Ch.185EP.43 – The Knight Makes a Fresh Start (2)

The Swordsmanship Department had been on hiatus recently.

The instructor had taken leave shortly after the ball ended.

“I’ll be gone for a while to kill… I mean, to take care of some business, so you’ll need to train independently.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve prepared training schedules for you to follow. And while I’m gone, you don’t need to come to the Academy. I’ll mark everyone present.”

“??”

“See you in eight days.”

…They thought they heard something slightly disturbing, but they deliberately pretended not to hear it.

Because they felt they’d only have nightmares if they acknowledged it.

And so the Swordsmanship Department unexpectedly found itself on holiday, but…

Whoosh!

Whoooosh!

…Strangely enough, all the cadets were gathered in the Swordsmanship Department.

Though the instructor was absent, the cadets had voluntarily shown up during class time and were training diligently in the department’s training grounds.

If someone were to ask why they bothered coming to the Academy without an instructor, they would probably answer:

Because there were “results” that came with training.

Just by completing the assignments the instructor had given to each cadet, they had grown sufficiently and felt great satisfaction and exhilaration, so how could they possibly be lazy?

It was a time of rapid growth.

The cadets were proving that the instructor hadn’t been merely envious when he said, “You’re growing so quickly because you’re young.”

First, the group of noble young ladies, nicknamed the “chicks,” had now learned simple joint locks and striking techniques.

They practiced sparring among themselves, with the much stronger knight candidate cadets joining in to help.

They had also learned simple weapon techniques like throwing skills and baton techniques. The instructor had evaluated that if they mastered these properly, “they would be able to subdue an average adult man on their own,” and encouraged by this assessment, the young ladies didn’t hesitate to sweat today either.

While noble young ladies typically didn’t welcome sweating, perhaps seeing their bodies become healthier over the past half year made them no longer hesitate to perspire.

“When I asked a knight from my family for a sparring match, he was surprised. Said I had excellent skill.”

“Hehe, me too. But my mother was horrified.”

“That’s understandable. But we can’t stop now, can we?”

“I completely agree.”

Well, beyond health benefits, seeing results proportional to their efforts was probably what motivated the girls to work hard.

Though they weren’t yet capable of hunting monsters, the girls had set a goal of eventually defeating at least one monster.

Unlike the girls who focused on techniques, the “bears” had undergone so much physical training that their bodies had become considerably thicker overall.

Their forearms had grown thicker, shoulders broader, and thighs as sturdy as a horse’s.

The instructor had ordered them all to be able to use “Iron Body” before graduation.

He said that if they mastered just this, they wouldn’t die easily anywhere, so it was an essential task for them to learn.

Of course…

“Is, is this right…?”

“We have no choice.”

“The instructor said this is the fastest way, so bear with it.”

“D-damn it!”

The training method was quite brutal.

They trained their bodies by striking themselves daily with clubs or heavy wet towels, or by asking others to mercilessly hit their entire bodies. Though painful, they had to swallow their tears at the fact that this crude method produced tremendous results.

If there were no results, they might have given up, but with their bodies changing noticeably every day, they had no choice but to continue despite the pain and suffering.

It was a method where results inevitably followed if one made steady, consistent effort without missing a day.

Those who had once been mocked as weaklings and weeds were undoubtedly becoming stronger, and thus couldn’t stop.

After all, no one would give up the drug that is growth.

And in contrast to them were the young masters.

Boys whose backgrounds differed, and whose combat techniques put them on a different level from others.

The tasks they received from the instructor were merely basic strength and endurance training, posture correction, and more sparring practice.

…Additionally, they sometimes served as the instructor’s punching bags, but their training method couldn’t be more ordinary.

However, the results brought by this mundane method were anything but ordinary.

“I, I won a sparring match against a knight from my family…”

“I, I can’t believe it, but I, a Modred, received an invitation to join a knightly order, hah…”

“W-what?”

The instructor had said it from the beginning.

That they lacked fundamentals?

That if they just filled in those lacking areas, they would become several times stronger?

It was true…

After following the instructor’s training regimen for over half a year, they suddenly became several times stronger.

Strong enough to receive recruitment offers from prestigious knightly orders.

For them, it was like a dream.

As a result, more than 60% of the young masters had received offers from various knightly orders, and since becoming knights was their original goal, they could quit the Academy immediately and join a knightly order.

After all, they had enrolled in the Academy to join prestigious knightly orders in the first place.

Since that purpose had been achieved, there was no need to continue attending the Academy.

…That should have been the case, but…

“But why did you decline the offer? What a waste.”

“What about you, Number 12…”

“D-do you call me that even when we’re alone…?”

Surprisingly, none of those who received offers had quit the Academy.

At first, they were delighted and would be lying if they said they didn’t want to join a knightly order immediately.

However, as time passed and they became more level-headed, they realized that joining a knightly order immediately would be a bad move.

“We’re still far from ready.”

They knew.

That despite being called recruitment, they would start as squires, not formal knights.

That they would have to adapt to the knightly order’s training methods rather than the autonomous style they currently enjoyed.

‘What they want is our future selves, not who we are now.’

‘The training probably won’t be as free as it is now.’

‘…We might even regress in skill.’

Joining immediately might feel good, but there was concern about spending time as a low-ranking member with controlled training methods.

