Ch.13013. First Combat Rule. The God-Machine Soldier is Not Omnipotent.

“Huff. Huff.”

In the physical training room, a cadet was dripping with sweat, pushing through what seemed like grueling physical training. Though it was the most basic form of training, it was fundamental—and one cadet was dedicating himself to it immediately after the entrance mock battle had ended.

His upper body was drenched in sweat, his golden hair matted.

The protagonist was Gilbert.

After struggling to lift weights that would terrify most people just by looking at them, he finished his final set and exhaled deeply. With his physical ability score of 90, his recovery speed was remarkably fast, making it quite challenging to maintain an adequate training load.

But the solution was simple. If the training load wasn’t sufficient, he could just add more weight—a straightforward problem with a straightforward solution.

After putting away the equipment, Gilbert roughly wiped away his sweat with a prepared towel and headed to the shower room. The highly advanced magical engineering served a role similar to science in the real world. Though the setting resembled the medieval era, this level of technology made it feel almost like modern society.

It was a luxury only wealthy nobles or academy students could enjoy, but fortunately for Gilbert, he qualified as both.

After showering and putting on his cadet uniform, he slicked back his slightly damp hair and gathered his belongings. Further training would do more harm than good, so it seemed best to have dinner and get a good rest.

Though he wanted to train his magical power as well, attempting magical training alone without prior experience could lead to unforeseen problems. It would be safer to learn proper methods through regular classes.

As Gilbert was about to leave the training room, he encountered someone entering from the opposite direction.

Black hair and soft facial features.

It was the protagonist, Ian.

“You are…”

“Pleased to meet you. Let me introduce myself properly. I’m Gilbert.”

Though the encounter was unexpected, Gilbert didn’t hesitate to extend his hand and introduce himself. He had been looking for opportunities to establish more contact with the protagonist, so this situation couldn’t have been more welcome.

Moreover, meeting in the training room might give Ian a different impression of him, so the timing wasn’t bad either.

“I’m Ian.”

Ian’s expression was curious as he shook Gilbert’s hand. Perhaps he found it surprising that Gilbert, known as a troublemaker, would be here—his face was difficult to read.

“You did well in today’s entrance mock battle.”

“Likewise. Your control skills were impressive.”

It was a straightforward assessment without any sarcasm. Gilbert had worried that since he wasn’t controlling his character directly, things might have gone differently from the game’s setting, but after directly engaging in combat with the giant war machine, he saw great potential. While it would take considerable time for Ian to become a renowned knight in the world, the main story hadn’t even begun yet.

The tutorial had just ended, and with proper guidance throughout the main story, becoming a top-tier knight wasn’t impossible. After all, Ian possessed a special skill that allowed him to exceed the control ability limit of 100.

“That sounds a bit sarcastic coming from someone who did so much.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. It was my honest assessment, and I’d appreciate if you took it at face value.”

“Well… alright. By the way, did you come to the training room right after the entrance mock battle?”

“I prefer not to skip training.”

“That’s different from what I’ve heard about you.”

Gilbert thought he detected a barb in Ian’s words, but seeing Ian’s smiling face, he dismissed it as his imagination. He hadn’t done anything to antagonize Ian, and from what he could tell, Ian’s assessment of him wasn’t particularly negative.

“I suppose that’s not wrong. But you shouldn’t be saying that to me. I thought no one would be eccentric enough to come straight to the training room after the entrance mock battle.”

“I see you don’t consider yourself that eccentric. I also don’t like to skip training.”

Gilbert felt even more satisfied seeing Ian shrug his shoulders, showing his diligence. If Ian had been lazy, his growth would have stagnated regardless of what help Gilbert might offer.

“I see. That’s a good attitude.”

“Not at all. May I pass? I don’t want to delay and end up training until late at night.”

“I’m in your way. I’ll be going now.”

Gilbert, feeling warm inside like someone watching a chick grow, stepped aside to let Ian pass.

Ian nodded slightly as he passed by, heading not to the physical training room Gilbert had come from, but to the magical power training room.

Seeing this, Gilbert recalled the protagonist’s initial ability scores. He remembered that in the early game, under the pretext of a character development system, Ian’s ability scores were mostly around 30, except for his control skill.

When Gilbert was a newbie, he had also focused solely on magical power training, but he later discovered that there were many items for farming that could increase magical power. More importantly, he had painfully learned the consequences of neglecting physical ability scores. It was a common mistake for tactical combat newbies, and all the renowned knights on the continent had exceptionally high physical ability scores.

Gilbert felt the excitement of a veteran player watching a newbie’s first game. He began to understand why terms like “newbie-bashing” and “carrying” were so common in the community.

“Are you planning to train your magical power?”

“Of course. It’s necessary for controlling the giant war machines.”

“Sound reasoning. But don’t neglect physical training. It forms the foundation.”

“Is that the basis of your monstrous control skills?”

“Indeed.”

“Really? Then perhaps I should do some physical training this time?”

Ian glanced back at Gilbert, grinned, and turned toward the physical training room. Gilbert smiled slightly before leaving the training room, thinking that he should “carry” Ian by providing items to increase magical power in the future.

