasn’t stupid.

After a short while, Ihan paused at a certain page of the newspaper.

News that should clearly have been headline material on the front page was instead buried on the tenth page.

Pointing to a section that had obviously been influenced by royal power, he asked:

“…Is your request possibly related to this young lady or this arrogant-looking young man?”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because they’re the only people in positions that would be difficult for you to deal with.”

“Correct. Though to clarify, I could have their heads if I wanted. It would just be a bit troublesome.”

“Yes, yes, you’re amazing.”

Smack!

The fan struck his crown like a spark, but Ihan remained unfazed.

Would someone who could withstand hits from Aura users feel pain from a mere fan?

Instead, he read the newspaper and murmured their names.

“Irene Windler, Roen Dmitri de Lionel.”

Irene Windler was a 19-year-old magician from a lower-class background who had recently entered the Academy’s Magic Department as the top student, and was additionally adopted by Duke Galahad.

This Roen fellow was the youngest son of the Lionel Grand Duke family, known as the King of the North, but as an illegitimate child, his succession chances were extremely low. He had recently entered the Academy’s Swordsmanship Department as the top student.

Duke Galahad and Grand Duke Lionel, though affiliated with the Pendragon family, maintained extremely hostile relations with the royal family.

Yet their adopted daughter and illegitimate son had not only entered the capital, the heart of Pendragon territory, but also enrolled in the Academy.

This was big news that could shake the capital.

The fact that it wasn’t on the front page indicated that the royal family was disturbed by these individuals.

Sure enough:

“I’d like nothing more than to kill them.”

“…As far as I know, aren’t both Galahad and Lionel mixed with royal blood?”

“They would be my cousins or second cousins.”

“And you want to kill such people?”

“Would you do it if I asked?”

“…No.”

“Hmph, how disappointing.”

…Damn woman.

Smack.

He insulted her again, and the fan once more struck his crown.