This wasn’t the direction these rapidly growing cadets wanted, and even if they were to join, it would be better to join after acquiring enough skill to immediately establish their position in the knightly order.

For example…

“We should at least reach the level of the Three before joining.”

“…That seems impossibly far.”

The Three of the Knight Department.

Wouldn’t one need to be at their level to firmly establish a position in a knightly order?

So rather than rejoicing in immediate fortune, it was better to train steadily under the instructor.

Though it might take time, they would certainly be rewarded.

The conviction that tomorrow’s self would be better than today’s.

And so the cadets, filming a “youth academy drama,” shed sweat for a today better than yesterday.

…And conversely.

“Huh? Why is everyone here?”

“Assistant Damian?”

“…You’re all so diligent. It’s a rare break but you’re not even resting.”

There was also a boy filming a “depressing drama” alone.

Damian Pollet.

As usual, with dark circles and a face full of fatigue, he looked at them with an expression of disgust.

If he were given an eight-day holiday…

“If it were me, I’d sleep five hours every day…”

“D-don’t you mean eight hours?”

“…Eight hours? …Can a person really sleep that much?”

“……”

“…I’d be happy if I could sleep even two hours a day. …Well, I too once had a time when I slept eight hours, it’s a memory now…”

“……”

…Sometimes, this person seemed the most pitiful.

At first, they thought he was arrogant and inconsiderate, but he was the one who handled everything in place of the instructor.

The very reason the instructor could take an eight-day vacation was because Damian had been “lent” to other instructors and professors, which was quite cruel.

“…Don’t look at me so pitifully. Once you get used to it, it’s manageable.”

“It doesn’t look that way at all…”

“……”

“I-if you feel sad, wave a carrot. I’ll help you a little…”

“…Damn it!”

Damian made a tearful face at being pitied.

He wasn’t someone to be pitied!

This is all…!

“Because of that damn beast…”

“…May I ask who that beast is?”

“Who else could it be but that man!”

“Ugh…, watch your words, Assistant Damian. If someone overheard, it could be serious trouble.”

“I trust that you all won’t report this to that beast. You haven’t fallen so low as to betray a fellow student, have you?”

“Well, that’s true.”

“That’s why I’m saying this. That beast, no, that predator… just thinking about what he’s done to me makes me so furious…!”

Damian seemed ready to properly gossip, perhaps overcome with grievance.

People tend to badmouth even the king when the subject isn’t around.

This applied to Pendragon as well, and Damian was about to give it his all…!

Grab!

“…Huh?”

For a moment, Damian couldn’t process the situation.

Due to something powerful suddenly gripping his ankle.

…What was clear was that if this powerful something applied just a bit more force, his ankle would burst like a water balloon, and Damian’s expression stiffened.

However,

“-You little shit of an assistant. Talking behind my back, you must have had it easy lately?”

“!!!?”

As if proving that the worst can get even worse, the blood quickly drained from his face.

…It was a familiar voice.

No, it was the whisper of a demon he feared might appear in his nightmares.

Damian wanted to deny reality, but.

Whack!

The next moment, he was forced to acknowledge this was reality.

Feeling as if his ankle had become a fish tail, Damian’s vision flipped.

With his head forcibly touching the ground and his ankle dangling helplessly in the grip, he saw…

The face of the irritating predator…

“I-Instructor! W-why are you coming out of the ground?!”

“I dug a tunnel from my house to here.”

“…W-why?”

“My body felt stiff, so I thought I’d loosen up a bit.”

“…As far as I know, the distance from your house to the Academy is at least tens of kilometers…”

“So what?”

“…This is maddening.”

The conversation wasn’t going anywhere.

Despite blood gradually rushing to his head, Damian was too dumbfounded to speak. It seemed the instructor, returning to the Academy after eight days, had much to say to him.

Especially.

“By the way, assistant. Don’t you have something to say to me?”

“…Pardon?”

“Why has this bastard become so dull while I was gone? Getting caught talking behind my back and still acting bold, huh?”

“Ah….”

Damian had momentarily forgotten what crazy thing he had done due to the surreal situation, and suddenly fell silent.

Countless possibilities flashed through his mind.

Possibilities of this predator-like instructor forgiving him.

But…

“…Even if I beg, you won’t let me off, will you?”

“Nope.”

“…I thought so.”

No matter how much he racked his brain, Damian could only see the sad fate that no answer was in sight.

The silence didn’t last long, and Damian, who knew the instructor very well, simply smiled serenely like an enlightened monk.

‘─It wasn’t a bad life.’

He showed a splendid carefree smile.

“…This guy always pretends to be dead.”

As if he were a possum.

Looking at the guy who had fainted with a smile, Ihan roughly put him down.

No need to hold him and cause misunderstandings.

“H-he’s not dead, is he?”

“…He’s not dead.”

See, already causing such misunderstandings.

“Instructor, when exactly… no, more importantly, how did you come from underground…?”

Fortunately, Damian’s presence quickly faded.

Apparently, in the face of the strong impact of someone emerging from the ground, a fainted assistant wasn’t even noticeable.

And to his disciples’ reactions.

“Want to go in?”

“…Pardon?”

“It’s quite spacious inside.”

“……”

…Is it just their imagination that it sounds sweetly like “Want me to bury you?”