After Gilbert left, Ian’s friendly smile hardened as he stared briefly at the entrance where Gilbert had exited.

Swish!

Then he turned back and entered the magical power training room.

As if listening to advice from a rival would prevent him from winning.

***

The curriculum at Demeia Academy wasn’t based on course registration like modern universities, but rather followed a predetermined annual plan.

The only difference was that classes were stratified according to grade levels, and in keeping with Demeia’s strictly meritocratic nature, students attended classes based solely on their evaluated grade level, with no distinction between nobles and commoners.

Occasionally, cadets from high noble families would protest their low grades, but this only resulted in evaluation penalties, with absolutely no privileges granted based on social status. While this might seem equal for everyone, the academy system’s focus on ability meant that discrimination between grade levels was much more severe.

Gilbert had kept this in mind, striving to stand out in the entrance mock battle, and successfully achieved his goal of being assigned to the first-year, first-grade class without difficulty. The news that would reach his family couldn’t have been more perfect. Being a student who received the Commander’s Merit Badge, which hadn’t been awarded in years, was certainly something to be proud of.

Of course, Gilbert didn’t think for a moment that his father, the Iron-Blooded Count, would be satisfied with just this. Not only had Gilbert caused tremendous trouble in the past, but the Commander’s Merit Badge was something Count William himself had received during his entrance mock battle. He might consider it the bare minimum expected from his child, meaning more impressive achievements would be necessary.

Something tangible like becoming the top student at Demeia Academy, which required both talent and effort.

With firm resolve, Gilbert confidently opened the door to the classroom where the first lecture would take place. Perhaps startled by the suddenly opening door, the cadets who had been chatting in small groups all averted their gazes and watched cautiously after seeing it was Gilbert who entered.

His imposing 190cm frame, strong facial features, and tanned skin made him appear intimidating, and the rumors about him were so bad that calling him “difficult” would be an understatement.

This was why the cadets avoided him.

Gilbert inwardly sighed deeply but didn’t show it outwardly. The remaining behavioral patterns of the original Gilbert were restraining him. The fact that his speech pattern wasn’t the same as before was due to the appropriate integration of Kang Do-jun’s modern human behavioral patterns.

His speech had become formal and rigid, but if he had to continue using the original Gilbert’s manner of speaking and behavior, death might have been preferable. Or he might have been executed from the moment he met Seraphina.

“Commander!”

“Hans. The entrance mock battle is over. There’s no need to call me commander anymore.”

Gilbert remembered Hans, the commoner who had been the first to volunteer as his adjutant in the entrance mock battle, and felt pleased. Like Angelina, Hans was an extra character he’d never heard of before, but as someone who had entered Demeia Academy, he possessed outstanding basic abilities.

Judging by how he had coordinated with Gilbert to handle the giant war machine during their first engagement, he seemed to have exceptional talent in that area. Without the skill to quantify others’ abilities, it was difficult to make an accurate assessment, but Gilbert’s veteran instinct signaled that Hans had the potential to grow into a named character.

‘Maybe developing Hans would be a good choice?’

Deciding to observe him a bit more, Gilbert looked at Hans, who was standing with perfect posture.

“That may be true… but I’m not sure how I should address you…”

“You can call me Gilbert.”

“Then I’ll call you Sir Gilbert!”

Hans showed the same respect one would show to an admired direct superior.

In fact, he did admire Gilbert.

As the person who had observed Gilbert’s activities most closely during the entrance mock battle, he had also participated in the final battle, now known among cadets as the “Victory Struggle.”

Even now, recalling that time made his palms sweat—it had been a series of tense, fast-paced battles. And Gilbert had been the one who performed the most impressively on that battlefield. The strategy of using the main force as a sacrifice to raid the vulnerable bases of other teams had all come from his mind.

Unlike the rumors, Gilbert hadn’t been arrogant toward commoners, and his abilities were so outstanding that following him as commander had been the natural choice.

“You’re being noisy this early in the morning. Aren’t you, Commander?”

“Angelina. You’re calling me commander too.”

“It suits you, doesn’t it?”

Angelina, who had just opened the classroom door, shrugged her shoulders as she saw Gilbert and Hans blocking the way. Initially dissatisfied that a troublemaker had become the team commander, her complaints had disappeared after seeing Gilbert lead them to victory in the entrance mock battle.

She was the type to firmly believe what she saw with her own eyes, and she judged Gilbert based on what she had witnessed during the entrance mock battle, regardless of rumors. Whatever change had come over him, she only knew the current Gilbert.

“Then should I call you Adjutant Angelina?”

“I think it’s a bit presumptuous to assume I’ll always be your adjutant. I have ambitions of my own, you know.”

“But I doubt I’ll find an adjutant as excellent as you.”

“I see the commander has a good eye for talent.”

Angelina smiled at his words of recognition. She felt pleased that Gilbert acknowledged her just as she had acknowledged him.

“We should end the small talk now. The professor will be here soon.”

Noticing a silhouette through the window, the three of them found appropriate seats.

Soon, the classroom door opened, and a sturdy man with a large scar across his face entered, his coat flapping behind him.

“Pleased to meet you all. I am Professor Alexander.”

As the man scrawled his name on the blackboard, Gilbert’s eyes lit up.